by Frank Felton
Sunrise in the country was always an awesome sight to behold. Today would begin cloudless. Through a section of the horizon, not a tree dotted the vista between us and the rising sun. Our eyes fixed upon the coming moment. The extra-terrestrial sphere bolted through the horizon, showering us with a luminance straight from Heaven.
We could see for many a mile, across the rolling hills of Milam County. We were at the crossroads where blackland made bedfellows with the Post Oak Savannah’s sandy loam prairie. It marked a stunning end to night; just as the coming end to Hank’s story, he’d saved the best for last.
While waiting for the inevitable sun, I felt certain Hank would soon reveal something incredible. Pieces of this puzzle had worked their way into position, though several key pieces were still held in Hank’s mind only. If I were a betting man, I’d wager that Hank held pocket Aces and was trying to represent he only had a low pair. I saw through this, because he was never good at bluffing.
The picture was thus not yet clear to me; and for good reason. Unlike a hand of poker, Hank kept his past close to his heart. He took every measure to ensure that only a trusted friend would learn these things. This trust was granted to me long ago, and I now suspected it was because he knew the truth of my existence.
A quiet eeriness dawned.
Indeed, I had a secret just as he. You all know this full well; though at this moment Hank was unaware of just how much I knew of the Jewel of Hiram. I now reckon he knew more than I suspected. What confounded me is at which point he had figured me out. I’ve always prided myself to being a bit smarter than the average man.
The Lord puts people on this Earth to fulfill His own ends. Mankind is quite capable of cunning from time to time, and Hank could be a gifted tactician in many respects. In his long-winded reflection, he had turned the tables. I mistakenly let my guard down, and my mission was now in jeopardy. Hank did not let his guard down. One should take caution to doubt the abilities of anyone put here by the Supreme Architect, as was Hank. Such responsibility takes an uncommon level of discipline and levity.
I’d come to learn later many of Hank’s foibles were simply well-crafted disguises.
It was my sole purpose in this life to reconstitute the Jewel of Hiram, and I’d at one time suspected it was Hank’s as well; but it was not. My mission was to commandeer the Jewel and his was to keep it hidden. I now must confront the fact despite my God-given gifts, Hank had the upper hand. He was playing from the defensive, and I was on offense. He was a protector, and I the pursuer. All he had to do is keep the Jewel far out of reach.
He had the patience his grandfather did not possess. There were no riddles for Hank to decipher. His test was one of true faith, and temptation. Tragedies from an early age solidified that faith and held off the temptation of the Jewel. When visions from the Divine now told him something, Hank believed. He believed that in due time the complete Jewel would be made whole; but not in his lifetime. The Master of the House would bring to fruition the unveiling of the grand artifact on His own terms and at the time of His choosing. Hank might not be a man of God, but was wholeheartedly a man who furthered God’s end.
As this came into focus, I realized he would never turn its whereabouts over to me. The reason suddenly became clear, and my misunderstanding was merely a matter of perspective. Hank would soon depart this Earth, yet I would remain far longer. Hank intended to take to the grave his secret, a charge he would not let down. The marathon came to an end, and he hit me with the news I already knew. I wanted more, but he would not give it. He would not proceed.
Hank delivered the rest of the story, as Paul Harvey would say.
“I will never tell you where it lies.”
“The Jewel?” I replied.
“The Jewel, Mac. You know damn well what.”
He took a sip of coffee, and peered at me.
“Okay.”
“Good. You understand then. It’s nothing personal.”
“No. It’s not.”
“So where do we go from here?”
“Well, then. I’m not going to show you mine, either. “
“That’s a fact.”
“Hank. We’re on the same side here. You know this.”
“That well might be. But the road to hell is, well, you’ve done road construction. You know as well as I do what it’s paved with.”
“I’m used to disappointment. Somehow I figured this would turn out differently.”
“I know. Brother Ralph, I know. This is difficult, but we can’t…”
Hank paused, uncomfortably. Then he continued.
“I think it’s time we go our separate ways. The temptation of this thing, it’s sometimes unbearable.”
“I understand.”
I nodded slightly, in agreement. I don’t cry, but this was of those rare times where I felt that type of emotion. I reached for his hand. We shook hands, but there was no goodbye. He turned and walked back into the cabin. I got in my truck, and drove down the road. I departed the farm, and kept on driving. I would not return.
Just like that, it was over.
It was the last time I’d ever see the man.
I would not return until his death, many years later.
24. Penance
Be afraid, for he does not bear the sword in vain. For he is the servant of God, an avenger who carries out God's wrath on the wrongdoer. Romans 13:4
He called me by my real name, Ralph.
How he figured that one out is beyond me. It was a secret I’d kept from the world and he might be the only other man alive who knew. He was right about something else. That is, we were the two of us, better left apart. It was time for me to leave.
The Jewel was bigger than Hank or I. By our meeting in this lifetime, the two pieces of the Jewel of Hiram were perilously close to being reunited. Such power, in a vessel capable of being wielded by man, had not existed on the planet since the time of Marcus Aurelius and the Roman Empire. It would be certain to attract trouble. Not only the always-present temptation which lurks within the soul, but the certainty that true evil would be made known of a reconstituted Jewel.
It would send shockwaves across the universe to those with the power to perceive such things.
I had overlooked this facet in my zeal. It had, after all, been a long journey for me to this point. We were not treasure hunters, after all. It was time for me to refocus my efforts to that end. His piece was hidden away safely, as was mine; our secrets protected from even their protectors. Even as friends, there was still great risk should our secrets be let free. Hank was wise, for a man, and never trusted anyone; even me. That was an endearing lesson I learned from him.
I departed the farm with a heavy heart. He was the first person I’d ever truly enjoyed being around and it was a bitter moment to leave my friend. I turned my truck onto Farm Road 908 and headed back to west Texas.
~~~
Hank sold his interest in his construction company to the Guthries in 1960. He married, and had several kids. Throughout, he continued to buy land with his money. Over time, Hank acquired thousands of acres across Milam County and eventually bought back most of Aiden’s land the thankless aunts and uncles sold off. He lost a small fortune in his ensuing divorce.
He became at times alcoholic and anti-social, a fact that no doubt helped end his marriage. He drowned his sorrow in the skies, buying several airplanes. He pursued ever more dangerous stunts, unsure if it was the adventure he sought, an escape from the real world, or both. All the while he never ventured too far from the little cabin where he toiled away as a youngster, and where he and I would fish and drink beer and whiskey.
After years in the construction business, he became a cattleman and dabbled in farming. He never needed the money but everything he touched turned to gold. He couldn’t lose, and that confused him more than anything. It worried him because it was further proof God existed, and that though he be a sinner, a layer of Divine protection entombed him. He would spend his time alone out on the
land. He thought deeply. He wrote.
One of Hank’s true difficulties in life; he was among the few men in history to know, to have seen proof, of God’s existence. No longer did he need faith, nor hope. The spiritual man and atheist alike can argue about who is right and who is wrong, but neither side can prove their case with any fact. That is the essence of faith and the beauty of it. Hank knew without question the power of the Divine exists.
In many ways, this was more difficult than not knowing. Even Satan knows God exists, but he sure as hell isn’t going to Heaven. A man who thinks deeply enough must answer two questions at some point – is there a Heaven, and am I going there? It was the latter which kept Hank up nights. Afflicted by the curse of human reason, he knew he would be judged one day as surely as the devil.
Figuring this out early in life, he at times wondered what else he had to live for. The only question remaining would not be made known to him until the Master of the House appeared. Over time his understanding would evolve and he would find something to live for: first a business, and then a family.
He would sell the business, and soon find himself estranged from this family. Still, he was able to vicariously enjoy the small things, like clipping newspaper articles of their accomplishments. His only son would die tragically at an early age, but not before leaving behind two grandchildren. Hank would again find something to live for as he became a guardian. Hank had been the vessel for Aiden and he now had his own bridge to continue the mission of the Jewel; a reason to live.
No matter how much he wished to give up the ghost, the Lord always pressed Hank to keep going.
~~~
Earlier I mentioned when we first met, Hank had told me of doing things he had to do. He never spoke of those things to me. He wrote me a letter near the end of his life. He now wanted to clear his conscience and did not want to meet his Maker with this stain. To him, confession to me was as close as he’d ever get to God himself. It was classic Hank – hedging his bets.
His confession was simple; he had used the Jewel for an evil purpose. I’d come to expect as much. He began his letter with the following verse:
But when the righteous turneth away from his righteousness, and committeth iniquity, and doeth according to all the abominations that the wicked man doeth, shall he live? All his righteousness that he hath done shall not be mentioned: in his trespass that he hath trespassed, and in his sin that he hath sinned, in them shall he die. - Ezekiel 18:24
When he first learned of the Jewel’s power, he was consumed by anger. He also was overcome with a feeling of omnipotence. Uncertain of the powers, he proceeded to test their limits. As he would find, they were nigh unlimited – for good, or for evil. Just as man has free will and discretion in his life, the Jewel could only magnify a man’s ability to pursue his ends. There was no governance of this fact except that which already existed in a man’s heart. His anger was his own, and not the Jewel’s.
This was soon after the death of Aiden. It was during the legal fight with his own kinfolks soon after Aiden left him the majority of the inheritance. He told me he won the day because he learned the legal system. That was far from true. In a moment of weakness, he summoned the power of the Jewel to exact revenge.
An attorney representing his aunts and uncles paid Hank a visit. The egotistical lawyer vowed to destroy him, seize his land, and assured Hank he would never take possession of his legacy. If there is one thing Hank disliked more than being threatened, it was wanton arrogance.
As I stated earlier, when he inherited the land, Hank was only a 17-year-old kid. He was now the target of angst among aunts and uncles, who had all been angling for rights to the property. They were prepared to stab each other in the back over it, but didn’t expect a climb over their nephew first.
Such malfeasance is as old as the Jewel itself. Adonijah, the elder son of King David, conspired to steal the throne from his younger brother Solomon. In the same manner, the aunts and uncles tried to use legal tactics to undermine their father’s last testament. Even an ironclad will didn’t stop them from trying to usurp his intentions.
The attorney made his play. He was soon dead. Hank did not disclose how. The body was never discovered. It did not end there. Drunken with power, he next used the power to go after the relatives who had caused the problems in the first place. Two of his relatives’ houses, at the same time, were consumed with fire.
He watched from afar, the reflection of flames dancing in his eyes as he felt the pull of wickedness. He appeared at the doorstep of a third, the one who stirred up the conflict, and issued a dire warning: “Leave this place, and never return. Or you will die.” The fear delivered by Hank is the reason those relatives left the area. They dropped their suit against him. He took possession of his legacy and charted his own course. He never spoke to the rest of the family again.
He was then consumed by an overwhelming guilt.
There is a fine line between taking life as a righteous warrior to vanquish an enemy of the Lord, and murder. The latter is a sin. When his rage subsided, Hank realized this. He would come into contact with the ancient writings passed from Aiden and would learn the truth; his actions were unnecessary. He had sinned in a most unrighteous manner.
After I strayed, I repented; after I came to understand, I beat my breast. I was ashamed and humiliated because I bore the disgrace of my youth. – Jeremiah 31:19
His reliance on the Jewel would come to a halt. He came to realize that the temptation was far too dangerous; so he buried it in the ground. He began a slow conversion from anger to virtue, buoyed by the power beneath his feet. It was during this steady transformation I first met Hank, still foul mouthed and hot-headed, but progressively finding his way.
In the philosophy of Stoicism, there exists a universal structure which orders all things. Righteousness can be achieved solely through virtue, by fortifying character and attaining a deep wisdom. What matters most is the virtuousness of the soul, not the material possessions one might accrue. A sage has reached the height of this virtue, and lived life indifferent to the events in the world around him. He lives a life free from his own passions.
Hank Benson became a sage; an existence that is by no means glamorous.
Righteousness for a man of God follows closely with that of the Stoic, with one key difference. In addition to a life of virtue, outward fulfillment for the man of God must be met with certain needs, such as love. It is perhaps why Hank struggled to become a man of God. He never felt loved.
He lost his parents, his family attacked him, his marriage failed, and most of his children rejected him. The love of God, while ever present, was nigh impossible for Hank to see given the monumental burden placed upon him. I guess I was the only one whom he truly trusted, and loved, though he’d likely never admit it. It’s why he chose to write me this letter.
Yet the pursuit of righteousness is far different from salvation. This would become another sticking point with which Hank wrestled. The Lord makes it simple, repent and believe, but until one gives up the struggle to go it alone, they are lost.
Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost. – Titus 3:5
He didn’t regret the end result of his life. What he regretted; he had used the power of the Jewel as a shortcut, failing to have faith that God alone would deliver his vengeance upon the wicked. It is difficult for a man who’d developed this stoic calm to admit. In the true sense of his philosophy, he realizes that even a sage is not immune.
It is no coincidence this doctrine was subscribed by Marcus Aurelius, perhaps as a result of the same emotions and desires now found in Hank. The two men held the Jewel nearly 2,000 years apart. Both were deeply affected by it. This Stoic school of thought flourished in the Roman Empire about the same time the Jewel made its way to the peninsula.
The letter closed with this:
If we confess our sins, he is faithful and
just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. – 1 John 1:9
This letter now verified to me that near the end, Hank found redemption. What haunted him most of his life he was able to make amends in the simplest of ways. Free of a burgeoned conscience, he was clear to depart in peace. This was the last time I ever heard from him. He died three days after I read this letter.
I only found out about his death because it was all over the news.
~~~
Old Hank must have written his own obituary before he died. I got a laugh out of it. Short and sweet, with the same dry humor he always had:
Hiram King “Hank” Benson hit the ground near San Gabriel, Texas, in 1927, without a dollar to his name. He is the grandson of Aiden and Mary Benson, early settlers in Milam County following Aiden’s service in the Civil War. He is survived by his grandchildren, Lieutenant Troy Benson, US Air Force, and Doris Sanderson and her husband of Wyoming.
He owned and operated Benson Construction Company from 1945 until 1960, helping build the ALCOA plant in Rockdale in 1950. He is a past Master of the local Lodge #978.
Hank was an avid pilot and fisherman. He farmed and ranched many acres along the San Gabriel River bottom. For many years he claimed to have caught the biggest fish ever on the San Gabriel River, but now confesses that it was actually his good friend, R. Cyrus McCormack, who actually caught it.
His last wish is to have his ashes scattered on the land he loved. The funeral is soon, and I will be in attendance. I’ve been asked to be an honorary pallbearer, an easy task seeing as there will be no casket. I can’t help but think this is an inside joke, as Hank would relish the thought that we were all letting him down one last time.
~~~
When Jesus saw the crowd around him, he gave orders to cross to the other side of the lake. Then a teacher of the law came to him and said, "Teacher, I will follow you wherever you go." Jesus replied, "Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head." Another disciple said to him, "Lord, first let me go and bury my father." But Jesus told him, "Follow me, and let the dead bury their own dead." – Matthew 8:18-22