A Matter of Degrees

by Alex Marcoux

  “Oh, yes, indeed. But it’s very lengthy. I think it would be best to discuss this in person.”

  “I agree. When can we meet? Are you free this evening?” The professor remained silent and Rachel hoped that her aggressiveness did not push him away. “I would be happy to come to you, or we could meet at a place of your choice.”

  “You may stop by after seven-thirty this evening. Do you have my address?”

  * * *

  Rachel arrived at the professor’s residence at seven-thirty sharp. A woman in her mid-forties greeted her. Rose Kerry escorted Rachel to the family room where West Kerry was reading.

  “Would you like some iced tea?” she asked Rachel.

  “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

  Rose disappeared into the kitchen leaving West Kerry and Rachel alone.

  He removed his glasses revealing kind eyes, and smiled warmly. “It’s nice to meet you,” West offered Rachel his hand. “I’ve watched Over the Edge for years.”

  “Thank you for meeting with me in such a short notice.”

  “It’s my pleasure. Let’s go to my study.”

  The professor was younger than what Rachel had expected, perhaps in his late forties or early fifties. And yet, he walked with a slight limp, favoring his right leg. He led Rachel down the hall into a small office where floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined the walls. In between the bookcases hung diplomas revealing advanced degrees from two Ivy League schools. The room was small but neat, lit only by a desk lamp, as drapes diffused the last remaining rays of the daylight. The professor motioned for Rachel to sit in a soft chair.

  “How can I help you, Ms. Addison?” He sat behind his desk, across from her.

  “Please call me Rachel.”

  “Only if you call me West.”

  “West, as I mentioned on the phone, I’m interested in connections between Solomon’s Temple and Freemasonry.”

  “The term Freemasonry actually originated from ancient Egypt. At that time, architecture was considered an art, and masons had a special status. Records as early as 2000 BC show that masons belonged to special guilds. These groups were organized and sponsored by a secretive brotherhood that practiced mystical traditions and taught the Egyptian mystery schools.”

  “So, the masons were teachers of the ancient Egyptian mysteries?”

  “Not exactly. This secret brotherhood initially taught the mysteries to the mason guilds which have survived down through the centuries. The guilds’ members were considered free men, thus came the term free mason. Anyway, these groups have continued the mystical traditions, which are carried on today through Freemasonry.

  “But how does this relate to King Solomon’s Temple?”

  “Solomon was a complex individual. Although he’s best known for the construction of his temple, he also established ties between the Hebrews and Egyptians. He was an advisor to the Egyptian Pharaoh, Shishak I, and married his daughter. But anyway, while in Egypt, he studied in the brotherhood, the group that taught the Egyptian mysteries. Apparently when he returned to Palestine, he built the temple to accommodate the brotherhood in his own country. But the creation of this temple today, never mind thousands of years ago, would be a monumental architectural accomplishment. He brought in special mason guilds to help design and build the temple.”

  “Is this where Hiram Abiff comes into the picture?”

  “Yes and no. I’ve heard the story that Hiram Abiff was the architect of the temple. And that he supposedly was killed before he could pass on the secrets of the brotherhood’s mystical practices. I have also heard that it’s a legend and symbolically represents the execution of one of the Knights of the Temple.”

  “Wasn’t the Knights of the Temple a Christian-military group?”

  “Yes. But…” A smile came to the professor’s lips. “I hate to jump around on you, but let me back up here for a minute. In my article, I explained that there are two arks. The original tablets Moses took from Sinai were damaged, and stored in a chest made of acacia that was overlaid with gold. Now, there was a second set of unbroken tablets. They were put away in a simple wooden ark. The golden ark was carried into battle, and supposedly any group that possessed it was undefeatable, while the other ark was eventually hidden beneath King Solomon’s Temple. It is believed that the golden ark was taken by Shishak and returned to Egypt. That ark’s location today remains a mystery. Some believe that it is in Ethiopia. Others believe it’s in Egypt, and still several believe it was returned to Solomon’s Temple where it remains hidden today.”

  “Where’s the wooden ark?”

  The professor smiled, intensifying the smile lines on his cheeks and magnifying his pale blue eyes. “It’s also a mystery. However, there’s evidence that suggests its here, in the United States.”

  “The United States? How?”

  “It’s possible that the Knights of the Temple, or Knights Templar, brought it here. Let me back up. Originally this group consisted of only nine Frenchmen. They requested permission from King Baldwin of Jerusalem to protect pilgrims traveling to the Holy Land. But they also asked if they could stay in the ruins of Solomon’s Temple.

  “Oddly enough, Baldwin granted their wishes. He even paid these men a fee for their services. But this group was formed in 1118, and the temple was in ruin. It had been destroyed during the Babylonian conquest around 586 BC. And although it was rebuilt during the life of Jesus, it was destroyed during the Jewish revolt against the Romans. Then there were countless desecrations after that that altered its integrity.

  “Anyway, the original nine men lived in the temple for close to ten years. And what were they really doing there?” the professor’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “They excavated for treasures deep under the temple as well as on Mount Moriah.”

  “Did they find the ark?” Rachel asked.

  “Excellent question! There’s a good likelihood that they did. According to several accounts, they found the tablets, the Ark, as well as scrolls of hidden knowledge.”

  “What happened to all of these treasures?”

  “Another excellent question!”

  Rachel could see the enthusiasm in the professor’s eyes. She could also feel her own excitement build.

  “Whatever they discovered brought them power and recognition from both church and political leaders. For close to ten years there were only nine members. Then in 1129, two members of the Knights Templar, Grand Masters Payens and Montbard, approached the church for official recognition. One of the members of this council was Saint Bernard, who was the nephew of Grand Master Montbard. To make a long story longer, the pope and King Baldwin approved the Templars as an official military and religious order.

  “The order prospered becoming powerful and wealthy for close to two centuries. Then on Friday, October 13, 1307, a French king and a pope who feared the order’s secrets crushed them, giving the ominous meaning to Friday the thirteenth.”

  “What happened?”

  “The Templars were captured, tortured, and burned, eventually even Grand Master Jacques de Molay. And I believe the reenactment of Hiram Abiff symbolizes de Molay’s death.”

  “So, the Knights Templars were Freemasons?”

  “Not exactly. You see, Freemasonry is a descendent of the Templars, along with the Hospitallers, Knights of Malta, Knights of St. John, the Rosicrucians, and there are many others.

  “What did the Templars acquire that made them so powerful?”

  “The innermost secrets of Christianity! They recovered ancient manuscripts that predated the Gospels. The manuscripts had not been edited by the church, and the Templars could show how the Roman Catholic Church…let’s just say misinterpreted the resurrection and the virgin birth.”

  “What?”

  “The Templars had in their possession the most untainted and unadulterated Christian documents, ever. This is what led to the order’s great power as well as demise. France’s King Philip IV convinced Pope Clement V that the Templars were plotting the destruction
of the church. And the church was receptive because, at the time, it was rumored that the Templars were attempting to restore the Ancient Merovingian kings.”

  “Who are they?” The information was beginning to overwhelm Rachel. “Why would this upset the church?”

  “The Merovingians were descendants of Jesus.”

  Now Rachel was truly confused. “But…Jesus didn’t have children.

  “According to whom—the Roman Catholic Church?” A smile came to his lips. “We could discuss this for hours. Not that I wouldn’t mind chatting with you, but I think you should research the Merovingians. Then I’d be happy to discuss this further.”

  Rachel had taken a good deal of the professor’s time, and so far he had been very gracious. “May I ask you one other question before I leave?”

  “Of course.”

  “What happened to the treasures? The ark…where did it all go?”

  “Apparently the Templars were tipped off about their premeditated destruction because Jacques de Molay had the Templars’ rules and books burned. But also, the treasure that had been stored in a Paris Temple was transferred to La Rochelle, where eighteen ships disappeared, along with the treasure.”

  “Where’d they go?”

  “Some historians have proven that Templars arrived in New England in 1308.”

  “But that would be close to two hundred years before Columbus even set sail. You believe the Templars brought the ark and treasures here? And they’re still in the United States?”

  The professor nodded.

  Rachel’s head was spinning when she left the professor’s apartment that night. As she drove back to her apartment, her mind raced, trying to digest what Professor Kerry had told her. The Templars. The Merovingians. The brotherhood. What did it all mean?

  * * *

  Two weeks later, Rachel found a parcel in her mailbox. She had been waiting for it since her meeting with West Kerry. Anxious to get started, she hurried to her fifth-floor apartment and tore open the amazon.com carton. She perused the books’ jackets, selected Rule by Secrecy by Jim Marrs, and settled in her favorite reading chair. The index directed her to the subject matter that most interested her, specifically, the Merovingian dynasty. She quickly thumbed through the pages to get to the section she wanted, and read aloud:

  The Merovingian dynasty of Franks has been traditionally considered the first race of kings in what is now France. France was named for the Franks and their first ruler, Francio, was said to be a descendent of Noah.

  “What does that have to do with Jesus?” Rachel mumbled. Realizing that she needed to start from the beginning, she turned to the first page:

  Be forewarned. If you are perfectly comfortable and satisfied with your own particular view of humankind, religion, history, and the world, read no further.

  As if there wasn’t enough foreshadowing in her life, Rachel read the entire collection of books West Kerry had suggested. In her cramming, she stumbled upon various controversial theories, but the one that held her interest the most was about Mary Magdalene.

  Contrary to traditional Christian belief, Mary Magdalene was Jesus’ wife. Following his crucifixion, Mary and Jesus’ children settled in south France. Here, they preserved their bloodline until the fifth century when they intermarried and Frankish royalty creating the Merovingian Dynasty. At the time, the Roman church had full knowledge of the messianic ancestry, but it became fearful of the bloodlines and fuelled the assassinations of Dagobert and Childeric III, the last of the Merovingian kings.

  Over the next few months, Rachel became obsessed with discerning the links between ancient secret societies and their connection with Freemasonry. She found the details surrounding Mary Magdalene’s life captivating. Although she was impressed by the research that supported such theories, she was baffled that the information had not been conveyed to the public through traditional reporting venues.

  Occasionally Rachel would bring to mind her last conversation with Steve Mercer. “The conspiracy…It’s the ultimate conspiracy…My God, it’s going to change everything…Don’t trust anyone!”

  “My God, Steve! Is this what you stumbled on?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  With no social life or family to go home to, Jessie became engrossed in her work at The Empire. She had worked for herself, writing novels, for almost fifteen years, and had forgotten what it was like to be accountable to someone else. Now, three times a week she was committed to writing a column on education.

  At the core of the newsroom’s commotion was Brennan’s small cubicle. It took Jess a bit to adapt to the noise, but she adjusted.

  “I just read your piece for Sunday.” Clark Coburn’s voice was barely noticeable above the noise in Brennan’s cubicle. “It’s very good.”

  Jessie motioned for Clark to sit in the chair across from Brennan’s small desk. “Thank you, Clark.” Jessie wondered why Clark was visiting her.

  “It’s clear that you’re working below your abilities. How would you like to work where the action is?”

  Jess knew that any reporter would jump at an opportunity presented by Clark. But she liked her position. It limited her exposure to the public, which always concerned her. She had been impersonating a man for almost two months, now. Still, her performance was unnatural and proved to be work. Every minute she had to think about how a man would sit or how she should put her legs. She constantly scrutinized her presentation: Is my voice too high? Would a man say it that way? Frequently, she had to remind herself to alter her walk.

  On Jessie’s first day of work, she had shocked a group of ladies. Without thinking, she barged into the ladies’ room. Brennan had stood immobile, dazed, in the heart of the restroom, surround by women. When Jessie realized what she had done, a spontaneous smile found her lips, revealing a softness that most women find charming. She blushed and profusely apologized as she retreated to the hallway.

  Now, sitting across from Clark Coburn, she knew she couldn’t refuse his offer, but she didn’t want a new assignment. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that, Clark.”

  “I’ve seen your work. You’re ready. On Monday, I want you to start working the political beat of the city. Give me two columns a week on ongoing political activities. I’ll arrange with Cindy to get your own office along with your title changed, and of course,” he smiled, “an increase to correspond with your promotion.”

  Jessie was confused. What did she do to earn a promotion?

  “Congratulations, Brennan.”

  Clark stood and Jessie got to her feet also. They shook hands and just as she anticipated, the handshake transitioned into the Mason pass-grip. “Thank you, Clark.”

  Coburn moved out of the cubicle but poked his head back in. “I heard you’re starting the Scottish Rite next month. I also heard you are trying to do it in one reunion.”

  Jessie nodded. “Yes.”

  “Your schedule will be grueling. If you need any time off to study or travel, you just take it, do you understand?” He grinned.

  “Thank you, Clark.” In that moment, Jessie understood Steve’s motivation for being a Mason. In a very short time, Brennan had been promoted without deserving it, all because of his association with this group.

  “Brennan!” Cindy popped her head into the cubicle. “I just got a phone call from the doctor’s office. You missed your employment physical, again.”

  “I did?” Jessie glanced at her watch and acted surprised. “Oh gees…I completely forgot.”

  “Here,” she handed Brennan a note. “You have another date, next month. Don’t forget it. Employees are supposed to start employment after their physical. I don’t want Human Resources to get on my case.”

  “No, problem. I won’t forget, Cindy.”

  * * *

  In September, Jessie got underway with her Scottish Rite degrees. To earn twenty-nine degrees, most candidates would spread them over a fall and a spring reunion, or even years. But Jessie couldn’t wait for the spring session. She needed t
o cram the twenty-nine degrees in one reunion, a monumental feat. She knew it would be extremely difficult, logistically challenging, but not impossible. Each Sunday Jessie traveled throughout the mid-Atlantic and New England states so she would earn the thirty-second degree in January. From nine in the morning until six in the evening she sat through exemplifications or communications, earning multiple degrees each Sunday.

  The unknown of each degree—wondering if she would be forced to unclothe and be exposed—sickened her. At the beginning of each session her stomach cramped, followed by nausea, and her heart pounded viciously. Until she was caught up in the lesson of the lecture she was miserable, but once drawn in, she relaxed.

  Within each degree, there was always a discussion of finding the true light in the higher degrees. But at the end of each initiation, Jessie found herself no closer to understanding the meaning of true light. Based on her conversations with some of the other candidates, she knew she wasn’t alone.

  * * *

  Jessie was merging onto the Deagan Expressway that Thursday after work when the cell phone that connected her to her real life chimed. She attached the earpiece. “Hello.”

  “Hi, Jessie,” Taylor said.

  “Hi, sweetheart, how are you? God, it’s great to hear your voice.”

  “I’m good. I’m in Germany and I was just getting ready for bed. You’ve been on my mind a lot. Is everything okay?”

  Jessie smiled. She wanted to scream, “No! Things aren’t okay!” Instead, “Yes. Everything’s fine, sweetheart.”

  “How’s your new project coming?”

  “Slow,” Jessie admitted. “Very slow.”

  “When are you going to tell me about it, anyway?”

  “How’s next spring?”

  “How about next month? You are meeting me in France, aren’t you?”

  “I’m trying. But I won’t have as much time as we originally planned.”

  “Why not? You make your own schedule. How come you can’t finish the tour with me? It’s just through New Year’s and then I’ll be in New York in January.”