ithin the walls of the Kremlin at her office on the third floor of
the Senate building, Olga B. Shpion had just finished a frightening
telephone conversation with the Commissar for Education, Anatoly
Lunacharsky in Petrograd. He had been unceremoniously warning her about
the long delay in the completion of the Tsar Ivan IV Library Project.
Shpion went out on a limb to get that project approved. It was against her
better judgement. However, she became convinced of its merit due to the
eloquent proposal by one of her research technicians, Dmitri Dumatskoy.
She somewhat reluctantly signed the proposal and sent it to Petrograd.
Lunacharsky convened a commission to study the proposal. The new
government normally refused any allusion to a glorification of the past.
But research of the alleged 16th Century Library of Ivan Grozny had been
unearthed, and was reborn due to the insightfully written proposal which
represented the ruthless ruler as a lover of wisdom, and a symbol of the
Russian spirit's thirst for knowledge. Lunacharsky's decision to approve
the project on April 6th, 1921, was a surprise to everyone in the Bureau of
Education. The project became Shpion's baby. She took credit for the
proposal and was praised in the press when it was published. The public
awaited the findings of the project.
It was during the reign of Ivan Grozny that rumors spread
throughout Western Europe that the Tsar, the most cultured, articulate, and
well-read of Russian rulers to that time - even possessing literary talents
- was in possession of an extensive library of rare Hebrew, Latin and Greek
manuscripts. He had been building, it was said, upon the foundation laid
by Ivan III.
Ivan III married a Byzantine Princess, Zoe Palaelogue, who had been
living in Rome under the protection of the Pope, with her father - the
brother of the last Byzantine Emperor. When the marriage occurred in 1472,
the Princess brought with her from Rome a mighty entourage consisting of
professional people, artists, architects, and priests; as well as priceless
books, manuscripts, icons, and art objects.
The whereabouts of Ivan Grozny's library, which apparently was
housed in underground catacombs to protect against damage and theft had
been the subject of speculation and controversy ever since. Elaborate maps
had surfaced over centuries, ultimately apocryphal, showing exact locations
of the library. The maps were from all over Moscow. But the great
percentage of them centered around St. Basil the Blessed Cathedral in Red
Square, the fantastic, purely Russian group of eight small churches
surrounding a large central church that was finished in 1560 to commemorate
Ivan's victory over the Tartars and the conquest of the cities of Kazan and
Astrakahn.
Through the open window, hot layers of air were being pushed into
Shpion's office by the darkening sky. The sun had apparently gone cold and
was nowhere to be found. The mid-afternoon appeared to be late evening.
The onion dome on top of the 272' triple-tiered tower of Ivan I repulsed
her terribly.
"It smokes from the heat," she said to her secretary, Marya
Timofeevna, who was seated in a chair in front of Shpion's desk. Marya's
blue blouse and skirt lay at her feet. Her hands covered her mouth. She
was trying to hold back tears.
"Perhaps it will catch fire and burn to the ground," Shpion said
as she smiled sinisterly.
Her pasty face was as flat as the pancakes she was addicted to.
The bright red lipstick that accented her skin color was all smeared. She
took a mirror out of her desk and fixed the lipstick. That 50 year-old
woman with the prematurely gray, short-cropped hair was under 5' in height
and quite stout. Marya was 18. She desperately needed that job. She and
her old mother and two younger brothers shared a flat with five other
people. Shpion promised to better her condition soon. Shpion picked up
the telephone and barked into it in her staccato style of speech,
"Re-search! Du-mat-skoy! Quickly. Quick-ly."
The clerk, on the other end, Fyodor Govnosky, scurried from his
desk to a small room down the corridor where Dmitri Dumatskoy worked.
Govnosky was of medium height and build, but his head appeared too
small for the body. His mouth was shadowed by a heavy mustache which
seemed to grow there like weeds appear in a neglected garden. He was bald
except for a few tufts of blonde hair which he continuously attempted to
paste down with his own spittle. That right-hand dominant young man of 25
used his left hand for this grooming practice. He was ordered to learn to
used his left hand for that by Olga Shpion, after months of complaints by
everyone in the Ministry who had to deal with that fellow. They complained
that it was in violation of the People's Health Code. He previously would
put spittle on his right hand, paste down his hair, and then hand somebody
a document, etc. There were frequently wet areas on everything that
Govnosky came in contact with and passed on. To his credit, he learned to
use his left hand for this purpose very quickly. He also learned early on
to eavesdrop exceedingly well. And if something was being said in an
office, in confidence, in private, and not meant to be overheard - it
better had been said in whispers when Govnosky was about. He was also
looking for an opportunity to glean information that would ruin somebody,
and make him look good in Olga Shpion's eyes.
The four 10' high walls of Dmitri's work room were bookshelves.
They were filled to the vaulted ceiling. Most of the books were marked
with papers of various colors. Quantities of notebook paper were
sporadically stuffed between books. Books were piled over Dmitri's big
desk. Books were piled over almost all the available space on the floor.
Dmitri sat motionless in his chair. His blank gaze was focused on the
corner of the walls to his right at the ceiling.
Dmitri was contemplating Goethe's drama, Faust, Part One: How
marvelous, thought Dmitri, to be like Faust - apex of human development,
scholar and professor, master of the medieval curriculum - but so wearied
and disillusioned by his knowledge that he seeks a spiritual revelation.
The reading of a book of magic by Nostradamus leads Faust to what he is
really after: The invocation of and pact with the demon Mephistopheles.
Dmitri's thoughts were interrupted when the clerk, Govnosky burst
through the door of Dmitri's work room and tripped over a pile of books.
From the floor in front of Dmitri's desk, the clerk groaned and mumbled,
"Comrade Shpion wants to see you."
