The Museum of the Sea, as it is now called, also houses a Roman reservoir and cavernous spaces that now hold curiosities that include ceramics from that era and boat-wrecks that were found along the shores of the island and its neighbour.

For one, the island is rich in stories. In fact, the name grew out of the fictional writings of Raymond Féraud, who created a sister for the very real Saint Honoratus, the latter having founded a monastery in the neighbouring island, the much smaller Île Saint-Honorat. The wind skims over the surface of the water lightly, causing the faintest of ripples as I board the steamer that will ferry us from Cannes to St Marguerite Island that lies in the near distance. I expect to find a church or a cloister to the saint the island is named after, but therein lies a tale.Never in the island’s long history, which dates back to the Roman era when it was named Lero, has there been a church for St Marguerite on the island. But passing through the door of the fort, I am suddenly aware of a feeling of being hemmed in.When I clean the scratch at night, I notice it is shaped like an M.A sight, rare and beautiful, awaits me here. I learn these are called umbrella pines, native to the Mediterranean.Fort Royal houses more than just the prison.Rue de l’ile Sainte MargueriteTales of prisoners have always inspired legends. Here, for eleven long, forsaken years, dwelt the man whom Alexander Dumas wrote about and whom we know as The Man in the Iron Mask.Stepping on to the island is like stepping into another world.It is a fine day, and the sea is a welcoming cornflower blue.The yellow building is not a fort by Indian standards. Fact and fiction blend to create an air of mystery that seems to waft alongside, as I walk under fragrant eucalyptus trees that reach for the sky and quaint flat-topped trees. None of the hustle and bustle I have been part of less than an hour earlier; instead, a Sylvian quiet.  

Falling over a log, I carry back a souvenir — a tiny scratch on my knee. Quite another mystery, that!The writer is a Consulting Editor with Harper Collins Publishers India and the Executive Director of Encyclomedia. I am tempted by the idea of a longish walk, to see Nature in the raw. It has no turrets and the sweeping walled terraces bear no menace, offering stunning views of the sea instead. Fort Royal, on this island, in its turn, has spun more legends and stories than Chillon.Échauguette sur lesplanade du fort Royal de l’îleSome perch on trees, others fly about with a rush of wings; it is as if the place has a secret opening to Eden.Clean, unmarked walls, a window with bars, and space occupied by a solid iron bed is all that one finds. I would dwell longer here and take endless photographs, but the boat’s warning whistle calls repeatedly. Birds of many feathers, their voices competing to be heard one over the other, some squawking, others trilling, live in amazing harmony by the waterside. I wait for the group ahead of me to leave and pass through the old wood door, heavy with age and iron studs, to enter the room. Two small rooms out of the six that line the corridor stand open. Whether he was, as legend has surmised, a twin of the French king Louis XIV, or a steward punished for knowing too much, the fact remains that centuries after he lived shuttered behind the thick walls and heavy doors, before being shifted to another prison, the story still finds its way into theatre and film.  

I stand watching the shoreline of the well-loved town of Cannes grow farther and farther, then turn to watch the island drawing closer. Byron was moved by the ironic cruelty of the prison in Chillon, which housed its prisoners in dark underground cells. It is the fifth cell that seems to interest the visitors. To him was denied the delight of walking under the pines, of lying in the grass under the blue Mediterranean sky. I PVC Casement Window make my way to a small lake, the island’s only source of water, which is reportedly rich in bird life.Not fancying a night alone in the fort’s open chamber, I rush back. His face always hidden from view, his life secured within these narrow walls. A more fascinating story is the one that the island’s only historic structure has to tell.

The treatise in history has been signed by the 14th-century thinker himself.”.Perhaps surprisingly, one of the “works most in demand” according to Jouane is Christian: a 12th century copy of the Gospel of Mark in Arabic. And then there is a treatise on the Malikite doctrine in Islam written by the grandfather of the Arab philosopher Averroes.

Last year the Islamic State group burned thousands of rare manuscripts at the Mosul library in Iraq, and in 2013 Islamists torched countless early writings from the Islamic world and Greece in Mali’s Timbuktu.Fihri, the daughter of a wealthy merchant from Al-Qayrawan in Tunisia, established the library, the university that originally housed it and a mosque in 859.“Praise be to God, what is written belongs to me,” a line he wrote reads in breathtakingly elegant handwriting.  

But many were destroyed, stolen or plundered over the years, says Jouane.The word ‘diabetes,’ which is of Greek origin, already features written in Arabic script.Today the university has moved to a new location, but the mosque — which shares an emerald-green tile roof with the library — still stands.Nestled in a labyrinth of streets in the heart of Morocco’s ancient city of Fez, stands the world’s oldest working library.Its wooden window shutters are closed to prevent sunlight from entering.The library as it appears today was built in the 14th century under sultan Abu Inan, and completely restructured under king Mohammed V, the grandfather of Morocco’s current monarch.”The library counted 30,000 manuscripts when it was founded under Abu Inan. “All that’s left to be done are a few finishing touches and the electricity,” says Boubker Jouane, the librarys deputy director.Works can be consulted sitting at one of two chairs next to a simple table — on which sits a green felt cushion embroidered with gold thread. “From baldness to corn on the foot, all ailments of the body are listed — in verse to make them easier to learn,” Jouane says.One example is a treatise on medicine by philosopher and physician Ibn Tufayl from the 12th century. But for the few lucky enough to be allowed behind the door, a staircase tiled with green and blue hints at the written wonders beyond.Under an imposing ceiling of wooden arabesques and a huge copper chandelier, the main reading room sits next an area that contains some 20,000 books. The Qarawiyyin library has just emerged from years of restoration, although no date has yet been fixed for a public opening.As early writings from the Arabic-speaking world have come under increasing threat from extremists, the Qarawiyyin library is home to priceless treatises in Islamic studies, astronomy and medicine.

“A house of science and wisdom,” according to its founder Fatima Al-Fihri, the Qarawiyyin library was one of the Arab world’s largest centres of learning.The manuscript room is hidden behind two heavy metal doors and protected by an alarm system and surveillance cameras.Over the centuries, sultans, noblemen, princesses and wise men have contributed works to its shelves.Around 3,800 titles are kept here, some of them priceless.A short walk —  through a corridor of mosaics, past panels of sculpted cedar wood under finely chiselled ceilings —  leads to the library’s centrepiece.Another gem is a handwritten copy of historian and philosopher Ibn Khaldun’s Book of Lessons.

The precious manuscripts are each bundled in a grey-coloured cardboard file and displayed on standard metal shelves.Another pvc single hung window Suppliers 12th-century manuscript —  a treatise in astronomy by philosopher Al-Farabi —  shows the course of the planet Jupiter, complete with drawings of astonishing precision.  

Its 200 pages of gazelle leather are inscribed with tiny immaculate calligraphy dotted with embellishments in gold ink.It was translated “in all likelihood by a Christian man of letters from Andalusia who had come to Qarawiyyin to learn Arabic,” says Jouane, expressing pride at the “incredible degree of tolerance at the time.Its sculpted dark wooden door stands almost hidden on the edge of a square where artisans hammer away at copper in a deafening din, delighting passing tourists.“There’s only very little left of what once was, but today we carefully watch over these priceless treasures.