The Antiquarian

by Julián Sánchez

  “‘The study on the name of God has been constant throughout the history of Judaism. You must know that the Hebraic concept of God doesn’t allow His physical portrayal, and His name, in the strict sense of a name, cannot be spoken out loud by the faithful. In fact, His name is in reality unknown to us, and has been the subject of research since time began. His known names are mere approximations, flawed in their attempt: we know how He told us to call Him, but we don’t know how He is really called. Everything is centered on Him, as He is referred to in the holy books. You can also call him Yahweh, as a simplified pronunciation of the Hebrew consonants YHVH, which is an abbreviation of Yod Heh Vav Heh. But this name must only be used in sanctuaries, holy places. Outside the temple, he can be called Adonai—master—or Elohim, the royal plural of Him. YHVH. The four consonants make up the Greek word called the tetragrammaton, known in Hebrew as Shem ha Meforash.

  “‘As you can see, He can be called in many ways, and there are many more, which have been developed over the centuries. The Kabbalah saw to that. It was born out of the tradition received from the Old Testament, but it ended up becoming pure esoteric knowledge. It arose as such at the dawn of the second century, and reached its peak at the turn of the thirteenth. Those who cultivated it became a small group who knew and handed down certain mysteries. They believed that the holy texts could transfer a knowledge that had been deliberately hidden. They used numerology to assign a given number to each letter of the Hebrew alphabet, and their combination provided access to that knowledge, releasing the enormous creative powers secreted away in its pages.

  “‘One of the greatest kabbalists, Isaac the Blind, found a new name for God using numerology. The name was Ein Sof, in Himself, in reference to the impossibility of understanding His true dimension outside Him. Later, Moses de León took this concept further by demonstrating that God created from within Himself through the sephirot, which are attributes or manifestations of Him.’

  “At this point,” Manolo said, “I must have looked so confused that Shackermann smiled, taking mercy on me and giving me a knowing wink, saying, ‘Don’t worry, these aren’t the ravings of some elderly nut. If I’m telling you this it’s because you need to understand the importance of the context before you dive into the heart of the enigma. And the enigma is this: the Stone of God, which only a few know to exist, is a special stone, possibly an emerald, but its real significance lies in the fact that it conceals a key mystery, a fundamental one. On one of its facets is written His true name. And therefore, it is animated by the presence of a sephirah, a direct emanation from Him.’

  “Outside, the storm picked back up. Bolts of lightning crossed the sky with a furious intensity, and the peals of thunder, barely muted by the thickness of the walls, rolled one after another. And I know this may sound absurd, like something out of a bad mystery movie, but I promise you that it was the most impressive electrical storm I’d ever seen or heard in my life. Something so extraordinary that even I, skeptical as I am, was thinking it was a paranormal experience. I would have sworn that someone or something was furious at the revelations being made, and that fury was perceived as a storm, because it was the only way our brains could comprehend it. Shackermann saw how shaken I was, and tried to calm me down.”

  Manolo stopped his monologue momentarily.

  “He said I looked like I was nervous. I admitted that I did feel something very strange was going on. ‘It’s the power of Yahweh. He’s always around us, although we’re usually too blind to see, until He makes Himself known, like now. Stay calm. It’s true that talking about some things is against the rules. But it’s also true that this isn’t the first time that I, or others, have done it. Why do you think we’ve been talking so much about religion these past few days? I needed to know if it was possible to show you the truth, with no fear of possible problems. Don’t worry. You’re safe.’

  “I nodded, accepting his reassurance. ‘Well then, let’s get back to the story. Are you telling me that God is present in that stone?’ ‘That’s right. Though He is omnipresent, it could be said that there are places where He’s more present than others. He is in the Stone because His name is there. Some say that sephirot are not parts of God Himself, but manifestations of God, but that’s just a rhetorical discussion that doesn’t change the fact.’ I couldn’t understand it. If God never told his name to the children of Israel, how could it be written on that stone? ‘The history of the Stone of God has more legend than reality to it. And the legend says that at the dawn of our civilization, after the death of Saul, David became the second king of Israel. In those years, perhaps the brightest in our history, David faced many challenges. One of them was the constant harassment of the Philistines, whose attacks stopped when Goliath, their champion, was killed in the remarkable duel in which he and David fought, and the fate of the people of Israel was decided. Goliath was a virtually invincible giant, an expert in the arts of war. In a normal fight, David never would have been able to best him. It would have been impossible. But he did it. Not by his own merits, but more thanks to God’s help. The night before they fought, David prayed, imploring God for help. He feared not for his life, but for the destiny of his people. And God wanted to help him, so he sent him a dream, or a vision. According to that vision, David was to go to a nearby stream, and, after he had cleansed himself, put his hand into it until he touched the bottom. There he would find a stone. That stone, launched with a sling, would let him win the fight, but he was not to look at it under any circumstances, because on it was written His name, and no one could ever see it. Just by the power that animated it, that stone would hit its target and destroy the enemy. Once its purpose was fulfilled, he was to hide it forever. It was too powerful to be left within reach of mere mortals. The stone was created to bring down a hero seen by his own people as undefeatable, and equipped, to put it in modern terms, with the most devastating, unspeakable powers that the Lord possessed.

  “‘David obeyed. He took a stone that gave off a greenish glow from a sand bank. Thanks to that Stone of God, as it was called from then on, Goliath bit the dust.’ I told him that this story was nowhere to be found in the scriptures. ‘That’s right, it’s not in there. It’s not there because the very existence of the Stone is a secret that only very few of us initiates know. Do you believe that the entire legacy of a people can be taken up in scriptures that even in the beginning were within reach of everyone, not just the holy men, and scribes of the Temple? Doesn’t the Catholic Church keep an archive in Rome only accessible to an elite few? And isn’t it true that in all religions, only a few are allowed to know the deepest and most transcendental mysteries, where the vast majority of the faithful cannot enter because of their ignorance? Be realistic: something like this could never be left in the record of David’s accomplishments, for reasons as simple as political ones. Only those with the deepest knowledge of Hebraic tradition, and kabbalists, may possess the knowledge.’

  “I had to admit it was a plausible hypothesis,” Manolo said under Bety’s rapt gaze. “‘Assuming the story is true, how can you explain the Stone’s probable presence in Spain? How was it related to Master Casadevall?’ Shackermann looked at me: ‘I can answer the first question, but not the second. David hid the Stone, the secret of which was passed on to his son, Solomon, and a restricted circle of holy men. When construction of Solomon’s Temple was complete, the Stone was placed in the sanctum sanctorum, with the Ark of the Covenant and the tablets of the Ten Commandments. And nothing disrupted its rest until the Babylonian invaders destroyed the temple four hundred years later. From then on, its whereabouts were unknown. Until today. Considering that its existence was only known to a privileged handful, and that most of them were murdered by the Babylonians, knowledge of the Stone’s existence became even more restricted. As for your second question, what can I say? One of the rabbis probably managed to flee with it. The first Diaspora began after the fall of Jerusalem—exile for thousands of our ancestors, obliged to disperse themselves
around the world. And the Stone must have traveled with one of those rabbis. As for its tie to Casadevall, I know nothing more than what your report says. In fact, there has been no news of the Stone of God since the first destruction of the temple, two thousand five hundred years ago! Do you see it now? Two thousand five hundred years! That’s why I was so insistent at the beginning of our chat today; how strange it was to get information from your hands on a subject as peculiar as this one. And that’s why I believe that God’s destiny for me has given one final gift before my time comes. It’s a sign, a heavenly sign, as clear as the storm now raging around us. My time is ending. I’ve been dodging death for years, but now I know I’m close.’”

  “He was right. That’s an astounding story,” Bety finally said.

  “Yes, he was right,” Manolo agreed. “The way the past can regenerate itself, project itself into the future, is incredible. For Shackermann, the surprise was even greater than it might be to you or me. He was professionally and culturally bound to the Stone of God. Knowing that it definitely existed, since that’s the conclusion we drew, was a high point of a life that was nearing its end.”

  “What happened to Shackermann?”

  “He died three years ago. He was very old, and he didn’t make it through one particularly nasty winter. We stayed in touch until he died, each always waiting for the other to discover something that could lead us to the Stone. Sad to say, but your arrival here has come too late.”

  “You say he was an internationally renowned academic. Did he try to gain access to the Inquisition’s report?”

  “His prestige in the realm of Hebraic culture was unquestionable. There, he could get anything he wanted. But his influence didn’t extend to the Vatican. He tried, but was denied permission to see the documents.”

  “This is all so fascinating.”

  “More than you can imagine.”

  “What do you mean?” Bety asked, anxious to know more.

  “The history of the Stone of God doesn’t end there.” Manolo relished in a long pause. “There’s still much more.”

  “Tell me!” begged Bety, unable to mask her thirst for more.

  “The Stone of God is a mystical object with magical properties.”

  Bety smiled openly, not disguising her skepticism. True, everything about the Stone was fascinating, but making it into something magical was too much for her rationalism.

  “I can see in your face that you don’t believe me.”

  “I didn’t mean to offend you,” Bety quickly rectified.

  “You haven’t. My face must not have been too different from yours when Shackermann told me about the Stone’s properties. Just imagine! This erudite scholar, the leading authority on the most ancient traditions of Judaic culture believing in something like that—hook, line, and sinker! But he did believe it.” Manolo’s face took on a grave expression as he raised and clenched his fists for emphasis. “Listen: he believed! He truly believed in the properties of the Stone! According to him, the kabbalists could extract the power of the sephirot and use it for their own purposes; they could be positive or negative. He told me that, just by being kabbalists, they were capable of doing magic. If they had the Stone, their powers would reach unprecedented heights.”

  “You do understand that this is hard for me to believe.”

  “Of course! On the contrary! How could anyone believe this nonsense? But listen, and listen closely: he did believe. Do you see? Shackermann really believed it!” Manolo insisted. “Do you realize what that means?”

  “I think I do,” Bety said, after pausing to think a few seconds. “You mean that, aside from the possible and debatable magical properties of the Stone, there are people like Shackermann who really believe in it, and that means—”

  “That’s it!” Manolo anticipated Bety’s utterance of the conclusion. “The Stone is a coveted object. Not by many, because I don’t think that many know of its existence. Shackermann didn’t say, but it seemed like information restricted to a very specific, limited group of scholars: experts in tradition like him, kabbalists—people like that. But for those few who do know what it is, it is, without a doubt, an object that is truly priceless.” He pronounced the last word slowly, hanging on each syllable. “The fact that it could be an emerald the size of your fist is beside the point. If Shackermann gave me the privilege of telling me about the Stone, it wasn’t just to sate the curiosity of a young philologist, but to know for a fact that when I continued with the investigation, I would inform him of any discoveries I made. He used me, like I did him. That man wanted the Stone. I don’t mean he would have sold his soul for it, because he was a religious, God-fearing man. But he did want it, with all the force of his reasoning. In his entire life, no one had ever tantalized him like I did.”

  “So when you got back to Spain, you kept investigating.”

  “Sporadically. My regular work took up a lot of time. I spent what would have been my vacation time on it, between projects. I studied a lot of Jewish mysticism in depth, in books like the Babylonian or Palestinian Talmuds, the aegis of Maraba, others such as Yetzirah, Bahir, Shoshan Edouth, Sefer ha-Rimon, and especially Sefer ha-Zohar, but it did nothing to help, other than to increase my already enormous and useless cultural baggage. I wrote down everything I found that I considered relevant in a field notes book. Then, I homed in on the only clue within reach: Casadevall. I gathered information on him from all the historic archives from that period, until I had drawn up a rough biography of his time in this world, but I didn’t reach any useful conclusions. He lived a normal life, devoted to his work. He occasionally traveled around Europe, to the most prominent works of the day, especially Narbonne, which was completely normal among architects of that century. Now you tell me: What do you know about Casadevall?”

  “Not much. He was a magister principalis operis ecclesiae who worked at the end of the fifteenth century on the works of the cathedral under the orders of other architects—”

  “Like Jaumé Solà or Arnau Bargués,” interrupted Manolo, unable to contain himself. “What else?”

  “Not that much. He didn’t work as one of the main architects, but rather for them in administrative matters and supervision of the works.”

  “Good. Casadevall held onto his post while other master builders came and went over thirty-six years. He hardly worked outside Barcelona, except for a time that he spent in Narbonne, which has a cathedral coeval with ours, with a similar construction style. Thirty-six years, a long time back then. Like many in his profession, he split his efforts between religious and civil building projects. Several specific parts of the cathedral are his, along with a number of civil buildings that no longer stand. His legacy is small, especially considering that his capacity, judging from what little has been conserved, was superior to that of many of his contemporaries. Do you know his work?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “In the books of works of the cathedral archive, he is listed as responsible for the works on the original choir, the elevation of the cloister, and the seal of the fourth vault. The vault is a complex but mundane work, just another piece of the overall design of the project and it’s not important for what I’m going to tell you now. But after it was erected in 1384, it required a seal in 1410, which Casadevall undertook.”

  “So, in short: Casadevall was just another man in the history of cathedrals, an obscure figure, without much significance, if any.”

  “An obscure figure? Do you really think so? He may have been; thirty-six years in the background, at the orders of different master builders, and never stepping into the limelight do hint at that. But an obscure man is not one who causes the death of another two hundred years later. Casadevall did or knew something special, something different, that triggered the rage, and judging from the measures taken, even the fear, of the most powerful body of repression that had ever existed.”

  “He wasn’t just another architect then,” Bety conceded.

  “No, no he wasn’t,
” Manolo confirmed. “He was only what he wanted to be, that’s my conclusion. Had he wanted it, the title of magister principalis would have gone to him, if only because of his seniority. He kept a low profile because he wanted to, until the day of his death.”

  “His death,” repeated Bety, in something of a daze.

  “You know what happened,” Manolo stated.

  “Yes. One morning in June, he was found dead on a cathedral pew. The years always take their toll, and the living conditions back then were terrible. For a man of his day, he lived many years, and died in the place to which he devoted all his life’s efforts. A curious end for a mysterious man.”

  “A beautiful death. Anyone would wish to die where they had spent so many years.”

  “That’s your opinion, like any other. To me, he lived, got old, and true to the absurdity of our existence, he finally died, as we all will one day.”