The Templar's Code

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.” As below, so above; and as above so below. And since all things exist in and emanate from the One who is the ultimate Cause, so all things are born after their kind from the One. The Sun is the father, the Moon the mother. Earth must be separated from Fire, the subtle from the dense, with gentle heat and good judgment. This ascends from the earth into the sky. Again, it descends to earth, and takes back the power of the above and the below. By this means you will receive the Light of the whole world, and Darkness will fly from thee. This is the strength of all power, for it will penetrate all mysteries and dispel all ignorance. By it the world was created.

Edie quickly read the list. “Hey, I actually know this one.” She underlined the first line with her finger. “ ‘As above, so below.’ It’s a famous saying. Although I didn’t know until just now that it was carved onto the Emerald Tablet.”

“During the Middle Ages, Thoth the Thrice Great, also known by his Greek name, Hermes Trismegistus, was always depicted in the garb of an Egyptian high priest holding an armillary sphere aloft. A pictorial representation of that very precept.”

“What’s an armillary?”

“An armillary is a skeletal sphere composed of metal bands that represent the heavens, the equator, the ecliptic, meridians, and latitude,” Caedmon replied. “Thoth holds the armillary aloft to convey the idea that a connection to the heavens is a requisite for the creative process to take place on the earthly plane.”

“‘The creative process.’ A quaint way of saying the Big Bang. Got it. But to get back to my original question”—she placed her palm over top the opened book with the Eight Precepts—“how did the Knights Templar get a hold of the Emerald Tablet?”

Caedmon, frowning, tugged at his blue plaid robe, pulling it more securely over his kneecaps. Edie had the distinct impression that he regretted not having dressed before heading downstairs. “During the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, the Knights Templar were instrumental in liberating Spain from the Moors. Grateful for their military assistance, various Christian monarchs bequeathed large Spanish land tracts to the Templars.”

“Which is how the Knights Templar made contact with the Spanish Kabbalists,” Edie said, the story beginning to make sense.

“The Templars, deservedly famed for their religious tolerance, were the only Christian order that maintained strong relations with European Jews and were known to come to their aid during times of duress.” As he spoke, Caedmon reached for another macaroon.

“If there really is a Genesis code encrypted within the pictograph, why didn’t the Knights Templar, you know, take the Emerald Tablet out for a test drive? Or why didn’t Francis Bacon try to create something?”

“For the simple reason that neither the Templars nor Sir Francis possessed the encryption key,” Caedmon replied. Then, elaborating, he said, “As with any code or cipher, an encryption key is required in order to correctly decode the hidden message. In cryptography, there is a famous axiom, Kerckhoff’s principle, which states that ‘only secrecy of the key provides security.’ Without the encryption key, the Genesis code can’t be deciphered. Be that as it may, the Emerald Tablet is still a highly desirable relic.”

Edie shot both of them a meaningful glance. “Okay, guys. When do we take the scavenger hunt to the next level?”

“You, Edie Miller, are a woman after my own heart.” Placing an arm around her shoulders, Caedmon pulled her close.

Rubin dolefully shook his spiky white head. “I wouldn’t pop the corks just yet. We have no idea where to begin the hunt.”

Caedmon picked up the Mylar-encased frontispiece. “You never did say, Rubin, how you came by this.”

“And with good reason.”

Looking decidedly guilty, their host walked over to the piano, retaking his seat at the upholstered bench. A few moments later, Edie suppressed a smile, recognizing the dirge-like opening to the punk-rock anthem “London Calling.”

Banging out the final note, Rubin removed his hands from the keyboard and turned toward the divan. “Oh, very well. I bought it from a young chit who clearly had no idea as to the engraving’s true value. She sent me an unsolicited e-mail in which she alluded to having something that I might be interested in purchasing.” He mirthlessly cackled. “She’d invented some outlandish story about finding it behind a wall panel at her place of employment.”

“And why, may I ask, was that an ‘outlandish’ claim?” Caedmon stared intently at the antiquarian.

“Well, because of where she is employed,” Rubin churlishly retorted. “Good God, the chit works at Craven House.”

“Get out of town! That’s right here in London.”

Turning to her, Caedmon raised a questioning brow. “You’re familiar with this Craven House?”

“Oh, I’ve never been there,” Edie was quick to clarify. “But a few years back I read a Franklin biography. Most people don’t know this, but he lived in London for nearly thirty years. As I recall, Craven House was his last residence in Merry Olde.”

Clearly stunned by the revelation, Caedmon’s eyes opened wide. “As in Dr. Benjamin Franklin?”

“None other.”