An Elegant Solution(134)

I opened the wooden box. It seemed at first to hold a single carved square stone. But I ran my fingers over that, and the single stone was in truth many smaller stones all perfectly fit together. I set some of them out onto the lectern to see what they all were.

In all, there were thirty-six pieces. Thirty were half cubes, fifteen in the bottom of the box, carved with symbols, and fifteen set blank on top of those. The other six were sealed cubes. The symbols were three each of raindrop, tree, sun, fish, and lamb. Three of the sealed cubes were at the left of the box, replacing the candles, and three were at the right, replacing the thrones. Those three I took and put back into the casket. The three I’d taken from the casket I put into the box.

The transaction was made. I closed the iron lid and turned the key back.

It had been easy in opening but was reluctant now, and required effort. I mastered it and withdrew the key. Then I set it in the wooden box and closed its lid, and turned to leave. Light escaped in around the edges of the closed door. When I opened it the street was in brilliant morning, though for a moment I was still in the shadow. When I was finally seen, by Simeon of the Day Watch, I was enough away that no proximity could be guessed. He greeted me, and I answered. He didn’t remark on the wooden box under my arm.

It was only a few steps from the University to the bridge. I walked out to the middle, to the Yoke Chapel. I could still see, in the dust on the railing, the mark of my hands and shoe.

The bridge was high above the water. I leaned out to see it below. And I hardly heard the splash as the wooden box broke the surface of the Rhine and sank below it.

Then everyone I saw walking home gave me the cheery good morning a Chair would expect in Basel.



But I was no Chair. Instead my first task was water, as always, and I went to a fountain in a street away from the Barefoot Square. When I came home my grandmother was in the kitchen, but I only set the buckets on the back step and went on. She heard me. I heard her open the door and take them in.

The door I did open was to my Master’s kitchen. Mistress Dorothea, like my grandmother, was well started on her kitchen chores. But she acknowledged that a day of changes would begin with changes. “I thought you might or might not come,” she said, and I told her that I would have said so if I would not have. I worked hard and very quick, as fast as I could, and also in this Mistress Dorothea accepted me. She and her servant girl talked all the time about the thief of the day before but I closed my ears to it.

I carried and stoked and burnished, and I finished nearly in half the time. She didn’t load me with extra work.

“Good morning and good day,” I said, and the Mistress stopped her own scrubbing.

“Good to you, as well,” she said. “Leonhard.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know what will pass today.”

“It will be in God’s hand and in his will.”

“That is where it should be,” she answered. “May it be.”



The sky was thorough blue without spot or blemish, and the sun already high and lifted up. It was hot, too. Heat like a close fire made the stones warm. The sun and heat and drought of this last week were reaching a pinnacle.

I reached my own kitchen.

“Leonhard!” Grandmother was very intent on me. “What have you been doing?”

“What I’ve needed to be,” I answered. “I’ve done everything.”

“What have you needed to be?” Her look wasn’t distress, or disquiet, or belief, or assurance. It was just intent.

“I’ve needed to be obedient.”

“You’ve always been. Your clothes are clean and ready.”

“I’ll be done quick.” I left for my room and my blacks and whites. They were set out for me on the bed, washed, ironed, and perfect. The brass would have reflected starlight. I pulled them all on with the most deliberate hurry, or the most hurried deliberation. But then I paused. My wood block head, always patient, was waiting, perched on my dresser, for my attention. I gave it that. Without eyes or ears or mouth, it was watching and listening and ready to speak. I waited. I knew it must be important.

The wooden block did nothing. That was its counsel and it was very wise. Now it was my time to just wait and allow. I studied the conch and its Logarithmic spiral and the meaning of it. I traced the curve of the brachistochrone bowl and the tautochrone bowl. I left my room and my house.



The black and white gathered in the University Assembly Hall was blinding in my eyes, that while the two colors were stark and more dominating than ever, they seemed more to blur and blend and make gray. I’d never seen them do that before. When I let my attention sit on this gray cloud, my own thoughts were the same gray, and indistinct.