‘Nonsense, old man! It will be a fine dinner, you are my guest and therefore welcome. Walk with us and tell us your thoughts. Come, what do you think of the abbey? Is it filled with the ghosts of dead monks, then?’ my master said, laughing a little because he thought lightly about such things, but I shuddered as we entered the dark and solemn cloister.
‘By the God of Israel you are impertinent!’ Eisik scowled and pointed his finger at my master. ‘We must not laugh before mysterious and holy things! We must have reverence!’
‘I beg your pardon, Eisik,’ my master said, ‘but you have not answered my question. Tell me, what are your impressions of the abbey?’
‘That you should ask me such a question is beyond my understanding!’ He shrugged his shoulders, ‘Have I not trained you to see the signs? They will have eyes to see but will not see, ears to hear but will not listen . . . It seems you have forgotten what I have told you, namely, that everything is an outward and visible suggestion of an inward and spiritual being.’ He sighed. ‘Well, well, it seems an old man must repeat himself ad infinitum or else leave men to their ignorance . . . There are signs! Signs that point to signs whose indications allude to other signs, sometimes tangible, other times indiscernible, though always, to an initiate, very clear; that is to one who cares to listen. For one who is able to decipher the meaning of meaningful things, the voice of the spirit is crystalline.’ He paused then, stopping us with his hands and cocking his head to one side. ‘Ahh! You see! Everything speaks!’ he affirmed with a shake of his head.
‘Come, it is you who must speak, but not in riddles,’ My master said.
‘Bah! Knowledge lies not in the person who speaks but rather in the person who listens . . . or was that eloquence? I cannot remember now . . . In any event, this will be the first day that a Nazarene admits to needing Jewish knowledge! As I have said, the signs are all here. The abbey faces east, accessed through a forest, like the mystery temple at Ephesus where the image of the Goddess Artemisia also faced east. Behind it the mountains, ahead of it the valley, the sages tell us that the orientals consider this alignment quite favourable,’ then he smiled. ‘And also strategically it is very wisely constructed, my friend. To attack such a place would be difficult.’
‘Then you are saying it reminds you of the Cathar strongholds?’
The old man nodded. ‘I sense a Gnostic temple where the four ethers are concentrated and fused, linking the past with the present and future. Then too, one cannot discount the position of the planet Mercury at our arrival, nor the portal and the raven as a messenger that spoke three times indicating the three Templa or sacred places dedicated to God, and so it scarcely goes without saying, my friend, that there are Templars here. You know it as I do, I feel their presence . . . after all, the abbot greeted you with the greeting didn’t he?’ He slapped two hands together happily. ‘Soon you will see that I am right!’
‘I take your point,’ my master conceded, ‘and yet I must say that it is remarkable that a Jew should know the greeting, considering it is only used by those admitted into the order. Perhaps you would like to enlighten us?’
Eisik lowered his eyes cautiously, ‘I know many things, Andre, and yet I know nothing! Nor do I wish to know anything as it happens for it is blissful to live in the divine numbness of ignorance . . .’ then he graced me with a rare smile, ‘but knowing nothing is also something.’
‘Not according to Plato,’ answered Andre. ‘Tell me then, what does your knowing without knowing say to you about the inquisitor?’
‘For one, his hair is frizzy, which means he has a choleric temper. Secondly he is balding . . .’
‘But he is tonsured,’ my master pointed out.
‘Even so, he balds and we are told that such men are crafty, avaricious, hypocritical and make a pretence of religion. But his eyes . . . his pale eyes indicate to us that he is touched with madness . . .’
‘You may call me an unbeliever, dear friend, but in this case I do believe you.’
At this point we arrived at the dimly-lit south walk that led to the great doors and I was struck by the devil of curiosity, no longer able to refrain from asking more about the note.
‘Note?’ Eisik’s faculties were immediately aroused. ‘What note?’
My master explained about the parchment with the strange Greek message, and Eisik shook his head before exclaiming.
‘You see! Gnostic, as I have told you! And worse still, a warning . . . a peculiar thing, for one knows not if it warns against a possible tragedy or a probable one!’