“As you like.” One door opened, another shut. They led to the same place.
“Since the Conquest, the Melisites,” Malik continued, “have been custodians of a reliquary said to contain a priceless religious artifact that gives it miraculous powers. It’s called the Proof of God.”
“Said to…” Kamil echoed.
“No one actually knew what was in it.”
“In four hundred years, no one was curious enough to open it?”
“No one knew exactly where it was.”
“I’m confused.”
“The Melisite congregation believes the reliquary resides in the prayer house in the village.”
“But it doesn’t.”
“No. It never has. Only the leaders of the sect know it is missing and they pass that knowledge on to the next generation of leaders when they are initiated. We have always carried out the ceremonies as if the Proof of God are there in the Holy of Holies.”
A sect built on lies, Kamil thought, but perhaps no different from most sects built around some shrine or object.
“So a sect grew up around a reliquary that no one knew the contents or the location of?”
“Faith, Kamil, is more powerful than knowledge. Sheikh Galip has shown us that reason can be duped by logic, but faith…”
“I’m sorry, my friend,” Kamil interrupted, a bit testily. “I’m too tired to follow Sufi allegories right now.”
“Forgive an old man’s desire to rest in the garden of philosophy for a while.”
There was a knock at the door. Malik stood quickly and put his face to the orchids.
Kamil went to the door and returned carrying a large tray containing two cups of coffee, glasses, and a pitcher of water. The cook had added plates of baklava and fruit. Kamil set them on a table within reach. Malik sat down again and Kamil handed him a small china cup of coffee and a glass of water. “You can rely on Yakup’s silence.”
Malik took a sip of water, then set the glass down. “It’s not my safety I’m concerned about. There’s much more at stake.”
“The Melisites believe they’re a chosen people,” Malik explained, “who were given the reliquary for safekeeping during the Conquest of Byzantium. Shortly after the Conquest there was a battle between the caretaker of the reliquary and a false prophet, and the reliquary disappeared. The leaders of the community at the time believed the reliquary was still in the Church of Saint Savior in Chora, as it was known then, and that the caretaker had hidden it before he was killed. They believed it would be just a matter of time before it was found again, so they told no one it was gone.” He pointed to himself. “Each descendant of the original caretaker has searched for the Proof in his own way. Perhaps over the generations some lost hope. My father, for instance, no longer believed it was there. He said it would have been found by now.”
“You found it, didn’t you? This is the reliquary that was stolen last week.”
“Yes.”
“How did you ever find it?”
“The building remained a church for a hundred years after the Conquest. As you know, when it was turned into a mosque, its mosaics and other features were plastered over. After the renovation revealed them again for the first time in three hundred years, I began to see possibilities.”
“The Habesh men pray at the mosque, don’t they? Are they Muslims or Christians?”
“Does it matter?” Malik sighed. “All the faiths of the Book received the same prophecy.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Kamil shrugged. “I just find it intriguing.”
“The Melisites converted so they could continue to worship at the church after it became a mosque.”
Kamil took that in. No wonder Malik was worried his community would be at risk if this information got out. “Who is their leader?”
“Balkis is the priestess and I’m the caretaker, both hereditary positions, usually held by a sister and brother. The Melisites are named after the original caretaker’s sister, Melisane. Amida and Saba are the last of their line.”
“I noticed your sister has the same ring.” Kamil pointed to Malik’s right hand.
Malik rubbed it with his thumb. “They’re said to have come from Abyssinia along with the reliquary, and they’re handed on whenever a new caretaker and priestess are initiated.” He regarded Kamil with surprise. “I didn’t know you knew my sister.”
“I went to the village today and spoke with your family about an incident that happened last night. Two policemen were killed and another kidnapped.”
“A terrible thing. But why were you asking my family about it?”
“The murders happened on the pier behind the Tobacco Works. We believe the missing policeman was taken into a tunnel that leads to Sunken Village. He might still be alive. Do you know anything about this tunnel?”
Kamil fully expected Malik to deny having any knowledge of such things, and was astonished when he asked, “Was Amida involved?”
“Probably.”
“He’s not a murderer.”
“I know that.”
“There are many tunnels, but I don’t know of any leading to the Tobacco Works. I’m sorry. What makes you suspect Amida?”
“An accusation. Perhaps it’s wrong. It’s possible the man accused Amida in order to draw suspicion away from himself.”
“I see I was right that you have other things to worry about.”
“I’m honored that you feel you can confide in me,” Kamil said earnestly. “I’ll do my very best to find the reliquary, but you must know that the stolen objects are being sent abroad. It’s possible the reliquary is already in London. Did you tell anyone you had found it? That would have been important news.”
“No, not right away.”
“Why not?”
“A selfish reason unworthy of me. I wished to study it. And I didn’t know what would happen if I gave it to my sister. The sect isn’t what it was. So many years without a touchstone has eroded the faith of its leaders.”
“So how did anyone know about it?”
“I recently told Saba. She can read some Aramaic.”
“Aramaic?”
“Yes. It’s written in Aramaic.”
“I thought it contained a relic.”
“In a way, it does.” Seeing Kamil’s confusion, he continued. “It’s a document. A very old and invaluable document. The parchment was preserved in a lead sleeve that fit inside the reliquary. It’s extremely fragile. That’s why I wanted to make a copy of it before I told anyone else. I planned to copy it and then I wanted Saba to study it with me.”
“What exactly is it?” Kamil wondered why Malik hadn’t told him this to begin with. Clearly it wasn’t the reliquary he was concerned about, but its contents. Secrets within secrets.
Malik stood and paced nervously along the gravel path of the winter garden. Reflected in the night-blackened glass panes, a dozen faint Maliks split and recombined in a cascade of ghosts. The crunch of gravel suddenly ceased.
“Please forgive me. I can’t tell you any more. The less the world knows about the document, the safer it’ll be. It needs to be preserved and protected. Then it can be made public. I sometimes wonder whether it wouldn’t be better just to hide it again, until humankind is worthy of such a gift. But I’m afraid it’ll crumble away.”
“I can see why getting the reliquary back is so important to you, with such a fragile treasure inside.”
“You misunderstand. The reliquary that was stolen is empty. I took the document out.”
Kamil was stunned. “Why concern yourself with the empty box, then, when you have the document? Surely that’s the important thing.”
“I understand it’s just one object among dozens that have gone missing, but there are two reasons for you to bend your mind to finding this particular empty box, Kamil. The reliquary confirms the Proof of God. It gives provenance to the document within.”
“What do you mean?”
“On the lid is an engraving of Theodore Metochites, a historical figure who we know was associated with the Proof. The inscription is ‘The Proof of Chora, Container of the Uncontainable.’ It names the Proof and links it to Theodore’s church. That’s how we know it’s real.”