Two Crowns for America

by Katherine Kurtz

  Meanwhile, the very least Justin could expect of tonight’s ritual was an elucidation of certain symbols and parables on an immediate and conscious level, intended to raise his awareness of truths pertinent to his spiritual growth, just as the initiations to Apprentice and Fellow Craft had done. The Master had hinted at far more than that, of course. Justin had long understood that outward ritual in any initiatory context was but a matrix in which to accomplish the real work in the candidate, often having but little bearing on what went on within—as Saint-Germain had made a point of reminding him. He had said that Justin was ready to cross the next “threshold” in some more esoteric context—indeed, the process had already begun—and had hinted that important progress, perhaps, was to be expected in the context of tonight’s ritual.

  Which raised the question of why Saint-Germain had made a point of instructing the prince to be present. If Saint-Germain was a mystery, then what about the charming and personable Lucien Rohanstuart, obviously enjoying Saint-Germain’s confidence on levels not yet apparent, but not yet inclined—or not yet permitted—to disclose just how far that confidence extended?

  Was the prince somehow deputized to act for Saint-Germain as more than witness tonight? As he thought about it, Justin suddenly realized that it was “Brother Rohan” who would receive him when he entered the Lodge to begin the actual initiation. Of all the offices the prince might have assumed, other than the Master’s chair, that one alone gave him direct ritual contact with the candidate. Somehow the coincidence made Justin a little uneasy, even though he trusted the prince and would not have thought of questioning Saint-Germain.

  In need of reassurance, he sank down on a straight-backed chair in a corner and made himself glance around the room to compose himself, seeking stability in familiar landmarks as he watched the physical layout of the Lodge take shape. Improvisation was the norm in the New World, for the colonies boasted few places dedicated exclusively to Lodge work—and none built specifically for that purpose.

  Still, the Wallace library was far better suited for Lodge use than the usual room above a tavern, where the Tracing Boards must be sketched out in chalk on the bare floorboards and then scrubbed away when the night’s work was done. And few Lodges in the New World yet enjoyed the luxury of floor cloths bearing the appropriate symbolism. The one now being unrolled in the center of the room had been painted and embroidered by Arabella, working to specifications provided by Simon and Andrew. Justin found himself wondering whether it would scandalize the other men in the room to learn that a woman was privy to at least this part of their secrets.

  The background was a checkerboard design of black and white squares, light and darkness in balance, just like the floors of the permanent Lodge rooms Justin had heard of in London and Paris, with a blazing star painted and embroidered in the center. The border appliquéd along the edge—the looped design called the cordon de veuve, or “widow’s cord”—represented the Divine Providence that encompassed and protected the “widow’s sons,” as well as their ties of mystic Brotherhood. The tassels at the four corners recalled the four cardinal points and virtues so important to the Craft.

  Arabella had embroidered and appliquéd other symbols of Freemasonry along the top of the cloth, beneath the tasseled ends of the widow’s cord and before the checkered squares began—symbols of the Entered Apprentice and Fellow Craft Degrees: the rough and perfect ashlars, the three pillars, the square and compasses, the plumb, the ladder leading upward toward a seven-pointed star, the cross, the anchor, the outstretched hand reaching upward toward the cup. Symbols for the Master’s Degree would be added on another cloth once the ceremony began.

  None of the floor cloths were for walking on, of course—except by the candidate and his conductor, in the process of an initiation. The Worshipful Master presided from behind a table set along the top edge of the cloth, in the east, and the rest of the brethren stood and sat around the cloth and would “square” the Lodge as they perambulated during the course of the ritual.

  A low admonition from Dr. Franklin recalled Justin from his contemplation, urging all present to clothe themselves for work. From satchels and cases and capacious pockets emerged white lambskin aprons, to be girded about the loins of their respective owners with tasseled cords. Most, including Justin’s, were plain white, and lined with white watered silk, but embroidery embellished those of Franklin and the prince, following European usage, and the linings were blue. Franklin’s blue was a darker shade, signifying his status as a former Grand Officer.

  Justin’s apron was whiter than most, for his being newer in the brotherhood than anyone else present, but he donned it with pride and the ease of ample practice, tying the cords so that the tassels hung down in front, and then, as a Fellow Craft for the last time, folding the flap up and securing it to a button of his waistcoat. After tonight he would be entitled to wear the apron with flap folded down, as did all the other men in the room.

  To these uniform symbols of membership in the Craft, a few of the men added jewels of office suspended on narrow ribbons of white silk: Andrew’s square and compasses, as Master of the present Lodge, with Franklin and the prince wearing similar emblems as Past Masters of their own lodges.

  The preparations were nearly complete. Andrew had already taken his place at the center of the table in the east, gavel in hand. He alone wore his hat, as presiding Master. His warrant from the Grand Lodge of Massachusetts already lay before him, toward his left, where Franklin would sit. The document had been signed by their late Grand Master, Joseph Warren, whose body still had not been found. Without such a warrant, no regular Lodge could legally function.

  Also on the table, and on smaller stands to either side of the door, pewter candlesticks held three unlighted candles. And from a well-worn valise the Commander in Chief himself took out a well-thumbed and obviously much-cherished Bible, touching it reverently to his lips before laying it on the table before the Master. Opened, it would become the Volume of Sacred Law, which transformed the room from a mere library into a temple.

  Beside it, ready to be set in place when the Lodge was officially opened, Franklin laid a large pair of compasses of silver and gilt, the arms opened at a forty-five-degree angle, the steel compass-points oriented toward the bottom of the book, spanning perhaps a foot. A square he placed there as well, of a similar size—this one made of olivewood from the Holy Land, with brass fittings polished to shine like gold. Both were Franklin’s personal property, collected in the course of his various journeyings around the world, and represented two of the most potent symbols of Freemasonry: the compasses, for keeping one within due bounds, and the square, for regulating one’s actions. As a Past Master of one of the same lodges as Andrew, Franklin would act as Immediate Past Master for the night’s working, a sort of master of ceremonies to oversee the details of the ritual and ensure that all was conducted as should be.

  “Places, please, gentlemen,” he said when he had given the room a final look around.

  At his word those not already in place went to the positions to which they had been assigned: Washington to the chair at Andrew’s right hand, Franklin to the left; Simon and Ramsay to either side of the door, as Senior and Junior Wardens in the west. O’Driscoll stationed himself directly before the door, sword already drawn, ready to function as Tyler. Murray was stationed in the south. The prince waited beside O’Driscoll, ready to become the Inner Guard when his services should be needed. Justin stayed where he was, quietly rising from his place in the northwest corner, ready to withdraw when he was bidden.

  The library’s fireplace lay in the south, the fire and the candles on the mantel providing ambient illumination to that side of the room. Franklin came to light a slender taper from one of the candles, pausing then to snuff out both before carrying the taper carefully back to Simon, to whom he delivered it with a bow. En route back to his place at Andrew’s left, Franklin extinguished the mirror sconces on the wall opposite the windows, leaving the room lit only by
firelight and the taper in Simon’s hand. When he had seated himself, and Andrew had signaled his assent by laying down his gavel, Simon began the ritual.

  Holding his light aloft in the silence, light bearer to the Lodge, he slowly began moving purposefully from west to east, skirting the floor cloth along its northern edge. At his approach Andrew picked up the candlestick set on the table before his chair, returning Simon’s bow.

  “Wisdom in the east,” the Worshipful Master said, lighting his candle from the taper Simon presented.

  The taper was passed to Franklin, who pinched out its flame. Andrew then gave the lighted Master’s candle to Simon, who bowed in acknowledgment and carried the Master’s candlestick back around the south to his own place, right of the door, to light the second candle.

  “Strength in the west,” he said as the new wick flared.

  The Junior Warden’s candle remained to be lit. Ramsay held it only a few feet to the left of where Simon stood; but to go directly to it would require moving widdershins, which was contrary to proper Lodge procedure. So, instead, Simon turned to his right and went the long way round, squaring the Lodge with military precision, skirting the floor cloth again, saluting as he passed the Master’s chair, and bearing the light through their midst, until he came at last to the Junior Warden’s place and bowed.

  “Beauty in the south,” Ramsay declared, lighting his candle from the one Simon bore.

  A third time Simon squared the Lodge, returning the Master’s candle to its place beside Washington’s Bible. Lights now burned there and to either side of the door. When Simon had returned to his station, Andrew’s hand signal bade them sit.

  “Worthy Brethren, I ask now that we spend a few moments in silent meditation for our intentions, beseeching The Great Architect of the Universe to fire our resolution, that this night’s work may be well and thoroughly done.”

  Profound silence settled on the room for a long moment, broken only by the crackle of the flames in the fireplace and faint, distant sounds from the street far outside, until at length the Master’s gavel knocked once to command their attention again.

  “Brethren, I pray you assist me to open this Lodge.”

  As all of them became upstanding, Justin was aware of O’Driscoll coming to attention in the shelter of the closed library door, ready to take up his post when directed.

  “Brother Junior,” Andrew said to Ramsay, who was serving as Junior Warden. “What is the first care of every Freemason?”

  “To see his Lodge close tyled,” Ramsay replied promptly.

  “Direct that that duty be done,” Andrew commanded.

  With a bow Ramsay turned to the prince, who was Inner Guard.

  “Inner Guard, see the Lodge close tyled.”

  “Brother Tyler, do your duty,” the prince said, in turn, addressing O’Driscoll.

  With a smart sword salute, O’Driscoll turned on his heel and went outside, closing the door behind him. When three distinct knocks had sounded from the other side of the door, the prince turned back to Ramsay.

  “Brother Inner, the Lodge is close tyled.”

  “Worshipful, the Lodge is close tyled,” Ramsay reported back to the Master.

  After this the Master proceeded to question the assembly regarding the number of principal and assistant officers and their various duties. Justin knew he should be paying close attention, answering each question in his own mind and considering its deeper meanings, but he found his attention wandering, distracted by increasingly vibrant impressions of color surrounding each officer as his situation was established. It was something he had never noticed before. The color around the prince, in the Inner Guard position, was a silvery violet, but a brilliant blue surrounded Simon, and a paler gold wrapped itself around Ramsay. Justin could not quite decide what the color was around Andrew, but when, as Presiding Master, he removed his hat and declared the Lodge duly open, a rose-gold blossomed around him, punctuated by scintillating points of blue and green.

  “I declare this Lodge duly open for Masonic purposes, in the name of God and holy St. John,” Andrew said. Concurrent with his uttering the word “open,” Franklin opened the Volume of Sacred Law and moved the square and compasses onto the open pages, the points of the compasses pointing away from the Master and the square overlapping them, as was proper for opening in the First Degree. “… forbidding all cursing and swearing, whispering, and all profane discourse whatsoever,” Andrew went on, “under no less penalty than the majority shall think proper.”

  With that he rapped sharply three times with his gavel and put his hat back on, and Franklin solemnly began to recite the opening words of the Gospel of St. John:

  “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by Him; and without Him was not any thing made that was made. In Him was life; and the life was the light of men.…”

  The proceedings moved quickly after that, as Andrew demanded and was given the step and sign of an Entered Apprentice by all present. With no business to conduct besides Justin’s raising, he was able to dispense with many of the usual forms and raise the Lodge from First to Second Degree by an abbreviated procedure, this time requiring that all give him the steps and signs of Fellow Crafts. The outward symbol of this conversion was the placing of a letter G in the center of the blazing star on the floor cloth, which duty Justin himself performed, amid appropriate questions and knocks from the Master and responses from his officers.

  That done, and preparations having been made for further raising the Lodge from Second to Third Degree, Justin was required to leave the room, passing quietly into the Tyler’s charge outside. He could hear the vague murmur of the responses being made inside, just faintly audible, but he could not understand the words, nor was he meant to. However, he was meant to make certain physical preparations at this time.

  As O’Driscoll resumed his stern vigil before the closed door, naked sword held in readiness across his body, Justin retreated to a bench beside the window and took off his shoes, also unbuckling his breeches at the knees and removing his stockings—for he had been instructed that both knees must be made bare, and both heels slipshod. His coat and waistcoat he also shed, opening his shirt to the waist to bare both breasts and unbuttoning his cuffs to bare both arms. Then he waited.

  After a few minutes all sound from the library ceased and Franklin emerged, to ensure that the candidate was properly prepared. He looked Justin up and down, adjusted the opening of the shirt more to his liking, then disappeared back inside—though not without a benign and somewhat avuncular smile meant to reassure a nervous candidate. Justin was not nervous—Franklin could have no idea that his charge had faced far more exacting initiations than what was to come—but Justin appreciated the concern. The coming ceremony was still, to him, the unknown; and any traveler on an unfamiliar road ought to be grateful for company along the way.

  The door closed. Presently O’Driscoll beckoned him to approach. Drawing a deep breath to fortify himself, Justin came to stand beside the colonel. As O’Driscoll turned back to deliver three distinct knocks to the door, Justin reflected that it was rather like the first time he had entered the Lodge, but with no cable-tow to guide him this time, and no hoodwink to keep him in literal darkness as he entered the Unknown.

  O’Driscoll stepped behind him as the door opened. Justin was not surprised to be received by the prince, but it was a different and somehow immeasurably more powerful “Brother Rohan” who now confronted him with the twin points of the great compasses pressed to both his breasts in challenge.

  “Who comes there?” the prince demanded.

  The steel points at Justin’s breasts threatened mortal peril if he tried to advance without leave. O’Driscoll’s sword at his back forbade retreat, even if the prince’s brown eyes had not held him captive as surely as had Saint-Germain’s, an ocean away. Suspended between those three points of mortality, a paralysis of mind as well as bod
y seized him for what seemed an infinity of exquisite dread, as he sensed that his very soul was being weighed in a balance of unspeakable sensitivity.

  But then, as the prince’s voice repeated the traditional challenge, the steel points pressing closer against bared flesh, enlightenment only vaguely connected with mere words burst into Justin’s mind like a flash of summer lightning—gone from direct consciousness in an instant, but lingering as a vaguely sensed certainty that he had, indeed, passed some new threshold.

  The Master had warned him to expect it; but the reality far surpassed the anticipation. A faint gasp stirred Justin’s chest, for he had forgotten to breathe during that instant of testing. All the prince’s mid-Atlantic coaching seemed momentarily to have gone out of Justin’s head, but he somehow produced the appropriate response.

  “One who hath justly and lawfully served his time as an Entered Apprentice, and sometime Fellow Craft, now begs to become more perfect in Masonry to be made a Master.”

  “How do you expect to attain it?” the prince demanded.

  “By benefit of a password.”

  “Give it me, then.”

  “Tubal Cain,” Justin replied.

  A faint smile teased at one corner of the prince’s mouth, but the points of the compasses were withdrawn and he stepped back.

  “Enter, Tubal Cain.”

  Chapter Ten

  Meanwhile, in the room directly above the library, Arabella Wallace had not meant to fall asleep. It was her father-in-law’s bedroom, and though she had standing permission to enter for access to his books, she had intended only to fetch a volume on ancient symbols and take it back to her own room, there to spend the rest of the evening in scholarly sleuthing while the men worked their rituals downstairs. The book lent her by the prince had suggested a new line of inquiry regarding the engraving on the silver bands binding Saint-Germain’s moonstone, so several dictionaries must be consulted as well.