Candle in the Attic Window(63)
Ah, I thought. This is a test. “I study as a meager disciple. I learn all that I can. Will you teach me, Grand Master?”
“Where does it tell us the words to be used in the Baptismal prayer?”
I opened my mouth. The answer failed to come forth. He wanted me to quote scripture, yet I could not – not for this quest. I had forgotten the words for the baptismal rite, for the Templars, being monks, were not allowed to raise children over the font.
“Do not fret, Brother de Ronnay. None of the sacramental acts are given specifically within that sacred collection. My purpose in turning your attention to these facts is to assure you that, while all truth has been revealed since the beginning, not all has been handed down ... to the lowliest of servants. Yet, we of the Order are obligated to protect these same ancient secrets! What do you know of Jericho?”
“I know,” I thought about it, with astonishment regarding the implications he inferred, “I know only what the Book tells us.”
“The City of Jericho existed before the Children of Israel came into this land from Egypt. Do you agree? Search your training.”
“I do agree, Grand Master.”
“The City of Jericho was old, with Sodom and Gomorrah, before Lot and Abraham arrived from Haran and Ur. Search your memories of these accounts. Will you not confirm what I have said?”
I could find no disagreement with his words and stated as much.
“Jericho was built on a town formed in the desert over a village built of wood and brick, over a desert hamlet constructed by ancients so old and forgotten that ...”
His wide eyes had fallen with the weight of his knowledge and listed away from me along with his words.
“Yes, Grand Master?” I prodded, after a minute of silence in which I heard his staff slipping and moving around us like snakes under grass, privy to these blasphemies. I could not abide that sound. “Grand Master?”
He did not look at me. His tone dropped. “I have sent four on missions to discover the secrets beneath Jericho. You see the box on the table against the wall?”
I looked and saw an ornate construction, wicker woven, lined in exquisite brass and touched with gold.
“It is filled with trinkets from the street: cheap jewelry typically sold to pilgrims on their way home from Mecca, easily scooped out. Beneath, you will find a bottom that can be removed if you press hard upon the far left corner. In the cavity beneath, you will find on papyrus the copy of a map. This map reveals an entrance found by a certain servant of the Lord.”
I bowed.
As I followed his instructions, he said, “None who have gone before you have returned. You must know, Brother de Ronnay, that I am confident of your discovery. I have ... read fragments of texts testifying of those present in Palestine before the Flood of Noah washed the Earth clean of all evil.”
I was shaken. “What shall I do?” I said when I held the scroll in my hand. I felt that I was, at last, reaching the heart of the mystery that the Pope wanted me to reveal to him. With this final mission, I would learn the reason for all concern, all Templar blasphemies, and the true goal of Knights. I suspected that I knew enough already, but going to Jericho would provide me ... with – Oh, if only I had not gone! If only I did not know!
Forgive me. I will compose myself.
The Grand Master leaned forward and answered my question: “Bring me a skull.”
I left with a detachment of turcopoles, native mercenaries working for the Order, who would be required for only one part of his orchestration: They would distract all eyes and ears while I traveled with a small contingent of black-robed Templar sergeants already present in the city.
Along the way, I thought of Grand Master de Beaujeu’s final warnings. None of the previous brethren had returned. I had detected the faintest hint that some might have lived and that the possibility of their continued mortality was of greater concern to the Grand Master than the possibility of their terrible demise. I recall thinking that he seemed to mumble some words to the effect that the Knights of the Order would find any of those traitorous survivors and deal with them swiftly and justly. But I may be mistaken, for I was overcome by thoughts of a one-way assignment that I needed to endure, if ever I would fulfill my instructions and purpose on this Earth.
Now I know that my death is absolutely necessary. This is my purpose in writing this dark epistle to all, that all mankind – all human kind – might be edified, might fear what needs to be feared, might thereby live with full knowledge of the beast and his infiltration among us.
I began this version of my account in reporting that I was charged to serve the Pope in Rome. I told you that I have changed this recording after great and terrible thoughts: The Church Father seemed to know something that he would not reveal, as if he wanted me to learn it for myself – I can only guess at his purpose.
And I recall that as I left the Grand Master in Acre, he looked upon me with that same expression. He even grinned, as if everything he had told me had been constructed of half-truths and that he knew far more than he was revealing there. Did he know that I would die? Did he know the horrors I would experience in those black caverns? Knowing I had, unlike most of the brethren, learned how to read and write during my priestly duties, he told me to record any writings, even if the letters and drawings were expressly foreign to what I had heretofore experienced. Perhaps that skill was why he had chosen me. But foremost, I was to bring to him a certain relic – a skull, the kind of which, he said, would be plentiful in that place, for so had lost legends reported.