J. Pekka Mäkelä:
3 9 1
An excerpt from the chapter XVII: CCCXCI
Translated by the author. Copyright © 2004, 2005 J. Pekka Mäkelä. All rights reserved.
Introduction • Chapter II • Chapter V • Chapter XVII
One hundred steps.It was just a short walk from the house of Ismenias to Serapeum temple gates. But the hardest part was after the gates. One hundred steps of stairs in the scorching July of Alexandria. One hundred steep marble steps.
Practice of religion is not supposed to be easy. But I wasn't here to worship Serapis the City God. I was here to steal some books. Or to rescue some books. Early every morning, before the scorching heat of the mid-day, I stepped through the temple gates, passed the believers guarding the place against any Christian desecration attempts. At the beginning, Ismenias accompanied me to explain to the guards, that this tall fellow with a weird accent and a long, desert style cloak had legitimate business around here. After that, he gave me a letter describing my features and guaranteeing a free pass. The guardians had arms; they were alert, and frightened. Not long before the Christians had unearthed votive offerings from the Caesarium, put them on display as examples of pagan stupidity. The desecration had led to an argument, argument had led to a fight, a fight had led to deaths. The followers of Serapis were anticipating revenge.
Past the Ptolemy faced sphinx statues, past the tasteless pillar of Diocletian, past the peddlers selling Serapis statues, cheap votive stuff and souvenirs, towards the hundred steps. Almost every morning I saved a moment to behold the view. At the top of the stairs surrounded by Apis bull statues, there was the actual temple bathing in the morning sunlight. The Greek style marble painted Egyptian style, pillars ornamented with glyphs and pictures that seemed to glow with light. During festivals, the priests moved the great Serapis statue to the front of the temple, with magnets, apparently without a touch. It was said the system was designed by Archimedes himself.
Not to raise any attention, I ascended step by step as any believer would, slowly, humbly, praying. During the one hundred steps I moved slightly sideways to the right side of the stairs. After the one hundred steps, before the actual temple building, there was a wing of smaller buildings circling the temple mound. At the staircase end of the wing, there was a door with a guardian acolyte. After recognizing me, he opened the door just enough for me to slip inside, to the cool shady vaulted corridor. Then the door was closed behind me.
In this wing of the temple complex, in these corridors carved in rock, I spend the most of my days of summer 391 A.D. This place was called the Daughter Library. Initially, the Serapeum Library was used only for the more unimportant material to make more room in the actual palace library. Later on, they started making copies of the better stuff to be stored here. I think the idea was to prevent catastrophes like what had happened, when Caesar's troops had burned down the Egyptian Navy with several Grand Harbor storehouses filled with books. And lately a lot of stuff had been moved here from the Museum, books the ruling bishop considered pagan, heretic or otherwise harmful. They were moved here or to the water boilers of the city baths. But Serapeum's cool, dusky wings had still people copying unique manuscripts. I passed their chambers walking deeper into library stores area. There was a corridor to the left, leading to underground chambers, where the sacrificial Apis bull mummies were waiting for the eternity. Only light there came with torches, so it was no place for books. The book storerooms had beveled holes for skylights.
Here all the storage rooms were numbered Greek style, with letters: alpha, beta, gamma, delta, epsilon...
All the wall cabinets in storage rooms were numbered Greek style, with letters: alpha, beta, gamma, delta, epsilon...
At the right corridor I tried to look innocent enough glancing around. Then I took from under my gown a very un-papyrus list of instructions, written by Kihnipei, who had consulted Ismenias and his bookkeeping.
Following the instructions, I stepped nonchalantly into the storeroom kappa-eta, to the wall cabinet iota-theta. Usually I stayed there a while, quiet and listening. Nothing. I took another look at the instructions. Among the scroll containers of the cabinet there should be one with these markings. Here. I opened the container and looked at the beginning of the scroll. The first words matched what the instructions said. That's the one.
Again, I spent a moment listening. Very quiet here. I heard distant steps getting closer for a moment, then returning back to distance. I put the scroll back into its container. Still quiet. I slipped the container under my cloak. I had a fastener on my backside hips to hang the container so it was kept relatively unseen under my long, desert-style cloak. I stepped from the kappa-eta chamber back to the corridor. Nobody in sight. I retraced my steps to the storage room across the corridor from the gamma chamber, filled with miscellaneous junk. Half by touch, half by the dim light from the corridor, I found a large, woven basket with a lid. I took the scroll container from under my cloak. I opened the lid. I heard steps from the corridor. I froze. Whoever made the steps continued without noticing my presence. I put the container into the basket and closed the lid. Back to the corridor from the storage room. Again, nothing to hear or see. In the dim light of the corridor I checked the very un-papyrus list of instructions. Next, the chamber number epsilon, the wall cabinet kappa-gamma. Not far from here. I opened the container, checked the scroll, closed the container, put it under my gown and took it to the basket in the storage room.
I never could fathom out, what kind of criteria they had used to organize the library collection. Not by author, not by subject. The Greek letters of the chambers or wall cabinets were just numbers that had nothing to do with the initials of the authors or the books. Neither could I fathom why Kihnipei and Ismenias had selected the particular books they wanted us to collect: On Moderation by Speusippos, son of Erymedon. Alchyon by Aristokles, son of Ariston, better known as Plato. On Wealth, Love and Revenge by Dionysios, son of Theophantos. Silli by Timon of Phlius. Against the Rescripts of Alexinus by Ariston of Chios. The Stable Boy by Menander.
It was not uncommon to find the wall cabinet lacking the scroll the list said should be there. It was not uncommon to find the container lacking the scroll the markings indicated. We were not the first thieves to hit this library. No, not the first ones at all.
