“Legend has it that the holy relics of saints were mortared
into the very stonework of the Hagia Sophia in Constantinople during its
construction in the sixth century AD. It was hoped and believed that these
hallowed and consecrated remains would add an enduring and protective strength
to the church. And looking at it today, at close to 1,500 years old, one can
imagine that there may be truth to the legend after all.” Beata Moore paused to
allow the small crowd to ponder her words. She was standing at a podium in front
of a special exhibit at the natural history museum where she and her husband
Robert Moore worked. She was finishing up a speech and slideshow presentation on
the new exhibit.
Anna Moore was watching her
mother Beata from the side of the room, where she stood with her father and her
grandmother Baba. Her father had flown in specifically to lend his support to
Beata and would remain here for the exhibition’s opening weekend. Tonight was a
special preview of the exhibit Holy
Treasures of Byzantium, that would have its official grand opening tomorrow
morning. The people present this evening were comprised of members of the media
and other special guests and dignitaries who would inaugurate the new visiting
exhibit that would remain for a limited time only at the museum for the next six
months. Anna looked around the room. She could see the interest and curiosity in
the faces of the people. Camera’s flashed, recording devices clicked, and notes
were scribbled as the people watched and listened to Beata with great interest.
“This is the very first time
ever that the priceless artifacts in the exhibit will be seen by the general
public,” Beata continued. “The items are here on special loan from Italy, and
will return to Italy after the exhibition’s six month run. And so without
further delay, I have the great honor of unveiling the Holy Treasures of Byzantium.”
Beata Moore stepped away from
the podium and took the oversized scissors handed to her by a colleague. With
both hands she proceeded to cut the thick ribbon that stretched across the
opening of the museum’s exhibit gallery. The ribbon fell to the ground and the
room erupted in a great round of applause as the people slowly filed into the
museum’s special exhibit hall, eager to lay their eyes on the magnificent
treasures that glittered within their illuminated cases. The exhibition included
an audio tour that provided fascinating insights and background information on
the artifacts. And as people entered the hall, they pulled on the earphones that
were handed out to them from the attendants flanking the entrance, to listen to
the tour.
Beata walked over to join
Anna, Robert and Baba. Her faced beamed with a contented smile. Her dark hair
was pulled back into an elegant bun, and she wore a cream-colored silk
long-sleeved blouse and a floor-length black skirt with high-heeled pumps for
the occasion. A single strand of white pearls graced her slender neck. Most of
the people here tonight were dressed formally for the affair. A reception with
musicians playing Renaissance-themed music would be held just after the guests
had a chance to view the exhibit, where hors d'oeuvres, champagne, wine, and
other beverages would be served.
“You were wonderful, my
dear,” Robert told Beata as she joined their little group. He was dressed in a
tuxedo for the event, and looked a bit uncomfortable and stiff in the suit. He
was used to dressing very casually, wearing soft khakis and work boots most of
the time. As an archeologist at the museum, Robert was often away researching,
doing field work, and working at dig sites. His suntanned skin set off his blue
eyes handsomely and his light sandy-brown hair was peppered with blond streaks
from working outside. Even the white in his hair seemed to blend in with the
streaks, and had a ruggedly handsome effect on his overall appearance. “The
guests look spellbound.”
“Thank you my love,” Beata
replied to her husband. “I hope they enjoy it.”
Anna had watched her mother
work very hard preparing for this exhibit. As one of the curators at the museum,
Beata had been making arrangements since last year, putting countless hours into
the preparations. She had even traveled to Italy three times over the last six
months for this. Tonight’s unveiling hosted media from around the country, and
some from the international community. They were eager to see the treasures
showcased here.
“Doctor Moore?” A man’s voice
interrupted them. Both of Anna’s parents turned around to face the reporter
standing behind them. “Doctor Beata
Moore, I meant,” the man clarified with a grin. Anna’s father was also known as
Doctor Moore.
“Yes, Mr. …” Beata replied as
she glanced down at the tag that hung on a thin cord around the man’s neck by
the lapel of his suit.
“Beck. Thomas Beck, with the
World Press,” he said. “May I ask you
a few questions about the exhibit?”
“Of course,” Beata said
graciously in her faded Eastern European accent. She removed the reading glasses
she had been wearing during her presentation and held out her hand to the
reporter, which he shook. Then she folded the glasses neatly and held them in
her hand. Anna admired her mother. She knew Beata was very beautiful. But beyond
her looks were compassion, elegance, and grace. And these qualities seemed to
underscore her intelligence which gleamed in her brown eyes.
“Is it true,” the reporter
began as he switched on a small recording device that he held up for Beata to
see. Beata nodded her consent as the recording commenced, and the man continued.
“Is it true that the treasures displayed here were stolen from the Hagia
Sophia?”
Anna’s eyes widened. She
glanced quickly at Baba who kept her gaze on the reporter and only seemed to
smile. Baba looked like an older version of Beata. Her white hair was also
pulled back into a sophisticated bun, and she wore a long floor-length plum silk
dress with a matching shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Anna’s father just
watched the exchange between Beata and the reporter in pensive silence. Beata
tilted her head a moment as she thought of her response.
“These treasures were
secretly absconded during the siege of Constantinople in 1453,” Beata began. The
reporter flashed a satisfied I knew
it look and attempted to jump in and interrupt her but Beata raised her hand
to silence him as she continued. “Every effort was made to safeguard the
treasures of the Hagia Sophia and other churches in Constantinople from the
Ottoman Turks who were bombarding the walls that surrounded the city.” Beata
stopped to clean the lenses of her glasses with a small cloth that she pulled
out of a pocket in her skirt. It was a nervous habit that Anna had often seen
her do when she was preoccupied with her thoughts. Beata had a thoughtful
expression on her face as her mind worked. “Have you seen the exhibit yet, Mr.
Beck?” Beata asked as she glanced back at the reporter. But the reporter only
shook his head.
“Not yet, no, but I will in a
moment,” he stopped to quickly adjust the tie around his neck, then asked again,
“So they were not stolen?”
“Of course not,” Beata
replied patiently. “How can they steal from themselves?” She gave the reporter a
satisfied smile of her own, before continuing on to explain. “They gathered all
the sacred relics and treasures on the orders of the Emperor Constantine XI
Palaiologos—the last emperor of the Byzantine Empire. Everything here tonight is
a representation of some of those items that did indeed make it safely out of
Constantinople before it fell into the hands of the Turks and Sultan Mehmet II,
who led the siege on Constantinople and its ultimate capture.”
The reporter only nodded his
understanding and clicked off his recording device now that his question had
been answered. “A race against
time,” he mumbled as he slipped the recorder into his pocket.
“Indeed,” Beata replied. Her
eyes grew distant as she thought of the fall of Constantinople. “It most
certainly must have been a terrifying time, knowing that the assailants would
overtake the city, the people, and all within its walls,” Beata paused to fidget
with her glasses once again as she thought of the events that occurred in the
fifteenth century. “We are quite fortunate that those people who risked their
lives to safeguard these holy treasures did so. These things might have been
lost forever otherwise. And we never would have learned of their tremendous
significance.” She looked back at the reporter. “But here we are,” she smiled.
“They were not lost. Enjoy the
exhibit Mr. Beck,” Beata nodded. He thanked Beata for her time and proceeded
over to see the exhibit for himself.
The Holy Treasures of Byzantium exhibit had
been publicized widely, and had already earned much praise, being highly
acclaimed in the industry. This opening weekend was expected to draw thousands
of curious museum attendees who wanted to glimpse the spectacular find.
Anna’s father Robert had
flown in especially for this grand unveiling from an excavation site in South
Dakota where he had been working. Beata would be working long hours late into
the night this weekend especially, and Anna would be staying at Baba’s house for
the next few days. She and Baba would return again tomorrow morning for the
exhibit’s official public opening. For now, their small group moved to join in
the flow of the onlookers who gazed with rapt interest at the encased objects.
Beata chatted with her husband and also paused now and again to answer questions
or listen to comments from those in attendance.
Anna did not pay much
attention to the things in their cases. She had glimpsed a few of them already,
though never really pausing to truly look closely. In her mind, these things
were casually lumped together with all the rest of the artifacts in the museum
as things belonging to the Past: a vast and perplexing collection of items from
bygone eras that meant little to her and her present life. Even the objects in
Baba’s own house—Baba was a collector of antiques—were also included in that
category.
Anna was more interested in
watching the people who stared at the things in the exhibit. She found it
interesting how these artifacts could hold their attention the way they did, and
she liked to observe their facial expressions and reactions as they oohed and
aahed at everything. Perhaps having grown up with the museum and all its history
had made her take these things somewhat for granted. She had also traveled a
great deal with her parents throughout her fifteen years, and had been exposed
to things that other children her age did not even dream about. And although she
loved history and had a deep and genuine interest and appreciation for the many
peoples and cultures of the world throughout time, the artifacts they left
behind did not hold the same appeal for her as did the people themselves.
Anna was an only child who
often stayed at her grandmother’s house. The natural history museum where both
her parents worked sometimes seemed like another home to Anna. Baba’s house was
in some ways also like a museum with all the fascinating collectibles and
artifacts that filled her beautiful Victorian home. It was there, at Baba’s
house, that the gilded mirror hung. It was kept away in a dark room on the
second floor. Sheets covered the valuable objects and furniture in the room in
an attempt to protect them from the dust. Anna had discovered the mirror
accidentally one day, and she had inadvertently stepped back in time through its
golden frame, not once, but twice. First to seventeenth-century England at Corfe
Castle, and then to the first century AD in the Roman Empire at
Pompeii.
As Anna watched the people
gazing in rapt attention at all the shimmering objects in the exhibit, she
thought of the gilded mirror that waited for her at Baba’s house. Yes, Anna
thought, it was waiting for her. She
felt it. Its mysterious energy seemed to pull Anna even from this distance.
Tonight Anna would go to Baba’s house and see it again. She would wait until
Baba was asleep in her room, and then she would tiptoe quietly down the hall to
see the gilded mirror once again.
Anna’s arms prickled with
goose bumps as she thought of the gilded mirror now. People might easily have
mistaken her quiet attention as being riveted by the beautiful objects that drew
the viewers’ admirations. They did not know that she had already glimpsed some
of these treasures when her mother was preparing them for their prominent
display. As the daughter of not one, but two leading museum employees, Anna was
privy to the exhibits and collections in a way that other viewers were not. And
so as the people moved about in hushed appreciation of the artifacts there, Anna
stepped away from her family and moved over to a large oversized photographic
depiction of the Hagia Sophia as it would have appeared just before it was
converted into a mosque after the Ottoman conquest of Constantinople in 1453.
She stared at the beautifully detailed representation of the Church of Holy
Wisdom, as its name meant when translated from the Greek words Hagia Sophia.
Anna stood there with her
long dark hair hanging loosely about her shoulders. She wore a strapless glitter
mesh knee-length dress in blue, with a matching cropped jacket and low black
heels. She stared at the artistic rendition of the Hagia Sophia, but her eyes
were far away. She was already mentally preparing herself for the journey on
which she hoped to embark tonight. Tonight, Anna thought again as another
spell of goose bumps prickled her flesh. Tonight she would step into another
world through the gilded mirror. She would close her eyes and step through its
heavily gold-leafed frame to another place and time in history. She had no idea
where it would take her. But the anticipation made her heart race faster as she
felt the gilded mirror’s strange and undeniable magnetic pull tug at her once
again.
Tonight…
This is the third book in the Gilded Mirror series
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