“The Voynich manuscript’s illustrations of strange flora would certainly intrigue a botanist—not to mention the illumination of a tree from Ashmole 782. But why would an alchemist be interested in them?” Lucy asked.
“Because some of the Voynich’s illustrations resemble alchemical apparatus. The ingredients and processes needed to make the philosopher’s stone were jealously guarded secrets, and alchemists often hid them in symbols: plants, animals, even people.” The Book of Life contained the same potent blend of the real and the symbolic.
“And Athanasius Kircher was interested in words and symbols, too. That’s why you think he would have been interested in the illumination of the tree as well as the Voynich,” Lucy said slowly.
“Yes. It’s why the missing letter that Georg Baresch claims he sent to Kircher in 1637 is so significant.” I slid a folder in her direction. “The Kircher expert I know from Stanford is in Rome. She volunteered to go to the Pontifical Gregorian University archives, where the bulk of Kircher’s correspondence is kept, and nose around. She sent me a transcription of the later letter from Baresch to Kircher written in 1639. It refers back to their exchange, but the Jesuits told her the original letter can’t be found.”
“When librarians say ‘it’s lost,’ I always wonder if that’s really true,” she grumbled.
“Me, too.” I thought wryly of my experiences with Ashmole 782.
Lucy opened the folder and groaned. “This is in Latin, Diana. You’re going to have to tell me what it says.”
“Baresch thought Kircher might be able to decipher the Voynich’s secrets. Kircher had been working on Egyptian hieroglyphs. It made him an international celebrity, and people sent him mysterious texts and writings from far and wide,” I explained. “To better hook Kircher’s interest, Baresch forwarded partial transcripts of the Voynich to Rome in 1637 and again in 1639.”
“There’s no specific mention of a picture of a tree, though,” Lucy said.
“No. But it’s still possible that Baresch sent it to Kircher as an additional lure. It’s of a much higher quality than the Voynich’s pictures.” I sat back in my chair. “I’m afraid that’s as far as I’ve been able to get. What have you found out about the book sale where Wilfrid Voynich acquired the manuscript?”
Just as Lucy opened her mouth to reply, a librarian rapped on the door and entered.
“Your husband is on the phone, Professor Bishop.” He looked at me in disapproval. “Please tell him that we aren’t a hotel switchboard and don’t usually take calls for our patrons.”
“Sorry,” I said, getting out of my chair. “I had an accident with my phone this morning. My husband is a bit . . . er, overprotective.” I gestured apologetically at my rounded form.
The librarian looked slightly mollified and pointed to a phone on the wall that had a single flashing light. “Use that.”
“How did Baldwin get here so fast?” I asked Matthew when we were connected. It was the only thing I could think of that would make Matthew call the library’s main number. “Did he come by helicopter?”
“It’s not Baldwin. We’ve discovered something strange about the picture of the chemical wedding from Ashmole 782.”
“Strange how?”
“Come and see. I’d rather not talk about it on the phone.”
“Be right there.” I hung up and turned to Lucy. “I’m so sorry, Lucy, but I have to go. My husband wants me to help with a problem in his lab. Can we continue later?”
“Sure,” she said.
I hesitated. “Would you like to come with me? You could meet Matthew—and see a page from Ashmole 782.”