“Yes, but without libraries to protect and care for those manuscripts for hundreds of years, your digital search wouldn’t have done much good.”
“And without the ability to locate those manuscripts, no one could have ever broken the whole code. So it took both ancient and modern technology,” said Bethany. “Pretty cool, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Arthur, “it actually is. Where did you find them?”
“Some in libraries at Oxford and Cambridge, like you thought,” said Bethany. “One in the British Library, a couple in other cathedral libraries. Some of the digital versions I found in our database, others I found elsewhere. And I can tell they’re the right ones because of that column of numbers and words on the inventory. That list was pretty clever. It gives me exactly what I need to identify the manuscripts.”
“Whoever enciphered the manuscript must have had some idea that the books needed to decode it were in danger of being scattered.”
“I’m still working on tracking down the last five manuscripts,” said Bethany, “but I can go ahead and copy out the key words from the ones I have. Since we know now that it’s the first word on the page it won’t take long.”
“Bethany, you’re fantastic.”
“Thanks for noticing. Now get to work.”
And he did.
—
“I might have found another one,” said Bethany an hour later. “It’s in America, at a university rare-book library. It hasn’t been digitized, but I bet I can get the librarian to check that it matches the description and send me the key words. It’s just the time difference. I’ll have to wait hours before they open.”
“That’s great,” said Arthur, “but I thought you were going to copy out the key words from the ones you did find for me. I’m deciphering like mad over here, but all I have are fragments.”
“OK, OK, Mr. Grumpypants. An hour ago you thought I was fantastic.”
“You are, you are. You are amazing, and wonderful, and easily distracted by the search for missing manuscripts.”
“Here is your list of key words,” said Bethany. She handed him the list and peered over his shoulder. “So, nothing with meaning yet?”
“I have a lot of the sort of language you’d expect to find in a religious manuscript. Phrases like most sacred, divine power of miracles, great flock of Jesus Christ, but nothing specific to either Ewolda or the Grail. Not yet, anyway.”
“Maybe these will help,” said Bethany. “Do you want me to work on some of them? I think I understand the principle.”
“Don’t you need to look for the last four manuscripts?”
“I’ve got some feelers out. You’ll hear a ping when I get an e-mail.” She pulled a sheet of cipher across the table, sat down opposite Arthur, and set to work. “My Latin’s not too good, so you’ll need to do the actual translation, but I can at least do some deciphering.”
The early afternoon shadow of the spire was just edging into the cloister when Bethany gave a gasp.
“What is it?” said Arthur.
“I can’t read the Latin, but I think this says Evolda.”
“That’s it,” said Arthur, jumping up from his seat and racing around the table. “I knew it had to be. It’s the lost Book of Ewolda.”
“Hey, not so fast,” said Bethany as Arthur tried to pull her sheet of deciphered text away from her. “Let’s just calmly put together your text and my text from this first page and see what we have.”
“Calmly?” said Arthur.
“Calmly.”
“Bethany, I have been looking for Ewolda’s story for years and this manuscript not only contains that, it might contain something about the Holy Grail, which I have been searching for since childhood. And I am here in my favorite place on earth surrounded by the wisdom of centuries, working opposite the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen, on the verge of finally solving these mysteries, and you want me to proceed calmly?”
“You really think I’m beautiful?”
“That’s your takeaway?”
“Yes,” she said, taking his hand and kissing it softly. “That’s my takeaway. Now, let’s put all this Latin together and see what we have.”
With all but a few strings of cipher text decoded, Arthur was able, for the most part, to fill in the blanks on the first page with reasonable guesses. He dictated his translation of the Latin to Bethany one phrase at a time and then, his heart pounding in his chest, he asked her to read it back to him.
There follows a true and accurate transcription of the life of Saint Ewolda, from the most holy manuscript dictated by her beloved brother and held sacred by the foundation which, following her departure to the Lord, was dedicated to her honor. For more than nine centuries this holy relic has told of our blessed Saint and how the waters of her sacred spring have been a source of divine power. Many are the miracles that have proceeded from the saint and her spring, and as our blessed Ewolda showed in her life God’s love for women, so have her relics, through the divine power of miracles, healed those women who have drunk of her water and blessed with children those who have come before her barren.
“What does it mean, ‘her sacred spring’?” asked Bethany.
“I’ve no idea,” said Arthur.
“Does all that talk of healing waters remind you of something? The Nanteos Cup perhaps? The Holy Grail?”
“It’s tantalizingly close,” said Arthur. “But for now it should be enough that this is, without a doubt, the Book of Ewolda.”
“Do you really think there could be something in here that will . . . I don’t know, save the cathedral somehow?”
“The resting site of the Holy Grail would probably attract some Heritage Lottery money,” said Arthur. “Maybe an ancient sacred spring would too, who knows. But whatever happens, you helped me find this book. And you and I are going to be the first people in five hundred years to read this story.”
Arthur pulled out the next sheet of cipher and picked up his pen, but Bethany crossed over to him and took his hand. “Stop for a minute,” she said. “You need to breathe in this moment. Come here.” She pulled him up and led him to the window looking out into the cloister. “She walked there. Ewolda stood right there on that spot, and now she’s going to speak to us.”
They stood for several minutes holding hands, staring out the window at the vibrant green grass of the cloister and the spreading branches of the yew tree. Arthur felt no less excited than he had a few minutes earlier, but he did feel more peaceful. And this time Arthur pulled Bethany to him and kissed her deeply, and for a moment Ewolda and the library and the cathedral and the cloister and the incredible odds against saving the manuscripts or spending his life with Bethany all disappeared and there was only the girl in his arms. They almost didn’t hear David’s footsteps on the stairs. He nearly caught them.
“We’ve cracked it,” said Arthur as David entered the room.
“Then what the hell are you doing standing by the window,” said David. “Let’s decipher this damn thing.”