by J. M. LeDuc
“What is he doing?” Alana asked.
“Watch and be amazed, sister,” Seven answered.
The Bishop meticulously copied the symbols, as they were written. When he was finished, he looked down at what he had and found the words to be in English. Without looking up, he read,
“Anyone foolish enough to venture further into this hallowed grotto will find the same fate as those who came before you.”
Astonished, Alana peered at the paper. “How is it that you have written it in English, when I just saw you copy symbol for symbol from the wall?”
“We all have our gifts,” the Bishop answered. “This happens to be the one God has bestowed upon me.”
Wide eyed, she just stared at him, darting her eyes back and forth between the paper and the Bishop. “It’s the Gift of Letters,” Brent said. “A divine gift given to very few. No matter the original language it’s written in, when the Bishop writes it, it translates to one that can be understood.” He saw a quizative look on Alana’s face. “What is it?”
“I was thinking that Hebrew is written and read right to left. What if other Old Testament languages did the same?”
Brent didn’t have to ask. He saw the Bishop was again copying the script, only this time from right to left. When he was finished, he shook his head in amazement.
“What is it, Bishop?”
“Alana’s right. Now it says something entirely different. Although, I liked the first translation a whole lot better.”
“What does it say?”
“I’m not really sure; it’s more of a riddle than a statement.” The Bishop read it aloud.
“The rock is but an illusion.
Tread not, for to continue, one must have wings.
Many have tried, but none have succeeded.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Seven asked.
“It means everything is not what it seems,” Alana answered.
“I got that part, but what does it mean?” Seven asked.
Brent walked a few paces away from where everyone else was standing and squatted in front of the skeletons. “Look at the way they are laid out,” he said. “They didn’t line up and die like this haphazardly and I don’t think King David fought them down here.”
Alana squatted next to him. “Why do you say that?”
“You said it yourself; they’re all wearing the clothes of a Philistine soldier. If there had been a fight down here, it’s hard to believe there would be no Israelite casualties. David was a warrior. He wouldn’t have carried the dead back up that crevasse we just passed through. He would have left them here or he would have burned them in sacrifice.” Moving his arm in a fan-like motion, Brent said, “There is no evidence of either. No battle was fought here. The Philistine’s were known to have a large army. The few remains we see here are just a remnant. Others, many others died someplace else, in some other way. These men died because they couldn’t go forward and they knew they couldn’t go back. Wherever they came from had to be so daunting that they dared not try to retrace their steps. They chose death over whatever lies ahead of us.”
“But. . . ”
“But nothing, padre. The Philistine army was huge. We have, what, ten or so bodies lying here. The rest must have died before reaching this place.”
“What do you think happened to them?” Bishop Jessup asked.
Brent didn’t answer, instead he dropped into a deeper squat, closed his eyes and began to sift dirt from one hand to another. Everyone stood motionless. Not speaking. Afraid they might break his thought process. When he finally stood back up, he addressed Seven. “Look at the way they’re laid out. Forget for a moment that they are human skeletons, what does the configuration remind you of?”
Seven studied the pattern in which they were laid. From left to right, each body was partially placed on top of the one before it until you got to the one in the middle. From there the opposite occurred, with each body laid partially under the one that came before. “Well, I’ll be,” he said. “They’re laid out in a bridge formation. All but the very last one.”
“The last to die, the architect,” Brent said.
“What does it all mean?” The Bishop asked.
“It means that somewhere ahead of us we’re going to run into a trap.”
“So are we. . . ”
“Going to forge ahead?” Brent said, finishing the Bishop’s thought. “Yes we are, with great caution.”
“Why do I even ask?”
Seven smirked and spit a wad of tobacco juice on the cave floor. “Because you are who you are, padre.”
“Great, now he’s a philosopher,” Bishop Jessup said with a measure of sarcasm.
“Alana, let’s look at that map again,” Brent said.
“Here,” Alana said, pointing to a spot on the map. “The line suddenly becomes very thin, almost non-existent. That could suggest trouble.”
Brent looked around at his surroundings, and thought back to his phantom Squad training days.
“To set a trap where it seems obvious means one of two things,” Seven told the men. “One, you’re up against a fairly simple minded enemy, or two, you’re walking into a complex trap or multiple traps. Always be aware of what seems too simple. Reality is not always what it seems.”
“Seven, what does this cave remind you of?”
Seven walked around the cavernous space that they were standing in. He ran his hands along the stone walls feeling the texture of the rock. He then got down on his hands and knees and began to crawl along the dry sandy surface of the cave. Standing back up, he reached over head and grabbed a stalactite that was hanging down from the ceiling. With a quick flick of his wrist, he snapped it off causing a great deal of dirt and sediment to fall from above.
“All the surfaces; walls, ceiling and floor are very porous, almost hollow. They are a lot like the mountainous caves of Pakistan and Afghanistan. We make one wrong move and we may end up in a very bad place.”
“What exactly do you mean by ‘a very bad place’?” Bishop Jessup asked in a jittery voice.
“I mean any loud noise or even a misstep could cause this place to collapse around us,” Seven answered.
“Sorry I asked,” the Bishop said.
“What does all this have to do with what I showed you on the map?” Alana said.
“It means that the trap could be anywhere, not just where you pointed out.”
“It also means that the cave we’re in may be a false front,” Seven added.
“Meaning?” Alana said.
“Meaning, the danger factor just multiplied,” Brent answered.
Looking back at him, Seven nodded his agreement.
“Going further could be extremely dangerous, maybe even deadly. Bishop, you and Alana should make your way back out of the cave and wait for us outside the Dome of the Rock.”
“I’m not going anywhere!” Alana said. “If what you said is true about Caleb and Ira, there is as much danger outside this cave as there is in it. If I’m going to die, I would rather die doing God’s work than at the hand of a terrorist.”
The Bishop just shook his head. “All for one and one for all.”
“Great,” Seven said with sarcasm. “He thinks I’m a philosopher and now he’s one of the Musketeers.”
A slight smile swept across Brent’s face. “If those are your final answers than there needs to be a slight change in our plan. Seven, you’re to take point, with Alana just behind you. We still need her skills in reading the line drawing. Bishop, you’ll follow and I’ll take up the rear.” As they all nodded, Brent added, “One more thing, there will be no talking unless absolutely necessary and when it is, you will do so in a whisper. Let’s move. We’ve wasted too much time as it is.”
With Seven now leading the group, he stepped forward by sliding his feet across the gr
ound instead of stepping in a usual way. Brent watched Bishop Jessup do the same and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Once Seven determines the ground safe to walk, there is no reason for you to slide your feet. You can step normally.”
Bishop Jessup blushed with embarrassment, then turned and continued to follow the others.
An hour later, Alana asked Seven to stop. “The cave is about to become very narrow up ahead. It’s the spot where I thought a trap might be placed.”
Hearing her words, Brent called for everyone to stop. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was four a.m. “We could all use some rest before continuing. I suggest we stop here, have a bite to eat and get a couple hours of sleep. How’s the ground here, Seven?”
“Thick enough to lie on.”
“Then we stop,” Brent said, taking off his backpack.
CHAPTER 33
Red and his men arrived in Aksum, Ethiopia in the early morning hours as the sun began its assent over the eastern sky. Red climbed out of the Humvee and pointed to the top of a hill. “The Church of St. Mary of Zion sits up on the crest. It’s the ancient home of a group of Ethiopian Jewish/Christian monks. Their leader is the Guardian of the Ark.”
“How do you want to approach this, Red?”
“The guardian should be expecting the Ambassador of The Endowment to come and claim the Ark of the Covenant. He’s been told that the other Arks have been united and he understands the significance of joining all three. No one knows who the Ambassador is or what he looks like, so we’re gonna play this straight up.
“Ancient word tells us that the Ambassador will arrive with two others. The two that came before him...”
“What does that mean?” interrupted one of his men.
“No one but The Ambassador knows its meaning.” An evil glint shown in his eyes. “We can use that to our advantage.” Again, pointing up the hill, Red continued, “We will climb up to that ridge line just below the church. The rest of you will stay there while I take—” Red scoured the band of brothers looking for the right two. His eyes landed on two men standing at the far side of the group—he was searching for two who had no fear in their eyes.“You, standing at the end, what’s your name?” Red asked.
“Me?” the soldier asked.
“Yeah, you. Your name?”
“I’m Caleb, sir.”
“And you,” Red said, pointing to the man beside him.
“That is my cousin, Ira. He only speaks Hebrew, but he follows orders very well,” Caleb answered.
“Good, then it’s settled. You two will accompany me to the church and help me carry the Ark out of the Holy of Holies.”
When Caleb told Ira what Red had said, they hugged each other in celebration. Once Red and his army reached the ridge, he changed into the vestments of a priest.
“The Guardian will expect the Ambassador to arrive with a priest, so one of you will have to pretend to be the Ambassador.”
Caleb thought back to his visit with Brent and the others, “I’ll do it,” Caleb said.
“What makes you think you can pull it off?” Red asked.
“The day after you came through the marketplace near Kiryat Yearim, three men followed the next day. My wife’s family has been Knights of The Endowment for centuries. I was the envoy who met them. I don’t know if one of them was actually the Ambassador or not, but I do know how they carried and conducted themselves. That gives me an advantage.”
Red smiled, “If there was ever any doubt that I was Chosen to reunite the Arks, your being here erases all of it.” He scanned the rest of his men. “The rest of you, this is not a rest stop. You are to stand ready to strike if there is any trouble. I will fire two shots as a sign. At that signal, you will rush the church, killing all who stand in your way.”
Red looked to Caleb and Ira. “Screw up and I’ll personally kill both of you. Let’s go.”
Reaching the crest of the hill, their skin tingled in excitement at what they saw. The Church of St. Mary of Zion stood in front of them like a monolith to glory. Rebuilt in 1960, the church was resplendent. Surveying the surroundings, they saw eight, maybe twelve monks busying about their work. The courtyard in front of the church was full of activity, but no one seemed to fit the description of the one they called the Guardian.
“Don’t get over confident boys. Story has it there are thirty priests who are on constant guard protecting the Guardian and the church.”
Walking on to the campus of the church, all eyes turned their way. With confidence, Red and his men went straight up the largest group. In Hebrew, Red introduced himself to the group and asked where they could find the Guardian. No words left the mouths of the monks, but in answer to the question one in the group pointed behind the church.
Behind the opulent church sat a one of smaller stature. It was there where they first laid eyes on the Guardian. Red slowed down his gait in order to give Caleb and Abe some background information on the monks.
“Remember, we approach him as if we belong here,” Red said. “Although Christian, the monks had one thousand years of Judaism, followed by two thousand years of Christianity, and that’s why their religion is rooted in the Old Testament. They follow the same dietary laws set out in Leviticus, meaning that The Guardian’s followers keep kosher, even though they are Christians. Parents circumcise their baby boys as a religious duty, and give Old Testament names to their children. Villagers in the countryside still hold the Sabbath from Friday at sundown to Saturday at sundown.”
Addressing Caleb, he added, “Their primary language is Hebrew so as a courtesy you’ll address him in your native tongue. You will tell him that we are the ones who came before you, just as it is written in the ancient scrolls. If he asks our names, you will address me as Father Timothy Reilly and Ira by his given name.”
The three of them walked with confidence up to the Guardian. As they approached, three of the monks blocked their path. Caleb stood in front of the others and told them who they were and said that they would like an audience with the Guardian.
One of the monks turned and walked over to the fenced in area, not going inside it and spoke softly to The Guardian, while the other two firmly stood their ground.
“Do not take their lack of weapons as a sign of weakness,” Red said. “They are trained in various disciplines of the martial arts. Do not approach them or look at them without reverence.”
Caleb bowed his head to them, speaking in Hebrew, “It is a great and glorious day, the day when all that has been written will come to pass. You have proven yourselves to be great men of God and your deeds here will surely place you in heaven one day.”
The two monks bowed back and thanked him for his words, addressing him as The Ambassador.
“We are sorry for arriving on Holy ground dressed the way we are. It has been an arduous trip, one in which we have gone through many hardships. We have been followed by three men who are not what they seem. If they come here, and they probably will, treat them as David treated the Philistines.”
The two smiled and thanked The Ambassador for his warning.
“What did you tell them?” Red asked, never letting on that he spoke fluent Hebrew.
“I told them to forgive our manner of dress and that we’ve been followed by three men who claim to be us. If they should arrive after we leave, they are to treat them as David treated the Philistine army.”
Red smiled.
The monk returned and led the three to the Guardian. As they stood outside the fence, the old monk spoke.
“For centuries our people have waited for this day. You will follow me into the church and down into the Holy of Holies. If you are who you say you are, you will be allowed to touch and carry the Ark from its resting place. If you are not, the power of the Ark will know and kill all of you where you stand.
“You have not been the first to have claim
ed to be The Ambassador and the ones who have come before. Because of its power, I have no problem leading you to the Ark.” He looked over the three and continued, “There is an aura about you that makes me believe that you are the true emissaries of the Lord, and I welcome you as such.”
The old priest opened the gate to the sacred ground and asked the three to walk through. Caleb led the others into the small courtyard that guarded the shrine of St. Mary’s.
“Come, follow me. It is not a long trip, but it can be a treacherous one, so please follow my footsteps exactly. One small misstep could mean death. Traps have been put in place in case the church was ever attacked.”
The old priest did not wait for answer, he just turned and opened the door to St. Mary of Zion. Inside the church was sparse. It was not opulent or adorned in Gold or other precious metals. It was but a simple chapel with an altar and enough pews for the monks who lived in Aksum.
“If you don’t mind me saying so,” Caleb said, “I expected to see a great church once we passed through the doors.”
“Does a church have to be rich in its features to be considered great?” the Guardian asked. “The church is exactly as the Christians built it centuries ago. My ancestors saw no reason to change it. If they did not see fit to change it, then who am I to do so? If you want opulence and outward beauty you may visit the one which stands in front of the true Church of St. Mary of Zion.”
The only things that were adorned in outward beauty inside the church were 30 robes that were on display behind the altar.
“The robes you see before you belonged to the Guardians who came before me and every one of those 30 gave their lives to protect the true Ark of the Covenant.
“Come, it is this way,” the Guardian said. “Behind the altar, there is a doorway that leads down into the bowels of the church.”
Bowels did not give justice to where they were led. A narrow stair case, whose walls were round in design descended steeply into an underground chamber beneath the church.
“Like the Holy of Holies built under Solomon’s Great Temple, our Holy of Holies was built likewise. You do not change what was considered to be built by divine instruction.”