The Phoenician Code

by Karim El Koussa

  Now is the time… Paul realized with an inward knot of apprehension.

  “It has been a long time, generation after generation, since my family settled down here, by the shore of Gebel,” he began with a tone of nostalgia. “It’s a legacy we take pride in keeping alive, ever since my ancestors retained the honorable mission of protecting the Secret. In childhood, I learned from my father the story of that Secret, which, in turn, I conveyed to my children, in order for them to transmit it to their offspring, who will one day do the same, and so on, in perpetuity. The reason that compelled me to share this with you today, lays in your valiant survival of the dangerous letter Tsaddi.”

  Along these lines, Paul understood, without the shadow of a doubt, that Gabriel knew all about the vision. His avowal of the Secret, which his family had protected all through their lives, started to, somehow, make sense to Paul, who realized that he didn’t need to question the man, as his revelation had but started.

  “Very few among those who enter the Mystery Chamber, and face Tsaddi, are able to come out of it sane and alive,” he declared with a swift glimpse of approbation towards his guest.

  Paul felt choked, taken by an unexpected rush of emotion that held him by the throat. “I gather you know about the death of the Architect and the Archaeologist? They both had the mark of Tsaddi branded on their chests, although they hadn’t entered the Mystery Chamber,” he managed to ask, “I found it a bit unusual, I mean, how could their deaths be related to the letter when both men were found dead in their homes!” He looked confused.

  Gabriel shook his head in negation, “They did not die because of a direct connection to the letter,” he paused, “Extreme horror,” he said evenly, and Paul could read a hint of sorrow in his eyes. “They were strangled and then had their throats cut.”

  “Oh my God!” Paul, perched on that rock, almost lost his balance at the realization of the brutality of the crime. He had learned from the Padre—whose relationship to him, he chose to keep undisclosed for now—all the secret information about the ‘BB’ and their victim’s deaths by strangulation. What he had not even had a clue about was the fact that they had also been decapitated. He turned to Youssef in misery. His voice revealed the tremors in his body, as he finally managed his next question, “Who would do such a thing?”

  His inquiry lingered for a moment, during which he could still vividly recall losing his ability to breathe, during his struggle against that gruesome creature in the vision of Tsaddi; a strangling sensation he was not likely to forget for a long time.

  “A very dangerous group, known as Seth Servitors,” Youssef replied, breaking into his thoughts.

  Seth Servitor! he gasped for air, recalling one particular scene from his recent vision, where, inside the bank, at the doorway of the sumptuous office, he read the inscription on the golden door that said, ‘Seth Servitor, General Manager.’ Lost in his thoughts, or perhaps in the vision, he finally queried, “Who are they?”

  “It is unwise to presume that all General Managers of banks are Seth Servitors,” he commented with a hint of irony, as if he knew what Paul had gone through. “But, anyone who tries to buy your soul, or steal the word from you is surely one of them. ‘Seth Servitors’ means ‘Satan’s Servants’. You will learn everything about them, later on. Let me…”

  “And… do the Police know about it?” he asked, interrupting his host.

  Gabriel remained silent before he finally said, “Yes, we’ve exchanged some information with them through high channels, but I strongly recommend that you keep it a secret.”

  Paul stood still silent. The echo of this revelation had a great impact on his mind. It became too confusing for him to understand the situation any longer, as he came to realize the likely connection between the Guardian of the Chamber and Padre Joseph. Then a strange thought flashed through his mind. Is there a secret organization at work against the ‘Seth Servitors’ or the ‘BB’? He was not sure.

  “Are there any suspects? Perhaps potential perpetrators?” he asked; not certain if there really were any.

  “They are using only a couple of people as decoys. Meanwhile, the Police are gathering as much information as they can, and sufficient evidence on the ‘Seth Servitors’, so they’ll be able to raid them at the right moment, and ultimately put them to justice.”

  “Aha…”

  “Anyway, let me continue telling you about the Secret of Gebel and its Mystery Chamber. Very few are acquainted with this Secret, and very few they must remain, at least for the time being. You must realize the magnitude of the repercussions, should the Secret ever leak from the tight circle of the Society of Keepers,” his tone expressed devoted responsibility.

  He went silent for a moment then sighed deeply.

  Society of Keepers… Paul wondered, as his mind rushed to conclude that the secret organization he had previously thought might be at work—against the ‘Seth Servitors’ or the ‘BB’—was, in fact, none other than the Society of Keepers.

  “Can we continue later on?” Paul requested. “I need to think about a few things,” he explained.

  “Sure. Go rest now,” Gabriel answered in sympathy.

  The last thing the Historian heard, that sunny day, was the magical sound of sea gulls, gliding through the air, creating a musical harmony in his mind and spirit, and unconsciously awakening within him, something unknown, which he had yet to discover.

  .23.

  The Secret of the Mystery Chamber

  Tuesday, November 2, 11:23 AM

  The seeker in Paul, that thirsty voyager in continuous search of truth, craving the breath of certainty in order to survive, lurked at ease; in the absolute assurance that knowledge was about to gratify his long lasting hunger.

  The waiting did not last for long. Two days later, at 11:23 AM, Paul and Youssef sat side-by-side on the wooden bench, next to the house that perched like a beautiful castle on the small hill, overlooking the Archaeological Site below.

  “In the old days,” Gabriel initiated his revelation in a steady voice. “Thousands of years ago, people were lost in an extraordinary dilemma. Egyptians, Sumerians, Chinese, and other ancient civilizations used images, ideograms, and symbols to communicate. Such primitive, inaccurate methods of writing eventually caused misinterpretations. Human understanding was at stake. Only the Priests of these civilizations, who had actually created these primitive methods of writing, could decipher them in their full meaning. The illiterate masses, obviously, could not comprehend and they became a breeding ground for manipulation.

  “Our ancestors, however, the Phoenicians, thought of finding a solution to that problem. Their first few attempts failed to create a universal system. Later, a man from Gebel came up with a solution… he invented an Alphabet, a Phonetic one. He divided this Alphabet into two forms, an esoteric one, for the inner circle—the Priests—and an exoteric one, for the outer circle—the populace,” Gabriel paused for breath.

  “That was Thor… right?”

  “Yes, this is true. Kadmus, Initiated by Thor-Taautus, became the head of the Religious Scribes within the Phoenician Temples. He later traveled to Greece, and introduced the exoteric form of the Alphabet to the people there.” He paused for a second. “Legend says, he went in search of his sister, Europa, kidnapped by Zeus; the most High God of the Grecian world. His search lasted many years and extended all over Greece, where he introduced the Alphabet, and founded many cities, the most famous one of these was Thebes. A legend remains a legend. However, we know, for a fact, that the Alphabet was, indeed, introduced in Greece, and then spread throughout that vast continent, named Europa—after the daughter of Agenor, King of Tyre.” Gabriel stopped; his eyes blurry, as if delving into that ancient memory.

  It became quite clear to Paul that Gabriel knew almost everything about that mysterious ancient world. He was familiar with Thor and Kadmus, and probably knew their secrets well. He must have sworn an oath to the Society of Keepers—of which, he had said, he was a member—to
keep the secrets of the Mystery Chamber concealed from the populace, the same way he hid it from his own wife, but that was for security purposes.

  Paul began to wonder why Gabriel had chosen to tell him all about the Great Mysteries, and why he had chosen to entrust him with the Secret. Then he remembered that his survival of Tsaddi had entitled him to such an honor. He smiled with pride, and looked at his old host with admiration and respect. A sudden doubt urged him to cautiousness though, as he tensed, alert to the possibility of Youssef sitting as decoy, in order to steal the word. Maybe the alleged Satan was at work here! What an irony! That he should come to think like this about the man who had saved his life. Besides, he had always denied the existence of Lucifer within the material frame of existence, even after he had seen this creature from hell in his vision. He paused in thought then shook his head in dismissal, and admonished himself for considering that stupid thought, even for a brief moment. “Satan was but a myth,” he mumbled under his breath, too low for Gabriel to hear him.

  How could I have failed in the vision? How could I have allowed, that which I have always refuted, to defeat my willpower? Once again, Paul thought in retrospect of that incident. The most important thing, however, was the irrefutable fact that he had survived the illusions of Tsaddi. In fact, he needed to clear up his mind, and carefully listen to what Gabriel wanted to reveal. Gabriel looked at his guest, and saw an anxious desire to know more about whom he was, and how he had come to be the man he was today.

  “Barka-Thor was one of the few Scribes working under Kadmus,” he resumed. “He was his loyal and devoted adept in the world of the Alphabet. Kadmus Initiated him, not only into the exoteric part of the system, but also into the esoteric dimension. Before he left for Europe, Kadmus appointed Barka-Thor as keeper of the Secret of the esoteric nature of the Alphabet, hidden in the Temple of Gebel—the Sanctuary of Thor-Enoch.” Gabriel paused as he reached to retrieve a black leather pouch from his blue jeans’ pocket, opened it, and took out some fresh tobacco.

  With a very fine piece of paper, he rolled a cigarette. Feeling Paul’s attention on him, Gabriel glimpsed sideways at him. His unmistakably sharp wit shone in his umber eyes, as he smiled unreservedly. “It’s clean... no chemicals in it… a pure Lebanese tobacco, harvested from the soil of the Northern Lebanese Mountains,” he informed. “Shall I roll you one?” he proposed invitingly.

  “Yes, please.”

  He lit the cigarette with much care, passed it on to Paul then rolled another one, in the same, reverential manner, for himself. He took the time to light his cigarette, before resuming the narration of his mysterious story.

  “Barka-Thor and his descendants, generations of the elite, remained loyal to Kadmus. All, one by one, swore an oath to keep the Secret meaning of the Alphabet hidden from the ears and the eyes of the profane. For more than three thousand years, the Secret was kept safe. Ever since that time and to the present date, only few have had access to it. Do you know why? Let me tell you,” he said, as he looked at Paul straight in the eyes, and continued, “The voice of Thor had selected these few people, and very few, even from among those, proved to be qualified to carry the Secret. When the time came, these men undertook their Initiation at the altar in their local Mystery Chamber, and into the very heart of Mysteries they entered with confidence. Throughout Human history, they have appeared as great men of fame, mastering both the exoteric and the spiritual worlds. They have lived in different countries all over the world, and, in fact, today—as in the old days—only fifteen places in the world shelter those few, selected great men. Gebel is one of them.”

  He took a drag from his cigarette and switched it skillfully between his fingers. Paul’s cigarette had already extinguished, burnt out swiftly in his excitement at the unfurling revelation.

  “Those Chambers, scattered around the Continents, hold the same Secret,” he continued, a moment later. “Thot-Thor, the Great, established only two of them, himself; the Mystery Chamber here in Gebel, and another one still operating clandestinely at Memphis, in Egypt. The descendants of Hermes-Thor secretly organized the remaining twelve Mystery Chambers around the world, for the same purpose of Initiation. The scribes, who appeared in those countries, followed the same Tradition as those of Canaan-Phoenicia and Egypt; they kept the Secret hidden from the eyes of the vulgar. Nowadays, all around the world, the Initiates of that special Order count very few. In each Mystery Chamber of the twelve, there must be only four adepts transmitting the Message to the others. However, in both Egypt and Loubnan, the adepts must be five. In Loubnan, four members have already received the Initiation into the Mystery. They are waiting for the fifth,” he insinuated with a sideways glance at Paul then looked at the sky.

  The Historian followed the direction of his stare, and noticed that the Sun had already reached the central point of the vast celestial dome. The watch in Paul’s wrist marked 01:47 PM. Time had swiftly eluded them.

  “Who are you, Gabriel?” he finally decided to ask Youssef the pertinent question that had been lingering in his mind, ever since the old man had come into sight, a couple of days ago, sporting a bright face with piercingly witty eyes, whispering strange words in his ears, ‘I am the Guardian of the Chamber!’

  Silence ensued before Gabriel turned his head towards Paul; his facial features showed remarkably symmetrical lines of expression. His eyes opened to their full width, and sparked off tiny sharp lights. “I have already told you who I am, but it seems you have not been paying attention. I am from that same great lineage of Scribes I just told you about. I’m the Guardian of the Chamber of Gebel.” His voice echoed, deep within the depths of Paul’s being.

  After this revelation, Gabriel stood up, and excused himself with a courteous smile, saying, “Mariam and I will be waiting for you to join us for lunch. Don’t be late.”

  Paul nodded, unable to utter a single word. His mind was in great turmoil, as he hadn’t anticipated that his host, the Guardian of the Chamber, came from the same bloodline of the Ancient Scribes, the Inner Circle of Thor. He sat still on the wooden bench, watching Gabriel heading home, and thinking about what he had told him.

  This revelation had shocked Paul. Added to his previous surprise—regarding Youssef’s concealed name, Gabriel, and being a part of the Society of Keepers—he had also learned the astonishing revelation of his role, as Guardian of the Chamber, and now, his lineage to an ancient bloodline as well! Who could have ever imagined that an ordinary man, at the beginning of the 21st century, with a humble house in Gebel, could be of such importance in the secrecy of a clandestine society that dates back thousands of years?

  At times, the Historian had assumed that the old man might have experienced the same vision of the letter of death, Tsaddi. Well, it could have happened to him. After all, he is the Guardian of the Chamber! he thought to himself. Maybe Gabriel could offer him guidance through this dilemma, and help him get over his lost battle against the creature from hell. He probably knew more about the Sarcophagus of Gebel and its relationship with the Cup of Life, the Holy Grail.

  After lunch, Paul spent almost the whole afternoon reassessing and organizing his thoughts. A splendid dusk smoothly brushed the day aside, and the Sunlight faded away, for nature to welcome the shadows of the night. It was time for him to join his new friend, and his wife, for dinner. On his way to the wooden cottage, he caught sight of Mariam by the window, rushing around in the kitchen, probably preparing the night meal. A delicious aroma of seafood wafted to him as he drew closer, and he felt the urge of hunger speeding his steps.

  A good time later, after enjoying a nice dinner, Mariam excused herself, she was tired and needed a good night’s sleep. They had enjoyed their meal, drinking local white wine from a carafe, bottled in the high Lebanese mountains. Silence lingered peacefully. It was then that Paul decided his turn had come to open up to the old man, as he felt the urge to ask him about the Society of the Keepers.

  Yet before he could do that, Gabriel spoke the words i
n Paul’s mind. “You may believe that the vision you had is an illusion of some sort, but it is not.” Gabriel had Paul’s undivided attention now. Encouraged, he pursued, “I have met Kadmus in the world of visions and learned from him. Over time, the visions became more ingenious and informative, even more spiritual. It seems as if a hidden order of things began to unveil its secrets to me, bit by bit, and I effortlessly responded to their meaning. In fact, it was all going well, until I came upon that vision, the one of the 18th letter, Tsaddi. I encountered that hideous creature, called Satan, who tried to force me out of the world of visions. He failed,” he stopped, revisiting his memory of that time.

  Paul was silent, waiting for the old man to react; yet he remained speechless in his meditation. Paul hesitated to confess his spiritual weakness, his failure now compared to Gabriel’s success. He averted the Guardian’s eyes, and decided to speak, “I’m completely lost; completely. Do you know what I mean? How could I face Satan again and win over him, if that is what’s required in the end?”

  Amazingly, an overwhelming sense of relief took over Paul. In fact, Gabriel was the only person to whom he could have revealed such a secret. After all, he had explained to Paul that the only reason he had received the revelation of the Secret of the Mystery Chamber was due to his survival of Tsaddi. Gabriel remained very calm. In total silence, he lit his cigarette, and finished his last sip of wine, before looking back at Paul, who could have sworn that, for a brief moment, he had seen the image of Kadmus, staring back at him, through Gabriel’s eyes!

  “I understand what you are enduring,” he finally said dryly. “I really wish I could help you overcome this situation, but I’m… I’m not the right person for that particular task.”

  The rejection felt awful… as if a thunderbolt had struck Paul, and the numbing aftershock had congealed his blood, spreading through his body to his mind. All that he could think of was that Gabriel could not help him, and that he had mistakenly assumed he could have been his guide and mentor.