Temple of The Grail Read Online Free PDF Page B

better than I had felt all week,
following this light which even now waned slightly, directing us, it seemed, to
the pulpitum – or screen, that sequestered the sanctuary from the
eyes of the lay community. It was behind it, unseen, that monks took their
places during the services, in the choir stalls that were made of carved wood
on bases of stonework, with high ornamented canopied backs. Inside there were
hinged seats, wisely constructed so as to enable a tired monk to sit,
thankfully (though unofficially), through a long service. At the eastern end
there was a lectern of brass in the shape of an eagle with spread wings on
which music books were placed. Here there was also a seat for the master of
music and beside it a more ornate seat for the officiating priest or abbot. To
the west of the stalls were the presbytery and the high altar, and the shrine.
There on the floor before the sacred space a monk, we realised, was speaking to
us, but his voice was muffled for he was lying face down as though dead, his
arms spread out so that his body formed the shape of a cross. We had not
discerned his form when we had stood at the altar, for his habit was grey like
the floor, and we had been taken by the daystar’s blessing, and so I was
startled.
    ‘Is somebody there?’ we heard his
muffled inquiry. ‘If you are the Devil, be on your way. If you are goodly men
help this poor old monk up from this cursed floor!’
    My master went to the man, and helped
him easily to his feet. He seemed ancient, with a dry wrinkled face whose pale
eyes would have been very frightening if they did not also exude a certain
gentle warmth.
    ‘Ohh! My bones ache!’ He squinted,
sniffing us. ‘I am brother Ezekiel . . . who, in God’s name, are you?’ ‘I am
the Templar preceptor, venerable Ezekiel, and to your right is my young
apprentice, Christian.’
    He sought me with his hands and,
finding my face, at once began to explore it with cold fingers. I tried not to
recoil at his touch but was startled out of my wits when he gasped suddenly,
feeling for his heart with one hand and reaching into his scapular with the
other, retrieving something from it, which he placed in his toothless mouth. It
must have had some beneficial effect, for he wiped the sticky residue from his
lips, and continued a little calmer than before.
    ‘A Templar preceptor . . . you say?’
he blinked, peering at me. ‘Your boy is remarkably like . . . Are we in the . .
.? No . . . during . . .? Oh!’ he cried exasperated. ‘Where is Setubar?’ Very
slowly then, in a circumspect tone, ‘I suppose you have come about the
antichrist whose countenance lurks within these lamentable walls?’
    My master smiled, ‘No, venerable
Ezekiel, we have come to advise the inquiry.’
    ‘Oh! Inquiry?’ He drew even closer,
grabbing my master’s vestments, his sweet breath making feathery phantoms in
the cold air. ‘Where is Setubar? Is he about?’
    My master narrowed his eyes, ‘Who is
Setubar?’
    ‘ Is he about? ‘ the
man pressed, wringing his hands.
    ‘We are alone, brother,’ my master
answered.
    ‘Then I can tell you. That is, if you
are a Templar . . .’ He felt for the cross stitched to my master’s habit and
brought his eyes very close to it. Immediately he smiled with satisfaction and
his eyes filled with tears. ‘It has been many years . . . There is little time,
so listen to my words . . . in these sacred walls there are men who . . .’ he
paused, squeezing his eyes shut as though to say these words caused him pain. ‘There
are men who are wedded to error, men seduced by the Devil! Yes, impossible, you
say? But it is true, the days of the antichrist are finally at hand, preceptor
. . . We have seen our first martyr .’
    ‘I saw the new grave,’ my master
remarked.
    The old man winced and placed both
hands over his eyes. ‘The Devil will kill us all!’
    At that moment, from out of the
shadows of the south ambulatory, the figure of a cowled monk appeared