Following the sacrifice of our Lord on the Black Day of the Skull, the honorable Joseph of Arimathea, along with the most blessed Nicodemus and Luke, collected all the items that were instrumental in his destiny. The beams of the cross, the nails, the thorns, and the titular written by Pontius Pilate were removed to the property of Nicodemus, where they were kept in hiding by the Order of the Holy Sepulcher in a subterranean chamber. Following the resurrection, the holy shroud that once wrapped the body of our Lord was also taken by the Order to this protected place. The chamber was sealed by enormous boulders that required the strength of many men to remove them. These most sacred relics were highly protected, as their power was deemed too great and intense for the average man or woman to gain exposure to them.
Most sacred of all were the beams of the True Cross, for the wood carried the entire history of our people within it. It represented the spirit of Asherah entrapped and downtrodden, and it symbolized the persecution of all who would restore her, and the truth, in the form of our Lord who came to show us the Way of Love, which is the Way of El and Asherah.
Access to the relics was granted only to the closest members of the Order, the family, and the original followers once a year, on the commemoration of our Lord’s sacrifice, which is the Holy Friday, through to the day of his resurrection. The relics were carefully concealed at all other times.
When the blessed Saint Luke came to Italy, he presented a detailed map to the brothers of the Order of the Holy Sepulcher in Calabria, a guide to the exact location of the relics. As there was great unrest in Jerusalem, Luke was afraid that the relics would be endangered, or perhaps forgotten by future generations if the surviving members of the Order were forced from their homeland. And as it happened, the wicked Titus destroyed the Temple in Jerusalem and attempted to eliminate both the Jews and the earliest Christians in the year 70, and the relics were abandoned as the people fled for their lives or died fighting.
Two and a half centuries later, the map created by Saint Luke was entrusted to the mother of the emperor Constantine as a gift for her generosity and protection of the Order. Santa Helena enlisted a noble group of warriors and converts to take an unprecedented journey to the Holy Land on an expedition to find the treasures of our people. Utilizing the map drawn by Luke, the members of Helena’s troop were able to identify the cavern that held the treasure by the large letter X that was carved on the exterior. X has since been used to mark the location of the treasure that comes with enlightenment. In addition to the relics of the Passion, the crèche that once held both the Lord and his holy daughter in their sleep as infants was also recovered from the cavern.
These sanctified relics of our Lord Jesus Christ were carried back to Rome and preserved by the great lady. However, in honor of those who protected them, splinters of the True Cross were given to the leaders of the Order of the Holy Sepulcher in Calabria, Rome, and Lucca. These are the most holy and potent items in the history of mankind. As such, the relics of the True Cross were divided into tiny splinters in order to share their sanctity with the many families in Italy who preserved the true teachings of the Way. These fragments contain the wisdom of Asherah, the breath of Adam, the tears of Sheba, and the blood of our Lord.
While the nonbelievers may scoff at the validity of such relics, anyone who has had the joy of holding even the smallest piece of the True Cross will never forget the holy experience. The healing powers are miraculous and should only be placed in the hands of the worthy.
For those with ears to hear, let them hear it.
THE LEGEND OF THE TRUE CROSS, PART TWO,
AS PRESERVED IN THE LIBRO ROSSO
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Vatican City
present day
Peter stopped working as he was interrupted by Maggie Cusack. A courier had delivered a package for Father Healy, telling her it was urgent that he open it right away. Maggie placed the parcel, wrapped in plain brown paper, on his desk. She left the room shaking her head. The return address on the package was blank, except for one word scrawled in the upper left corner: DESTINO.
Peter opened his own package, unaware as he did so that Maureen and Bérenger were experiencing their own version of Christmas across the Tiber. Peter’s box contained a small statue of a madonna and child, carved out of a very dark wood. This madonna, while somewhat rustic, was enthroned, crowned, and commanding. In her right hand she held the globe of earthly dominion. The infant was delivering the sign of the benediction confidently from his mother’s lap. The front of the base of the statuette was inscribed “Notre Dame de Montserrat”; the back of the base was carved with a Latin motto, Nigra sum sed formosa.
Peter recognized the Latin. It was a much-debated line spoken by the bride in the Song of Songs: “I am black but beautiful.” It was significant in what was known as Black Madonna worship throughout Europe.
He opened the enclosed card to see what further clues awaited him. It contained a single line.
WHY DID YOU BECOME A JESUIT?
He considered the question for a moment. It did not ask, Why did you become a priest? It asked, more specifically, Why did you become a Jesuit? And this madonna was also specific. It was the madonna of Montserrat, the mystical monastery high in the mountains north of Barcelona. Peter had been there on several occasions. Like many of his brothers before him, he had taken the funicular, rather like a large version of a ski lift, up the steep rise to the monastery. This was sacred ground for members of the Society of Jesus, who were better known as the Jesuit order. Sacred for many reasons, but chief among them was that their founder, Ignatius Loyola, had discovered his faith in this very monastery and in the presence of this very same Black Madonna.
I am black but I am comely, O daughters of Jerusalem.
So sings the Shulamite woman in the Song of Songs. For she is the springtime bride, the representative of Asherah’s grace in human form. She shares with the women of Jerusalem her secrets and welcomes them into her fold. Those who enter become priestesses in the Nazarene tradition, which is to say the hidden tradition. They become known by the sacred name of Mary. The leader amongst these women, the one who is perfected in her wisdom and grace, is the tower of the flock. One woman alone shall be given this title of the Magdalene, whilst all the other Marys shall serve at her side.
Black is the color of her wisdom, as it has been obscured and hidden behind the veil, made completely unavailable to the uninitiated.
A garden enclosed is my sister, my spouse;
a spring shut up, a fountain sealed.
My beloved is the Black Madonna, the hidden lady. Yet she hath chosen the better part, she is the embodiment of compassion on earth, she is the Comforter. My bride is trapped in the enclosed garden, her wellspring of wisdom dammed and sealed by the closed minds of men who have turned their hearts away from the Holy Spirit, the Sacred Dove. It is not until she is released that there will be peace on earth.
This is the apocalypsia that is approaching, which means most literally the unveiling of the Bride. To save ourselves, we must understand the true interpretation of the apocalypsia. And we must welcome it.
The veil must be lifted, and the face of the Bride revealed. For She is Asherah, the beloved of El, as she returns through time in all her guises, to unite with her Bridegroom. She is Sheba, she is Maria Magdalena, and she is all women who would stand for the harmony that comes with reunion: male and female, on earth as it is in heaven.
O my dove that art in the clefts of the rock
hidden in the secret places of the mountains,
Let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice
for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is lovely.
It is the charge of all men who would serve the Lord God with all their hearts and all their minds and all their souls to lift this veil. It is upon us to allow the Bride to show her lovely countenance and let her voice, which is a melody of union, be heard. We must awaken while in this body for everything exists in it. We must allow
the Bride to open to us, to receive us, and to share her perfected wisdom through our reunion.
I was asleep, but my heart was awake.
It heard the voice of my beloved, who knocked.
Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my perfect one!
The Song of Songs, our gift from Solomon and his beloved Sheba, is the salvation of mankind. It contains within it the joyous reunion of our Father and Mother in heaven, through their cherished children on earth. It contains within it the ultimate seeds of wisdom and love.
My beloved is mine, and I am hers.
She hath chosen the better part
And no one shall take it from her.
THE SONG OF SOLOMON AND SHEBA,
FROM THE BOOK OF LOVE,
AS PRESERVED IN THE LIBRO ROSSO
Rome
present day
IT WAS well after midnight, and the Piazza della Rotonda was quiet. The vendors had packed up their wares an hour or so earlier, and the tourists were back in their hotel rooms. From time to time, a few younger couples strayed through the plaza on their way from a late meal, but overall it was quiet save for the eternal gurgling of the central fountain. It was here that Maureen and Bérenger sat, alone now in the moonlight. They were settled on the stone steps, backs to the obelisk and facing the majesty of the Pantheon. Bérenger made his explanation softly and reverentially.
“What is the one thing we have all learned in following this magical path, with the Magdalene as our guide? She has taught us so many things, but for me nothing is as important as the lessons about balance and harmony. And I believe that is what he was showing us too, wasn’t it?”
Maureen nodded but said nothing, not wanting to interrupt him.
“Think about this for a moment. There is a prophecy that is left to us from Sarah-Tamar, who is the perfected child of two perfect prophets. You know this prophecy intimately, as it has shaped your life. It is the prophecy of women who will come at various intervals and perform important spiritual functions in order to ensure that the truth of our people does not die. It is the legend of The Expected One, but it also incorporates the philosophy of the time returns, doesn’t it? Now, remembering what we know of harmony and union and balance, let me ask you something. If there is a prophecy about a woman who must come and restore harmony, what must exist to counterbalance that?”
Maureen didn’t have to think about it. She had already come to this conclusion while they were still in the room. She just wanted to hear it from his own lips, with his explanation. She replied, “A prophecy about a man who will do the same thing, who will complement her own work.”
He smiled at her, not at all surprised that she was already there with him. “Yes,” he replied quietly. “It is called the prophecy of the Poet Prince, and it also comes from our little Sarah-Tamar.”
“Will you recite it for me?”
He nodded, took a breath, and gave it a poetic recitation, allowing the Scottish burr of his accent to roll over the words of the prophecy. It made Maureen’s spine tingle.
The Son of Man shall choose
when the time returns for the Poet Prince.
He who is a spirit of earth and water born
within the complex realm of the sea goat
and the bloodline of the blessed.
He who will submerge the influence of Mars
And exalt the influence of Venus
To embody grace over aggression.
He will inspire the hearts and minds of the people
So as to illuminate the path of service
And show them the Way.
This is his legacy,
This, and to know a very great love.
He looked at Maureen pointedly as he completed the final line of the prophecy, and they said the closing, which had become so familiar to them of late, in unison.
“For those with ears to hear, let them hear it.”
They sat in the silence of it for a moment before Maureen asked, “The realm of the sea goat?”
“Capricorn,” Bérenger explained. “Those who know little about astrology think of Capricorn as just a standard farm goat, but it is, in fact, a mythical creature. A sea goat is a spirit of both the earth and the water.”
“Like the male version of a mermaid? Which is one of Asherah’s symbols, and later the symbol of the bloodline?”
“Right. And the prophecy is specific about other astrological elements as well. A predominance of planets in earth signs and water signs. And submerging the influence of Mars is believed to refer to that planet in a water sign, specifically Pisces. So you see, like The Expected One, the Poet Prince has to fulfill certain qualifications of birth and blood.”
Maureen was taking it all in, awestruck by the impact of this revelation. Her reply was just above a whisper. “All of which you have.”
“Yes.”
“And I am assuming, that like The Expected One, you have a number of historical brothers who have fulfilled this prophecy? Destino’s note said that your True Cross relic was once owned by the greatest Poet Prince.”
“Yes, and I am trying to figure out which one he is referring to. I’m guessing it refers to René d’Anjou, as he was the king of Naples and Jerusalem, and the count of Provence. History refers to him as Good King René as he was the quintessential fairy-tale prince, and also Joan of Arc’s mentor and benefactor. And he was the father of Marguerite d’Anjou, who was also an Expected One, and a very powerful woman in history. His baby Marguerite grows to become the queen of England and the champion of the Lancaster faction in the War of the Roses.”
“Really? You mean there were two women at one time who fulfilled The Expected One prophecy, Joan and Marguerite? Good King René must have had his hands full.”
Bérenger laughed. “Quite. The other aspect I have observed is that each of the men who fulfilled the Poet Prince prophecy were surrounded by very headstrong—but also highly inspirational—women, women who changed their thinking and their lives while shaping their destinies.”
“So…are The Expected One and the Poet Prince always alive at the same time?”
“From all the examples that I know of, that seems to be the case. But they have different relationships. Sometimes they are father and daughter, sometimes brother and sister, other times not connected by family, but there is a mentor relationship. Of course, the most legendary tend to be the lovers, but it is not the only blueprint. I think it is God’s way of showing us the many guises that divine love can take. They are from the same family of spirit.”
“Whatever is necessary to get the work done, I think. Keeping the promise?”
“Yes. And in the fifteenth century, there was certainly much to get done. It was a very powerful period of history, truly an era that embodied the concept of the time returns. God was taking no chances in the fourteen hundreds, it seems.”
“Who was the other Poet Prince at that time?”
“Lorenzo de Medici, the godfather of the Renaissance.”
Maureen considered this. “Was he one of us? Really? I never would have guessed.”
“I believe he had to be, if he inspired men like Sandro Botticelli and Michelangelo. But I confess I know far more about the French side of the family. Perhaps this Destino will fill us in as it appears we are going to meet him—or someone—on the summer solistice.”
They had discussed this earlier with Peter, and all three had agreed that they would travel together to Chartres, and meet Roland and Tammy there as well. If all of them were together, the chances of anything unsettling happening were lessened. There was safety in numbers. It wasn’t lost on Bérenger Sinclair that “Destino” was emulating his own actions. Two years earlier Bérenger had enticed Maureen to meet him in precisely the same way, requesting her presence at a church in Paris on the summer solstice. Clearly, Destino, whoever he was, was well versed in their history together. It was as intriguing as it was disconcerting.
Maureen remained focused on the revelation of the latest pr
ophecy. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Because I was waiting for the timing to be right. But obviously Destino made that determination for me, forcing my hand. Yet I’m glad he did; I’m relieved that you know now. I don’t feel like I’m hiding anything from you anymore.”
Maureen swallowed hard, but the words she was going to speak would not come out. Her eyes filled with tears, glittering emeralds in the moonlight that reflected off the marbled Pantheon.
He took both her hands in his, gently stroking them with his thumbs as he spoke. “And so, my dear Expected One…I just want you to know that I understand all that you are, and all that you’ve been through. As I too know what it’s like to live in the shadow cast by such a potent prophecy.”
“How long have you known about the Poet Prince?”
“All my life. I was the golden child as a result, you know. My grandfather’s prized possession. That’s why I spent so much time in France growing up, while my siblings stayed in Scotland. Old Alistair watched me closely until the day he died, to see what I would accomplish, if I would fulfill his prophecy.”
“He must have been very proud of you.”
Bérenger shrugged. “I don’t know that he was. I didn’t really accomplish anything while he was alive. Even today, I still need to determine exactly what it is that is expected of me. Finding you…well, it was the first time I ever really felt like I might actually have the ability to fulfill my destiny.” He stopped for a moment to catch his breath as he was unexpectedly overwhelmed by the flood of the past years’ disappointments and desires. He composed himself quickly and continued.
“Maureen, I know you think I rushed into this with you, and now I hope you see why. The truth is, I am normally a very careful and calculating man in all other aspects of my life. But with you, I simply cannot be that. When I look at you and see what is in your eyes, I see someone I have waited for. Not just in this life, but in others. Maybe for hundreds of years, maybe for thousands. But it was you I have waited for, you and only you. Of this I am certain.”