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FOUR THOUSAND, SEVEN hundred and twenty-two kilometers and fifty-nine hours later, they arrived in Jerusalem. As they approached the City just before dawn, they witnessed the rare and mystical experience of the first rays of the rising sun sweeping over the sand-colored stone buildings and the magnificent walls surrounding the ancient city. Due to the large size of their vehicle, they had no choice but to park outside the city in one of the tourist carparks. After locking the motorhome, they entered the City.
Following Creed's directions, they soon arrived at the Palatin Hotel; one of the oldest in Jerusalem and chosen because of its close proximity to the Old City where they would be working. They booked in, had an early breakfast and then wandered around the hauntingly beautiful city until they arrived at Creed's father's friend's house; an ancient stone dwelling that, like many of the buildings in the vicinity, had suffered the ravages of time and neglect. Creed searched an open joint in the stonework beside the entrance and fished out a key. He unlocked the rusty padlock securing the door and after leading them inside, slid the heavy bolt into place to prevent them from being disturbed. He led them across the sparsely furnished and dust covered room to another door, which creaked loudly when he pulled it open. They descended the stone steps into the dark cellar, and all welcomed the cooler temperature of the room. Even though it was still early morning, the temperature outside was already becoming uncomfortably hot. When Creed pulled a cord hanging from the ceiling, light flooded the small space. The only objects in the room were the tools Creed had arranged with the owner; an electric lead-light, a large pry bar, a pickaxe, and two shovels beside a pile of excavated earth and rock and the spoils from Creed's father's digging.
Creed pointed to the sunken hollow in the old paved floor. “That's the place. All we have to do is lift the slab, and we should see the tunnel.” He grabbed the pry bar and with Pat's help lifted one of the large slabs and propped it against the wall.
All gazed at the small dark hole excavated by Creed's father.
Creed lay on the floor beside the opening, turned on a flashlight and poked it and his head inside. After a few moments, he explained what he had seen. “Well it's definitely a tunnel, but as my father said, it's blocked after a few meters, though nothing we can't clear.”
Creed plugged the lead-light into a socket crammed with a pyramid of plugs, whose leads led off to various rooms of the house, placed it beside the hole and dropped down. The tunnel, a little over a meter wide, wasn't high enough for him to stand up in. He grabbed the light and walked bent over away from the hole. Ben, Pat, and Raven dropped into the tunnel behind him.
Though the tunnel was blocked in both directions, they would only clear the blockage heading towards the Temple Mount. To avoid the extra effort of lifting the rocks out of the tunnel, they decided to stack them in front of the blockage that would remain. They formed a chain and passed the rocks from one blockage to the other. Before long they glimpsed a clear space on the other side; the pile was only two meters deep.
Creed shone his torch through the gap. A tunnel stretched for as far as the light beam could reach. “Seems clear for as far as I can see,” he informed the others and moved out of the way so they could all have a peek.
It took another hour before they had cleared enough rubble to allow them passage past the blockage. They switched on their headlamps and climbed over the remaining rocks. The tunnel this side gradually became higher and allowed them to stand upright.
“There are houses above us so keep your voices low,” Creed warned.
The tunnel stretched straight almost fifty meters before it turned to the right and revealed a large rock that seemed to defy gravity and hung from the ceiling. Whoever had originally dug the passage had been worried enough to place two thick wooden props under the rock to support its weight.
Creed examined the ancient props and was surprised to find them stable and still performing the job they'd been placed there for.
“It's the dry air,” explained Ben. “It's kept them from rotting, though we should be careful not to disturb them.”
They carefully crawled under the overhanging rock and after a few more turns arrived at a dead end. A smooth block of stone that stretched the full height and width of the tunnel prevented them from progressing. It seemed whoever had dug the shaft, for some reason, had stopped here and chiseled the rock flat and smooth.
Creed rapped a knuckle on the stone. “It’s solid, so I guess this is the end.”
Ben laid a hand on the stone and began examining its edges. “Something's wrong. Why stop the tunnel here and spend so much effort smoothing the rock?”
“Whatever the reason, this is as far as we can go,” reasoned Creed. “We'll have to put the bodies here. It's not ideal, but what other choice do we have?”
Reluctant to be defeated so easily, Ben searched with his fingers along the edges of the slab where it met the sides of the tunnel. His fingers detected a groove. “Does anyone have a knife or something thin?”
Pat moved closer to see what had caught Ben's interest. “What have you found?”
“I'm not sure.”
Raven held out a large, sharp bladed knife. “Will this do?”
Ben glanced at the wicked looking blade. “Yes, thanks.” He took the knife and began scraping at the edge of the slab.
Raven winced with each scrape of metal on stone that signaled the destruction of the finely honed blade.
After a few moments, Ben had cleared a joint down one side of the slab. “I don't think it's solid, but a door of some kind.”
“How can it be a door,” stated Pat. “There's no handle.”
Ben scraped out the joint on the other side, and at the bottom he found a square piece of rock protruding from the joint. He cleared around it with the tip of the blade and then gripped it with one hand. After some effort, he managed to wiggle it free. He held up the wedge-shaped piece of stone for the others to see.
Creed took it from him. “What is it?”
“It's the lock!” Ben moved to the opposite side and pressed his weight against the slab. “Pat, give me a hand. Push the slab near the wall.”
Pat did as requested, but it was only when Creed applied his force also that the slab moved and turned on a hidden pivot set in its center. A whoosh of stale air poured through the gap with a low screech, as if glad to be free. The door pushed a wave of sandy earth from the floor when it opened.
“Well I'll be damned,” said Pat, when he peered through the newly revealed opening. “It's a room.”
They all stared at the wooden door highlighted by their torches a couple of meters away.
Pat patted Ben on the back. “Well done, Englishman.”
Ben picked up the knife he had placed on the floor and handed it back to Raven, “Thanks.”
Raven studied the scratched and blunted blade and grimaced, she'd be lucky to burst a balloon with it now. “You're welcome.” She slid the knife into its sheaf.
Ben led the way into the small room and crossed to the door. Accompanied by the tune of screeching hinges, he pushed it open and stepped through. The others followed.
They found themselves in a circular room with walls of rough-hewn stone and three exits. They crossed to the nearest two openings that were side-by-side and discovered each led to a stairway chiseled from the rock; one flight led up, the other down. The third exit was an arched opening that could be barred by a portcullis, which was now in the raised position. The mechanism to operate it stood to one side of the room. Ben walked over and glanced up at the portcullis, noticing it had a single bent prong.
“I wonder why they needed a portcullis,” questioned Pat, when he joined Ben and shone his torch along the passage.
Ben shrugged. “They're normally used to keep people out, and with the operating mechanism this side, whatever it's protecting must be somewhere back there.”
Creed, who had climbed the stairs to explore the higher level, returned to the top of the steps and called down. “Come look at this.”
Ben, Pat, and Raven climbed the stairs to see what Creed had found.
“Is it gold?” asked Pat hopefully, who reached the top of the steps first to find Creed waiting for them.
Creed smiled. “No, Pat, it's not gold.” After the others had joined them, he aimed his flashlight at the floor.
They all stared at the many faint footprints in the sandy floor and scrape marks that hinted something substantial had been dragged along the ground.
“It might be an indication that whatever was once down here is long gone,” offered Creed.
“The Romans or the Knights Templar, perhaps,” suggested Ben.
Pat shone his light along the tunnel. “Where do they lead?”
“I haven't followed them yet as I wanted you all to see them first before I disturbed them, but let’s find out.”
They followed the trail to find that though some continued on along the passage, the majority of them ended halfway along the tunnel.
Ben pointed at the drag marks by the wall. “Whatever they were dragging they dragged it out of the wall.” He knelt for a closer look and pointed at something. “You see this?”
All looked at the footprint Ben pointed out. The strange thing was that it was only half a footprint, the other half was under the wall.”
“Another secret door!” Raven exclaimed.
“It has to be,” Ben agreed.
They all stared at the wall, but none could see any evidence of a door as it looked exactly like the rest of the wall. The three men attempted to push what they thought were the edges of the door in case it pivoted open like the previous one but to no avail.
Ben took off his headlamp and used its light to examine the wall inch by inch. After a few minutes, he found a small faint cross etched into the rock a meter from the floor and pointed it out to the others.
“What's it mean?” Pat asked.
Ben ran a finger along the lines of the cross, “I'm not sure.”
He tried applying pressure at the same time as pushing on the rock, but nothing happened. He continued with his examination until he found a second identical cross near the floor.
“There's another one here. Let me try something.” Ben climbed to his feet.
The others moved back to give him room and watched when he applied pressure on the lower cross with his foot and the higher one with his hand. All heard the soft click and witnessed the rock magically swing aside when Ben applied pressure.
Raven smiled at Ben's knack for such things. She was beginning to understand how he'd survived the perils of Rosslyn Catacombs, and her brothers hadn't.
Ben shone his light around the revealed chamber and gasped in fright at the monster highlighted in the beam.
Concern appeared on Creed's face. “What is it?”
“A demon!” Ben moved farther into the room and stood aside so the others could enter.
“Bloody hell, its Asmodeus!” exclaimed Pat on spying the demon poised near the wall at one side of the room.
“It looks alive,” said Creed.
A worried look appeared on Pat's face as he stared at the demon. “It's not, is it?”
Ben smiled, “I think that's unlikely, although, according to the Bible, Asmodeus was tricked by Solomon into helping build his Temple and then magically bound to guard the Temple Treasure, so perhaps it still is.”
Raven glanced around at the almost empty chamber. “Not doing very well in that regard is it?” she quipped.
The others surveyed the room. Apart from the demon, a large block of marble and objects covered by a cloth at the far end of the room, the chamber was empty.
Creed pointed at the raised block of marble. “I wonder if that's where Jesus once rested.”
Ben shrugged. “Impossible to say for sure, but it's a feasible assumption. If he did then it's likely the Templars took him and probably the reason they were granted so many unique favors by the pope.”
Ben strolled over to the demon. Though not an exact match, this one looked far more menacing, he was amazed at the similarities to the demon Saunière had commissioned for his church. Creed was correct; the creature did look real, alive almost. He warily prodded it with a finger. It felt like stone. He stared into the creature's eyes and sensed the uncomfortable sensation that Asmodeus was staring back at him. He shook off the feeling and turned away.
“I wonder why whoever took the rest of the stuff didn't take it all,” Creed asked no one in particular, as he paused by objects whose shapes were hinted at by forms in the large cloth draped over them.
“Maybe its worthless junk,” suggested Pat. “It would be just my luck if it was.”
Creed walked to one side of the covered objects. “I doubt worthless junk would be stored in a secret underground chamber beneath the Temple Mount. Whatever's here will be something special.” He grabbed one corner of the cover. “Help me uncover them.”
Pat held the corner opposite Creed, and together they dragged back the cloth and let it fall to the floor behind the objects.
No one noticed the demon's eyes move. Too long had he been forced to dwell down here in the dark; he yearned to be free. If any of them touched one of the sacred treasures, he would be.
Asmodeus waited to act.
As the cloud of dust displaced by the uncovering settled, all stared at the wondrous treasure before them.
Raven's eyes roamed over the uncovered objects. “Doesn't look like worthless junk to me.”
“Solomon's treasure,” Ben exclaimed, awestruck. “Or most of it.”
“It's magnificent,” Creed exclaimed.
“It must be worth millions,” said Pat, rubbing his hands together excitedly.
Even though not everything was fashioned from precious metal, it didn't diminish its worth in monetary or historical terms. They all gazed at each object in turn. Ben, who had carried out research into the Temple treasure, recognized most of the objects and shared his knowledge with the astonished group. The treasure hoard included the table of showbread―a small golden table measuring 3 feet by 1.5 feet and 2 feet 3 inches high―it once stood in the Temple on the right side of the Holy Place across from the Menorah. It would have held bread baked by the priests, only permissible for them to consume and could only be eaten in the Holy Place because it was Holy. Showbread, also called bread of the presence, because it was to be always in the Lord's presence.
Ben pointed to the golden altar of incense and explained that it would have been positioned in front of the curtain that separated the Holy Place from the Holy of Holies. This altar, which was square with each side measuring 1.5 feet and 3 feet high, was smaller than the Brazen Altar next to it. The Brazen Altar, bronze altar, or altar of sacrifice would have been situated inside the courtyard upon entering the gate to the tabernacle. It measured 7.5 feet on all four sides and 4.5 feet deep with four horns projecting from its top four corners with a bronze grating inside to hold the animal to be sacrificed.
The group listened attentively as Ben continued to describe the Laver, or basin―a large bowl that would have been filled with water and located halfway between the Brazen Altar and the Holy Place.
“Although God didn't give specific measurements for the Laver,” Ben explained, “it was to be made entirely of bronze. As a cleansing process, the priests had to wash their hands and feet in it before entering the Holy Place.”
Ben turned his attention to the object they had all recognized; the huge solid gold Menorah. Formed with a central branch from which three branches extended from each side to form a total of seven. Seven lamps holding olive oil and wicks would have stood on top of each that the priests would have kept burning. Each branch had been fashioned to resemble branches of an almond tree, containing buds, blossoms, and flowers.
“How many of these things are there,” Pat asked.
Ben shrugged. “If this is the real Menorah, as I imagine it to be as it's included with the other Temple Treasure items, the one in the Temple in France must be a copy.”
“It would seem so,” Creed agreed. “Or maybe there were two originals.”
“I've never come across any evidence that more than one existed, but I guess we'll never know for certain.” Ben turned his attention to the five garments on the table of the showbread that would have been worn by the Temple priests.
He had to think for a moment until he remembered their names and pointed to one of the garments. “This one's called the Ephod, the outermost garment that resembles an elaborate apron.”
The Ephod was made from white linen interwoven with threads of gold that seemed to have weathered the ravages of time surprisingly well. Onyx stones that held the garment together at the shoulders reflected their torchlight.
Ben explained that the stones were inscribed with the names of the twelve tribes of Israel. “The blue robe next to it would have been worn underneath the Ephod. The small gold bells you see sown around its hem were so even when the priest couldn't be seen he could still be heard, though I have no idea why this was necessary.”
Some of the bells had detached from their moorings and lay on the table or had fallen to the floor. Laid out beside the blue robe was the white robe that would have been worn beneath the blue one. Once a spotless white robe of woven fabric made of the finest quality, it had yellowed with age and had the impression its delicate cloth might fall to dust if touched.
Ben pointed at another of the garments. “Perhaps the most precious and what seems to be the best preserved of all the garments is the breastplate. This would have been worn by the High Priest in the Holy Temple.”
Pat eagerly stared at the precious breastplate that measured nine inches square and folded double with four rows of three precious stones attached at the corners with gold rings and blue cords. He knew all the objects were priceless. Any single one would fetch an incredibly high price to the right buyer, and every museum in the world would sell their souls on being able to exhibit such a collection.
“Each of the twelve precious stones represented one of the tribes of Israel,” Ben informed them. “And lastly there is the High Priest's Mitznefet, or Mitre, made from pure gold. The rest of the trinkets would probably have been used in various religious ceremonies.”
Their eyes wandered across the many gold and silver cups and goblets, some encrusted with precious gems, the golden bowls, and plates.
“Wondrous as it is, let's not disregard the reason why we're here,” said Raven and breaking the spell they had all fallen under without realizing. She felt a sense of unease that she failed to explain and was keen to complete their mission and be free of this place. “The treasure has been here for many hundreds of years, so it will wait a while longer until we are finished with our business.”
“Raven is correct,” Creed agreed. He turned away from the treasure and looked at the marble block. “This chamber will make an excellent tomb for Jesus and Mary, but I suggest we check there are no other entrances down leading here, and then return to our hotel to work out how to move the bodies from the motorhome to the house.”
They followed Creed from the chamber.
Pat, the last to exit the room, turned to look longingly at the treasure once more before stepping through the door.
Asmodeus watched them go.
He knew they would return.
As to be expected, the conversation during the meal in their hotel while they waited for nightfall concerned the Temple Treasure and their, soon to be enacted, clandestine operation. During the day the streets were crowded with tourists wandering from one ancient site to another and locals going about their business. However, at night most of Jerusalem's visitors were wary of treading the Old City's dimly lit streets, darker alleys, uneven steps, and rough pathways, and kept to the safer main thoroughfares. There would still be people about during the night but in significantly reduced numbers. This suited their purpose to avoid as many inquisitive eyes as possible while they moved the bodies to the house. To pass the time they'd visited some of the ancient sites and purchased traditional full-length robes from the market to help them blend in with the local population.
When it was finally time to transport the bodies, they collected the old wooden hand-pulled cart Creed had hired earlier and dragged it to the carpark outside the city. After checking there was no one about, they loaded the bodies, and the two stretchers they had brought with them to maneuver the them through the tunnels, onto the cart and covered them with a tarpaulin.
It took twenty minutes to pull the cart to the house and unload the bodies.
Creed shut and bolted the door with a relieved sigh. “I'm glad that's over with.”
They had passed two patrolling Temple guards on their journey through the narrow streets, but luckily, they barely gave them a second glance.
From here on it was plain sailing, or so they thought.