‘Unfortunately, he didn’t. He was very weak by then and could barely speak. I don’t know what he was talking about.’
‘But I do.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes.’ Krakowski motioned to the package on the table. ‘This, here.’
‘Are you serious? What is it?’
‘It is ... arguably ...’ began Krakowski haltingly, ‘the most significant, the most precious artefact on earth, something that belongs to humanity, to all generations still to come ... I can’t find the right words, I’m sorry.’ Krakowski shook his head in frustration and placed his hand on the parcel. ‘Let me put it this way: If I could use music instead of words to describe it, it would have to be the most moving, the most inspired, uplifting piece I could ever hope to compose and I would need the combined genius of a Beethoven, a Mahler and a Mozart to do it justice.’
‘What is it, Benjamin?’ Dr Rosen asked again. ‘Please, tell me.’
‘No – I’ll show you.’ Krakowski started unwrapping the package, carefully untying the knots binding the leather thongs. ‘Here it is,’ he said, his voice hoarse. Dr Rosen noticed tears in his eyes.
‘What is this?’ she asked again, mesmerised by the object on the table.
‘According to the Templar chronicles, it’s one of the two Tablets of Moses – the Luchot HaBrit – the Tablets of the Covenant,’ Krakowski explained. ‘Inscribed with the Ten Commandments, the covenant between man and his Creator.’ Dr Rosen looked stunned.
‘But these look like Egyptian hieroglyphs,’ she said after a while.
‘I know ...’
‘Is it authentic?’
‘I’m not sure, but my father was convinced it was the real thing. It’s all in his papers. He believed, you see.’
‘May I touch it?’
‘Of course, please ...’
Dr Rosen ran the tips of her fingers gently over the smooth, stone-like surface and closed her eyes. She was exploring the tablet with the precision of the gifted surgeon, combining intuition with experience, as only a healer knows how.
‘What do you feel?’
At first, Dr Rosen didn’t answer. After a while, however, she opened her eyes and looked at Krakowski sitting opposite. ‘What I feel, Benjamin, is ... love. It radiates, it flows. I’ve felt it before in some patients, mainly in extreme situations, close to death. A concentration of grace.’
Krakowski reached for Dr Rosen’s hand and kissed it spontaneously. ‘You put it so eloquently, Bettany,’ he said. ‘Do you know what my father wrote about the tablet in his notes?’
‘Tell me.’
‘He observed that it appears to exude – love. He felt it too, you see, just like you.’
‘Is this the missing link then?’ Dr Rosen asked, pointing to the tablet.
‘No. This is.’ Krakowski held up a scroll he had also taken out of the safe.
‘Oh, what is it?
‘An original letter – a dispatch, sent from Egypt by Armand de Blanquefort, a knight, to the Grand Master of the Templars in 1305,’ he answered quietly. ‘Which, I believe, will lead us to the other tablet, and, quite possibly, the Ark itself.’
‘This brittle old papyrus?’ Dr Rosen asked. ‘Is that all you need?’
Krakowski smiled. ‘No, we do need a little more than that.’
‘What?’
‘Faith and a bit of luck.’
75
Avoiding the early morning traffic choking the Eternal City wasn’t easy. However, that was precisely what the car sent by the Cardinal was trying to do by following the narrow Rome back streets. Father Habakkuk was to be brought as quickly as possible from the airport to the Vatican. The Cardinal didn’t like to be kept waiting.
The Swiss Guard saluted, and escorted Habakkuk up the wide marble staircase to the Cardinal’s private apartment; an honour reserved for the privileged few.
‘I have sad news, Eminence; Sir Eric had another stroke,’ Habakkuk reported.
‘Bad?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid. The trial is over.’ The Cardinal stood up and walked across to the tall window overlooking the dome of St. Peter’s. His thoughts raced back to his early school days more than seventy years ago. To two inseparable friends skiing down icy slopes to school in the valley below. It was a lifetime ago but it felt like yesterday.
‘He asked me to give you this.’ Habakkuk opened his briefcase.
‘Oh, what is it?’
‘He called it his final contribution to the quest; a curious document. A single page. Armand de Blanquefort wrote it just before he was killed in Egypt in 1305.’
‘Is it authentic?’ the Cardinal demanded impatiently.
‘Yes, I believe so. I’ve translated the text; it makes for interesting reading.’ He handed the translation to the Cardinal.
These are, I believe, the last words I will be able to record before our enemies overwhelm us. We are surrounded, escape is impossible ...
The Cardinal read the short document several times and then paused, running his finger slowly along the lines. ‘It reads like a prayer,’ he said at last.
‘That’s what Sir Eric thought. We actually named it the Blanquefort Prayer.’
How extraordinary; the pieces of the puzzle are finally falling into place, thought the Cardinal, taking off his reading glasses. He reached for the remote control on the table in front of him and turned down the music.
‘Krakowski’s violin concerto?’ Habakkuk asked.
‘Yes. A most remarkable piece. It tells me a great deal about the man.’ Coming from a connoisseur like the Cardinal, this was a serious compliment.
‘What do you make of this?’ asked the Cardinal, holding up the page. ‘After all, you’re the expert here.’ A smile crept across Habakkuk’s shiny black face; praise from the Cardinal was rare.
‘When we place this new document next to Blanquefort’s earlier dispatch ...’
‘The one he sent with Fra. Bernard to the Grand Master in France?’ interjected the Cardinal.
‘Yes, the Bernard Dispatch. If we consider them together, with all the other information we have: legend, the Scriptures and well-documented historical facts, they all seem to converge – and fit perfectly.’
‘Explain.’
‘Assume for the moment that the Kebra Nagast, the Glory of Kings, is historically accurate and the Ark of the Covenant was brought to Ethiopia by King Solomon’s son Menelik. Let’s use that as our starting point,’ Habakkuk said.
‘That’s quite a leap,’ said the Cardinal. ‘Most historians would disagree with you; they think it’s all just romantic nonsense.’
‘Perhaps so, Eminence, but we now have certain evidence – contemporaneous records – to back it up.’
‘Go on.’
‘Well, it goes like this: Prince Lalibela returns from exile in Jerusalem and wrests the throne from his half-brother, Harbay, with the help of the Templars he’s befriended during his stay in the Holy Land. In return, the Templars are granted privileges and actually get to see the Ark. The Templars remain in Ethiopia even after Lalibela’s reign – biding their time. Unlike Lalibela, his successor, the new king, is uneasy about the presence of these threatening strangers.’ Habakkuk paused before continuing. He knew he had to choose his words carefully.
‘He doesn’t trust them, and with good reason. The Templars have only one aim, only one reason for staying in Ethiopia – to steal the Ark and take it back to France. And that’s precisely what they do in 1305. Proof? Here.’ Habakkuk took a sheaf of papers from his briefcase.
‘We quit Axum with the Holy Relic some three months past,’ he quoted from Blanquefort’s Bernard Dispatch, ‘and have now reached the Nile.’ Habakkuk glanced at the Cardinal. ‘... I have devised the following plan ...’
‘We’ve known about the Bernard Dispatch since ’45,’ the Cardinal interrupted again. ‘It was referred to in Berenger Krakowski’s writings.’
‘You’re right, Eminence, Krakowski mentions it; he even quotes some
parts. We also knew about its existence from material purchased from Diderot.’
‘Yes, I remember,’ the Cardinal agreed.
‘But for the first time, Eminence, we have the full text of another contemporaneous document also written by Armand de Blanquefort a short time later – the Prayer – right here.’
Habakkuk held it up like a trophy, ‘Actually referring to the Bernard Dispatch. We have corroboration!’ he added, excited. ‘And then we have this: The Holy Relic we leave behind is but a shell – empty, its very essence gone,’ Habakkuk read aloud. ‘The _____ of the Prophet are out of our enemies’ reach; one is on its way to France with a dispatch recording the hiding place of the other ...’
‘Well?’ asked the Cardinal, ‘what does it all mean?’
‘This is all new material, Eminence, ‘but it does accord with our oral traditions in Ethiopia ... even the secret ones ...’
‘The legend about the Templars’ theft of the Ark and its glorious return to Axum, handed down from Guardian to Guardian?’
‘Precisely. Except, I don’t believe it’s a legend at all. I believe it’s historical fact. And the proof, Eminence, is once again right here ... here in these documents.’ Habakkuk tapped the sheaf of papers.
The Cardinal looked at Habakkuk for a few minutes. Though Habakkuk was very bright and undoubtedly an expert, perhaps the best-informed scholar on the subject, he was still unconvinced. Of course, the Cardinal thought, Habakkuk’s loyalty to the Church was beyond question, but he was Ethiopian. He’d grown up there; his cultural and emotional ties to it were strong. All this would have to taint his objectivity, thought the Cardinal, yet ... Habakkuk could read the doubt in the Cardinal’s demeanour, but pressed on.
‘Your Eminence, I think we both know what Armand de Blanquefort sent back to France with Fra. Bernard in an act of final desperation. It fully supports Diderot’s extraordinary claim regarding an ancient sacred relic in his ...’
‘No! We don’t know,’ the Cardinal interrupted. ‘We think we know, is perhaps more accurate.’
‘Up to a point perhaps, Eminence, but we must consider this,’ Habakkuk replied diplomatically. To contradict the Cardinal was never easy. ‘The jealously guarded secret handed down by each Guardian of the Ark to his successor since the Ark’s return to Axum in 1305, does have a direct bearing on this subject. It cannot be ignored. However ...’
The Cardinal held up his hand. Habakkuk stopped mid-sentence, afraid that he had gone too far. ‘There is someone else who would like to hear about this secret,’ said the Cardinal, looking at his watch. ‘Mass has just finished; if we hurry we might just catch him before the audiences begin ...’
‘Someone else?’ Habakkuk asked, puzzled. ‘Who?’
‘The Holy Father. Come.’ The Cardinal stood up and hurried towards the door.
76
Pope Julius finished saying morning mass in the Sistine Chapel and was slowly shuffling down the aisle with the help of Sister Bernadette, his minder. At ninety-one, the Pontiff’s body was worn out and frail; his mind, however, was as sharp as a rapier.
‘Father Habakkuk has arrived, Holiness,’ said the Cardinal as the Pope walked past. Sister Bernadette glared at him. Pope Julius stopped and turned.
‘Are we getting closer?’ he asked, his voice sounding faint.
‘I believe so, Holiness. You wanted to know about the theft of the Ark. Father Habakkuk can enlighten us.’ Placing his hand on Habakkuk’s shoulder, the Cardinal pushed him gently forward like a headmaster showing off his star pupil.
‘Come, give me your arm,’ said the Pope. ‘Walk with me.’ Towering over the Pontiff, Habakkuk held out his arm. ‘Look, angels and demons; up there.’ The Pope pointed to the ceiling. ‘So it is down here ... Now, did they really steal the Ark?’
‘Yes Holiness, they did.’
‘What happened to it?’
‘Well, at first, the priests tried to conceal the theft, but it was a catastrophe too big to hide. The Black Emperor sent out his bravest warriors who, as we now know, caught up with the Templars and the Ark in Egypt. The Ark was recovered and returned to Axum; the treacherous knights were killed ...’
‘Please tell His Holiness about the secret ...’ interjected the Cardinal, realising there wasn’t much time.
‘Only certain priests were allowed to approach the Ark. After it was returned to Axum and opened for the first time since its removal by the Templars, they found that the tablets were missing. This has been a well-guarded secret ... only the initiated few knew. The Ethiopian clergy’s been searching for the tablets ever since – hoping, no, longing, for their return.’
The Pope stopped walking. ‘You will find them, my son,’ he announced, looking up at Habakkuk with watery eyes, ‘but be careful. Remember, angels and demons ...’ The Pope’s tiny hand, extended to mark the end of the discussion, looked like crushed parchment, wrinkled and almost translucent. The Ring of the Fisherman, thought Habakkuk, bending down to kiss the ring.
‘I didn’t know the Holy Father took a personal interest in this,’ Habakkuk said, after the Pope had left the chapel.
‘Oh ... more than you can imagine,’ replied the Cardinal. The ‘chance meeting’ with the Pontiff had turned out better than he had expected. He’d just moved his best pawn into a strategic position on the chessboard of his long career.
‘If your interpretation is correct, the Templars removed the tablets just before the Ark was recaptured by the Abyssinians.’
‘Yes, and actually managed to send one of them back to France with Fra. Bernard – that’s the tablet Diderot claims to have discovered in France in the 1880s.’ The Cardinal nodded. ‘One is on its way to France with a dispatch recording the hiding place of the other,’ Habakkuk quoted from the Blanquefort Prayer.
‘Leaving an empty, meaningless Ark for the Emperor’s men. Ingenious! The Templars had the last laugh, as usual,’ said the Cardinal. ‘If this is right, the other tablet is most probably still in its original hiding place somewhere in Egypt – waiting,’ he added pensively, ‘to explode!’
‘And we have good reason to believe that Professor Krakowski now has sufficient information to find it,’ Habakkuk pressed on.
‘Is that what Sir Eric thought?’
‘Yes, Eminence, he was sure. His last words on it were: “My only regret is to be so close, and yet so far ... My punishment has already begun.”’
‘He said that?’
‘Yes. But he also said that, ironically, it was now all up to Krakowski to lead us to the tablet and quite possibly the Ark itself.’
‘Oh? And how exactly would he do that? He’s a musician, not a biblical scholar!’
Habakkuk smiled. ‘Sir Eric met with Krakowski at the hospital and returned the Auschwitz violin papers to him. He had nothing to fear, you see. The trial was practically over by then and he was very ill. But he had a plan ...’
‘Oh?’ The Cardinal looked bemused.
‘He planted an idea ... no, he ignited something in Krakowski – Sir Eric called it the flame of destiny. He challenged Krakowski to complete what his father had begun. A stroke of brilliance, don’t you think?’ said Habakkuk, carefully watching the Cardinal. ‘Sir Eric told me that he had handed the torch leading to the final stage of the quest to Krakowski, convinced he’d carry it all the way because it was his destiny. And all we have to do is follow it.’
‘Typically Erich,’ the Cardinal said, shaking his head. ‘Plotting to the end.’
‘Krakowski now appears to have all the necessary information required to complete the task.’
‘Assuming of course that Blanquefort’s original Bernard Dispatch is among the documents.’
‘Quite so,’ Habakkuk agreed, ‘but Sir Eric was certain the original parchment would be in the Swiss bank.’
‘Die Dokumente in der Schweiz,’ said the Cardinal. ‘The treasure we’ve been looking for since the War. Just waiting in a safe deposit box in Switzerland!’
‘To be collected
by Professor Krakowski. Precisely!’
‘How ironic!’ said the Cardinal. Then, carefully watching Habakkuk out of the corner of his eye, he said, ‘And what do you think about all this? Have you formed a view?’
‘I believe Sir Eric is right, Eminence.’
‘And what do you suggest we do next?’
‘We’ll let Krakowski take us where we cannot go.’
‘And how, pray tell me, will you accomplish this?’
‘I’ve arranged for Krakowski to be watched. He’s under surveillance, around the clock. Every move, all his conversations; we’re following his associates, too.’
The Cardinal was impressed. There was obviously a lot more to Habakkuk than he’d thought. ‘How have you managed all that?’ he asked.
‘Sir Eric introduced me to one of his old and trusted contacts – a Colonel Sorokin, a very resourceful Russian ...’
The Cardinal held up his hand, stopping Habakkuk. ‘I don’t need to know the detail.’
‘I fully understand, Eminence.’ Habakkuk was aware his methods were somewhat unorthodox. And the Cardinal was a practical man only interested in results, and prepared to turn a blind eye as long as he and the Church were not compromised.
‘If we’re right and Blanquefort’s original Bernard Dispatch is in fact in the Swiss bank, I’m sure Krakowski will go to Egypt to look for the tablet himself. Sir Eric gave him all the clues ... Krakowski wouldn’t be able to resist.’
‘And what’ll we do? Wait? Hope for the best?’ asked the Cardinal.
‘Not quite.’
‘Oh?’
‘I’m going to Egypt to find out more about this,’ Habakkuk said, holding up the copy of the Blanquefort Prayer. ‘I want to be a step ahead of Maestro Krakowski when he finally comes looking.’
Habakkuk did not elaborate, nor did he mention the Defender of the Faith or the Brotherhood. Occasionally, even the Church had to deal with the devil – history was full of examples. And besides, he was certain the Cardinal would rather not know.
‘And you have all the necessary contacts to do that, I take it?’ the Cardinal asked.
The Empress Holds the Key Page 33
