Temple of The Grail (32 page)

‘I had a dream, master!’ I cried
suddenly, tears welled up and were set free, and I recounted the dream,
omitting nothing.

‘Calm . . . calm . . .’ my master
stroked my head lightly, ‘so that is why I found you saying paternosters . . .
Don’t be alarmed, no matter, no matter.’ Seeing that I was in need of more
comfort, he added, ‘Christian, I do not believe as others do that such things
are evil, at least no more evil than . . . say . . . the desire to eat when you
are hungry or to drink when you are thirsty. We are monks, and so we abstain
from many things. However, it is never easy. A man who fasts can no more deny
his hunger than a man who shuns physical love can deny his desire for it. And
as far as that goes I cannot help reflecting that as God, in his wisdom, is
continually replenishing this gift to . . . procreate, that he might also find
ways for any excess to be . . . dissipated . . . for instance, an overabundance
of matter within the earth erupts in volcanic . . . no that’s not it . . . like
a dam that is overfull bursts . . . Ahh!’ He sighed. ‘Christian, one cannot
help it at times.’ His voice faded and he seemed at a loss. Perhaps he had
embarrassed himself. ‘It is more the case that those who enjoy deprivation
derive a certain pleasure from pain and humility and the adoration they
engender. One must work on one’s soul slowly; this is also true, though you
must try not to do it again . . . I absolve you. And before you say anything,
these are special circumstances,’ he said, putting a hand on my forehead,
making the sign of the cross, ‘But you must ask for the Lord’s confirmation.’

No sooner was he finished than Eisik
grabbed me by the shoulders excitedly. ‘If you will forgive an old Jew, my son,
but you have dreamed of the marriage . . . the marriage!’

‘The marriage?’

‘In the secret tradition of my
forefathers the mystery is called ‘Shekinah’. The mystery of man and God, and
the relation between things above and things below, of the intercourse of earth
and spirit.’ He looked upwards in a heavenly direction, his features taking on
a peaceful expression, and at this moment I saw that when he was not
contemplating disaster, he was indeed younger than he appeared. ‘But this is a
celestial union,’ he continued, ‘not a physical one, my son.’

‘Of course!’ my master vociferated.

‘The great work of the alchemists,’
Eisik continued. ‘She is one time the daughter of the king, another time she is
described as the betrothed as in the Song of Solomon, the bride and also the
mother, or the sister. She is the beloved who ascends towards the heavenly
spouse. This is called the final work!’

‘This is precisely what Asa said the
two brothers were discussing at the chapel, before Samuel died . . . the final
conclusion . . .’ my master added, his eyebrows working furiously.

‘But why did
I
have such a
dream?’ I asked because now it seemed that my dream had become more important
than my sin.

‘I will tell you that you have had a
vision,’ Eisik beamed proudly. ‘A vision . . . and why? We are told that when
one is worthy one receives Ruach as a gift of grace. This is the crown of
Nephesh, and leads to illumination of the spirit by the light from superior
regions. This allows one to discern the laws of the secret king.’

‘There have been other dreams,’ I
said, almost in a whisper.

‘Others?’ Eisik queried.

‘We have no time for dreams now,
Christian,’ my master said in an annoyed fashion because I knew he preferred to
ignore the illogical direction our conversation had taken.

He perused things on the table and
paused before a large manuscript on an elaborate lectern. Feeling better now
for having unburdened my sin, I accompanied him, and seeing the intrigued look
on his face, moved closer to get a better look. Inside I saw the most curious
symbols. A triangle apex down, a triangle apex up, circles with crosses,
crosses with circles. Also a beautiful vignette depicting, what we now came to
expect, a cross with a circlet of roses at its centre, and the words
Dat
Rosa Mel Apibus
or the Rose Gives the Bees Honey. To the right side of the
cross a bee, its wings dipped in gold, and four beehives. To the left two spider
webs within a wooden frame.

‘Wisdom and industry,’ Eisik said,
moving closer, ‘it is also a marriage. The union of calm waters of wisdom with
the fire of industry. The union of soul and spirit.’

‘We see this cross with roses
everywhere,’ my master said. ‘It is on the east door of the church, on a window
and on the cover of the book of life in the chapter room,’ he remarked, picking
up the thick manuscript and turning over its fragile pages to reveal beautiful
illuminations. Strange animals became transformed, or rather fused into the
flourishes, hairlines, and hooks of gigantic letters. The margins, too, were
filled with mysterious necromantic images and biblical quotes.

‘
Tabula Hermedis!
’ my master
read.

Eisik blanched, and his eyes seemed
to enlarge, while his mouth gaped open.

My master continued, ‘
In profundo
Mercurii est Sulphur, quod tandem vincit frigitatem
...’

‘No!’ cried Eisik, placing both hands
over his ears. When my master paused Eisik tore the book from my master’s
hands, and opening it himself read with tears in his eyes, ‘What further
miracles do they have stored here?’

But it was I who, having found a some
parchments showed them to my master and caused by way of it, the greatest
commotion.

‘
In the fine airs of heaven, was
written the Eternal Gospel, and the Gospel was
with
God and Gospel
was
God. All things were written therein and without it there was not a thing
written that was written. It speaks of the life, the life that is the light of
men. This light that shines into darkness and is not understood by men is
Christ, the true light, which enlightens every man. Christ came into the world
and Christ is the Gospel and the Gospel was made by Him. But the world has
understood it not.’

 
My master looked at me, ‘This is written
in Langue’doc . . .’

‘The language of the Cathars, the
heretics?’ I said aghast.

My master was then overtaken by an
intellectual ecstasy. ‘This is extraordinary! This is remarkable!’ He seized me
by the shoulders. ‘Do you know what you have found my little goose? You have
found the eternal gospel!’

‘Eternal gospel?’ I said, half
laughing, happy to have achieved something of note, in his eyes.

‘Epiphanius,’ Andre explained
excitedly, ‘has listed a number of works, not apocryphal works, but works
written shortly after the crucifixion that were on the church black list, like
the gospel of the Hebrews, the gospel of the Egyptians, Ebionites, the gospel
of the Nazarenes . . . the secret Gospel of Matthew! These have all disappeared,
sequestered behind locked doors by a few pious, or if you like, impious,
keepers of knowledge. However there has long been a rumour of an eternal Gospel,
a pure gospel, so holy, it had to be kept from profane eyes. Some call it the
fifth Gospel because it reconciles all four canonical gospels! Some believe
that it was written by the Sophia, and kept safe by the Cathars who moved it to
a safe place before the siege of Montsegur. This is the first time I have seen
any proof of its existence.’

Eisik huffed, ‘Proofs! I suppose that
next
 
you will be wanting God to
prove Himself!’

‘That would be most beneficial,’
Andre said. Then, because he was thinking of the gospel, he remarked.‘This must
have been translated from Coptic or Greek, and so there must be an original…where
could it be?’

At this point he began to make a
feverish search among the parchments and Eisik, seeing my frown, took pity on
me and explained,

‘Egyptian Coptic is the Egyptian
language written in Greek.’

Time, however, was against my
master’s search and when no trace of the original was found he resolved that we
had better get back, before the bell tolled the vigil of matins, if it had not
already done so.

He rolled up the Gospel parchments
and secured them in the belt that held together his mantle and we began to look
for our way out. I was about to say that I thought this somehow impious, when
our, or rather
my
, grave mistake erased
any concerns for impropriety from my mind. It was now evident that the panel
through which we had entered the library had closed behind us in the now
all-too-familiar fashion, meaning that we would not be able to open it from
inside. In my state of intellectual abandon I had, as it were, imprisoned us.

‘Confounded secret doors! Damn the
Count of Artois!’ My master shouted, and with an access of emotion kicked the
panel quite hard with his foot. I believe the pain sobered him because calmer
now he walked to the far wall opposite to the way we came in and said, ‘The
monks of this abbey have been exceedingly cunning, and we must be equally so.
What direction is this wall?’

I consulted the compass. It lay in an
easterly direction.

‘Easterly, you say?’ He looked
puzzled. ‘But we seemed to . . . am I losing the order in my head? I could have
sworn we changed direction, very gradually, but even so . . . very well, that
means that the infirmary must not be far off, though I surmise that we are
still too deep in the ground for it to be directly beyond this wall. There is
no doubt a secret exit. Now we must search the room for clues.’ He began by
tapping the stone, anticipating a hollow sound, but there was none.

I could hear my heart in my ears. We
were trapped like that poor monk Jerome! ‘What if there is no other opening,
master?’

‘Then we shall die exceedingly
erudite,’ he answered.

Eisik inspected the shelves, and I
the floor, but neither of us had any luck. I leant dejectedly against the wall
where a sturdy oak frame was fixed. I noticed that it contained a large map of
distant lands and oceans, perhaps the
fons paradisi
of which many books
tell, so large as to be the height of a man and the breadth of two. It was
illustrated with terrible sea monsters, sirens, and ships. One ship in
particular was portrayed beached atop a large fish which the sailors in their
ignorance, due to its gigantic proportions, mistook for an island. It felt
familiar to me, where had I seen this map before? I asked myself. Beneath it were
the words: From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is
overwhelmed: Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.

I said these last words aloud,
without really thinking about their significance, but my master heard me and
moved quickly to where I was standing.

‘What did you say?’ His eyebrows were
raised very high as he came toward me. I thought I had committed some terrible
sin, and so I was unable to speak. I pointed to the map and the words below it.
It was then that he slapped me so hard on the nape of my neck that it nearly
sent me reeling in the direction of some unknown sea.

‘By God! There is our clue!’ he cried
jubilantly. ‘The rock that is higher than I? Higher than the map, I’ll wager!’
He reached up with difficulty (for his height was not much greater than mine)
and with a reddened face from his efforts, pressed a stone panel, which he
noticed seemed to be of different hue to the others surrounding it. This moved
in an inward direction, unlocking a device that made a loud snapping sound, and
the entire segment of the wall, map included, pivoted open.

It was through this door that we
entered another tunnel rank with the smell of mould and rotten vegetation, and
a flight of steps ascended to another door that this time my master opened with
ease. We did not, however, come out as we thought in the infirmary. We came out
in the scriptorium! Our bearings utterly confounded, we entered through an
identical map to the one through which we had left the library moments ago.

My master shook his head, taking the
compass from my hands. ‘By the curse of Saladin, boy! How long has the needle
been stuck on east?’

I lowered my head, and said all that
I could say; that I did not know, but that I had dropped it in the dark in the last
tunnel before the library.

The door that led out of the cloister
was locked, so we made our way stealthily to the church. As we were about to
enter the south transept, however, I noted that my sandals were soiled with a
reddish mud, so I cleaned them on the stone flags before entering – lest
I leave tell-tale footprints on the church floor. My master viewed this with a
pensive frown, saying that interestingly his shoes and also Eisik’s left no
marks because their soles were smooth. Mine were sandals given to me by the
hospitaller, and were indeed the same as all other monks in the abbey. They
were patterned, and therefore less slippery, but they also allowed much dirt to
gather in the grooves. He said nothing further, only continued to frown as we
said goodbye to Eisik, who scurried into the darkness of the north transept,
his robes flapping like the wings of a bird. The hour was near, so we waited in
the church for the intoning of the bells, and this gave my master further opportunity
to inspect the organ.

The instrument was surmounted by no
fewer than twenty pipes, and it was through these that one heard melody when
the organ was played. On the upper level there were ten pipes in the centre
with the rest flanking either side a level lower. The entire wooden structure was
supported by little columns, with a console of keys equally divided on two
separate levels. A beautifully carved seat was placed before it, and some
papers with musical notation resided on a little rest made of wood, directly
above the keys.