Year Zero by Jeff Long Read Free Book Online

with $125,000 and they grabbed it. They had no idea its real worth. I didn’t either.”
    “It looks magnificent,” commented the Egyptian.
    Nikos appraised it more coldly, making notes on a legal pad. Each arm of the cross, front and back, displayed a different holy man in early Byzantine design. They were two-dimensional, verging on cartoons with halos of silver. But the figures stood out against the gold background, their incised lines filled with niello, a black enamel. Judging by the artwork, Nikos guessed its date at 300 C.E . He was unimpressed. “Let’s hope the contents are at least two centuries older than that,” he said.
    Unlike many of the other artifacts, this one had no little window through which to see the enclosed relic. The Egyptian weighed it in his hands and determined the cross was clearly hollow. “What if there is nothing inside?” he asked.
    Nikos laid down his pencil. “Then we will have our dinner that much sooner,” he said cheerfully. He swivelled a magnifying lens over the artifact. “Now,” he spoke to it, “how do we enter your labyrinth?”
    He turned the cross over several times. In the center of the back, a blot of red seal wax carried a bishop’s imprint. Nikos did not recognize the imprint. He took several photos with a small camera, then pried away the wax in chunks. Underneath, the surface was blank.
    “You can never tell where the door to the house might be,” he said. “Oftentimes the domo is hinged on one side, or the top lifts off or a hidden lid is nested into the surface. Others simply have a hollow built into their backs that is threaded shut. But some—especially of this era and earlier—can be quite elaborate. They are puzzle boxes built by ancient masters.”
    Using jeweler’s tools, Nikos touched the cross in various places. He pressed gems studding the front as if they were doorbells. “The very old ones sometimes have secret lock mechanisms, hideaways, even false capsules,” he explained. “I’ve learned the hard way. My clumsiness destroyed several of the oldest relics. One must be patient and try to think like the puzzle maker. It is a game. Him against us.”
    He raised his eyes to the Egyptian. “Would you care to try? Look for a latch or dial or pressure point.”
    The Egyptian was eager. “But what if I damage it?” he said.
    “Then I surely would have damaged it. You’re the surgeon; I’m just an old sailor.”
    The Egyptian took a dental pick and a long dissection needle. He placed his hands to either side and bent over the magnifying lens. He had noticed something about a carbuncle of amethyst at the center of the cross’s upright. It had a bit of rust around the edges, quite unlike the lead solder embedding the other gems. “What do you make of this?” he asked.
    Nikos peered over his shoulder. “You’re a natural,” he said. “Something is there.”
    “Perhaps you should take over.”
    “Why? It’s your discovery.”
    The Egyptian was pleased. He reveled in the investigation. It did feel like a game of chess as he tried to decipher the reliquary. He pried away flakes of rust. A different metal had to lie beneath the amethyst, perhaps some kind of iron mechanism. He gently pressed the gem, but nothing happened. “Am I doing something wrong?”
    “Who knows? These boxes can be complicated. Some are more like machines inside. Keep going.”
    “Marvelous,” breathed the Egyptian. He tried a jeweler’s tool, teasing at the purple gem. The gem refused to move. He gave up. He would never forgive himself for ruining his friend’s treasure. “Here,” he said. “Please.”
    “We’ll do this together,” said Nikos. Nikos took a syringe filled with graphite oil. He laid a delicate beadwork of oil drops around the amethyst. While they waited for the oil to slowly bleed into the rusted works, Nikos went on talking.
    “As you may know, Jews, like Protestants, adamantly reject the practice of holy relics. And yet in the Book of