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crypt.”
    Parchment was made by removing the hair from sheep- or goatskin, then processing the hides with lime to produce smooth and extremely fine leather.
    â€œYes, they’re very beautiful, aren’t they?”
    Cyrus rose from the bench and walked across the crypt. He carefully lifted the book on top and opened it.

    Zarathan watched him read for a time, before asking, “What is that?”
    â€œ The Exposition of the Lord’s Logia: sayings by Papias. There are supposed to be five divisions, or five books, in this volume.” Cyrus tilted the book sideways to read something. “There’s a handwritten note in the margin, in Greek, which says that Papias was the bishop of the community of Hieropo-lis in Asia Minor, and lived about thirty years after our Lord’s death.” 25
    Cyrus flipped through the leaves for a time, reading, until he found something that obviously caught his attention. In awe, he whispered, “I didn’t know that.”
    â€œKnow what?”
    â€œPapias says that Markos served as Petros’ interpreter, hermeneutes, and that he wrote down everything he heard Petros say about the words of our Lord.”
    â€œIs he referring to the Gospel of Markos?”
    â€œAccording to Papias, he didn’t like written sources. He only recorded the words of living people. He claims to have spoken directly to the presbyter Ioannes, and someone named Aristion, as well as ‘those who actually attended the presbyters.’ Which means he got his information from the disciples second- or thirdhand.” Cyrus scrutinized something and murmured, “Really?” as though surprised.
    â€œWhat did you find now?”
    â€œHave you ever heard the names of the two thieves who were crucified on either side of our Lord?”
    â€œNo,” Zarathan whispered in awe. “Who were they?”
    â€œDysmas and Gestas. 26 Except this says they were Zealots, not thieves. Hmm.” He squinted. “There’s another editorial note that refers the reader to a passage in division four.”
    â€œLook it up.”
    Cyrus glanced at him, smiled, and flipped through the parchment leaves. As he read, he whispered, “Are you sure you want to hear it? It’s definitely heretical.”
    Zarathan wet his dry lips. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
    â€œOf course not. I’m your brother in Christos.”
    â€œThen I’m not afraid. Read it to me.”
    Cyrus read for a few heartbeats, and his eyes narrowed. He whispered, “I wonder what this is?”

    â€œWhat?”
    â€œIt looks like some sort of substitution cipher, using Aramaic, Greek, and Hebrew letters.”
    Excited, Zarathan said, “You mean it’s a secret saying?”
    As Cyrus continued reading, his green eyes grew shiny, then he gently closed the book, placed it back on top of the gazelle leather bags, and sank down on the bench.
    Zarathan’s heart began to pound. “What’s wrong? What did it say? Why aren’t you telling me?”
    Cyrus stared at the far side of the crypt. “Have you ever heard a story about Ioses of Arimathaia—”
    â€œAnd the cup of Christos? Of course. It’s said that he—”
    â€œNo, not the grail legends. This is a story about Ioses fleeing Jerusalem the night after he placed our Lord’s body in his garden tomb.” 27
    Riveted by the expression on Cyrus’ face, Zarathan’s voice grew hushed. “No, I’ve never heard that story.”
    Cyrus seemed to be gazing into eternity. “I’m not sure I understood correctly. Most of the passage is in cipher, and a good deal is so faded I can’t make it out. But …” He turned to Zarathan. Their gazes locked. “Papias said he heard this story from the grandson of a centurion who had been ordered to ride hard to catch Ioses of Arimathaia and his band of thieves.”
    â€œThieves? What had they