LESSON 24
WISDOM
My perspective shifted and I found myself seated on one of the seven thrones of Hathor. Then the chamber morphed just as suddenly into a large sunken arena over which the seven thrones presided.
The floor of the arena was comprised of three large flat rings that were set one within the other around a flat central disc; together they formed one huge circular platform of pure gold. This platform seemed to float in space as the area between the combat floor and the high walls of the sunken arena vanished and fell away into a bottomless, dark abyss.
I looked at the goddess alongside me to discover that she had transformed into the green-clad persona of Ashlee Granville. Beyond Ashlee, the manifestation of Hathor retained her central position in the council. To the other side of the goddess were three other women in nineteenth-century dress, each one a little older in appearance than the next.
‘The youngest woman is my dear friend, Lady Susan Devere.’ Ashlee answered my query before I’d even thought to ask.
‘She is just as I imagined from your description.’ I smiled as I realised that all the women present must be daughters of the blood, all intimately involved in the outcome of this battle. ‘Next to Susan must be Clarissa, Lord Hereford’s wife. And next to her, the Dowager Countess Cavandish, Lady Charlotte.’
‘It seems all my descriptions were accurate.’ Ashlee motioned to my other side, where a woman clad in red was seated. She appeared a lot like Lillet in appearance and for a moment her identity had me stumped. ‘Lilith del Aquae?’ It finally clicked who this seventh woman was, and she smiled graciously and nodded. ‘But where is Lillet?’
‘She has never assumed her place on the council,’ Ashlee told me. ‘She will not let go of her guilt. She feels she is responsible for Albray’s self-imposed curse. She has bound herself to the astral realm closest to the physical in order to help him. Hence, Lillet resides many planes below the vibrational frequency of the realm where the Elohim reside.’
‘Still, she should be here,’ I insisted, unsure as to whether I was annoyed at the council, or Lillet.
‘Only when Albray is free will Lillet move on.’ Ashlee put my query to rest.
Hathor stood to address the men in the arena below, and a weapon manifested in each man’s hand. As the swords were the very ones the two men had used in their confrontation in the temple nearly eight hundred years ago, Molier and Albray were comfortable with the arrangement. ‘The winner will gain his freedom and sovereignty of our Ark.’ The goddess seated herself before she announced. ‘Begin!’
The first clash of swords was immediate, as Molier rushed forward, his weapon thrashing backwards and forwards in a frenzied rush. Yet Albray was not easily overpowered and fought Molier off, thrusting him back.
As the two men circled each other, the sound of metal detaching from metal was heard and the outside ring of the Wheel of Fate began to tilt and spin. This event nearly threw Albray off-balance as one of his feet had been resting on the ring. He raised his foot and swiftly regained his equilibrium as Molier took advantage and attacked.
The next time the detaching metal sound was heard, the outside ring stilled and the one inside it began to move. This development cast Molier off-balance and he slid away from Albray onto the outside ring, where only some fancy footwork prevented him from falling into the dark oblivion beyond. Molier jumped the spinning ring to return to the central disc where Albray awaited him.
‘You’re not getting away that easily.’ Albray lashed out with his weapon, and was clearly overpowering Molier until a metal sound gave warning of a change in conditions. The central disc began spinning and tilting, and both men jumped backwards, narrowly avoiding metal spikes that shot up to form a deadly bed of blades.
This is a nightmare! I decided. Hasn’t Albray got enough to contend with?
‘The Wheel of Fate is unbiased.’ The goddess addressed my unspoken protest.
‘It is also inhumane,’ I said. ‘I assumed that on higher planes of awareness such bloodsports would have been abolished, and a better way to resolve such differences would have been devised.’
‘The arena you see is not in physical existence. This battle is being played out on a subconscious level. But as armed combat is how these men have always wished to settle this centuries-old dispute, I have obliged their fantasy,’ the goddess said.
‘Albray and Molier.’ Ashlee shook her head to imply they were hopeless. ‘Their souls still belong to a thirteenth-century consciousness, and deep down they are still warrior knights. The real test of the Ark is for them to ascend beyond their current understanding.’
‘But Albray has progressed spiritually through his experience of other eras,’ I argued and Ashlee nodded to agree.
‘The big question is, just how far he has progressed?’
As I observed the challenge in progress, I had to concede that such a contest was probably every warrior’s dream.
‘Every soul has its Day of Judgement,’ Hathor informed me, ‘and each soul that resolves to take the path of light contributes to universal consciousness. By the time every human soul has chosen the higher path, every child born on Earth will have incarnated into the bloodline of Isis and all shall share in the ascension of the species.’
‘What would happen if Molier were to win?’
‘Molier cannot win without losing,’ the Great Mother explained. ‘Any more than he can lose without winning.’
‘I don’t understand,’ I freely admitted, to beg more information. ‘You speak as if you know the outcome of the battle already?’
‘I do,’ the goddess replied, amused that I could think otherwise. ‘One of these men desires to evolve more than the other.’
‘Are you saying that the loser stands to gain more than the winner?’ I struggled to make sense of the conversation.
At that moment Molier’s sword was sent flying over the edge of the Wheel of Fate, which ceased its activity. Molier was left defenceless at the end of Albray’s blade.
‘Mercy.’ Molier dropped to his knees and managed to stall the death blow with his appeal—eight hundred years of life and he was still not ready to face death. ‘I ask you, is it my fault that I was not born of the blood? Whereas you, Albe-Ra, were born the Shining One, automatically granting you access to the inner circle behind the brotherhoods. How else but through the conquest of the Arks was I ever to gain such privileges?’ There was no fear underlying his plea, no humbleness or respect.
‘If your soul had been ready, you would have been born into the line of Isis.’ Albray was not going to be swayed by such tactics. ‘Do you not see that presuming to play god as you have has only delayed your true aspirations?’
Molier frowned as he momentarily considered this, but rather than discuss the premise further or admit to any wrongdoing, decided to revert to his own defence and direct the blame for his plight back on Albray. ‘I would not have abused the ambrosia of the gods for so long if you hadn’t trapped me in the temple. I didn’t realise that my soul would be trapped within my body as a result!’
‘Sion’s teachings warned that there would be consequences for abusing the birthright of the holy line,’ Albray argued. ‘Every knight is taught that.’
‘But what those consequences would be was never disclosed. Do you know what it’s like to have a soul that functions purely on a physical level? I cannot experience emotion. I have only the instinct to survive. I can feed my intellect with knowledge but higher wisdom shall always elude me. I endured six hundred years in the dark airlessness of that temple …six hundred years! And if I cannot claim the Ring of Testimony then I face an eternity of spiritual darkness, whether I am dead or alive.’
Albray struggled against his desire to sever Molier’s head from his shoulders—his rival’s lack of emotion was vexing him, even though Molier had just explained that he was incapable of feeling. ‘You were more than prepared to banish me to the dark abyss.’ My knight drew back his weapon, resolved to be
done with his curse.
Molier did not flinch in the face of the threat. ‘I do not have the benefit of your high spiritual standing,’ he stated bluntly ‘Are you not Albe-Ra, a prince of light? And if so, surely you are more merciful than a wretch like me?’
For once, Molier was right. ‘Kill him and darkness wins,’ I stood and yelled down at Albray.
‘He cannot hear you,’ the goddess informed me.
‘But he must hear me,’ I protested.
‘Do you not trust that our knight has evolved enough to reach that conclusion on his own?’ Hathor challenged.
‘Of course,’ I realised, and seated myself again. I would place my faith in the soul I had grown to love and trust implicitly.
The longer the death blow was delayed by Albray’s soul-searching, the broader Molier’s insincere smile grew. ‘It is just as I suspected…you have developed a conscience and no longer have the constitution for killing.’
I held my breath, knowing that the observation would be disturbing to any warrior.
‘No, Molier. The difference between you and I is that I always had a conscience…and if you had exercised the same, you would not now be on the border of damnation!’ Albray was riled. ‘But if you are to be damned, you can take responsibility for it.’ My knight cast his weapon into the abyss and relief washed over me as Albray looked to the heavens to appeal. ‘I beseech the great ladies of the Elohim, can this man’s fate not be of his own choosing?’
‘Yes!’ I cheered my knight’s scruples, and looked to she who sat in judgement.
‘It seems that the next chapter of Albray’s tale shall be the start of a whole new book.’ Hathor and indeed all the women seated alongside me were smiling.
It was exciting to know that Albray had secured himself a future. I would have questioned the ladies further, if the outer world of inner self had not suddenly launched my consciousness into a downward spiral. I knew my consciousness was returning to the physical world for it felt like descending to the bottom of the ocean. My body felt suddenly dense and laborious.
I raised myself from the floor where I lay in the doorway to the Ark chamber, to find Molier and Albray standing on either side of the Ark. The Mercy Seat spun over its treasure and the Ring of Testimony glowed invitingly between the two men, right at their eye level.
‘Wait!’ Albray cautioned Molier from taking advantage of the situation too quickly. ‘Look down upon your being.’
Molier was amazed, as was I, to see that his subtle body was freed of its blackness and was pulsating with light.
‘The ladies of the Elohim are awarding you, and the souls you have corrupted, the opportunity to wipe the slate clean and move back into alignment with cosmic law,’ Albray advised Molier. ‘A step forward to take the ring will return you to the eternity of darkness you have been endeavouring to shake for centuries. A step backwards into the flames will return you to the matrix, where you will be assigned to a suitable era in which to further evolve.’
Molier didn’t seem to fancy his options, and he observed Albray with ungrateful eyes.
‘Only through death shall you ever obtain the chance to be reborn of the blood.’
The statement came as something of a revelation to Molier, who had become accustomed to the inevitability that he would never incarnate.
‘This is your chance to prove that you have the moral fibre from which a son of the blood is fashioned.’ Albray spent his last words of wisdom and fell silent to let Molier decide his own fate.
Clearly, it was difficult to be grateful to Albray for this unexpected opportunity and for the first time since I had started following this ancient mystic tale I actually felt for Molier. How difficult would it be to ignore your natural instinct for survival in order to achieve your greatest aspiration?
Bow down thine ear, and hear the words of the wise, And apply thine heart unto my knowledge.
Molier began quoting from the Proverbs of Solomon in an attempt to strengthen his courage and make the decision we all knew he wanted to. Still, his hand was poised before the great ring of power and he had to exercise restraint not to take it.
Remove not the old landmark; And enter not into the fields of the Fatherless.
His fingers recoiled from the temptation.
Better is little with the fear of the Lord, Than great treasure and trouble therewith.
Molier looked to Albray resolutely and held wide his arms.
Albray nodded to assure Molier that his decision was sound.
For riches certainly make themselves wings; They fly away as an eagle toward Heaven.
As my knight completed the verse, Molier allowed himself to plummet backwards into the flaming liquid and his life was extinguished in an instant.
My attention was snatched from the gruesome scene by a throbbing pain in my chest. I placed my hands to my heart to calm my intense emotions. On discovering my shirt was moist and sticky, I looked to find my hands covered in blood. ‘I am dying?’ With that revelation the ground rushed up to meet me.
‘Miss Montrose?’ I heard a voice calling to me, although it sounded far away.
I was so peaceful. I wanted for nothing as I held no conscious thought—except to ignore the summons.
‘Mia!’ I was being shaken from my focused-inward bliss and, despite my unwillingness to wake, I recognised the voice calling me. A sharp pang of yearning in my heart spurred me to surface from the sanctuary of my unconscious state.
As I stretched out, I became aware that I was propped up in a seated position against someone and my eyes came to focus on the face of my knight.
‘Albray.’ I turned toward him and held him close. ‘I have died and gone to heaven.’
‘No.’ He pried me from his body and holding my face in his hands he brushed my hair aside and kissed me.
Perhaps this was just a brief interlude on the astral plane, while my fate was being decided. I didn’t care, as long as it lasted.
It took some time for me to exhaust my delight in having my dream lover close and tangible, but as this reality didn’t seem to be going anywhere, I drew away. My hands and shirt were still blood-spattered, but my wounds were mysteriously absent. ‘This is a dream. You have come to say goodbye.’ My heart jumped into my throat and the swelling pressure it caused nearly choked me. ‘You are free.’ I forced a smile, only to set tears rolling down my face.
‘Yes I am,’ he confirmed, ‘but I rather thought I might hang around for a while.’
I shook my head. ‘You’ve done your time as a guardian spirit and although I shall miss you every time I sleep, I cannot condemn you to that purgatory any longer. You must move on,’ I urged, bravely denying my own feelings on the matter.
The look on Albray’s face was not gratitude or regret, but a rather odd look that I didn’t know how to intepret. ‘Well, if that is what you want.’ He sat me up, placed the two vials in my hands and stood to depart. ‘I was rather hoping that you would show me the ropes of living in the twenty-first century, but if you have other plans then I guess…’ He shrugged and then waved to me as he moved toward the exit tunnel.
The vials. I looked to the items in my hand, then to the dark chamber around me. The door to the Ark chamber was closed. I stood up and noted the flat sack lying nearby; the bones were no longer in it. Albray used the Star substance on me! It had miraculously healed before, and that was why my wounds had vanished. My consciousness hadn’t shifted to Albray’s realm of existence, his consciousness had somehow returned to mine! ‘The goddess,’ I uttered under my breath and an inner voice told me: I am only complying with the wishes of all involved.
Albray heard me running after him. He turned to catch me as I overpowered him with a hug. ‘I suppose, as I did draw you into this era, the least I can do is make you feel at home.’
‘I have never had a home before.’ Albray considered the notion, well disposed toward the concept. ‘You make me feel like I have finally found one.’
For the first time we kis
sed and there was no urgency attached—no time, dimension or alternative existence waiting to pry us apart.
‘Mia!’
The sound of Andre’s voice sent shockwaves through my system. I had forgotten about Molier’s three partners in crime.
‘What the hell is going on?’ he asked as he was accompanied down the path into the Star-Fire Temple at the tip of Akbar’s sword. They both looked badly beaten about and rather the worse for wear.
‘Thank heavens you’re all right.’ I conveyed my relief to the Arab. The Frenchman was not happy about this development.
‘You’re on his side!’ Andre protested, genuinely surprised. ‘What about me?’
I was about to tell Andre exactly what I thought of him, when it clicked that his subtle body was quite free of darkness.
‘He doesn’t remember a thing,’ Akbar advised. ‘Neither do the other two.’ He motioned with his head back toward the daylight, where Tusca and Conally were being held by other members of the Melchi brotherhood. ‘We had a little trouble bringing them under control, but then all three lost consciousness.’ Akbar shrugged.
‘Who is this?’ Andre motioned to Albray, who was still wearing nothing but his thirteenth-century trousers.
‘This is the new man in my life that I’ve been telling you about,’ I informed him and introduced them.
‘Did Molier bring you down here?’ Andre was suspicious of the stranger being let into the site before Andre himself had been in.
‘Molier entered the chamber beyond those doors and did not come back out,’ I told him truthfully. ‘I fear he has ventured to go where no man ought, and has paid the ultimate price for his defiance.’
‘He is dead!’ Andre was disturbed by the news, but seemed more worried about the complications this might cause him than about the probable death of Molier. ‘That’s the trouble with these archaeologists. They are always getting themselves killed before they finalise their bloody accounts…when am I going to learn.’ He threw his hands up, then noticed the vials I held. ‘What are they?’
Gene of Isis Page 50
