‘Eternal gospel?’ I said, half laughing, happy to have achieved something of note, in his eyes.
‘Epiphanius,’ Andre explained excitedly, ‘has listed a number of works, not apocryphal works, but works written shortly after the crucifixion that were on the church black list, like the gospel of the Hebrews, the gospel of the Egyptians, Ebionites, the gospel of the Nazarenes . . . the secret Gospel of Matthew! These have all disappeared, sequestered behind locked doors by a few pious, or if you like, impious, keepers of knowledge. However there has long been a rumour of an eternal Gospel, a pure gospel, so holy, it had to be kept from profane eyes. Some call it the fifth Gospel because it reconciles all four canonical gospels! Some believe that it was written by the Sophia, and kept safe by the Cathars who moved it to a safe place before the siege of Montsegur. This is the first time I have seen any proof of its existence.’
Eisik huffed, ‘Proofs! I suppose that next you will be wanting God to prove Himself!’
‘That would be most beneficial,’ Andre said. Then, because he was thinking of the gospel, he remarked.‘This must have been translated from Coptic or Greek, and so there must be an original…where could it be?’
At this point he began to make a feverish search among the parchments and Eisik, seeing my frown, took pity on me and explained,
‘Egyptian Coptic is the Egyptian language written in Greek.’
Time, however, was against my master’s search and when no trace of the original was found he resolved that we had better get back, before the bell tolled the vigil of matins, if it had not already done so.
He rolled up the Gospel parchments and secured them in the belt that held together his mantle and we began to look for our way out. I was about to say that I thought this somehow impious, when our, or rather my, grave mistake erased any concerns for impropriety from my mind. It was now evident that the panel through which we had entered the library had closed behind us in the now all-too-familiar fashion, meaning that we would not be able to open it from inside. In my state of intellectual abandon I had, as it were, imprisoned us.
‘Confounded secret doors! Damn the Count of Artois!’ My master shouted, and with an access of emotion kicked the panel quite hard with his foot. I believe the pain sobered him because calmer now he walked to the far wall opposite to the way we came in and said, ‘The monks of this abbey have been exceedingly cunning, and we must be equally so. What direction is this wall?’
I consulted the compass. It lay in an easterly direction.
‘Easterly, you say?’ He looked puzzled. ‘But we seemed to . . . am I losing the order in my head? I could have sworn we changed direction, very gradually, but even so . . . very well, that means that the infirmary must not be far off, though I surmise that we are still too deep in the ground for it to be directly beyond this wall. There is no doubt a secret exit. Now we must search the room for clues.’ He began by tapping the stone, anticipating a hollow sound, but there was none.
I could hear my heart in my ears. We were trapped like that poor monk Jerome! ‘What if there is no other opening, master?’
‘Then we shall die exceedingly erudite,’ he answered.
Eisik inspected the shelves, and I the floor, but neither of us had any luck. I leant dejectedly against the wall where a sturdy oak frame was fixed. I noticed that it contained a large map of distant lands and oceans, perhaps the fons paradisi of which many books tell, so large as to be the height of a man and the breadth of two. It was illustrated with terrible sea monsters, sirens, and ships. One ship in particular was portrayed beached atop a large fish which the sailors in their ignorance, due to its gigantic proportions, mistook for an island. It felt familiar to me, where had I seen this map before? I asked myself. Beneath it were the words: From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed: Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.
I said these last words aloud, without really thinking about their significance, but my master heard me and moved quickly to where I was standing.
‘What did you say?’ His eyebrows were raised very high as he came toward me. I thought I had committed some terrible sin, and so I was unable to speak. I pointed to the map and the words below it. It was then that he slapped me so hard on the nape of my neck that it nearly sent me reeling in the direction of some unknown sea.
‘By God! There is our clue!’ he cried jubilantly. ‘The rock that is higher than I? Higher than the map, I’ll wager!’ He reached up with difficulty (for his height was not much greater than mine) and with a reddened face from his efforts, pressed a stone panel, which he noticed seemed to be of different hue to the others surrounding it. This moved in an inward direction, unlocking a device that made a loud snapping sound, and the entire segment of the wall, map included, pivoted open.