Mary shifted along on the bench as Blake set to work unfolding the street map next to her. He turned the map over and began to draw something with the pen. Consulting his phone every so often as he worked, Blake continued in silence for what seemed like an age. Eventually, he held it up next to him as if doing a classroom presentation.
Remembering what Rubens had explained to him about the Tree of Life diagram in the Book of Creation, he explained, ‘The Tree of Life is a geometrical pattern made up of three vertical pillars. Arranged on these pillars are ten Sephirot.’ Blake touched each of the circles he had marked out with the tip of his pen.
Drawn in three parallel columns were ten labelled circles: three making up the first column, four for the second, and three for the third.
‘You said Sephirot?’ said Mary, gently rubbing the dog’s head with her knuckles.
‘In Kabbalah, the ten Sephirot are understood to be different aspects of God.’ Blake stopped and waited for a sweaty, red-faced jogger to shuffle by in front of them. ‘Within the Tree of Life, each of these Sephirot are identified by a particular name.’
Mary shuffled forward to get a better look at Blake’s annotations to each of the ten circles. She said the names out loud as best she could: ‘Keter, Binah, Hekhmah, Gevurah, Hesed, Tif’eret, Netzach, Yesod, Malkuth.’ Her eyes narrowed as she read off the word written above the final circle, ‘Hod.’
Scratching the back of his neck, Blake continued on. ‘Wren marked the foundation stone of this church with the name of a Sephirot in the Tree of Life, but he also built many other churches.’
‘After the Great Fire of 1666?’
Blake gave a nod. ‘Wren was the first to submit plans to rebuild the city. On the surface, his plans resembled the wide boulevards and large civic spaces of Paris, but it has long been suspected that Wren’s designs were inspired by other Kabbalist influences. Hold on.’ Blake pulled his phone from his pocket and found the picture he had taken of Wren’s letter.
Mary’s brow crinkled in concentration.
He found the section and read it aloud. ‘I was charged by the King to propose a plan for the rebuilding of the City after the Great Fire and the conflagration that did so ravage our glorious city. My design was daring and radical in its conception; eleven circular piazzas, each representing a separate aspect of the Almighty.’
Mary brushed a fly away with her hand.
‘It might be a long shot, but I think that the large circular public piazzas of Wren’s design are eerily similar to the Sephirot of the Tree of Life.’ Blake laid his sketch on the floor and Mary began to see it in her mind’s eye. She straightened up and looked at him curiously.
‘But London isn’t like this.’ she said.
‘There’s the problem,’ Blake lamented. ‘Wren’s design never got built. The scheme was too expensive and property owners soon asserted their rights in the courts. It all became too difficult and costly for the government to execute, especially as they were trying to fund the war with the Dutch at the same time.’
‘So, if it wasn’t built, then what’s the connection with the Sephirot and the Tree of Life?’
Blake frowned and tugged at his earlobe. ‘What if Wren did code the Tree of Life in his buildings. I mean in a much more covert way? We know this church has been allocated to the Hod Sephirot; perhaps there are others? Perhaps the location of the Logos Stone is located in one of them?’
The full dimensions of Blake’s proposition began to sink in. ‘Like a treasure map?’ remarked Mary.
Blake shifted uncomfortably on the bench and then settled back with an uncertain sigh. ‘Maybe, but there are problems.’ Thoughts jostled impatiently in his mind as Mary urged him on. ‘Okay.’ Blake steepled his fingers. ‘Let’s just say, and this is complete guess work, that Wren used his churches as some secret design mirroring the Tree of Life.’
Mary nodded attentively.
‘Which ones? He built fifty-two churches in the City of London after the fire.’
Mary looked at Blake. ‘Fifty-two?’ She never realised that Wren had been so prolific in his career, especially considering that one of the fifty-two was none other than the majestic St Paul’s Cathedral.
‘Our other problem is that, even if there is some kind of Tree of Life design to the position of ten of Wren’s churches, which Sephirot holds the Logos Stone?’
Mary’s face tightened as he asked the question. ‘Hold on, you said that, in Wren’s letter, he planned eleven piazzas, but you have only drawn ten circles?’
‘Wait a minute. You’re right, I’m missing one.’ He felt the back of his neck flush. Closing his eyes, Blake strained to recall what Rubens had said about the strange form of the Tree of Life diagram detailed in the Sefer Yetzirah. It contained a hidden eleventh Sephirot, called the Da’at. With his heart picking up a gear, he grabbed the map and poised his pen over it, trying to recollect its correct position in the diagram. The pen faltered in mid-air as Blake pondered. ‘That’s right. It was between the Keter and the Tif’eret Sephirot.’ Blake drew in the eleventh circle just underneath the top position on the central pillar.
‘The Da’at is the location where all ten Sephirot in the Tree of Life are united as one. It radiates divine light.’ As he spoke, he could feel pieces of a giant jigsaw fitting together in his mind. ‘The Da’at must be the location of the Logos Stone,’ said Blake, stabbing the map with the end of the pen. He opened up the map on the bench. ‘The problem we have is which of Wren’s fifty-two churches represent which Sephirot?’ said Blake, staring stonily ahead.
Mary shuffled closer and inspected the map.
‘On this map, each church is identified by a small black cross,’ said Blake, tapping the map’s key with his finger.
As Mary’s eyes focused in, she quickly became aware of the dense proliferation of crosses covering the face of the map. They were everywhere, almost one on every street corner. She let out a pained breath. ‘How are we going to—’
‘The first thing we need to do is identify which of them are Wren churches. Who knows? He might have used other churches in the Tree of Life design too, but at least it’s a start.’
Blake thumbed the screen of his phone for a moment and then handed it over to Mary. ‘This is a list of Wren’s churches. Most are still standing. Read them out and I’ll mark them on the map.’
In the time it took Blake to highlight the locations of Wren’s fifty-two City churches on the map, the steeple of St Mary’s church had cast a shadow over the bench. Mary’s shoulders drooped when she saw the extent of Blake’s annotations on the map. To uncover such a complex pattern as the Tree of Life in such a confused jumble of points looked daunting, if not impossible.
Even with St Mary’s Abchurch as the starting point, it would be unimaginably difficult to orientate the overall design on the map without finding another data point. They needed to find another Wren church whose foundation stone bore the mark of a Sephirot.
‘How can we do this?’ agonised Mary.
Blake was thinking furiously. Time was working against them. Lambton might already have the location of the Logos Stone. It was crucial that they made the right move. Blake passed a jittering hand through his hair. Kneeling down, he reappraised the map. A look of intense concentration contracted his face. His eyes searched the area of the map directly surrounding St Mary’s Abchurch. Blake counted four Wren churches in the immediate vicinity:
St Stephen Walbrook
St Margaret Lothbury
St Edmund, King & Martyr
St Clement Eastcheap
Could one of these be part of Wren’s Tree of Life design? If so, which one? He tried to think, but thoughts kept tripping over themselves in his head. All the churches were located in the financial heart of the city. He knew the area well. Blake glanced down at his watch and cursed. ‘Let’s split up. It’ll save time. You take St Edmund, King & Martyr and I’ll take St Stephen Walbrook. We’ll meet up again at St Clement Eastcheap. You take the map; I know where they are.’
Mary turned to leave.
‘Stay safe,’ he called after her.
The Teacher adjusted his aviator sunglasses and handed the picture of Blake to the man serving behind the tourist stand by the Monument.
The man’s eyes scanned the picture and instantly recalled the face. ‘He was here. Could hardly miss him. He was with a beggar woman and a dog. They looked very strange together.’
‘You see where he went?’
‘I did. He ran off in that direction, towards Abchurch Lane,’ said the man pointing down the street. ‘Looked like he was in a real hurry.’
The Teacher snatched back the picture.
‘Why do you want to find this guy anyway?’
‘I’ve got something for him,’ said the Teacher over his shoulder. As he ran at full tilt away from the Monument, the weight of the Glock 17 banged against his ribs.