C. Palov - Templar's Code

“Let me guess. . . .” Edie paused for dramatic effect. “It was right around this time that Tuthmose, the Egyptian magician, changed his name to Moses.”

“And, while he was at it, created a new religion for the Hebrew slaves. As the Old Testament so vividly recounts, the Hebrews were a belligerent lot in dire need of a calming opiate. To that end, Moses wrote the first five books of the Bible, what we Jews call the Torah. In it, Moses spells out the belief system of the new religion. Then, to keep the Hebrew rabble in line, Moses bequeathed to them ten ironclad rules carved onto two stone tablets. And thus Judaism, the religion of my forebears, was born.” With a clap of his hands, Rubin bounced to his feet. “Another round of martinis?”

CHAPTER 52

Standing in a darkened doorway on Cecil Court, Saviour Panos aimed the parabolic dish at the second-story window on the opposite building. A few seconds later, he wrinkled his nose, the aroma of cardamom and turmeric wafting through the air from the Curry House on the next block . Too many vile stenches. First patchouli, now Indian spices. What next? A stray dog taking a crap.

After leaving Marnie Pritchard’s flat, he’d returned to his hotel and retrieved the case containing his surveillance equipment. From there, he’d gone straightaway to Cecil Court on the off chance that the lovebirds might still be awake. To his delight, it sounded as though he would get three for the price of two, able to detect a third voice in his headset. He double-checked the jack on the recording device so he could later replay the conversation for Mercurius.

He’d been sent to London to act as Mercurius’s eyes and ears. A task that he’d undertaken with a glad heart. Willing to do anything for the man who rescued him, protected him, loved him. And who had entrusted him with a great and glorious secret. One that involved a “paradigm shift,” as Mercurius liked to call it. The details of which were too arcane, too elusive, for Saviour to grasp. Having only six years of schooling, he didn’t possess the intellectual breadth to comprehend.

Bored by the conversation taking place in the flat across the way, Saviour slipped a hand inside his jacket and removed a box of cigarettes. Thoth. Akhenaton. Tuthmose. So much silly gibberish. He much preferred eavesdropping on the Brit and his woman when they were going at it. Still a lot of gibberish but more exciting.

Wondering how much longer the droning threesome would continue, he flipped open a silver cigarette lighter, his gaze alighting on the eight-pointed star engraved on one side.

The Creator’s star.

How many times had he seen Mercurius staring at the Creator’s star, transfixed? Too many times to count. Usually in an altered state of mind, so far gone that he was unaware of the sights and sounds of this world.

Saviour revered the Creator’s star because Mercurius revered the Creator’s star.

Exhaling a plume of smoke, he glanced upward, noticing the shimmering crescent moon. Like a curved Arabian knife blade in the night sky.

According to Mercurius, men contemplated the night sky to discern the eternal mystery of the heavens. Better than contemplating the eternal agonies of hell, he supposed. Although, personally, he thought heaven and hell coexisted here on earth. Eternity was merely the instantaneous burst of nothingness, the pitiless void known as death.

As the Brit and his woman would soon discover.

CHAPTER 53

“Wise man that he was, Moses knew that the average Hebrew slave, prone to wild brawling and even wilder fornication, was incapable of the requisite piety required in a truly spiritual society. And so the shrewd patriarch gave the Hebrews a religion they could fully embrace as their own.”

Hearing that, Edie extended a slipper-clad foot in Rubin’s direction. “Why don’t you pull the other one while you’re at it? Because if you’re implying that the Hebrew slaves were practicing one religion and that Tuthmose and his Egyptian compatriots were practicing an entirely different one, you are full of it. I’ve read the Old Testament.”

“You fail to grasp that while there were two separate religions, there was only the one god. The newly minted Yahweh and the radiant Aten were simply two sides of the one coin,” Rubin testily countered. “So, too, the Ten Commandments and the Emerald Tablet. One exoteric, one esoteric. Every religion under the heavens has a set of exoteric beliefs for the common man and a secret set of esoteric beliefs known only to a privileged inner circle. While Christian mystics, Jewish Kabbalists, and Muslim Sufis actively pursue an individual relationship with the divine through spiritual transformation, the rest of us poor smucks are saddled with endless rituals and a convoluted hierarchy.”

Edie took a moment to digest what she’d just heard. The esoteric and the exoteric. The sacred and the profane. How did a person go about figuring out which was which?

“The Ark of the Covenant, exoteric or esoteric?” She tossed the query over to Caedmon.

To her surprise, the man with all the answers shrugged. “Perhaps a little of both. Since it was the sacred duty of the hereditary Levite priests to safeguard the Emerald Tablet as well as the Ten Commandments, presumably both relics were kept inside the Ark.”

“So how did we get from the Emerald Tablet being hidden inside the Ark of the Covenant during the forty years in the Wilderness to the Knights Templar getting a hold of it during the Middle Ages?”

Their host gallantly gestured in Caedmon’s direction. “A history lesson is in order. Sir Peter, will you do the honors?”

“Right.” Caedmon planted his elbows on his thighs, his chin resting on top of his steepled fingers. “As you know, Moses led the masses to the Promised Land, but he died before the final conquest of Israel. Upon his death, the Levite priests, trained by Moses and his brother Aaron, assumed responsibility for the Ark of the Covenant and its sacred relics. The Levis were one of the twelve tribes of Israel.”

“And, more important for our tale, the Levis were the only tribe that could ascend to the priesthood. They, and they alone, had access to the Emerald Tablet.”

“Let us now leap over centuries of Hebrew internecine rivalries to the first century A.D. when a contingent of the Levite priests fled to the Iberian Peninsula in advance of the Roman army.” Caedmon reached for his martini glass. Only to abruptly retract his extended arm. A change of heart at the last. “Deeply steeped in Jewish mysticism, the Levite priesthood, who by now were called Kabbalists, were hailed throughout Europe as practitioners of the hidden stream of knowledge. This was the period known as the Golden Age of Sephardi Jewry. And, it was during this period that the Eight Precepts were made public.”

“What the heck are the Eight Precepts?”

“They are the eight maxims inscribed on the front of the Emerald Tablet,” Caedmon said in reply to Edie’s query. “Conversely, on the backside of the relic there is an elaborately complex pictograph.”

Removing his eyeglasses, Rubin cleaned them with the hem of his smoking jacket. “If the ancient rumors are to be believed, the secret of creation was encrypted into this pictograph.”

“Does a picture of the pictograph exist?”

“No one knows what the pictograph looks like. That’s why it’s called the secret of creation,” their host cheekily retorted. “However, as Peter mentioned, the Eight Precepts were widely circulated in Europe during the Middle Ages.” Rubin got up and walked over to the bookcase. Tapping a finger against his pursed lips, he scanned the jam-packed shelves. “Ah! Here she be.” He plucked a thin volume from the top shelf. “A copy of the Eight Precepts for the kimono-clad Edie to peruse.”