The Ancient Witnesses

36 • The Ancient Witnesses: A Journey to Discover Our Sacred Roots

Preacher followed Cesar without hesitation. I crawled in after the two of them, and Joseph came in after me, muttering something I couldn’t quite hear.

The Reading Room The passageway opened into a great hall that stretched into the distance. It was so still and quiet, none of us dared to speak a word as we took in our surroundings. Diffused light filtered through an atrium high above our heads, illuminating particles of dust that floated on the air. A familiar odor—the smell of old books—filled the hall. As our eyes adjusted to the light, the outlines of furnishings slowly took shape. Both sides of the hall were lined with book shelves groaning under the weight of thousands of old volumes bound in light and dark- skinned parchment. Some were enormous folios, lying flat on the lower shelves. Other volumes were arranged upright as in a typical library, on shelves reaching about as high as any of us could reach. Above that, myriads of smaller books filled little niches. Cesar moved quickly over to the books, and as he did there was a soft crunching noise beneath his feet. I stooped down to find that what sounded like dried leaves was in fact torn manuscript pages scattered like puzzle pieces all over the floor. “Check this out,” said Preacher, opening a cabinet to reveal hundreds of nested scrolls. “Are those old maps?” I asked. Preacher unrolled one and spread it out on a narrow table. “It’s covered with writing,” he said, “it’s no map.” “They’re books,” said Cesar, “ancient books.”