Matilda raised her head as the Master removed the Libro Rosso. It was an enormous volume, bound in the deepest red leather, which was visible on the heavy spine. The front cover of the book was overlaid in gold and set with five large jewels that formed an X shape, rather than a cross. The Master brought the book to his lips and kissed the central jewel, a ruby that glowed in the candlelight.
“The Word of the Lord. For those with ears to hear.”
He held the book out to Isobel, who kissed it accordingly and repeated, “The Word of the Lord” before holding it down to a very solemn and wide-eyed Matilda. She imitated Isobel’s actions perfectly.
They followed the Master as he carried the Libro Rosso and placed it on a table in front of the altar. He smiled at Matilda. “You may touch it, child.”
Hesitantly, her little fingers reached out to run lightly along the gilded cover. She jumped as if burned, letting out a little squeal, which caused the Master and Isobel to exchange glances. But when she returned her fingertips to the book a second time, she did not jump.
“Behold, the Libro Rosso. This is the most sacred book of our people, for, among other things, it contains the words written by the savior of the world. Within these pages, Matilda, is the complete gospel as written by Jesus Christ, the good news known to us as the Book of Love. This is the holy copy that was made by the apostle Philip in the presence of the original and given to Nicodemus to be preserved in the Volto Santo. It contains within it the seal of Maria Magdalena to indicate her approval of the copy. You will have seen this pattern before. It is used on the most secret documents of the order and worn by our highest initiates.”
The Master opened the book with great care and turned a weathered but heavy page with gentle fingers. On the bottom of the second page was a Greek signature:
Magdalen.
Beneath the signature was an emblem that Matilda had indeed seen before. It was the pattern on Isobel’s copper ring, the disk-shaped one that got caught in Matilda’s hair sometimes when Issy was braiding it. It was a pattern of nine circles dancing around a central sphere. It was an image of heaven, worn by the Order as a reminder that they were never separate from God. On earth as it is in heaven. Matilda had not known that this symbol was the seal of Maria Magdalena. It was one of the secrets of the Order.
“You too shall have a ring with this, the Magdalena’s seal, when you come of age into the mysteries,” Isobel whispered to her. Matilda squirmed with the excitement of it, stopping as the Master continued.
“As you grow, you will be instructed directly from the teachings in the Book of Love. You will also be instructed in the prophecies of Sarah-Tamar. You will memorize them and you will learn to interpret them. Some of these are specific to your birth and you must understand them fully.
“Finally, you will study the histories that are contained within the Libro Rosso. These are the hidden Acts of the Apostles, the stories of disciples who sacrificed everything for the true teachings of the Way of Love. We do this in emulation of the book written by one of our founders, the most blessed Saint Luke. It is in honoring the memory and sacrifice of our martyrs that we honor God while praying for a time when these teachings will be welcomed in peace by all people and there will be no more martyrs.
“This is your first lesson, Matilda. Understanding of the three segments of the Libro Rosso: first among these is the text of the Book of Love, which is the one true word; second are the collected prophecies of Sarah-Tamar, which are sacred to the future; and the third are Acts of the Apostles, which have been accumulated by our people since the earliest days of Christianity. For tonight, this is all that you need to know.”
Matilda was thriving under the tutelage of the Master. But as much as she loved the lessons, her favorite thing of all was the wondrous labyrinth that was laid out in stone in the expansive garden of the Order. She had squealed with absolute delight when she saw it for the first time. Although she had seen drawings of the labyrinth and a small version was carved on her doll, Ariadne, to see one built into the ground of such enormous size—as many as twenty adults could walk its pathways at one time—was quite an amazing thing!
The Master had walked her through it the very first time, holding her hand as he guided her along the winding pathways that led to the center.
“There is only one way in, Matilda. Although the pathways make many turns, if you stay true to your path, you will never get lost. This is the first lesson of the labyrinth. Walk with purpose toward the center, for you know that God awaits you there. And even when the winding paths feel as if they are taking you far away from the center, you must always have faith that the path will take you back again. This is like life. It is this faith that will bring you to your destination of finding God every time and without fail.
“Most of what I will teach you about the labyrinth is really very simple. For the truth is always simple, Matilda.”
He walked with her in silence for a few moments before continuing the lesson.
“Now, child, sometimes the Lord speaks to our slumbering souls in different ways. In dreams, for example. That is one way. I know that you sometimes have dreams that you do not yet understand. This is God’s way of speaking to us, because our minds are open when we sleep and we can allow his messages to come through to us without interference. Another way that God speaks to us is through numbers. Numbers are a language unto themselves, with deep layers of meaning that most humans do not allow themselves to grasp. But the construction of this labyrinth is based on very specific numbers. There are eleven cycles that lead to the center, and eleven cycles that lead out of it. In the sacred language of numbers that came out of the Holy Land in the time of the wise King Solomon, eleven represented the path of initiation. When you add those cycles together, they become twenty-two. Twenty-two is the master number, the number of the completion of the initiation. This labyrinth that we are walking was created by Solomon himself, in partnership with his beloved, the Queen of Sheba. I know there is much for you to grasp and I do not expect you to hold it all in your mind or your heart at this time. Just allow yourself to listen as your feet follow the path of the labyrinth.”
Matilda was listening and trying to understand, but there was a rhythm in her feet as she walked this sacred path that she could not deny. She was restraining herself and attempting to walk very solemnly, and yet she wanted nothing more than to dance and run through this magical maze where no one ever got lost and everyone found God at the center. There was joy in the labyrinth, and a type of freedom. Even at the tender age of six, Matilda was very much aware that the labyrinth was a special spiritual place. It filled her with light and love and the joy of learning in such a rarified environment. Eventually, she could no longer contain herself and she finished the circuit at a run. Upon reaching the center, she danced under the golden sunlight of her beloved Tuscany.
Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth!
Your love is more delightful than wine.
Delicate is the fragrance of your perfume.
Your name is an oil poured out
And that is why the maidens love you.
Draw me in your footsteps, let us run.
The King has brought me into his chamber.
You will be our joy and our gladness.
We shall praise your love above wine.
How right it is to love you.
THE SONG OF SONGS, 1:2–4
This, the first verse of the most sacred song of love, was inspired by the divine coming together of the great King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba. For as they were locked in the sacred union of beloveds in the light of trust and consciousness, they discovered that their greatest loves, through each other, were for God and for the World that God loves so.
You will be our joy and our gladness.
We shall praise you above wine.
How right it is to love you.
These words are praise for the Lord from the beloveds, as they have found God in the bridal chamber. Thro
ugh the sacred union of their love, they have come to a full understanding of the blessings of life that God has granted us to express in our bodies of flesh.
All love is God and God is all love.
When we are united with our beloved, we are living that love expressed and God is truly present in the bridal chamber.
The song begins with a kiss, for this is the most sacred form of expression between the beloveds. In our holiest tradition that comes from Solomon and Sheba, the word is nashakh, and it means more than simply to kiss; it means to breathe in harmony in a way that combines the spirits of two into one, to share the same breath, to blend the life forces in a single coming together.
It is with the harmonious breath of the kiss that we are fertilized to become anthropos, which is to say fully realized humans. Through the kiss we are born again. We give birth to each other, through the sharing of the love that is within us, blending God with the self.
Through the sanctity of the kiss, two souls come together to merge as one. It is the prelude to the sacred union of beloveds.
For those with ears to hear, let them hear it.
THE SONG OF SOLOMON AND SHEBA,
FROM THE BOOK OF LOVE, AS PRESERVED IN THE LIBRO ROSSO
Lucca
1052
“SHE IS PERFECT. Everything you said she was. I have absolute faith that she will lead us into a new era of the Way. There is no doubt that she is The Expected One. My uncle will agree when he hears all that has transpired. The time returns, Isobel. Just as we always knew it must in our lifetime.”
Anselmo had listened carefully to Isobel as she recounted the most recent, miraculous events of Matilda’s young life. Now he had a more complete picture of why the girl had given her gold to him. The Volto Santo had spoken to her in San Martino’s. It was a beautiful omen.
Isobel smiled at him, her deep dimples showing in a most fetching way. He returned the expression, adding, “We are all so proud of the work you have done with her. But no one more than I, my love.”
Anselmo moved to close the space that had separated them. The door was closed and there was little enough chance that they would be disturbed at this time of night. Besides, they were within the territory of the Order, a place that held the sacred union of beloveds to be the highest sacrament. It was a most important part of their teaching and it was emphasized in the Book of Love and therefore took precedence over any laws created by men. Within these walls, the vows he had taken for public scrutiny at the behest of his uncle the bishop, so that he might one day inherit a Church position of high rank, could be placed aside. Here he could be himself and celebrate the love that brought infinite joy to his soul, the love that God gave to all mankind as his greatest gift, so that they might find divinity within each other.
Isobel came to him then, slipping into the warmth of Anselmo’s welcoming embrace, the touch she had missed so much since taking her position as Matilda’s nurse. The two of them had been together since they were children in Lucca, and their love for each other was surpassed only by their love for the Order and the teachings of the Master, the teachings of the Libro Rosso, which they were both sworn to preserve.
She whispered the first lines of the sacred song, inflecting it with the softest sensuality as her lips approached his.
“Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth. Your love is more delightful than wine.”
He should have whispered the reply, but he was already too lost in her to speak. They joined together through the slow, sweet sanctity of their kiss, blending souls in the prelude to blending bodies.
The sacred union of beloveds would assuredly find its most passionate expression on this night.
It had been far too long in the waiting.
Matilda was screaming.
Isobel ran down the short hallway where she had been asleep on a novice’s pallet. Matilda had stayed awake very late, working in the chapel with the Master, who had decided she should spend the night here in the simplicity of the Order’s dormitory. Isobel’s first thought was that the child had awakened in a room that she did not recognize. She chided herself for leaving the girl alone. She should have stayed with Matilda herself but had rationalized fairly that the child had been so tired, it seemed entirely unlikely she would awaken before sunrise.
Matilda was sitting straight up in her little bed, sobbing now.
“What is it, ma petite?” Isobel wrapped her arms around the girl and rocked her gently as she cried, until her sobs began to calm in the warmth and safety of her surrogate mother’s embrace.
“Papa.” Matilda tried to get the words out through her hiccups, but she was still crying too hard.
“Were you dreaming?”
She nodded. “Papa. Something terrible happened to Papa in the dream, Issy. God is angry with him.”
“Nonsense. God is loving and just; he is not an angry and vengeful God. He would not hurt your papa.”
“Fra Gilbert says that God punishes the unrighteous, and he says that Papa is unrighteous.”
“Matilda, I am surprised at you. You have just spent an evening in the presence of our most sacred treasure, which is called the Book of Love for a reason. It is a celebration of God’s love for his children.”
Isobel was usually quite careful to respect the beliefs of orthodox Catholics, but at times they truly tried her patience—particularly when she had to undo the damage that preaching did to her precious child. Besides, it was late, she was tired, and she made no personal claims to sainthood. She snapped, “Fra Gilbert is a harsh man who knows little enough about the nature of God, or about your father or, I dare say, about love.”
Matilda giggled in spite of herself. Isobel embodied the Way of Love very nearly all the time. As such, she was rarely angry; thus it was interesting to behold her when she was.
“But Issy, my father does not want to give money to build a church for the Holy Face.”
Isobel nodded. “Your father is generous in his own way, Matilda. I know it is hard for you to understand, but there are a lot of adult reasons why he cannot give money to the building of a church at the moment.” Isobel did not want to explain to a six-year-old that Bonifacio was well aware that any funding he provided to expand San Martino would likely go first into a number of clerical coffers that were not of his choosing and would have nothing to do with erecting a new church. But in her childish innocence, all Matilda could see was her father’s refusal to help her Lord.
“In my dream, God was angry that Papa wouldn’t build a new church and…something terrible happened. I need to see Papa. I need to tell him we will build a new church and then God will not be angry.”
Isobel sighed. There would be no reasoning with her like this, not when she was still in the emotional throes of the nightmare. And Isobel was secretly concerned. Matilda’s dreams had turned out to be prophetic more than once, which was to be expected given the circumstances of her birth. She kissed Matilda on the forehead for reassurance and prayed silently that this dream was simply the manifestation of a little girl’s fear, and not a prophecy.
“Your father left this evening to go on his hunting expedition. But I promise you, as soon as he returns, we will discuss the rebuilding of San Martino with him. Will that do?”
Matilda nodded, then snuggled back into her bed, exhausted now by the whole ordeal.
“Stay with me, Issy,” she commanded.
“Of course I will, my sweet,” Isobel reassured her, and she sang the child softly back to sleep with the song that always calmed her down, the one in French, about eternal love.
The news came first to Mantua, where Matilda’s mother, Beatrice of Lorraine, had stayed behind to run the household. The castle was thrown into immediate chaos, and the lady Beatrice had to be attended by a team of physicians after she collapsed in a hysterical heap. This was too much. God had taken far more from her than any woman should endure in one lifetime. Why would he punish her so? Fra Gilbert was surely correct. God took his vengeance on the unrighteo
us.
“Where is Matilda?” she shrieked through her tears. “Bring my daughter to me!”
Beatrice was reminded that Matilda was still in Lucca, but a retinue would be sent immediately, along with a double guard of heavy horse, to return her to her childhood home in Mantua. She must be home for the funeral.
As impossible as it seemed, the great Bonifacio, Count of Canossa, Marchese of Mantua, and Grand Duke of Tuscany, was dead. He had been killed suspiciously by a stray arrow that struck him squarely in the throat during his hunting expedition, the morning after Matilda’s prophetic dream.
The time returns.
Many are called.
Those chosen take their vows.
They promise to God,
They promise to each other
that the Love never dies.
The prophets come again.
They must, because the truth is eternal
Just as the Love is eternal.
That all men and women of good heart
Will know and live the truth
And become fully realized beings
While here in their bodies
On earth as it is in heaven.
This is why
The time returns.
For those with ears to hear, let them hear it.
FROM THE PROPHECIES OF SARAH-TAMAR, AS PRESERVED IN THE LIBRO ROSSO
CHAPTER SIX
Rome
present day
“Wow.”
Maureen’s legs were tucked underneath her as she sat on the bed, staring out the window at the Pantheon. It was full dark now, and the floodlights had come on, illuminating the magnificent monument to its grandest expression. Her single word of exclamation was in appreciation both of the ancient sight before her and of the story that Peter had just related.