by C. M. Palov
Edie set her empty martini glass on top of the cocktail table. “If Aten was declared the only god, what happened to the bird-man Thoth?”
Rubin graced her with his trademark Cheshire smile. “Absolutely nothing. The creator of knowledge, Thoth preceded and transcended the entire Egyptian pantheon. During Akhenaton’s reign, the sacred Eye of Thoth was transformed into the Radiant Disk of Aten.”
Edie’s brows drew together. “Sorry. Not following.”
Rubin got up from the piano bench and walked over to the built-in bookcase, where he retrieved a sheet of paper and a pencil. Reseating himself in the Le Corbusier knockoff, he quickly drew three images. When finished, he shoved the sheet of paper in Edie’s direction.
“A thousand words, as they say. The Eye of Thoth symbolizes knowledge.” Rubin tapped the drawing on the far left. Then he tapped the sketch in the middle. “The Radiant Disk of Aten symbolizes the divine creation. And, finally, we have the All-Seeing Eye, which embodies and combines the attributes of both Thoth and Aten. Knowledge wedded to creation. Each builds upon the previous one. But at the core of each symbol, you will find Thoth, who designed and fashioned the Emerald Tablet. Which contains the secret of all knowledge and all creation.”
“And that is the reason why the pharaoh Akhenaton searched the whole of Egypt, desperate to find the Emerald Tablet that had been hidden away by Thoth centuries before.” Caedmon leaned forward, the conversation about to get very interesting. “The task of finding the Emerald Tablet fell to Akhenaton’s most trusted magician and fellow Aten devotee, the aptly named Tuthmose.”
“Aptly named because Tuthmose means ‘son of Thoth.’ ” Rubin’s eyes twinkled with delight, the man well aware of where the conversation was headed.
“And though Tuthmose located the Emerald Tablet in a pillar at Hermopolis, the discovery came too late to save Akhenaton’s empire.” Caedmon reached for a macaroon, his first of the evening. “When the heretical pharaoh died, a rebel army led by the ousted temple priests descended on Akhenaton’s capital city of Armana. It fell to Tuthmose to save the royal court from the impending slaughter.”
“Tuthmose and his entourage fled Egypt in the dead of night, their trusty Hebrew slaves in tow. A mass exodus unlike any other in history,” their host said airily, waving his right hand in the air to punctuate the remark. “And the only reason the venture succeeded is because Tuthmose had the Emerald Tablet. An Egyptian grimoire, the inscriptions carved onto the Emerald Tablet enabled Tuthmose to create the Ark of the Covenant, that legendary weapon of mass destruction.”
“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.”
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.”
CHAPTER 54
Craning his neck, Mercurius gazed upon the night sky, dazzled by the glittering array. Like a beacon fire, the stars, the planets, and the celestial bodies beckoned. The Lost Heaven. That luminous place that gave birth to the divine spark—the soul—that resided within each living creature. And where each soul yearned to return.
He pulled his robe tighter across his chest as he strolled to the other side of the slate terrace. Through the limbs of his neighbor’s towering oak, Mercurius easily sighted the Orion constellation. The most conspicuous of all the starry configurations, it was known to the ancient Egyptians as Unas. So named for the pharaoh wh
o rose to military greatness by eating the flesh of his mortal enemies. A ghoulish custom that married the Egyptians’ lurid fascination with death to the art of war. “The business of barbarians” as Napoleon so adroitly referred to it.
But the Egyptians were not the first civilization obsessed with warfare.
Before Egypt came to the forefront of the ancient world, there was the mighty Atlantis. The fabled island of Atlas. The continent rose to prominence twelve thousand years ago. Even then, its culture, medical arts, and highly advanced technology were legendary. It was this highly advanced technology that enabled the Atlanteans to rule the ancient world with an iron fist.
Intolerant. Bloodthirsty. Merciless.
Plato, in Timaeus and Critias, wrote at length about the warmongering Atlanteans. Determined to conquer Athens, an unforeseen calamity befell the mighty Atlanteans prior to the final sea battle, their entire continent destroyed in a cataclysmic explosion. In one fiery instant, Atlantis was no more.
The antiquarian Rubin Woolf had been correct in his assertions; there were survivors from Atlantis who made their way to Egypt. Preeminent among them was Thoth, the High Priest. Thoth bequeathed the Emerald Tablet to the Egyptians and instructed them in the sacred knowledge of the universe. He taught the Egyptians about the sacred Light, that limitless well of energy that could be accessed, tapped into, and used for the greater good. But like the Atlanteans before them, the Egyptians abused and corrupted the sacred knowledge, using it to create a vast militaristic empire. Sad-hearted, the wise Thoth realized the evil still lurked, having slithered forth from the smoldering ashes of Atlantis. Fearful of how the sacred knowledge would be exploited after his death, Thoth concealed the Emerald Tablet.
