Jack Whyte - Knights of the Black and White

“What is in the chest? Do you know?”

De Montbard’s response was little more than a whisper. “I did not even know the thing really existed. And no one knows what is inside it, Stephen. But I have heard tell that the Ark contains the tablets of stone Moses brought back from the mountain, bearing the Ten Commandments. It is also said to contain Aaron’s famed rod, the one that bore seeds. And some say it also contains manna from Heaven.”

“Can we touch it, open it?”

De Montbard’s hand came up automatically, as if to forestall a blow. “I think not. Remember, the Jews believed their temple was God’s home. He lived in the temple, above this Ark, beneath those very wings. Are you prepared to wager that He is not still there? I would not dare touch that device before doing a great deal of further study. But you may, if you wish, after I am gone from here.”

“No, perhaps not …” St. Clair cocked his head sideways, peering beyond the Ark. “Is that—?” He bent forward, squinting into the darkness behind the golden chest. “There’s another curtain there, behind the Ark, a black drape. There may be other treasures back there.”

He heard de Montbard sniff. “I doubt that, Stephen. I remember reading that the two carrying poles always touched a veil of some kind behind the Ark—I believe it was the veil that separated the two chambers of the Tabernacle. If so, that drape at the back is probably only symbolic, covering the wall and nothing else.” He reached out and prodded St. Clair, to add emphasis to what he was saying. “Besides, what would they want to hide back there? What could be more valuable than the Ark of the Covenant?

St. Clair turned to him in surprise. “Nothing, if you believe in the God of the ancient Jews. But that is not to say there is nothing else of any value here. I’m going to take a look. There’s room enough for me to slip by the end of the Ark without touching it.”

He waited for an answer from de Montbard, and when none came he turned his head again. “What think you?”

De Montbard shook his head, his lips pursed doubtfully. “I don’t know, Stephen. How close must a man approach a lightning bolt before being burned by it? Even were I a doubter, I do not think I would have the bravery, or the foolishness, to shrug by within a hand’s breadth of what might be the living God. But apparently you would.”

“Hmm.” St. Clair did not move, but stood in silence for some time before saying, “Well, since you put it like that, I doubt that I would, in fact. Perhaps I will wait until we hear what Master Hugh has to say. And so we had better go upstairs and tell the others about what we’ve found. Don’t you think so?”

Montbard nodded, smiling. “Aye, I think so. They might, after all, wish to see something of it at least, since they’ve been digging like moles for eight years and more in the mere hope of finding it. Let us go up, then, and find out.”

The hours that followed were a far cry from anything that had been known before, as all nine of the brethren crowded down into the Hall to look at what had been found beneath the altar, and no two men among them had exactly the same reaction to seeing the stark, black and white beauty of the chamber behind the first curtain, and the glory of the fabled Ark of the Covenant within its own curtained niche at the rear of the chamber. Several men wept openly; Geoffrey Bissot dropped to his knees at the foot of the entry stairs, facing the open end wall, and stayed there for three hours without moving, apparently lost in prayer; Godfrey St. Omer chose to kneel within the chamber that housed the Ark, and stayed there for two hours, joined from time to time by others of the brotherhood. All of them moved about in silence, and few of them spoke among themselves. None of them, it seemed, could fully come to terms with the truth that, after all their years of hard labor, scratching and scrabbling at the solid rock of the Temple Mount, they had actually found the treasure they had come to find, and had discovered it to be greater than their wildest imaginings could have made it.

Only Hugh de Payens seemed aloof from the general reaction. He was present the whole time, but he said not a word to anyone, and St. Clair watched him from a distance, with steadily growing concern, as he stood apart from the others, taking note of everything that was done and said but making no attempt to take an active part in any of the activities. Eventually, when the senior knight walked away into the surrounding darkness of the great Hall, St. Clair followed him, maintaining a wide distance but watching anxiously lest his superior fall over or grow ill.

No such thing occurred, however, and de Payens merely seated himself beyond the lights from the altar and continued to watch in silence until, one after another, the knights hoisted themselves up in the basket and retreated to their sleeping quarters far above. Only then, when the last of them had gone, did Hugh de Payens rise to his feet and walk forward into the still-guttering light of the few torches that remained. At the top of the stairs descending into the chamber beneath the altar, he stopped.

“Stephen,” he called out. “Come down with me, into the crypt.” He went down then, and St. Clair followed behind him, to find him waiting on the open threshold of the black and white chamber. The two of them stood side by side for a time, staring into the shadowy depths, and then de Payens knelt down and placed his hands on two of the marble floor tiles, one of them black, the other white.

“Here it is, Stephen,” he said, looking down at his hands. “All of my life, in this one room. Black and white. The colors of our Order, darkness and light, death and life, ignorance and enlightenment, not merely underfoot, on the floor, but all about us, in everything we do.” He rose smoothly to his feet and stood with his hands on his hips, then moved forward slowly, pivoting as he went so that his body revolved in a circle.

“You can have no idea how much I have waited for this day, my friend, waiting for it to come, yet not ever knowing even if it would or could. From the moment I found the Order of Rebirth, I dedicated my life to it and to its teachings, hoping against hope that I had not made a foolish choice and a bad decision. For there is nothing, really—no, there was nothing, really, to tell us what was true and what was not. Now there is. We have found the proof, and God has blessed us with the knowledge. But before, we had nothing to distinguish us from Christians, gravely misled and believing blindly in hope, and faith, and love. I have believed in what the Order taught, but there have been times when I was close to despair … close to believing we were wrong. Today has changed all that, and that truth has overwhelmed me these past few hours, so that I dared not trust myself to speak, or even to look too closely at my friends. Where is the Ark?”

St. Clair was surprised by the question. “Have you not seen it? It is back there, behind you, behind the curtain there.”

“Come, then, with me.”

They reached the closed curtain and de Payens opened it slowly, then stood there mute, staring at the ornate splendor of the golden chest for long moments before he sank slowly to his knees. He reached out a hand, tentatively, and then held it there, less than a hand’s breadth from one of the carrying rings on the side of the chest, as though he would lean forward and touch the container, but then he sighed and lowered his hand, and when he turned to look at St. Clair, the younger knight was unsurprised to see tears flowing down his cheeks. He felt a lump in his own throat in response and tried to look away, but found he was incapable of moving. Hugh de Payens blinked, unashamed of his tears, and then swallowed and spoke.