His uncle rushed to the door, but Nicholas stopped him. “They will recognize you as an overseer.” He grabbed the stack of books from his uncle and wrapped them in his cloak. Then he grabbed a curtain tie and strapped the bundle on his back. He said, “Take some of the commentaries and leave through the door. Let them catch you with those.”
His uncle nodded and turned to the library. Nicholas ran into the atrium and climbed a column. The weight of the books slowed him. Dragging himself up onto the roof, he crawled along the tiles to the back of the building. Another roof was just a leap away. Off he sprang, and as he landed, he hunched down and waited. He could not see the soldiers, but soon he could hear one of them growl to his uncle, “Give us those, Christianus! You cannot escape the reach of Caesar.”
Nicholas turned and headed out across the rooftops. It seemed strange. The very words of Christus and his apostles, which he had handled so gently before, now bounced roughly on his back. They needed a safe and secret place until the time they could be retrieved again. He turned his course in the direction of Mount Taurus.
Reaching the tombs, Nicholas found a group of mourners gathered there. They would surely see him enter his tomb. He crouched down in the shadows of the brush and waited until the last of the mourners turned back to the city. By mid-afternoon, he found himself alone and climbed into his tomb.
He had added several urns along the back of the chamber to hold his treasury. He felt compelled to reach in and check one. It had its fill of gold coins. The sarcophagus in the family tomb at Patara now lay empty. The gold all sat here. He still planned to use it in honor of Christus, but hadn’t yet decided how. And now it would be much more difficult. He took the bundle of precious books from his back and wrapped it more tightly, placing it in the shadows behind the urns. If anyone knew of this place, they would likely find the books, but he would make sure no one knew.
When he returned to the city, Nicholas found his uncle gazing at what was left of the Assembly of New Zion. A soldier supervised a work crew tearing down the last of its supporting beams. Out in front, a bonfire crackled with the books and timbers of the building. His uncle’s features seemed carved in stone with no expression.
His uncle nodded and turned to the library. Nicholas ran into the atrium and climbed a column. The weight of the books slowed him. Dragging himself up onto the roof, he crawled along the tiles to the back of the building. Another roof was just a leap away. Off he sprang, and as he landed, he hunched down and waited. He could not see the soldiers, but soon he could hear one of them growl to his uncle, “Give us those, Christianus! You cannot escape the reach of Caesar.”
Nicholas turned and headed out across the rooftops. It seemed strange. The very words of Christus and his apostles, which he had handled so gently before, now bounced roughly on his back. They needed a safe and secret place until the time they could be retrieved again. He turned his course in the direction of Mount Taurus.
Reaching the tombs, Nicholas found a group of mourners gathered there. They would surely see him enter his tomb. He crouched down in the shadows of the brush and waited until the last of the mourners turned back to the city. By mid-afternoon, he found himself alone and climbed into his tomb.
He had added several urns along the back of the chamber to hold his treasury. He felt compelled to reach in and check one. It had its fill of gold coins. The sarcophagus in the family tomb at Patara now lay empty. The gold all sat here. He still planned to use it in honor of Christus, but hadn’t yet decided how. And now it would be much more difficult. He took the bundle of precious books from his back and wrapped it more tightly, placing it in the shadows behind the urns. If anyone knew of this place, they would likely find the books, but he would make sure no one knew.
When he returned to the city, Nicholas found his uncle gazing at what was left of the Assembly of New Zion. A soldier supervised a work crew tearing down the last of its supporting beams. Out in front, a bonfire crackled with the books and timbers of the building. His uncle’s features seemed carved in stone with no expression.
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