The Temple Deliverance

by D C Macey

  Sam hurried off and returned a couple of minutes later with the two wooden boxes. He placed them on the desk and brought the stone cusp close by. The style was the same, but it took a few moments of twisting and turning to establish that the patterns on five of the six faces of one box were exactly reproduced in the five worked faces of the stone cusp.

  ‘What does it mean, Sam?’ said Helen.

  ‘Well, it’s all conjecture. But let’s accept the tiles set into the steps at Leptis held the original Roman code to open the boxes, and let’s accept the Templars somehow found or acquired the boxes and knew the code that was hidden in plain sight in Leptis Magna. Then we should assume they did what any sane person would do, that is make a copy of the tiles from the steps, make a copy of the opening code.’

  ‘We don’t need the Leptis Magna photographs to open the boxes then,’ said Grace. For just a moment, a murmur of excitement flurried round the group.

  ‘I’m afraid it’s not that simple. It would appear all the other stones in the trench are splintered or crushed to useless fragments. There were twelve images at Leptis. Six set into either side of the temple steps. I’m guessing that with six sides to a cuboid cusp we would need two cusps to represent all twelve images, if that’s even how it would work, and we don’t know that. We have one; it appears only this one survived the roof fall. A great find, but it’s only half of what we need. We’re back to square one again.’ He left the shards on the desk and walked back across the room. Pausing to place the intact cusp on the occasional table between the settees, he took his place on the settee.

  ‘Is that it? Are we done?’ said Helen, lifting the cusp and balancing it in her palm.

  ‘We’re never done,’ said Sam, trying to be positive. ‘Right now, I need a little while to think through the implications. Hell. Sorry, but hell! We almost had it. So close.’

  He lapsed into silence and a pall of gloom settled across the party.

  Suddenly, a face appeared at the study window. Francis was staring in and waving.

  Grace jumped up. ‘I’ll let him in.’

  Francis entered the room, buoyant and full of good cheer. He came to a halt inside the study doorway, Grace close in behind.

  ‘My goodness, I’d thought to find a party not a wake! Come on everyone, Sam’s back safe and sound—’

  Grace tapped his shoulder and shook her head as Francis turned an enquiring eye in her direction.

  ‘Sam lost the pictures, then we thought Davy and Julie had found an alternative solution up at the trench.’

  ‘Well, that’s good isn’t it?’

  ‘Not really, I’m afraid,’ said Sam, crossing the room to shake Francis’ hand. He waved a hand over the shards of broken stone from the trench. ‘It’s all crushed to useless crumbs thanks to the roof fall.’

  Francis’ face dropped as he surveyed the crushed stone. He didn’t understand what the stones represented but could tell the damage was serious. ‘Oh no, I’m sorry. What next?’

  Sam gave a little shrug of his shoulders and returned to his spot on the settee. ‘I don’t know. I can’t go back to Leptis Magna, that’s for sure. There will be a workaround, there has to be.’ He projected a positive tone but nobody was fooled. The key to the boxes was destroyed - they were stumped.

  Francis sat in the cosy chair positioned beyond the occasional table. ‘And what’s this?’ he reached over and tapped Helen’s hand.

  ‘It’s the stone I found up at the trench. It’s been stuck in the car while it was away being repaired.’

  ‘Oh really?’ said Francis, taking the stone from Helen’s hand. He looked at it carefully and, glancing over the stone, caught Helen’s eye and raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, that’s your story, Helen. Best stick to it.’ There was a twinkle in his eye.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Francis held the stone up. ‘Come on, surely you recognise it?’ He turned to Sam. ‘You must, I’m sure.’

  Sam and Helen both shook their heads.

  ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say this has been taken from the cusped arches at Rosslyn.’

  ‘Cusped arches?’ said Helen.

  ‘Rosslyn?’ said Sam.

  ‘Rosslyn Chapel. You must have been there. Surely.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Sam, while frantically trying to think himself back into the building.

  ‘I’ve certainly been there. We went together, Sam, last spring,’ said Helen.

  ‘Yes, we did. I’ve been two or three times over the years. But I have no recollection of what Francis is talking about.’

  Francis lifted the little block of stone above his head and squinted up at it as though it were in situ. ‘Well, the whole inside of that building is so ornate it’s possible to miss just about anything.’ He lowered his arm and turned to look at Sam. ‘But trust me, I know exactly where to look. Though it’s an Episcopal church, there have been a number of events I’ve attended over the years, and it’s of particular interest to me. Behind the altar is the most famous stonework, the Apprentice Pillar; you’ve all heard of that?’

  A round of dutiful nods followed.

  ‘Well,’ said Francis, ‘forget the pillar for now. As a Catholic, you’ll all understand why finding a sub-chapel actually within Rosslyn called the Lady Chapel fascinated me. With such a name, it should be Catholic, so of course, I had to notice it! I’ve always made a point of saying a little prayer there when I’ve visited.’

  Xavier turned to look at Angelo, gave a little smile then turned his head back to the group. ‘Of course, you would. I would if I was there. Angelo too, yes?’

  Angelo nodded.

  ‘Go on,’ said Sam. ‘What about the Lady Chapel?’

  ‘It’s just a little place, behind the main altar, three or four paces deep. Like all of Rosslyn, it has the most wonderful stonework, but the cusped archways of the Lady Chapel are quite magnificent. Of course, nobody talks about the Lady Chapel; it’s tucked away behind the Apprentice Pillar which gets all the focus and star treatment.’

  ‘And how does this link to us and my stone?’ said Helen.

  Francis held up Helen’s stone. ‘Imagine the arches in the Lady Chapel are the petrified boughs of fruit trees in an orchard. Each of these carved stone cusps is like an apple hanging down from its bough. Protruding beneath every arch in the Lady Chapel is an intricately worked series of paired cusps like this.’ He shook the solitary cusp.

  ‘How alike?’ said Sam.

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Francis is right; I remember now, I’ve seen them myself,’ said Elaine.

  ‘What does this mean, Sam?’ said Helen.

  ‘I don’t know. But if Francis and Elaine say they’re the same then I do think it’s worth investigating.’ Sam took the stone from Francis, looked at it carefully then passed it across to Xavier who had reached out a requesting hand.

  Xavier compared the patterns on the boxes with the faces of the engraved cusp stone. He pursed his lips, nodded thoughtfully and finally passed the stone to Angelo.

  ‘I agree with your view that the stone has the same pattern as one of the boxes. What this means, I do not know.’ Xavier gave an emphatic shrug.

  ‘Well it must mean something, but what?’ said Francis.

  All eyes turned to Sam, hoping for insight. He remained silent for a long thoughtful pause. At last, he stood, retrieved the stone cusp from Angelo and looked at it again.

  ‘I think we need to understand the context. Let’s accept that the boxes and the cusp are linked. What is the link? It’s the patterned surfaces. The patterns that Bishop Ignatius’ scholars think represent the key to opening the boxes. By the way, I have no idea how that works. The key was included in a tile sequence at Leptis Magna, probably set there by the person who made the boxes.’

  ‘So, what’s the same sequence doing engraved on stone cusps in a Scottish chapel?’ said Helen. ‘It makes no sense.’

  ‘On the surface, I agree. Though, as soon as you scratch the surface, the
link to the Templars appears, and they are never predictable, but their actions always have purpose.’

  ‘And the purpose is?’ said Grace.

  ‘Timing, or rather the sequence of events, is everything here. We know the boxes predate the Templars and are probably a product of classical Rome, perhaps even relating to the worship of Jupiter. We’ll never know for sure. That’s why the original code is embedded in the stairway to the Temple of Jupiter in Leptis Magana.’

  ‘Why? I really don’t understand,’ said Francis as he took a seat, his brow deeply furrowed.

  ‘I don’t think any of us do. This is just conjecture. But think about it. Somehow, the engraved faces we see on Helen’s boxes, our cusp from the trench, the patterns in the tiled steps at Leptis, and now, thanks to Francis, cusps in the Rosslyn Chapel, all represent the same imagery. Why?’

  ‘If you have an insight my friend, this is the time to share it with us all,’ said Xavier.

  ‘As I said, the sequence is key. First, the Romans, like all the ancient civilisations, needed places to store secrets. There was no Fort Knox then, no unbreakable vault. Building a container or vessel that would hold a secret and protect it from others depended on guile and craftsmanship. Trusting an individual human memory with the code was a vulnerability - anyone here ever forgotten a PIN number or a telephone number?’

  Helen and Francis nodded and were quickly copied by the others.

  ‘So the code had to be written down somewhere. Somewhere permanent like the steps to the Temple of Jupiter. But written in a way that only those in the know would realise they were looking at anything more than a series of patterned tiles. Just like some people might hide their PIN number as part of a phone number in their diary.’

  ‘What doesn’t make sense to me, Sam, is what use is a secret box that can only be opened at the Temple of Jupiter. It seems so … so … elaborate,’ Francis glanced round the group seeking support.

  ‘Francis, I don’t know. Perhaps there were originally three boxes. One stayed at the Temple of Jupiter, one stayed elsewhere, perhaps in a temple in Rome, and a third box shuttled between them with secrets inside.’

  ‘But Sam, Leptis Magna … it’s the back of beyond. Why have such an elaborate code there?’ said Francis.

  Sam perched himself on the edge of the desk. ‘To us, Leptis Magna does seem remote, but during the Roman period, it was anything but. And a whole dynasty of Roman emperors came from the city. Septimius Severus was a big name and Leptis Magna a big city. Perhaps, he or one of his sons relied on the priests of the Temple of Jupiter to keep secrets and pass messages. Who knows? We do think that’s where the boxes were used before the Templars’ involvement.’

  ‘And the Templars would have gathered them up as they did so many other artefacts,’ said Xavier.

  ‘Yes, and back to our sequence, I’m thinking that takes us to the trench in the woods. Or rather to the Templar base and refuge in the village of Temple. Helen inherited the woods along with the surrounding farmland, just across the fields from the remains of the Templars’ original chapel and preceptory. We learnt last year that the original farm lease documents made a big point of ensuring the woods were kept and preserved by the farm’s tenants. I’m thinking, when the Templars had to give up their place in the village of Temple, they had already created an underground chamber in the woods. In it, they had set a copy of the Temple of Jupiter tiles in a series of cusps. Like that,’ he pointed to the solitary stone cusp.

  ‘But they’re all broken and ruined,’ said Helen.

  ‘Yes, and now, thanks to Francis, we learn that it appears our Templar friends have made a replica in Rosslyn Chapel.’

  ‘But why there, and how? I thought they were forced to disband,’ said Helen.

  ‘Do you remember when we went to visit Rosslyn Chapel last year, before you and I had any inkling of any links to the Templars?’

  ‘I do. You took me, doing the tourist visit. It was beautiful.’

  ‘Yes. And remember the nearby castle, Rosslyn Castle. I told you how the chapel and castle were linked.’

  ‘You did. It was the earl of someplace, yes?’

  ‘Almost. The castle was the Baron of Rosslyn’s family seat, the Sinclairs. The baron inherited the earldom of Orkney.’

  ‘That was it, the Earl of Orkney.’

  ‘Yes, and the Earl of Orkney, also titled the Baron of Rosslyn, built Rosslyn Chapel some years after the Templars were disenfranchised and lost their preceptory in the nearby village of Temple.’

  ‘There’s always been local lore that the Sinclair family had some connection with the Templars. That the chapel may have been built for their purposes,’ said Francis, more comfortable as the topic moved into territory that he was familiar with.

  ‘You’re right, Francis; we’ve all heard the rumours. They were definitely meant to have a connection with the Templars in the past,’ said Elaine.

  ‘Oh yes, I’ve heard all that before,’ said Helen. ‘The Grail myths and so on.’

  ‘Bearing in mind what you’ve unearthed in the past year, I don’t think we should write anything off as myth,’ said Francis.

  Helen gave him a smile. ‘Sorry, Francis, you’re right.’

  ‘So, where does that leave us, Sam?’ said Elaine.

  ‘I don’t know what connection there really is with the Sinclair family, but let’s bear in mind how careful the Templars have been, so far, in ensuring their secrets would be hard to find, but could be found, when the time and the people were right. We’ve also previously seen they did duplicate some sensitive secrets. Perhaps whatever code they engraved into the stones of their subterranean grotto, if that’s what they actually did, was later reproduced in the chapel at Rosslyn.’

  ‘You think we’ve found a solution to the code?’ said Helen.

  ‘I don’t know. All we have is a single unbroken cusp from the trench and Francis’ assurances that the same thing can be seen in Rosslyn. I trust Francis’ observation skills, but we need to go to Rosslyn and establish the facts.’

  Elaine looked at her watch. ‘I think it’s too late this afternoon. It will be shut before we can get there. I know the priest there, Peter, the Reverend Dr Peter McEwan. He’s very accommodating. Perhaps, we can arrange to call in first thing? So we can have a look before any tourists turn up.’

  ‘Will there be tourists in mid-winter?’ said Helen.

  ‘I would think so. Perhaps fewer with the snow but there are always tours calling in. Though I doubt first thing in the morning, the tour coaches have to travel first,’ said Elaine.

  ‘Okay, if you can set that up, Elaine, it would be much appreciated. Now, if you don’t mind, everyone, I think I need a bit of time alone to think through all these loose ends, see if I can draw something together.’

  • • •

  A tall man, smartly dressed in a plain dark suit pulled open the door. In the hotel corridor were two similarly dressed men. All three nodded curtly to one another in recognition, and the visitors entered the suite. They scanned round, politely acknowledging Eugene Jr where he sat at the suite’s desk. Then they turned back to the entrance and signalled.

  Parsol’s wheelchair rolled silently into his son’s hotel suite followed by two further men in plain dark suits. He ignored the tall windows and their view across the city, steering directly to the broad table on which Eugene Jr had placed a computer. Cassiter followed in behind Parsol; he paused briefly at the window and looked wistfully out over the scene that had once been his own office vista. His expressionless face concealed the anger he felt at his loss. It was a loss entirely attributable to Cameron and Johnson.

  ‘Ah, my son,’ said Parsol, stretching out a hand in greeting. They shook, then the young man stooped and kissed his father’s cheeks.

  ‘Father, it is good to see you,’ he said as he straightened up and nodded towards Cassiter, who nodded in response.

  ‘Well, how goes things?’ said Parsol.

  ‘It is confirmed that Cam
eron has returned to Edinburgh. Somehow, he escaped from Libya. I have cars detailed to follow anyone who moves. Other than that, I have followed your instructions and caused no further disruption while waiting for your arrival.’

  ‘Good, I am glad somebody can follow my instructions.’ He threw a glance towards Cassiter. ‘Are you certain it is Cameron?’

  Cassiter bristled. He almost never made mistakes. Events were showing he should not have left Cameron to die in Leptis. Happily, they now showed too that Cameron had survived.

  Once Cassiter had been dragged into deep water, it had been a struggle to scramble onto the RIB and safety, but at least Cameron’s waterproof camera had protected the pictures, which Cassiter had channelled to his office in Paris. However, it had proven not to be just a simple key after all. His instruction to run image recognition software, to find some link, anything, had yet to bear fruit, and it had become clear Cameron was still needed.

  As in the past, the archaeologist was proving to be their best chance of unpicking the problem. Leaving him to die on the beach had been a potentially costly error. Parsol had not been pleased with him. So, though Cassiter did not understand how Cameron had survived the attack on the beach, at least his survival had taken the sting out of what had been the first falling out with his paymaster.

  Cassiter walked over to stand beside Eugene Jr. ‘We are running blind and depending entirely on your men; they must remain alert. Your father and I have personal scores to settle with Cameron and the Johnson girl. When the time is right, we will make then suffer to atone for the trouble they have caused us. I believed I had taken the key from Cameron at Leptis Magna. That seems not to be the case. The pictures secured mean something, but Cameron may be required to unravel them. For now, they need to stay alive to solve the puzzle. Make sure your people understand that.’

  17

  Tuesday, January 21st

  ‘You just can’t predict winter weather in the Lothians,’ said Francis, from behind the wheel of his parish minibus. He had insisted they wait until the morning rush hour had subsided before driving out of the city and heading southwest towards Rosslyn Chapel. Edinburgh was behind them, and he waved a hand towards the white covered fields that flanked the road. ‘Last year was wet and windy, the year before quite mild.’