The Connoisseur

Chapter 11 - The Library

“Where did you get all of these?” she said.  There must have been tens of thousands of books.  “Are they real?”

“They are,” said Alexander, climbing up a thin spiral staircase to the next floor.  “Why would they not be?”

“I don’t know.  I mean, I don’t know what this place really is.  Do you just...oh, this will sound stupid.”

Alexander looked at her from above and came back down to her.  “I don’t mind.  Tell me.”

Sophia looked away.  “Do you just imagine everything here, and it appears?”

“Like a holodeck?”

She took in his coattails and tie, and raised an eyebrow.  “That is not a reference I expected from you.”

“Star Trek is just as important culturally as Mozart,” said Alexander, grinning.  “You are right, to some degree.  This place provides for my wishes.  If I desire these clothes, I have them; if I wish to have new statues in the hallways, it makes them; if I want for a library, a library I shall have.”

“But it’s all so real,” said Sophia, brushing her hand along the books.  She could feel the dust on the spines and the leaves.  “I know I’ve been here before, but it’s still so strange.  God, I wore those clothes you set out for me last time, you’d think I’d get used to this.”

“It is certainly all real.  We can take any item we wish out of the doors and into the temporal world, and those items there that take my fancy I bring back to adorn this place.  Many of these books, for instance.  Come!  We shall find Arabia and Persia on the top floor, I think.”

He led her up the thin stairs to the top of the room, just beneath the arched timber ceiling.  Sophia peered over the rail onto the floors below as Alexander scanned the shelves.  Her mind was ablaze.  Anything he wanted, conjured from nothing.  It was magical.

“Let me see,” said Alexander.  “Xenophon’s Anabasis...no, this will be too early.  Scheherezade was supposedly from the Sasanian era.  I should have something...”

He climbed one of the ladders, muttering to himself.

The sun was setting; the light glinted on something in the corner of Sophia’s eye.  On the opposite side of the room from the window, she could just make out a dark alcove.  It appeared to be a small inner chamber, raised even higher than the rest of the library up one last little flight of stairs.  She approached it; Alexander continued to search for books behind her.

At the top of the stairs she saw a desk, on which lay a little inkwell, a steel pen and a stack of rich paper.  On either side were candles and marble busts, with further shelves flanking the little room.  Everything was placed in perfect symmetry, inevitably drawing the eye to the very centre of the chamber.

There, in pride of place, stood an elegant wooden lectern, and upon this lay a large book, bound in rich red leather.  It was open; Sophia could see the spidery writing scrawled across the first page and a little of the second.  At this distance she could not read it.  Even as her head warned her to turn back, her feet took her forward.

“What are you doing?”

She gasped and spun around.  Alexander was staring at her.  Anger flashed in his eyes so vividly that it scared her.  He quickly walked by and shut the heavy book, laying a firm hand on the cover.

“I’m sorry,” said Sophia, catching her breath.  “I was wondering what it was.”

“Nothing.  A few musings of mine, that’s all.  Think nothing of it.  Nothing.”

“Okay.”

“Good.  Good.”  She could see his shoulders rise and fall.  His presence seemed to have grown, but when he turned to face her the wrath in his eyes had faded.  “I apologise for my tone.”

“That’s fine,” said Sophia.  “Don’t worry about it, please.”

“Thank you.”

Sophia looked at the floor.  They were silent for a few moments.  Alexander cleared his throat.

“I may have found a suitable book,” he said.  “Let’s find you an Arabian Night to visit, shall we?”

“Yes.  Let’s.”

They went back into the main body of the library, where a book lay on a table.  Alexander picked it up.

“This is a chronicle of the Kings of Sasanian Persia,” said Alexander.  “Scheherazade and Shahrayar are often supposed to be of that culture.  It was the last great empire of the Middle East prior to the rise of Islam, famed for its flourishing culture.  A final bastion of the ancient world.”

“So this is the world of the Thousand and One Nights?” said Sophia, reading over his shoulder.  She saw pictures of monumental stone lions, great desert temples and curious arabesque art.

“To some degree.  The tales in the Nights are drawn from right across Asia, from Egypt to India.  But if you want the flying carpets, djinns-in-lamps sort of world,” Alexander looked straight at her, “Sasanian Persia may well be the place to go.”

“But look at this,” said Sophia, pointing to a page.  “The Sasanians ruled from 224 to 651 AD.  That’s a lot of time to choose from.”

Alexander leaned in close to her.  “I do have a little idea.”

“I thought you might.”

“See here – Khosrau the First, Shahanshah of the Sasanian Empire, known as ‘the immortal soul’.  He is the most famous of all the Great Kings of that great realm, a philosopher and patron of the arts.  He was crowned on September 13, 531 in the city of Ctesiphon.”

“Does he have a vizier called Jafar?”

Alexander laughed.  “I’m not sure.  Shall we go to his coronation and find out?”

Sophia beamed at him.  They dashed for the stairs.  She caught one last glimpse of the little inner chamber, the firmly closed book within – but then it was gone, and images of ancient eastern glories drove the thought of it from her mind. 

**

It looks like these two are on the way to another adventure, but not without a little tension.  Alexander still has his secrets.  What do you think got him so angry?  What could be in that book he quickly dismissed?  I appreciate all your votes and comments.

The picture is of an old library in Lima, Peru, and is almost exactly what I imagine Alexander's personal library to look like.  Add in a few more floors, strip out the skylights, add candles and it's perfect.