C. Palov - Templar's Code

“There’s no doubt in my mind. See these rough-hewn marks?” He pointed to the edge of the nearest block. “These slabs were obviously cut from the local granite, of which there is an abundance.”

“Using the same tools employed by fourteenth-century stonemasons.”

Caedmon nodded. “The Indian tales mention that Yawgoog wore a leather apron as he constructed his fabled bridge. European stonemasons similarly garbed themselves in leather aprons.”

“Okay, we’ve got the how of it figured out. Any ideas as to why it was built?”

“My gut instinct is that this is related to the carved Beauséant, but . . .” He shrugged, clearly at a loss.

“Let’s backtrack,” she said, hoping to kick-start a brainstorming session. “What do we know about the Beauséant? We know it means ‘glorious’ and that the actual banner was red, white, and black. We also know that the Templars—”

“Red, white, and black . . . of course.” He rubbed his hand over his mouth as he contemplated Yawgoog’s bridge. A few moments later, he said, “Since the Beauséant was carved onto the boulder, the colors were implied .”

Even though she had no idea why that was relevant, Edie encouragingly nodded her head. “I’m with you. Keep rolling.” She made a rolling motion with her hand.

“Mind you, I’m thinking aloud, but it could well be that the oak trees that bracket either side of the bridge are a clue. You may not have noticed but the grove of trees on one side of the river bank is white oak and the grove on the opposite bank is red .”

She glanced at the massive old-growth oak trees. “How do you know? They look identical to me.”

He made no reply. Instead, he picked up a dried oak leaf near his boot tip. Then, bending at the waist, his eyes glued to the ground, he walked several feet before picking up yet another brown, sun-dried leaf. “The proof is in the foliage,” he said, showing her the two similar but uniquely different oak leaves. “The lobes on the white oak are round.”

“And the lobes on the red oak are pointed. It was probably blown across the river last autumn. But how do you know that these two oak groves were intentionally planted?”

“Had God’s hand been involved in the design, one would expect mixed groves on either side of the bank. But, instead, there’s one species on each bank. Red and white. Clearly, the oaks relate to the Beauséant.”

“All right, then riddle me this: Where does the black come into play? Lest you forgot, the Beauséant is made up of three colors, not two.”

“Indeed.” For several long seconds he stared at the two oak leaves he still held in his hand. “Medieval battle standards can be thought of as a type of shorthand. Then, as now, each armorial color had a specific meaning. In heraldry, black symbolizes the virtue of wisdom.”

“Which is another name for knowledge. And the Latin phrase ‘I am a witness to knowledge’ is engraved on the Templar signet.” She pointedly glanced at his ring finger.

“Moreover, the color black is represented by the numeral eight.” He turned to her, smiling. “And as anyone familiar with the Knights Templar knows, there are eight points on a Templar cross.”

“So the color black has a strong connection to the Knights Templar.”

“ And the color black is symbolic of the grave, underground caves, and the primordial void.” He flung the two oak leaves to the ground. “Riddle solved.”

Without any explanation as to what he was doing, Caedmon stepped out onto Yawgoog’s bridge, purposely striding to where stone met water. Turning his back, he slid his knapsack off his shoulders and deposited it on the granite slab. He then removed the GPS receiver from his pocket, placing it on top of the knapsack.

“Caedmon! What are you doing?”

“Preparing to leap into the primordial void.”

With those parting words, he jumped off the granite bridge into the river. Disappearing from sight.

CHAPTER 31

“Nail on the head!” Caedmon triumphantly exclaimed as his booted feet made contact with a granite ledge.

Barely able to contain his excitement, he stared at the entrance to the hidden cave, the opening of which was located behind the waterfall.

The combination of fast-moving water and strategically placed granite slabs had completely obscured the cave below. Standing above, it was impossible for one to see through the sparkling water to the entrance. He’d taken the plunge because, if his theory proved false, the worst-case scenario would be a wet trek back to the rental car. As it’d turned out, he was only slightly damp.

His suspicion about an underground vault having been right on target, he wanted to whoop with joy.

“Caedmon!”

Craning his neck, he peered upward. Edie’s voice sounded as though it was coming from some faraway place, muffled by the gush of water falling over the granite slab above him. He squinted as he tried to bring her blurry image into focus.

He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Edie, I’m perfectly safe!” he shouted through his makeshift megaphone. “There’s a hidden cave behind the waterfall!”

“What? Get out of town! There’s a cave down there?”

Really and truly.

He glanced behind him at the entryway, one that perpetually glistened with a wet sheen.

He suddenly felt lightheaded. Apprehensive. The strangeness of the place, the refreshing water spray, the dappled play of light passing through the fast-moving water . All of his senses were fully engaged. He’d had a similar sensation years ago when he sat for his university exams, the years of study reduced to a group of undisclosed questions contained within an official examination booklet. A mystery to be solved. To be conquered.

Testis sum agnitio. I am a witness to knowledge.

“I want you to remove the coil of nylon rope and the pickax from my field kit,” he shouted up at Edie, anxious to explore the cave.

“What do you want me to do with ’em?” she called down a few moments later.

“If you would be so kind as to toss them to me.”

The two requested items landed on the granite ledge with a loud clang and a dull thud.

“Excellent.” Caedmon quickly went to work securing one end of the rope around the metal head of the pickax. Satisfied that the knot would hold, he shouted up at Edie, “Be on your guard, I’m going to toss the pickax back to the surface.”

Warning issued, he hurled upward.

“Got it! Now what?”

“Secure the chiseled end of the head onto the nearest granite slab. And do make sure it’s a snug fit.”

He had no idea how the Templars had exited their secret lair, but he intended to use the rope to climb to the surface.

“Okay, that ought to hold me,” Edie yelled, having incorrectly guessed at his intention.

“For God’s sake, stay put!”

“Hey, time to run with the bulls.”

Bloody hell!

Unable to stop her, Caedmon positioned himself at the edge of the granite ledge, ready to catch Edie should she fall.

To his relief, she very ably rappelled down the stacked granite slabs.

Landing in the bent-knee position, Edie straightened. She then graced him with a toothy grin, the woman clearly pleased with her stunt.

“’ello, luv,” she cooed in an exaggerated cockney accent.

Caedmon stared at her, watching the strange play of light that flickered across her face, filtered by the nearby gush of water. He was conflicted, wanting to hold her tight and to shake her roughly.

“Always thought the proverbial ‘leap of faith’ was just a figure of speech,” she said, oblivious to his tumult. “But I stand corrected. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”