Powdered Gold: Templars and the American Ark of the Covenant (Templars in America Series Book 3)
Page 29
Georgia nodded. “He may argue it was in the line of duty, but nobody authorized him to bomb a federal agent’s car.” She turned to Willum. “So with that crime solved, there’s no reason for the authorities to bother you anymore.”
He rubbed his eyes. “Like they need a reason. I’m sure they’ll be back.”
“What about Boonie?” Amanda asked. “He kidnapped Astarte.”
Georgia shrugged. “That’s a bit different than Kincaid. Boonie’s a senior operative, on a classified case, acting in the line of duty, and nobody got hurt. I think it would be viewed as collateral damage, just the cost of doing business.”
“We’re talking about a little girl,” Amanda said.
“We’re talking about the federal government,” Georgia responded.
The exchange was interrupted by a couple of men wheeling a large crate on a dolly. “Where do you want it, boss?”
Before Willum could respond, Cam interjected. “It’s radioactive. So not someplace where people congregate.”
Willum turned to the men. “Put it in the empty pod in the back.”
“If it’s okay, I’d like to examine it one more time,” Cam said. “Do you have a portable microscope? I have a hunch.”
Willum and Cam again donned Hazmat suits and, five minutes later, entered the empty pod. They removed the lead case surrounding the ark and set up Willum’s scope. Looking through the eyepiece, Cam focused on the Levi/Lehi carving. Moving aside, he spoke. “What do you think of this carving, Willum? Does it look old to you?”
Willum leaned in. “Hard to say.”
Cam moved the scope to the other side of the ark. “Let’s compare it to these carvings. If the ark has been in a cave for a thousand years, even with a cover over it, I would think there would be a lot of residue, dust, sand, dirt, something in the grooves.” He focused the scope. “Like this. Look in here. Lots of sand in the grooves, plus it’s tarnished. On the other hand the grooves on the Levi carving are bright yellow, like new gold.”
Willum peered in. “I agree. That Levi carving is much newer than these ones.”
Cam nodded. “Yeah, much newer—as in this week.”
They returned to the picnic area to find sandwiches and lemonade set out for them. “Not to be sexist,” Amanda said, “but we ladies made lunch.”
Astarte focused her cobalt eyes on Cam. “We thought it would be fair if the men cleaned up.”
“I’m going to clean you up,” Cam said, grabbing her and holding her upside down. “I’m going to use all this hair of yours to sweep the entire desert.”
She screeched and kicked her feet for a few seconds before Cam set her down when she announced she had to go to the bathroom. Georgia offered to take her and Cam took the opportunity to tell Amanda what they had found. “I think what happened was that Kincaid’s plan all along was to drive a wedge between us and Astarte. He added the Levi carving to the ark, leaving it unclear as to whether the middle letter was a Hebrew ‘v’ or Hebrew ‘h.’ He figured we would read it as ‘Levi’ because it fit our theory about the priestly family of French Jews carving it. And he guessed Astarte, with a little push from him, would read it as ‘Lehi’ since it fit the history of the Book of Mormon she had been raised with.”
“Wow. That’s a pretty subtle play,” Amanda said.
“That’s his job,” Cam responded. “He figures out what motivates people, what makes them tick, how they might react.”
“And he got lucky that the two names are so similar.”
Cam nodded. “So basically he wormed his way into getting Astarte to trust him, figuring he might need her at some point.”
“So he sent her here as a human shield, knowing we would do whatever we could to get Willum to deliver the fuel cell to protect her.”
“But he didn’t know Boonie was already here on the inside. That messed him up a bit. But it still would have gone his way if Willum hadn’t agreed to give up the fuel cell.”
Willum smiled. “Best thing I ever did. If I had thought of it six years ago, I could have saved myself a lot of heartache and headache.”
They sat in silence for a few seconds, each with their own thoughts. Amanda spoke first. “You know, in some ways Ellis defacing the ark actually helps authenticate it. We now know what a modern carving looks like; anything significantly different must be significantly older.”
“I’ll get a team of scientists in here to study it,” Willum said. “Soon. And I also want to see if the white powder can make it levitate.”
Georgia and Astarte returned and they all shared lunch.
“I’m a little embarrassed to tell you,” Willum said as he chewed his sandwich, “but Clarisse was drugging all of us. She was feeding us the white powder of gold.”
Cam nodded. “Yeah, we figured it out also.”
“I have to say, it worked,” Willum said. “People around here became more … communal I guess you’d say. They were willing to sacrifice themselves for the group. Maybe you’d call it a pack mentality.”
Cam nodded again. “I felt it that night I stayed over. It felt like a cult. I’m glad I only had one of the group meals—I might have become a Willum groupie myself,” he said, chuckling.
Willum grinned. “Be glad to have you, Cam.”
Amanda waited for the laughter to subside. “So we believe Moses fed the mfkzt to the Israelites to get them to accept the Ten Commandments. And we know from Willum’s experiences that mfkzt really can be used as a kind of drug. I’ve been thinking about the bowl of white powder we found in our ark. What was it for?”
Cam looked at her quizzically. “We know that already. It was a fuel source.”
“That made the ark levitate,” Willum added.
“But perhaps it was more than that. Hear me out. The ancient Jewish commentators write that there were two things carried in the Ark in addition to the Ten Commandments tablets—the staff of Aaron and a golden bowl full of manna.”
“Manna, as in the stuff they ate in the desert to stay alive?”
“Yes. Supposedly, God sent it from the heavens. And it wasn’t just called manna. It was also called the Bread of Heaven.”
Cam sat up. “Bread of Heaven. Isn’t that the same stuff Bezaleel baked for Moses to feed to the people?”
“Yes. Bezaleel the goldsmith. Also known as an alchemist.” She paused. “Someone who would know how to chemically transform the gold into mfkzt.”
Cam smiled. “I get where you’re going with this. You think manna was really white powder of gold, really mfkzt.” He nodded. “I like your thought process; the pieces fit together.”
Amanda typed into her smart phone. “It says here the word manna comes from the Hebrew, ‘man-hu,’ meaning ‘What is it?’”
“Damn right, what is it?” Cam laughed. “Nobody knew what they were eating because the priests kept it secret.”
Willum grinned. “Sort of like chef’s choice in the school cafeteria.”
Amanda continued. “And supposedly they ate manna every day. Not only did Moses drug his people out at Mount Sinai, but he kept drugging them for forty years as they wandered through the desert.”
Georgia chimed in. “You’d have to drug me to keep me in the desert.”
“And take it one step further,” Amanda said. “If they kept the powder or manna in the Ark, nobody could steal it without getting zapped.”
“Right,” Cam said. “Only the priests could approach the Ark. And, in keeping with the Egyptian tradition, only the priests were allowed to handle the white powder.”
“Spot on,” Amanda said as she tapped on her smart phone again. “And guess who made the vestments the priests wore when they approached the Ark?”
Cam smiled “Our man Bezaleel?”
“None other.”
“Well that explains why the name Bezaleel is carved on the ark we found. He knew the secrets of the Ark. Knew how to use it as power source, how to bake the special bread to keep the people from revolting, how to approach it wit
hout getting zapped. And somehow his knowledge got passed along to our Calalus friends in the Arizona desert.”
Georgia exhaled a long breath. “I know better than to question you guys about this stuff, but you’re basically rewriting the history of the Western world. This changes everything we’ve been taught, everything we’ve grown up believing. If you’re right you really are calling into question one of the foundations of Judeo-Christian society.”
Amanda lifted her chin. “Calling into question is an understatement. If we’re right we’re pretty much pissing all over the Book of Exodus.” She sighed. “Moses used the Ark as some kind of high-voltage parlor trick to fool people into believing he had the power of God. Then he drugged them with the manna or mfkzt or white powder or whatever you want to call it to get them to follow him around the desert for forty years.”
Amanda looked at each of them in turn. “I know this sounds harsh, but based on what we’ve learned, Moses was a huckster, not all that dissimilar to the Wizard of Oz.”
A couple of days after returning to Westford, Cam received an email from Willum:
“Had a guy in here this morning looking at the ark. He says it looks really old—still needs to get final test results. I’m spending the weekend with my son. Can’t wait! At least Boonie made good on that. And feds are staying away, for now at least. Thanks again to you and Amanda—not sure how this all would have come out if not for your help. I think probably this entire compound would have been turned into white powder itself!”
Cam showed it to Amanda as they sat at the kitchen table, waiting for Astarte’s school bus. “Glad he’s doing well. In the end, he never really deserved all the bad things that happened to him.”
“Agreed. The worst you can say about him is that he’s a bit paranoid. And even that seems justified, in retrospect.” Cam changed the subject. “You sure you’re okay with Astarte going to the Mormon church on Sunday?”
Amanda exhaled. “I am, yes. The whole thing about Moses drugging his people sort of opened my eyes. The Moses story is something I have heard my whole life—I remember watching the Charlton Heston movie with my mum as a young girl, mesmerized. I had never thought to question it. But now that I do, I see how far-fetched it all is. And it makes me realize something about religion: All religions seem like a fairy tale to people of other religions. If you’re, say, Hindu, the idea of God appearing on Mount Sinai to give Moses the Ten Commandments is just plain silly. But to Jews or Christians or Muslims the thought of being reincarnated as a mosquito or something is equally ludicrous.”
“And if you’re not Mormon, many of their beliefs seem silly also.”
“Exactly. So does it really matter whether Astarte learns one silly story over another? I guess to some degree it does, if the stories she’s hearing marginalize women. But as long as we give her a strong female identity, she’ll be fine no matter what she hears in church on Sunday.”
Cam nodded. “I agree. And let’s face it, I don’t see Astarte ever suffering from a lack of self-confidence. Not with you as her mom.”
Amanda looked into Cam’s eyes, kissed him lightly and smiled. “No. She is the princess, after all.” She paused. “And it’s pronounced ‘mum.’”
EPILOGUE
[April 1, Modern Day Rhode Island]
Cam, Amanda and Astarte woke up early, grabbed some fruit and made their way out of Newport’s Viking Hotel.
Astarte skipped ahead. “Which way?”
“To the right,” Amanda said. “A few blocks.”
The girl peered at the eastern sky. “No clouds. The sun should be up soon.”
“When the Newport Tower was built there were no buildings to block the sun. But we’ll still get a good look at the illumination,” Amanda said as she took a bite of her banana.
Astarte froze mid-stride. “Ooh,” she called out. “There’s a worm in your banana!”
Amanda dropped the fruit to the pavement and jumped back, spitting as she did so. “Blimey! Really?”
Astarte grinned. “Nope. April Fool’s!”
Cam grinned as Amanda chased after the girl, scooped her up and spun her around. Looked like he would have competition as the family prankster.
They turned the corner onto Mill Street, the Tower rising up to greet them in the morning mist. “Hello, Beautiful,” Cam whispered.
They walked along a paved path, sharing the park only with a couple of early morning dog-walkers.
“Okay, Astarte,” Amanda said, “remember how on the winter solstice the sun passes through a window and illuminates the orb inside the Tower?”
The girl nodded. “It only happens once a year.”
“Right. It symbolizes the rebirth of the world—the male, which is the sun, fertilizing the egg inside the womb, which is symbolized by the orb-shaped keystone inside the Tower. After that, the days begin to get longer again.”
The thing that most fascinated Cam, the thing that one hundred percent convinced him that the winter solstice illumination was not some random coincidence, was the way the sun needed to pass through one of the Tower’s windows before illuminating the orb. The irregularly-shaped, splayed window not only refracted the sun’s beam, it shaped the beam into an ideally sized and shaped box of light that perfectly framed the orb. He had spent hours examining the window, marveling at the reverse-engineering required to produce the perfect box of light on the exact date of the winter solstice.
Astarte and Amanda were continuing their conversation. “But today’s not the spring equinox,” Astarte pointed out.
“Yes. And for years we could not figure out why there wasn’t an exact spring equinox illumination at the Tower, similar to the winter solstice.” Amanda smiled, her emerald eyes shining in the morning light. “But then we figured it out. It’s not a spring equinox illumination; it’s an Easter illumination.”
Astarte crinkled her nose. “But Easter is a different day every year, right?”
“Precisely.” Amanda led Astarte to a bench, from which they looked up at the Tower. Cam stood behind them, listening. This was Amanda’s area of expertise. “This is a bit complicated, so listen carefully. You recall that Cameron and I taught you that Christmas is celebrated on the old pagan holiday that marks the rebirth of the sun, correct?”
“Yes. A few days after the winter solstice, the days began to get longer and the people celebrated.”
Amanda nodded. “And that happens the same time every year, in late December. But the Easter holiday is based not only on the solar calendar but on the lunar one as well. As you said, its date changes every year. Easter is celebrated on the first Sunday after the first full moon after the spring equinox.”
“That’s confusing.”
“Yes. But, for Christians, Easter is a very important holiday. So it is crucial that they get the date right. And even though the Knights Templar did not agree with many teachings of the Church, they were still Christians so they did celebrate Easter.”
“Okay.”
“Now, can you imagine what would happen if for, say, seven or eight days, it was cloudy every day? And during that time, there was both a full moon and the spring equinox? In ancient times, how would you know which came first, the full moon or the equinox? And not knowing that, and of course not having a calendar, how would you know if you were celebrating Easter on the correct date?”
Astarte pursed her lips. “You wouldn’t know for sure.”
Amanda continued. “And that’s why what the Tower builders did was so ingenious.” She sat back. “There are 35 possible days for Easter, March 22 through April 25.” She pointed. “And on each of those days, the rising sun shines through that window of the Tower. It makes a light box that passes over at least part of the niche, or alcove, on the far wall.” She pointed again. “But it only happens on these 35 days—on the other days it misses the niche entirely.”
Astarte sat up. “I get it. So if the light hits the alcove, you know it could be Easter. And if it doesn’t, it can’t be.”
Cam interrupted. “Here comes the sun now; you can see the light box approaching the niche.”
NEWPORT TOWER EASTER LIGHTBOX
Amanda replied. “Unfortunately the sun is about to be blocked by a building.” They waited ten minutes for the light box to reappear.
“There it is again,” Astarte pointed.
NEWPORT TOWER EASTER LIGHTBOX
“Yes,” Amanda said. “We are near the beginning of the 35-day span, so it passes close to the edge of the niche. But you can see how over the past few minutes the box would have passed over the lower left corner of the niche if the building hadn’t blocked it.” She paused. “That means we are in the span of eligible Easter days.”
They watched in silence for a few seconds as the light box crept across the interior Tower wall. Cam wondered how many other secrets the Tower held, how many other illuminations the seemingly randomly placed windows and niches, in conjunction with the sun and moon and planets, formed to mark important dates. The Tower was an ancient stone calendar—or even an almanac.
“Uncle January would have liked seeing this,” Astarte whispered. “He thought the Templars were very smart.”
Amanda glanced back at Cam—this was the first time Astarte had referred to her uncle in the past tense. Amanda took her hand, while Cam squeezed her shoulder.
Amanda leaned in. “If your uncle lives in your heart, Astarte, then he sees whatever you see.”
“Really?” The girl sighed, smiled and sat up. “Then I’m glad we came today. I’d like to watch for a few more minutes if that’s okay.”
THE END
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Inevitably, I receive this question from readers: “Are the artifacts in your stories real, or did you make them up?” The answer is: If they are in the story, they are real, actual artifacts.