The Serpent's Disciple

by Deborah Stevens

  “The guests have been anxiously awaiting your appearance Grand Master.”

  “Well then we must not keep them waiting.”

  As Thomas and Peter exited the study and headed down the hallway, one disciple walked in front of the two men, and a second followed a short distance behind.

  The voices were getting louder as they got closer to the dining hall where the guests were mingling amongst themselves. Arriving at a double set of glass doors, the first disciple pushed open both doors into the room and stepped aside. The people closest to the doors turned to see who was entering. They saw Thomas and behind him, the Grand Master, followed by his two personal henchmen in their ceremonial robes and hoods. There was a ripple effect as heads continued to turn as their leader entered the room.

  A gentleman from the UGLE who happened to be the closest to the doors immediately greeted Peter.

  “Grand Master it’s wonderful to see you. What a magnificent evening you have planned. I look forward to hearing you speak later.”

  “It’s good to see you my friend.” Peter shook his hand. “I think you will be very pleased with what I have to say, but first enjoy the festivities and food. We will talk again later on in the evening.”

  The four individuals from this afternoon’s meeting minus Cardinal Cavallari were scattered around the room. Peter had already spotted them and acknowledged them with a slight nod of the head.

  “How is the roster being received by our guests?” Peter quietly asked Thomas without looking at him.

  “As you might expect Naj Hannah and the UGLE are suspicious of being in the same room with the Orders of the Eastern Star, Amarath, and the Grand Lodge Droit Humain to name three.”

  Peter had to smile, “It is an interesting gathering don’t you agree Thomas?”

  “Without question.”

  “It needed to be done this way Thomas. They will learn that in a few short days the world as they know it will no longer exist. They will each need to decide their future by the end of the evening.”

  The “worthy matron” from the Grand Lodge Droit Humain was headed straight towards Peter. She was a stunning woman, dressed in a simple red dress that followed the curves of her body like a glove. The color of her hair was the blackest black he’d ever seen and her eyes were like two black coals. They would make quite a striking couple he thought to himself.

  “Good evening Grand Master. I saw that you had arrived and wanted to personally thank you for including me on tonight’s guest list. I’m hoping this evening will be the beginning of a closer relationship with many of the others present tonight.” Besides being beautiful she was also driven.

  Her Lodge allowed political and religious discussion, which was against the laws of the UGLE. When Peter created P2, unbeknownst to the Grand Orient Lodge, he built his empire by including the political and religious powers of the world. So he felt a close alliance to this order.

  “As always you are direct and to the point. If I may also say Catherine you look bewitching this evening. You put some of my artwork in the room to shame. Don’t you agree Thomas?”

  Smiling politely, Thomas acknowledged the compliment, then turned back to face Peter, “I will leave you to visit with your guests. I must attend to some arrangements for this evening.”

  “Of course Thomas, I will meet up with you later.”

  Thomas gave a nod to Catherine, then to Peter and left. Peter never took his eyes off of Catherine.

  Waiting until Thomas was gone, Catherine said with a self-assured grin, “Your appreciation of the arts has always been one of the qualities I have admired in you Grand Master.”

  “Then I believe you will find the evening most interesting. Now if you will excuse my rudeness, I must go and greet some of my other guests.”

  Reaching for her hand he gently kissed the top of it, “Until we talk again.”

  CHAPTER 51

  Peter stood off to the side of the stage that had been built especially for this evening. He watched as his guests returned to their seats after the performance and they talked quietly amongst themselves. Four of the five lieutenants present at the party waited in silence for Peter to address the crowd. The fifth sat in front of a closed circuit TV in the comfort of his apartment.

  “Is Cardinal Cavallari set up on his end?” Peter asked Thomas.

  “Yes, he is receiving the live feed as we speak.”

  “Good. Then it is time.”

  Peter turned and slowly walked to the center of the stage. He surveyed the crowd while waiting for everyone to stop talking. After a few minutes the room became quiet. All eyes were now on Peter.

  “First, let me start by welcoming all of you to my home. Having all of you here together has been a dream of mine for a very long time and tonight it has finally become a reality. Many of you have traveled a great distance and I thank you for that. Each of us started out at one point, with the same basic concern about the future. Having free will to make our own decisions, each one of you chose to become part of a fraternal organization known as the Freemasons. As you know, not every Lodge recognizes the other based upon adherence to landmarks but I hope to change that this evening.

  “The world as we know it is a world divided by religion and politics but controlled by the financial institutions of the world. I believe each of us here tonight sees the need for a one-world government. A world, more important, run by an elite group of individuals with a globalist agenda or a New World Order. It is the only way to bring an end to the international power struggles between countries.

  “Please take a look around the room; you see what could be the future Council of Guardians. A council appointed by a supreme leader, to put into effect the laws of the New World Order.”

  Peter remained silent, letting what he said sink in. A few of the guests looked nervously around, others were excitingly talking to the person next to them, and others waiting to hear more.

  The evening was proceeding exactly as planned, even better. He had spent a small fortune but the cost was of no importance. The stage was being set for the powers of darkness to take the reins. The desire for power and fortune had to be compelling enough that every person in the room wanted their piece of the pie.

  Peter felt something brush against the back of his neck as a sudden gust of air blew in through the open terrace doors carrying in with it an army of kindred spirits. He watched as they snaked their way through the guests seated in the room.

  Clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention again he continued, “The various rites of the different Lodges represented tonight create barriers that need to be revised for a greater purpose. Together as one ruling body, imagine what we could accomplish. I’ve written a manifesto that is being handed out to each of you as I speak.”

  Hooded men in ceremonial robes appeared and circulated the pamphlets to everyone in the audience. Then they stationed themselves at designated locations.

  “We all want the same thing. Without realizing it, you have each been an intricate part of moving that dream forward and with that comes wealth and power for each person present here tonight. You each have enjoyed the benefits and the pleasures those two things bring, but divided as you presently are, your final goals can never be realized. I’m asking you tonight to put aside these differences and join me as one. We can rule the world together and you will each live a life only dreamt about in fairy tales.” Peter paused letting his guests digest what he had just proposed to them.

  “The New World Order will be a reality within a few short days with or without you. Reject the old ways and join with me and be part of a world where religions and governments will be ruled by one governing body.”

  Angelo, Vingenzo, Silvio, and Orazio scanned the room to try and get a read on tonight’s attendees. Each of the men knew the consequences for those who chose not to join the New World Order.

  Cardinal Cavallari, watching back at the Vatican, only had a view of the stage and couldn’t see the reaction of the guests. Clo
sing his eyes he thought, “It’s finally happening.” Terrified he’d said it out loud and someone might have overheard. Opening his eyes, he was alone except for the portrait of Pope Benedict. It was only a photograph but it seemed as if His Holiness was looking straight at him and could hear everything Cavallari was thinking.

  Peter began speaking again and Cavallari turned his attention back to the monitor.

  “I now ask each of you to open your envelopes. On the last page you will find a place to sign and pledge your loyalty to the New World Order. After signing, please hand the sheet to Thomas before heading into the garden.”

  In an instant Peter’s face changed from being grim and foreboding to warm and gregarious.

  “Now my dear friends at the end of the evening I have planned a magnificent fireworks show, choreographed to music with dancing like nothing you have ever seen before. Please enjoy the rest of the evening.”

  Smiling at everyone, Peter turned and walked off the stage.

  CHAPTER 52

  The sky was already clouding over as they reached Palazzo Toschi-Mosca that housed the Ceramics Museum and the Art Gallery containing Coronation of the Virgin.

  “Looks like Franco was right about the rain,” said Nelli, pointing to the sky. “I’ll take the umbrella in case it’s raining when we get out.”

  “Sounds good,” replied Anthony.

  Inside they purchased two passes for eight euros and grabbed a map to find where the different exhibits were located in the museum.

  “Wow, there are six display rooms for ceramics. I didn’t think it would be that large of a collection. It states here that a man by the name of Domenico Mazza from Pesaro began the historical collection of ceramics, and today there are more than 3,400 pieces.”

  “Nelli, we are limited on time; our main focus is finding the painting. If you want, we can come back and go through more of the rooms another day.”

  “You’re right. Can we at least walk through this first room with the majolica pottery display?”

  “Yes, then we need to find the painting.”

  As they began walking, Nelli read out loud from the brochure.

  “In the 1200s Italy imported clay and ceramics from Moorish Spain. It was shipped through Majorca thus getting its name majolica. Local styles developed throughout Italy so certain areas became known for specific colors and patterns, deep blue being one of the oldest and the pink rose for the symbol of Pesaro.”

  Nelli stopped and turned to face Anthony. “That was always the color of roses Dad would bring home for mother, remember Anthony?”

  “Yes, now that you mention it.”

  Nelli starting walking again continuing to read from the pamphlet, “Around the 1500s tin enamel, an opaque white finish, was introduced in Pesaro and it became the birthplace for ceramic art in Italy. I never imagined Pesaro would be so rich in history.” Looking up they had reached the first display room.

  As they walked around viewing the first collection, for just a moment Anthony felt like a tourist on vacation, but as he watched his sister lean forward to get a closer look at the details on a vase, the lights from the glass case reflected off the cross dangling from the chain around her neck. It quickly brought him back to the seriousness of the situation.

  Shifting gears he began applying the years of training and assessing their surroundings. He mentally went down a checklist in his head. One, study the layout of the room, look for possible escape routes. Two, what could be used for a weapon or protection against an attack? Three, study each person for unusual behavior, and four and most important, listen to your instincts.

  “Which piece is your favorite Anthony? I think this one is absolutely gorgeous. The blue coloring and the detailing on this plate are beautiful!”

  Anthony realized Nelli had asked him a question.

  “I’m sorry Nelli, did you just ask me which piece is my favorite?” Anthony took a quick survey of the collection and pointed out one he had noticed when they first entered the room. “I guess I would have to say that one. Nelli, I think we should find out where the painting is located in the museum before it gets any later.”

  “I agree but it was nice being distracted for a while. Let’s go see if we can find the clue that I was told could be found within the painting.”

  Stopping at the information desk, Anthony asked if they were headed in the right direction.

  “Si, si signore, follow the signs to the Pinacoteca,” pointing to his right.

  “Grazie.”

  “I’m going to stop in the restroom first Anthony. I’ll just leave the umbrella out here,” resting it against the wall.

  Anthony knew the museum closed at twelve-thirty like everything in Italy. Looking at his watch, they had another hour and a half. He studied the people in the lobby as he waited for Nelli, making mental notes of faces. The man that just entered the museum, something about the way he moved seemed familiar to Anthony.

  “Anthony … Anthony,” Nelli said a second time tugging at his sleeve. “What were you thinking about? You were a million miles away.”

  “Oh, nothing just people watching. Let’s go. Remember the museum closes in an hour and a half.”

  CHAPTER 53

  The man was average in his appearance in every way. People didn’t pay much attention to him and he liked it like that. Trailing behind a group of tourists from England, he watched the brother and sister head up the stairs.

  “This isn’t what I expected at all, did you Anthony?” said Nelli. “It’s so different than what you think of when you go to a museum in a large city.”

  “Many local museums are renovated homes,” said Anthony. “A good local museum will add to your understanding of the region much better than any large national museum ever could.”

  On the left hung several pieces of art and a door in the middle of the wall that led to another room. On the opposite wall from where they entered there were three evenly spaced windows covered with white fabric shades. Between two of the windows was a painting of Saint Terence, the patron saint of Pesaro.

  To their right there was an altarpiece by Jacobello del Fiore, a complex work that combined the elements of painting and sculpture. A rich ornate frame surrounded six panels each painted with the figures of Saint Jerome, Saint James the Greater, Peter, Paul, Anthony, and Nicholas of Bari, and in the center, a beautiful wooden statue of the Blessed Michelina.

  Nelli looked up from the brochure; to the right of that piece was another doorway. On the other side of the door there it was: the altarpiece by Giovanni Bellini of Coronation of the Virgin.

  “Look Anthony, there it is.”

  Anthony had already spotted the piece and was walking in that direction. It filled the entire corner of the room. A braided rope hung on posts keeping visitors at arm’s length from the polyptych.

  It was approximately eight and a half feet wide and eight feet high and it dominated the room. The typology of the painting looked more like a piece of architecture. The painting was framed on each side by pilasters that each contained paintings of four saints. The bottom of the frame, the predella, depicted seven religious scenes. The top of the frame looked like a crown molding or mantel of a fireplace. On top of the crown molding sat another smaller frame called a cusp, identical to the frame on the lower portion of the painting. Inside the cusp was a painting of the Pietá. Nelli was hypnotized by it. “It’s quite amazing, isn’t it? I didn’t expect it to be so large. Look, in the painting behind the throne where Jesus is crowning Mary is another painting framed the same way! It states here that it’s a painting within a painting, a new perspective in the art world.”

  Anthony was also impressed by its size.

  “The representation of the fortress of Gradara in the background of the Coronation seems out of place, don’t you think Anthony?” said Nelli.

  Anthony was reading about the piece when he stopped and reread the last sentence over again.

  “Listen to this Nelli. There are eight saints tha
t border the painting, four on each pilaster.”

  “Yes, I see that.”

  “Do you know who any of them are?”

  “Anthony I have no idea! Enough with the guessing game, read me the names.”

  “Look at the second from the bottom on the right.”

  “Okay, now who is he?”

  “It’s Saint Anthony.”

  The color drained from Nelli’s face. “Why would Bellini include the fortress of Gradara and Saint Anthony in the altarpiece?” she said, asking as if she expected the painting to answer her question. “Look Anthony, he’s holding something in his hand. It ... it looks just like the box we bought in Rome!” She turned and stared at her brother. “Is this the first clue?”

  Without thinking, Anthony glanced around the room to see if anyone had overheard their conversation. Luckily they were the only ones in the room at the moment.

  He felt Nelli grab his arm. She was pointing to the floor in front of the right pilaster of the altarpiece just under the rope by her foot, her voice no louder than a whisper, “Look Anthony.”

  It was a small medal of some kind. Nelli crouched down to pick it up. It was a religious medal of Saint Anthony.

  “It’s just like the one I found in my bedroom. He’s guiding us, Anthony. We are on the right path. We need to figure out what the painting is telling us.” Wrapping her fingers around the medal, she placed it in one of her pockets.

  “On our way out I’ll ask at the front desk where the library is located in town,” said Anthony. “If I remember correctly it is housed in the Palazzo Almerici. They should have literature on Gradara Castle. It’s almost twelve-thirty; Nelli, the museum will be closing soon.

  The man from downstairs watched from the doorway as his two prey continued to study the painting. The museum guards would be directing visitors towards the exit in a few minutes.