Knights Templar - Temple And The Crown Part 31

"No, they lie beneath the Temple Mount, where they must remain. There, as well, were placed certain ma.n.u.scripts containing much of Solomon's wisdom. That is what the founders of our Order were looking for, when they ?rst came to Jerusalem, and those who discovered this repository took up the charge to safeguard it. Thus was born the inner order of the Temple-what was to become le Cercle. And from this source must come the founding of the Fifth Temple, the Temple not built with human hands, which you are charged to erect."

"But, how is that possible?" Torquil murmured. "If the Tablets must remain."

Iskander smiled faintly. "Tell me, either of you, did you ever wonder what became of the Shards of the First Tablets of the Law, which Moses cast down and shattered after he had come down from Mount Sinai?"

Both Arnault and Torquil stared at him blankly.

"No? Well, I shall tell you. They were placed in the Ark with the new Tablets of the Law, which was later hidden beneath the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. When the Ark was taken elsewhere, the Tablets and Shards were left behind, anchoring the site of the First Temple-for it is the Shetiyyah, the foundation stone of the world. Beneath the Shetiyyah is the Bir el-Arweh, the Well of Souls, where it is said that the voices of the dead can sometimes be heard, mingled with the sounds of the Rivers of Paradise.

"There the Tablets and the Shards lie, still. The living intrude at their peril. But with care and daring, a righteous man may enter those sacred precincts and remove one Shard only. and this he may use to erect the Fifth Temple. The Law will destroy you. the Law will set you free."

Neither of his listeners spoke when he had ?nished, wide-eyed and fearful to break the spell he had woven with his words. Arnault ?nally dared to clear his throat, reluctant to clarify what he thought Iskander was proposing.

"What you are saying, then, is that these-broken fragments of the original Tablets of the Law. were preserved with the second set of Tablets?"

"Yes. And having been writ by the Finger of G.o.d, encompa.s.sing His sacred Word, even the fragments became sacred things, hallows in their own right."

"And we must retrieve one of them.?"

"Yes. But heed this caution: One fragment, and one fragment only, will serve to anchor the Fifth Temple.

When the moment of choice is upon you, be sure to choose aright. The price of error," he concluded, "is death."

"How will I know?" Arnault asked, bewildered. "Can you help me?"

Iskander shook his head. "It is not I who have been appointed. But I can offer one thing that might prove ef?cacious. Whether it suf?ces will depend upon your faith and your own powers of discernment."

From the breast of his robe he extracted a ?at leather case suspended about his neck on a stout leather thong, longer than the Templar medallion he had shown them before. He opened the case and took out a ?at circular object the size of a man's palm, wrapped in a double thickness of silk. This he carefully parted, to reveal a large silver disk attached to a rather substantial silver chain.

The visible side of the disk glittered with uncut sapphires set amid scroll-patterns of strange, ?owing script. The obverse, as Iskander lifted it by the chain, was polished to mirror-brightness, suggesting the clarity of water. At its very sight, Arnault's deeper sensibilities quickened, starting to draw him into it-until he blinked. Even without touching it, he knew the disk to be an item of great antiquity, and even greater power.

"The Mirror of Makeda," Iskander said. "I am its guardian."

"And this is how you found us," Arnault guessed. "And how you found me, at Chartres."

"Today-yes," Iskander con?rmed. "But at Chartres, I knew you because you were the bearer of Solomon's Seal. The mystical resonances were almost overwhelming. Having found you once, it was not dif?cult to ?nd you again, even without the Seal-even in the midst of the desert."

He gave the chain of the Mirror into Arnault's hands, watching as the Templar held it up for inspection with reverent awe.

"The Mirror is no mere scrying tool," Iskander cautioned. "It responds more strongly to the unspoken desires of the heart than to the conscious commands of the will. To interpret what you see aright, you must learn to discriminate between images which are merely images and those whose signi?cance is symbolic. You are free to put the matter to the test."

Thus cautioned, Arnault folded the Mirror between his palms and closed his eyes, touching his ?ngertips to his forehead as he breathed a silent prayer.

Lord, open my unseeing eyes. To You Who gave sight to the blind do I yield all desire to see. Show me what You will, or nothing at all.

He lowered his hands and opened them as, emptying his mind of all conscious thoughts, he bent his gaze to the polished face of the Mirror. Its surface at ?rst appeared blank- a bright-?as.h.i.+ng roundel cupped between his hands. As he continued to gaze in and through it, however, its quicksilver l.u.s.ter evaporated, leaving the Mirror dull and dark as old iron.

"Keep watching," Iskander whispered.

A few seconds later, a sudden slit of light burned itself across the center of the disk, dividing the Mirror in two. The slit slowly widened, like a pair of doors. Beyond the threshold, red-and-yellow streamers of ?ame ?ickered and lashed like dragons' tongues, so that it seemed to Arnault that he was gazing into the depths of a ?ery furnace.

The ?ames mounted higher, twisting and turning like a tangle of salamanders. In the midst of the con?agration, Arnault glimpsed the s.h.i.+mmering outline of a human form. The form split and multiplied into four identical counterparts, one of which advanced on Arnault, ?lling his ?eld of vision with its incandescent presence. Two blazing eyes gazed out at him from a ?ery face mere inches from his own, and a voice like a ?ourish of war horns sounded in his ears.

He who hungers after the Law must face the Trials of Chaldea. He must tread under foot the ?res of judgment And fear not to set his hand into the lion's mouth.

With the p.r.o.nouncement of these words the Mirror went blank. Arnault was left momentarily trans?xed.

Belatedly he became aware that his companions were both gazing at him intently. He gave himself a slight shake and offered the Mirror back to Iskander.

"Did you see anything?" Torquil asked.

"Yes," Arnault said. "But the meaning of what I saw will bear some thought."

"So it will," Iskander said. "But traveling on foot-as we must, starting a day's ride from here-it will take us twelve days yet to reach Jerusalem. You have that much time to read the riddle and decide what to do."

Chapter Thirty-one.

1310.

A FORTNIGHT LATER FOUND THE THREE OF THEM IN THE hallowed quiet of the Garden of Gethsemane, as the midnight hour approached. On the high ground above, a wind from Galilee sighed among the age-old groves for which the Mount of Olives had been named.

Arnault, Torquil, and Iskander sat huddled in their cloaks amid the ruins of a former shrine, each wrapped in his own thoughts. None of them spoke a word, though the two Westerners had formed a bond of trust with their Eastern brother during their shared journey of the past two weeks-and with the mute Berhanu, who would be waiting at their modest lodgings near Herod's Gate, watching over their few belongings in their absence.

Somewhere farther down the hillside a night bird called. Glancing over at Arnault, Torquil could not begin to foresee how the night might end. It seemed strange to re?ect that in several hours' time the sun would rise on a new day. It was harder still to accept that by then, this part of their mission would all be over-for good or for ill.

Gethsemane lay at the upper end of the Kidron Valley. On the far side of the ravine, a dim chain of ?ickering watch lights marked the eastern perimeter of Jerusalem. The centuries that had seen the Holy City razed and rebuilt many times over had left the Mount of Olives untouched, at least since the time when the Son of G.o.d had prayed in this garden. It occurred to Torquil that the trees clothing the lower slopes might well be direct descendants of those which had borne silent witness to Christ's torment, betrayal, and triumph, more than a millennium before.

Three hundred yards to the west, dwar?ng all surrounding landmarks, the great ma.s.s of Mount Moriah, the Temple Mount, loomed against the heat-hazed starry sky. Lifting his gaze, Torquil traced the graceful silhouette of the Dome of the Rock against the horizon. Other outbuildings formed a serrated line on either hand, with nary a cross to be seen. Though the once-proud forti?cations of the Crusader Kingdom had been left to crumble into decay under Moslem rule, the sanctuary on the Rock remained in scrupulous repair.

It occurred to him that no other place on the face of the earth, perhaps, had such intense spiritual a.s.sociations for so many. Separate in their individual beliefs, Jews, Christians, and Muslims were united in their reverence for the Temple Mount. For Jews, it was forever hallowed as the site where the First Temple had been built by King Solomon the Great. For Muslims, current masters of the Mount, the great rock beneath the Dome marked the place from which the Prophet Mohammed ascended on his Night Journey to Paradise. For Christians, it was the place from which their Messiah had revealed Himself to the world, preaching His message of salvation and eternal life.

More than a mere location, then, the Temple Mount-and the very concept of the Temple-was a matrix for mankind's ongoing quest toward the Divine; and behind this abstraction lay a still greater reality and a greater hope. Iskander had named its physical manifestation the Shetiyyah, the foundation stone of the world, whereon was centered all of human longing to be one with the Divine. And one day, if Arnault succeeded in his night's mission, there would arise yet another Temple, greater than all its predecessors thus far-and even that would be but the next increment in mankind's yearning toward Divinity: the eternal Dream made real.

But for now, the whole world seemed veiled in darkness. The last party of ordinary pilgrims had left the Garden some time ago, their devotions accomplished, their reverences paid. So far as Torquil could tell, only he and Arnault and their Ethiopian brother remained, indistinct even from one another in the rustling gloom.

Arnault, too, was contemplating their circ.u.mstances, increasingly aware of being cut off from his companions by more than darkness. Iskander had warned him that the quest for the Tablets was his and his alone.

"The ?rst test will be to ?nd the entrance to the secret sanctuary," the Ethiopian brother had declared. "If you succeed, you must put aside all earthly things and set your mind on the things of Heaven. Only then will you be able to see your way clearly."

When Torquil had proposed accompanying Arnault, Iskander was adamant that Arnault must go alone.

"Where one man may tread safely, two may fall to ruin," he told the younger knight. "Brother Arnault's mind must be free from all distractions, his thoughts united to a single purpose. For his own sake, as much as yours, nothing must distract him from his goal."

But Torquil was not yet reconciled to the prospect of being left behind.

"Finding this hidden entrance could take some time," he murmured close to Arnault's ear. "Shouldn't we get started?"

"Not yet. Iskander says we must wait for a sign," Arnault reminded him.

"What sign?" Torquil murmured under his breath, increasingly impatient.

There was no moon. Night after night on the road north from Hebron, they had watched it wane, growing thinner and thinner until it ?nally disappeared.

Now was the turning of the lunar cycle, the waning moon become a waxing one-augury for auspicious beginnings. The heavens themselves were a featureless void, obscured by a heat haze that masked the desert stars. Nonetheless, Iskander sat gazing up at the sky as though he expected a host of angels to appear.

"I guess he knows what he's looking for," Torquil muttered dubiously.

Even as he spoke, a falling star penetrated the haze, dropping toward earth in a brief blaze of glory.

Iskander stirred.

"It is time," he said softly.

Leaving the garden behind, they struck out along a well-trodden path leading down into the Vale of Kidron. The distant glimmer from the torchlight on the walls above gave faint illumination to the path leading southward along the base of the Mount. Halting in the shadow of a tall outcropping, Iskander turned to lay a surprisingly gentle hand on Arnault's forearm, his lips but a breath away from Arnault's ear.

"I have brought you this far," he whispered. "Now you must be our guide."

He took the Mirror of Makeda from its casing and presented it to Arnault, shaking out the Mirror's silk wrapping to fold it into a narrow strip as Arnault silently slipped the chain over his head.

"I shall use this band of silk to bind your eyes," Iskander informed him, as Torquil looked on. "Sight will not avail you in this task. Only faith can discern the threshold of the Hidden Door."

The cloth was heavily embroidered with mystical symbols of protection and enlightenment. Arnault could feel them under his ?ngertips as he held it in place over his eyes and Iskander secured it at the back of his head. A moment later he felt the Ethiopian's lean hand on his right shoulder, and Torquil's brie?y touching his other arm in rea.s.surance and leave-taking.

"May G.o.d be your guard and your guide," Iskander whispered. "May His angels keep watch, lest you dash your foot against a stone."

Both touches ceased. Arnault took a moment to collect his thoughts. Like so many birds of the air, they came to rest, brie?y ?uttering and then settling into stillness. The stir of a breeze against his face was like the touch of light ?ngers as he drew a deep breath, marshaling his deeper faculties of perception.

O G.o.d, be Thou as a lamp unto my feet, he prayed silently, and as a watch in the night. Lead me, as a shepherd leads his sheep, into the shelter of the fold.

Another breath he drew, then hesitantly probed forward with one foot, then the other. Gathering a.s.surance, with the mirror dangling against his chest, he moved forward with hands outstretched until his palms met stone.

At this, he abandoned himself to Providence, feeling his way among the rocks with his sandaled feet, moving this way and that, like a s.h.i.+p yielding to the wind, until all at once his ?ngertips brushed something that gave off a jolt of energy.

Surprise made him recoil, but only momentarily. He reached out a second time, and again experienced the needlelike p.r.i.c.kle of power. The sensation spread throughout his body, setting his nerve ends tingling.

"Here," he called softly to his companions, barely breathing the single word.

When he sensed them beside him, he described what he had felt.

"There is a ?nal test to make," Iskander said, moving behind him. "Permit me to unbind your eyes."

When the blindfold had been removed, Arnault tilted his head back to stretch his neck and saw, to his astonishment, that the heat haze had vanished, leaving the sky ablaze with stars. The Mirror on his breast caught and magnified their light, casting a silvery s.h.i.+mmer over the adjacent rock face, like the moon come down to earth-the moon that would not be, until a fortnight had pa.s.sed.

The unearthly brightness was dazzling. Squinting, Arnault lifted both hands to shade his eyes. It was a moment before his vision adjusted, but what he saw made him catch his breath. Before him gaped a ?ssure in the rocks, wide enough to admit a man, its outline limned by a pearly sheen of starlight.

"There! Do you see it?" he asked, lifting one hand in that direction.

"I see nothing," Iskander said from behind him, "but your faith has given you vision. Now the way lies open. Take nothing with you but the Mirror, which alone must suf?ce to guide and protect you. We will remain here and pray for your safe return."

Wordlessly Arnault removed his sword and dirk and handed them over to Torquil, likewise removing his sandals, for he knew he was to tread on holy ground. His kef?yeh he retained, for he sensed it was meet to keep his head covered, for much the same reasons that he would go unshod, but he divested himself of his burnoose before stepping up to the ?ssure.

Though the opening remained outlined with a faint glow, he could discern only darkness beyond the threshold. After lightly touching the mirror to bolster up his nerve, he took a deep breath and stepped through the jagged arch.

A wave of dizziness rolled over him and wrenched at the pit of his stomach, as if the ?oor had suddenly dropped away beneath him. His bare toes instinctively curled for a better grip on the ?oor, and he ?ung out his hands to break a fall, scuf?ng the knuckles of one hand against the rock. Then the world righted itself, and he felt ?rm ground beneath his feet again.

Where he was, however, he had no clear idea. Glancing back and all around, he could not see the doorway through which he had pa.s.sed. All around him he sensed a towering weight of stone, but he was by no means certain that he was standing in the flesh beneath Mount Moriah, or whether he had crossed over into some mystical realm between the physical world and the world of the spirit.

It occurred to him then to wonder how he was seeing anything at all. In that same instant, he realized that a faint illumination was emanating from the Mirror on his breast, like moonlight on water. As his eyes adjusted, the glow revealed that he was standing at one end of a barrel-vaulted pa.s.sage-way-or was it the pa.s.sage itself that glowed as well?

He started down it. Far at the end of the pa.s.sage, becoming more distinct as he approached, a looming ?gure began to take shape, silent and motionless, human in form but larger than human in its proportions.

Venturing closer, Arnault realized that it was a statue, curiously fas.h.i.+oned out of several different materials. The statue's head was made of gold, ?nely wrought, but its breast and arms were of silver, while its lower trunk and thighs were made of bronze. The statue's thick legs were iron, its feet sculpted from a mixture of iron and clay.

The feet of clay triggered the pertinent memory from scripture, from the Book of Daniel. Gazing up at the statue, Arnault found himself remembering how Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon, had envisioned such an ent.i.ty in a dream, interpreted by the prophet as an apocalyptic symbol of future events.

Even as this thought crossed his mind, his eye was drawn to an inscribed plaque on the statue's broad breast. Dismay brie?y seized him as he leaned closer to make out the words, for he read little Hebrew, but the very act of leaning closer caused the Mirror on his breast to cast a bright re?ection upon it-and suddenly, he could read the words with ease.

Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord?

or who shall stand in His holy place?

He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart; Who hath not lifted up his soul unto vanity.

He recognized the pa.s.sage. It came from one of the Psalms. In this otherworldly setting, the words somehow took on the resonance of a warning.

But, a warning of what? Arnault asked himself.

Pondering the verse's meaning more deeply, he realized that he was being challenged to prove himself worthy to proceed. He could almost hear Torquil's trenchant Scottish voice asking, "If this is a trial, who is the judge?"

The word judge struck a chord in Arnault's thoughts. The Sacred Tablets of the Law had been handed down to G.o.d's chosen people as a prescription for righteousness.

And G.o.d Himself was the Judge to Whom every member of that community was ultimately accountable.

Given the universal frailty of human nature, what man would dare enter into the court of Heaven declaring himself wholly blameless? Indeed, when had any human being save One ever attained perfect obedience in the spirit of perfect love?

Renouncing all self-justi?cation, Arnault lowered himself to both knees and bowed his head over folded hands in an att.i.tude of abject humility, offering up all his frailties and failings.

Thou art my Lord and my G.o.d, he prayed. Into Thy hands I commit my spirit, trusting not in my own righteousness, but in Thine abiding mercy.

In the silence he could hear his own heartbeat, his pulse throbbing in his ears. Then a warmth enfolded him like a benison and a Voice entered his thoughts, breathing a fragrance of benison into his soul.

I am the door: By Me, if any man entereth in, he shall be saved.