Authors: Gilliam Ness
“Patience, my son,” said the old Bishop with a smile. “I will soon get to that. According to the myth, the Tree of Life also yielded a single piece of fruit, and this was symbolic of all the Gnosis that had been lost after the fall of Atum; Gnosis that Osiris and Isis would need to re-assimilate, if ever they were to resume their former state as the god Atum. Only then would the divided become whole once again, and duality be transcended. After this, the underworld would slowly begin to be transformed into a heavenly place.”
“And the fruit was an apple, right?” muttered Gabriel, pessimistically. “Just like in the bible.”
“Indeed it was,” said the Bishop, noting Gabriel’s skepticism. “But do not forget that the apple is present in many other mythologies and cultures as well, and in almost every case, it symbolizes immortality, just as it does in this myth.”
Natasha turned to Gabriel, a little annoyed by his cynicism.
“Hercules travelled to the edge of the world to steal the apple of immortality,” she said flatly. “He took if from Hera, the Queen of Olympus. The apple is also identified with the Celtic god, Afallach, and his underworld home of Avalon. In folk tales and legends, the hero usually has to retrieve an apple to win the king’s daughter, and fulfill his destiny to be the one to save the world from evil. The apple is everywhere in mythology.”
Gabriel could not help but be impressed.
“And how is it that you know so much?”
Natasha only looked back at him.
Why is this man always so hostile to me?
Bishop Marcus answered before she could speak.
“Natasha is a very accomplished theologian, my son.”
Gabriel continued his study of her.
“And from what Suora tells me, a professional ballerina too. She’s just full of surprises.”
Natasha looked away impetuously. The bishop made an attempt to return to the subject at hand.
“Natasha could also inform you, Gabriel, that in almost every story, discord soon arises with the appearance of the apple. Just like in the bible.”
Natasha smiled in thanks.
“Please go on, Uncle.”
The old Bishop nodded and looked at them both for a moment before continuing.
“Similar to the Book of Genesis,” he said, “our Egyptian myth sees the appearance of the devil. This is the god
Sutekh
, or
Set
, and in our myth he comes in the form of a grotesque hermaphrodite beast; a desecration of Atum’s divine, androgynous state. Set was the embodiment of doubt and fear. He was both the creator, and the ruler of the underworld. He worked against Atum, filling Osiris and Isis with a fear of the knowledge that was housed within the apple. In short, Set drove the two further and further apart from each other, until they stood alone, on opposite ends of the earth, lost in ignorance and misery.”
The Bishop paused for a moment to clear his throat.
“With each passing age, and to symbolize the cycle of birth and death, Osiris and Isis would emerge on precisely the same day, on opposite sides of the earth. Due to their longing for each other, they would be reunited, and made to traverse a great labyrinth. Within they would search for a stairway to the paradise they once knew, their only possession being a single apple to give them nourishment on their journey.”
Natasha leaned forward, placing her hands on the table.
“And the Professor believed that Gabriel and I are reincarnations of Osiris and Isis, and that the Cube of Compostela is the equivalent of the apple spoken of in the myth.”
The Bishop looked over at her.
“To be incarnations of Isis and Osiris would be impossible,” he said, “for they never existed. They are only fictitious characters in a myth. The Professor only saw an incredible similarity between your births, and the story told in the myth. The existence of a medieval prophecy surrounding the Cube of Compostela only served to further his suspicions.”
“Come on, it’s just a coincidence,” said Gabriel, shaking his head. “Really, how can we be expected to believe any of this nonsense? It’s just a myth. It has no relevance to reality.”
“A myth, Gabriel, is no small thing,” said the Bishop. “Housed within every myth is a wisdom incommunicable by any other means. Modern society has made the mistake of equating a myth with a lie, but nothing could be further from the truth. History, be it however well documented, will always be inaccurate, but the wisdom housed within myth will forever retain its meaning and purity. Myths are not to be taken literally. They are to be interpreted, so that the truth held within them can be understood, and assimilated on a level much deeper than rational thought.”
“Like the truth that is in the story of Narcissus,” said Natasha, “and how he fell in love with his own reflection. Or of Icarus, flying too close to the sun as a result of his own hubris and pride. The fact that these events never actually happened, does not change the fact that these traits can be found in every one of us.”
“I suppose you have a point,” said Gabriel. “You could also go as far as to say that embodied in every mythical god, is a quality that can be found in the human psyche.”
“Yes!” exclaimed the Bishop. “And in its purest essence. Learn about any god, and you will only be learning about yourself, for the god is you. This was the great appeal of praying to a god whose qualities you desired. The patron saints of Christianity are no different.”
“But what about the medieval prophecy you mentioned?” asked Natasha. “You have told us about the myth, but you have not explained the prophecy.”
“Right you are, my child,” said the Bishop with an adoring wink. “The prophecy states that during the darkest hour, the Two
will come again to release the Gnosis that is locked in the Cube. In so doing, they will open a way for mankind to be awakened from its slumber of ignorance, and be initiated into the Cube’s secrets.”
Gabriel rolled his eyes.
“Like Isis and Osiris,” continued the Bishop, once again noting Gabriel’s skepticism, “these two saviours would be born on the same day, on opposite sides of the world, and under the dominion of Lucifer. In other words, they would be demonically possessed when they were born.
”
“But that’s an impossible coincidence!” protested Gabriel.
“Yet an undeniable one!” said the Bishop firmly. “Even still, your father was not wholly convinced. It was not until he had witnessed the second half of the prophecy mirrored in reality that he finally accepted what he had always tried to explain as a freak concurrence of legend.”
Natasha bit her lip.
“The hermaphrodite,” she said.
The Bishop nodded.
“The prophecy spoke of its coming too. It would be born on precisely the same day, and at the same hour of the coming of the Two; a mockery of Atum, and the sexual unity embodied in the divine androgyne. Unlike the Two, however, the beast would pass its entire life in a coma vigil, only to awaken and die on the first full moon before its thirty-third birthday. During this time, he would be possessed by the devil himself. The prophecy stated that once the body of the hermaphrodite had died, the Fourteen Emissaries of Lucifer would be released upon the world. They would come to command a mighty army, and do everything in their power to prevent the Two from awakening humanity, and unlocking the mysteries of the Cube.”
Natasha leaned closer.
“These emissaries, Uncle. Are they the same fourteen demons that were removed from us when we were babies?”
“Yes,” said the Bishop, shuddering at the memory of them. “Yes, they are.”
“Fourteen,” said Natasha, thinking. “There is something about that number. In another Egyptian myth, Set kills Osiris and divides his body into fourteen parts, spreading them throughout the lands.”
Gabriel turned to the Bishop.
“Who was it that made the Cube?”
“I can remember asking the very same question,” replied the Bishop. “
‘What is this Compostela Cube?’
I asked,
‘Why have I never heard mention of it before?’
“‘
Few have,’
the Professor told me in response.
‘It is believed to be a Christian relic, but I suspect that it is much more.’
“He went on to tell me how he had first come to learn of the Cube, deep in the archives of a monastery in Toledo. Curiously enough, it was an Islamic text that he had found; a single Arabic manuscript dating back to the time of the Moorish occupation of Spain. The Cube of Knowledge
,
it explained, was the central subject of a treasure known to the Moors as
The Book of Khalifah,
a secret codex that had been passed from caliph to caliph over the centuries. Finding this book became an obsession for the Professor, but in all his years of research, he was only able to gather a few scraps of information concerning it.
“From the manuscript he had found in Toledo, the Professor learned that the Cube of Compostela held mysterious runes, and that the Book of Khalifah contained the only record in existence of their translations. It was said that without these translations, the Cube’s mysteries could never be unlocked. The manuscript stated that the Book and the Cube were linked, and that whoever possessed one, would be led to the other.”
“Who was the author of this book?” asked Natasha, fascinated.
The old Bishop shook his head in bewilderment.
“It is in part an Arabic translation of an ancient Greek text that was long ago destroyed,” he whispered. “One that related to an ancient Mesopotamian tablet. This tablet spoke of a Lost Cube, said to contain a wisdom capable of emancipating man from the confines of mortality and matter.”
The Bishop looked at both of them in earnest.
“As well as giving detailed descriptions of the artifact,” he continued, “the tablet also spoke of the Cube’s possible location in the mountains of Northern Spain, and of its original resting place at the entrance of a mysterious labyrinth; a place where it would one day need to be returned in order that humanity might be made ready to receive its secret knowledge.”
Gabriel was perplexed.
“Exactly how old is the Cube supposed to be?”
“The Professor could not say with any certainty,” said the Bishop. “He suspected it to be pre-Egyptian, and perhaps even pre-Mesopotamian. The Book of Khalifah describes the Cube as the most prized of all treasures, and refers to it as the most ancient of artifacts. It was to the Moors, what the Holy Grail was to the Knights Templar, and the Professor believed that the two were in fact one and the same thing. According to him, the Cube was the reason why the Moors invaded the Iberian Peninsula to begin with.”
Gabriel pondered what the old Bishop was telling him, nodding his head as he began to understand.
“Once the Moors had crossed over the Strait of Gibraltar, they made a beeline directly for the north coast of Spain. Historians have never been able to understand the need for their urgency. They cut their way through the Visigoths in less than a year.”
“Theirs was a holy quest for knowledge,” said the Bishop, nodding. “Although it was not they who in the end would recover the Cube.”
“So who was it that found it?” asked Natasha.
“The manuscript states that a Catholic priest found it,” said the Bishop with a smile. “And that he found it while on the
Camino de Santiago de Compostela
.”
“So that is where the Cube gets its name!” exclaimed Natasha. “I always thought it was named after the city. I forgot all about the Camino.”
“Can somebody please fill me in?” asked Gabriel. “What Camino?”
“The
Camino
is a Christian pilgrimage,” explained Natasha. “It follows an ancient Celtic footpath that makes its way through the mountains of Northern Spain. It ends at a big cathedral in the city of Santiago de Compostela, the place where the remains of St. James are said to be kept.”
“Yes, of course,” said Gabriel. “It begins in France. I’ve always heard it referred to as the
Chemin de St. Jacques.
”
Natasha nodded.
“There is an old legend that tells the story of how St. James’ long lost crypt was found on that trail. It says that a goat herder named
Pelaio
stumbled on it in the ninth century. They say he heard angels singing while out in the mountains at night. He walked towards the music, and saw thousands of stars raining down on the tomb. That is why they call it Compostela. It comes from the Latin
Campus Stellae,
or
Field of Stars
.”
“Exactly,” said the old Bishop. “But the Arabic manuscript told a tale far more intriguing than that popular legend.”
The fire crackled in the hearth as the three huddled closer together at their table. Encased as they were, deep within that sprawling tomb, it seemed to them that the very walls were comprised of the dead. Even still, the wooden planks from the old scaffolds were thick and dry, and they burned well, shedding a much welcomed heat, and reassuring them that they were alive and well. Taking a sip from the cup before him, the old Bishop straightened his black cassock and continued.