“Some of those old rituals, such as animal sacrifice, were once shared by Jews, Christians, and Muslims alike,” Ismail Hodja explained. “The Jews and Christians don’t practice them anymore. I’ve never had the privilege of seeing one of the Melisite rituals. The community is very secretive, but they have good reason to keep to themselves. Some believe that the Melisites are really Christians living as Muslims, although who’s to say what that means. But ordinary people aren’t interested in philosophical debates and they tend to be quite unforgiving about that sort of thing. They say that he who prays at two altars is without religion.” Ismail Hodja leaned forward to refill their tea glasses. “It’s a remarkable feat, if you think about it, to hide their identity for such a long time.”
Kamil felt certain that by sharing Malik’s secret with Ismail Hodja, he wouldn’t be revealing anything the old scholar didn’t already know.
“Malik said he had found something called the Proof of God.”
“He found it?” The empty tea glass dropped from Ismail Hodja’s hand. He stared at Kamil in amazement.
“Malik didn’t tell me much, just that it’s somehow central to the Melisites.” Kamil began to reevaluate his assessment of the reliquary. If it elicited this much of a reaction from the ordinarily unflappable Ismail Hodja, it might be as important as Malik had said.
“I think he was killed for it. I wish I had listened to him,” Kamil said bitterly, balling his fists. “Last night he told me that he was in danger and I didn’t do anything about it. If I had asked him to spend the night, he’d still be alive.”
“You can’t protect someone by locking them up, Kamil. You know that. The minute he walked out of your door in the morning, he would still have been a target.”
Kamil took a deep breath, “I know.”
“The Proof of God disappeared after the Conquest. I didn’t realize the Melisites were involved.” Ismail Hodja pulled at his beard and thought for a while. “It makes sense. If this is indeed the authentic Proof of God, it would be important enough for a sect to have formed to protect it, especially after the fall of Byzantium.”
“What is it?”
“A relic stolen from Jerusalem by Christian Crusaders early in the twelfth century. They claimed to be protecting pilgrims in what they called their Holy Land, but in fact spent their time digging secretly under the Dome of the Rock. They claimed to have found the Ark of the Covenant. Reports at the time describe a casket, but we’re fairly certain it wasn’t the Ark-that had already disappeared from Jerusalem long before the birth of the Prophet Jesus. It’s said that King Solomon’s son Menelik took the Ark back with him to Abyssinia, where it remains to this day in a temple at Aksum.”
“Do you believe that?”
“I believe that armies have crept across the earth stealing objects they think are powerful. Whatever it was that the Crusaders found allowed them to become wealthy and strong. They called themselves Templars. They raised an army and carved out their own little fortified kingdoms all over this region. It was shameful. These men acting in the name of Christianity sacked some of the greatest Christian cities of the time. When they were finished, there was almost nothing left of Byzantium. I suppose the Turks can thank the Templars for weakening Constantinople over the centuries. When Mehmet the Conqueror finally plucked the apple, the city was almost bankrupt. The Templars took their treasures to Acre and then to Antioch, staying one step ahead of our armies. In Antioch, they entrusted their treasure to a young man, Philip of Stark, who was to take it to Aksum in Abyssinia. You can see how desperate they must have been to give the casket to a boy of sixteen. He arrived there in 1291, by their reckoning.”
“How did it get from Aksum to Istanbul?”
“The Abyssinian king thought that the Templars were trying to steal the Ark of the Covenant, their Ark, which I think is quite likely. In 1306, when the situation became too dangerous, Philip took the treasure to France, to their main temple in Paris. He was accompanied by Sophia, his daughter by a local woman. She must have been around thirteen.”
Ismail Hodja drank some tea and continued. “The poor young man escaped from the river only to drown in the sea. On the same boat with Philip and his daughter was an Abyssinian mission to the Christian pope. It’s believed that they warned the Pope that the Templars were planning to overthrow him.” Ismail Hodja shook his head and clicked his tongue in disapproval. “These were all supposedly religious men, yet they were scheming against each other. It’s remarkable that the Christians have thrived for so long.”
“Luck,” Kamil offered.
“Guns,” Ismail Hodja corrected him. “And convenient ethics. Just a few months later, the Pope convinced the French king and other European heads of state to hunt down the Templars and confiscate their wealth, like a sow devouring its own brood.”
“What happened to Philip and his daughter?” Kamil asked, now thoroughly drawn into the story.
“Philip was arrested and executed by burning in a public square. Sophia and her treasure turned up here in Constantinople. The Byzantine church wasn’t on friendly terms with the Roman pope, so it was a natural destination. The Byzantine emperor put the Proof of God under the the protection of the statesman Theodore Metochites. He was probably grateful to acquire such a powerful, sacred object, since almost all of their relics had been stolen by the Crusaders and taken to Europe. In sacred terms, the city was naked.”
“There’s an image of Theodore on the reliquary. Malik said the reliquary gives the Proof of God provenance.”
“Ah, even God must prove his authenticity,” Ismail Hodja remarked with a halfhearted smile.
“How have you learned all this?” Kamil asked in amazement.
“Muslim scholars kept track of the relic. It had been stolen from one of our holiest sites and they hoped to get it back. Every generation has its choniclers. The Templars used the object to advertise their own importance, so for a while it was easy to follow. The chronicles were collected in the library at al-Azhar University in Cairo. I had the honor of contributing a brief account of the Proof’s sojourn in Byzantium.”
“How did the Proof get in the hands of the Habesh?”
“Sophia was half Abyssinian, remember? She married Theodore’s son.”
“So Sophia’s descendants kept the Proof of God and built their sect around it.”
“We don’t know for sure. The Metochites family was given custody in perpetuity, but the Proof was actually kept in the vault of the Hagia Sophia cathedral. The chronicles end there. No one knows what happened to it during the Conquest. Some believe it was taken out of Constantinople, perhaps to Venice. Over the years, many have tried to find it. It’s extraordinary to hear news of it again.”
Kamil was stunned and humbled to realize that generations of scholars had tracked and written about the crushed reliquary he had so cavalierly dismissed as worthless.
“Malik told me it was lost after the Conquest during a fight between his ancestor, the caretaker of the Church of Chora, and someone he called a false prophet.”
It felt odd that he, Kamil, was contributing some small part to the tale of the Proof’s odyssey. It occurred to him that he might be adding to history that would be written down and preserved in the library of al-Azhar. It was thrilling, but he felt guilty, as though he were feasting on Malik’s death.
“What else did he say, may he rest in peace?” Ismail Hodja’s excitement bled through his measured tone.
“The Melisites thought the reliquary was still somewhere in the Church of Chora, so they kept one of their members there as caretaker, even after it became a mosque. What’s odd is that they never admitted to the members of their sect that it was missing. The congregation still thinks it’s in a room in their prayer hall.”
“Secrets are the lifeblood of sects. The Melisites must have been very secretive indeed. I’m surprised word didn’t circulate that they claimed to be guarding the Proof.”