"I'm neither a scholar nor historian. I'm a storyteller, and I haven't told you the most important part of my tale yet."
"And what might that be?" I asked, intrigued...
"All I've given you is factual information," she said. "What I haven't mentioned is the world of magic from which those Yaqui leaders operated. To them, the actions of wind and shadows, of animals and plants were as important as the doings of men..."
Florinda Donner ~ Being In Dreaming
..............
In other words, Peter was at the head of the exoteric "level" designed for the population at large; St.John was literally at the heart of the esoteric teachings...which were reserved to an elite. Which reminds us of the School of Pythagoras, which also had three levels of adepts: the "listeners" who were taught the moral principles of charity; the "cenobites" who learned the philosophy of communal life; and finally the "mystes", or true initiates, to whom the Mysteries were revealed...
In the Gospel of Mary, the text reinforces a conflict between Peter and Mary Magdalene, a separation of thought, so to speak...Peter, with Andrew represents the the orthodoxy of the church characterized by its exotericism and its denial of visionary revelation, particularly to women; Mary Magdalene (with Levi) represents esotericism the 'ongoing process of revelation'.
Francine Bernier ~
The Templars' Legacy in Montreal, The New Jerusalem
.................
Notre Dame de Paris, in particular, is a curious specimen... Not even the Hermetics fail to find in the symbols of the grand doorway a satisfactory compendium of their science of which the Church of St.Jacques-de-la-Boucherie was so complete a hieroglyph. Thus the Roman Abbey - the Church of the Mystics - Gothic art - Saxon art - the alchemistic symbolism by which Nicolas Flamel paved the way...all are blended, combined, amalgamated in Notre Dame.
This generative Mother-Church is, among the other ancient churches of Paris, a sort of Chimera: she has the head of one, the limbs of another, the body of a third -- something for all.
Victor-Marie Hugo - NOTRE DAME DE PARIS
Emlyn stood at the top of the long dark stairway leading down into the cellar. Stone archway, well-worn stone steps beneath. She was not of a mind to venture forth upon them.
'Well, cher Emmeline...you wished to know my secrets, did you not?' And Maurice sighed.
Em stole a glance at him. 'I don't know, now, that I do,' she admitted.
Maurice nodded, and disappeared behind a corner. When he reappeared, he was carrying a lighted torch. Tres' gothique, thought Em to herself. All we need now is a full moon and the howling of wolves...
'Come. Ma cherie, there is nothing to fear, I promise you. I only wish for us to have no secrets between us.' He put an arm about her waist. 'I will hold on to you, never fear.'
Oh, is this where my luck runs out at last? Em had that brief query on her mind as she, with Maurice's strong grip about her, took her first step downward, into...what, truly?
'Ah. We meet again.' Daryl had arrived at long last, back to Athena's cottage. And once more faced a stone-faced Wolf Star who had opened the door to him, somewhat reluctantly.
'Who is it...?' Luckily, Daryl heard Athena call from inside.
Wolf Star grunted and grudgingly stepped aside, allowing Daryl entrance.
'Tis I...a rolling stone gathers remorse, as they say...' Daryl bent to remove his boots before entering the hallway. He took off his broad brimmed hat as Athena appeared. 'My dear. It is so good to see you. Both.' His gaze included Wolf Star who still looked hatchets and arrows his way.
Athena smiled, genuinely glad to behold her old friend. 'It has been a while.' She reached over to embrace him, studying him closely. 'You walked here?' She released him then and hung up his hat and helped him remove his coat as Daryl set down his meager belongings.
'Ha. Oh, yes. Quite a surprise I found on the trail. You'll never guess who I ran into, in the middle of the woods...'
'First, do come in, cheri and have something hot! There's stew on the stove...' She ushered Daryl into her parlour which he knew so well. Seated before the welcoming fire, Daryl sighed and looked about him, relieved to find not much had changed. Athena remained his good friend whilst Wolf Star wished him garroted and gone, no doubt...
Well, changing his mind could take a little time. Which Daryl now had.
'Here.' Athena set a tray before them upon her well-worn pirate's chest which served as tea table. Daryl's senses perked up at the scent of a well-seasoned home-cooked stew with freshly baked rye rolls.
'Now, you can tell your tale while you warm up.' Athena sat beside him while Wolf Star prowled about the room, poking the fire and finally seating himself in the hearth chair.
Daryl nodded, mouth full of stew at the moment. 'How I have missed your stews...this is by far the tenderest meat I've tasted!' He broke open a roll and dipped it into the thick soup.
Athena looked at Wolf Star. 'It's a bison stew,' she informed him. 'Wolf Star brought it from his last hunt. He has been beyond the Great Lakes region and did some hunting on native land near there.'
Daryl's ears pricked up at this news. 'Wolf Star, you went bison hunting? On your own?'
Wolf Star took his time answering. At last he bent forward and taking another log, added it to the fire. 'No. I was not alone,' he allowed. Daryl waited as Wolf Star sat back, thinking. 'I was with brothers and uncles of the Chippewaw, Fox and Sioux nations. It was a large hunt, some came from many miles away.' He paused, deep in thought. 'It could be our last hunt for some time. But, winter draws near.'
Daryl finished his stew and bowed his head. 'My thanks to the great bison who gave their lives for our winter stores.' Daryl remained silent for a space. Silence all around, except for the crackle and hiss of the fire.
At last Daryl spoke. 'I wished to speak with you, Wolf Star, about an important matter. It is a matter of land.' He looked at the Indian before him who sat still as a stone, consumed with his own thoughts, some surely about Daryl, and not so pleasant.
Wolf Star sighed. 'Speak.'
Daryl sat forward, beginning: 'I have much land here, several hundred acres or more. I have been given leave to dispose of it as I will. I wished to talk with you about this. I want to return the land to the people. To your people, the people who first lived on this land. The First Nations.'
Wolf Star actually met Daryl's gaze then. Still, he said nothing.
'I know you probably are a bit cautious when dealing with whites, and especially, perhaps, with me in particular...' Daryl continued. 'But,' he looked at Athena who remained composed and silent beside him, 'I assure you, it is truth. There are, however, some things about this property that you will want to know.'
'Daryl...' Athena began, 'are you sure about this?'
'I'm sure.' Daryl smiled at her. 'You know who I met on the trail here? None other than Yeats, looking the spit-image of Gandalf!'
'Mr. Yeats! Indeed?' Athena stared in wonder. '...And?'
'And, he said I may travel now, I am free from my bonds. However, I must never travel alone...'
'By this you mean, to walk the time trails?' Wolf Star put in.
'Yes, exactly.' Daryl addressed Wolf Star, leaning his way. 'You see, these lands are beyond time. They exist in-between. They are...out of the reach of people who live in Time. You would be protected there, always. Away from, well, away from white men. '
Wolf Star's eyes reflected his own wonder. He then narrowed his gaze. 'This is true?' He looked to Athena, who nodded. 'Across the pipe, you swear this?' He asked Daryl.
'Across the pipe, I do swear it.' Daryl assurred him. Then inhaled. 'There is one caveat, however...the house itself. The house must be kept as it is, in case of need. There are people, like Athena, and Emlyn, whom I would also wish to protect. And they should be able to find refuge in the house, when needed.'
Wolf Star sat back, thinking. 'If we could once more camp in these lands without harrassment...who has need of the White House...?' he murmured to himself. 'I will think on this. There are many true-hearted brothers I would willingly share this news with. However, there are also those who are of the blood, who are not true to it. These, we would keep out.' He nodded to himself. 'I'll need some time to ponder on this.'
Daryl sat back at last, glad to have put his plan to action. 'Take all the time you wish. Time, for us, is no longer a concern.'
...................
With Maurice's help, Emlyn gingerly made her way down the stone stairway to whatever awaited below. At last, Maurice stopped as they reached the cellar floor. 'Wait here,' he told her as he took away the torch and began lighting whatever candles, sconces were scattered about.
Slowly, the dim shadows of below came to life; a candelabra upon a high shelf, a pair of torches upon the wall across from her, and two tall candles which stood before them, on either side of what seemed to be...an altar of some kind...
'One moment...' Maurice murmured, as he pressed a knob on the side of the altar, revealing a beauteous stained glass Tree of Life, somehow lighted from behind.
Em gasped in wonder at the intricate design and marvellous colors suddenly sprung to life in the midst of shadows. Slowly she advanced, amazed as Maurice continued around the room, lighting more candles and what appeared to be a menorah. But now Em could make out statues as well, beautifully carved in wood...paintings in luscious colors...
'But, Maurice, this is all so lovely!' Emlyn wondered at the mix of esoterica all round. 'The kabbalah, the menorah...is this a combination of Judaism with Hermeticism? It is, well, not strictly Catholic, is it?'
Maurice smiled at her and slowly shook his head. 'And, of course, there's this...' He then strode to the back of the room and again, with the flip of a switch, another beauteous stained glass painting appeared out of obscurity.
'This is Jesus with Mary Magdalene; she was to be the apostle who would continue the great work, in Beauty, Truth and Wisdom. Not with the hardness of Peter, the 'rock' who would hammer out his narrow interpretations upon people's heads! Non, non...'
Maurice led Em to a low upholstered bench and bid her be seated before the window. 'It is beautiful, is it not?' He asked. 'Beauty is Truth and Truth Beauty. We come here to meditate, and to spend some time apart from the world, which can be so harsh and full of condemnation. Jews, Catholics, Gnostics, Freemasons all...and more. All are welcome.
'I am now the keeper of this place, somewhere safe, free and protected from those of small minds who would impose their prejudices upon others. There is much in the old city of Montreal that would prove many of our founders came here to escape the iron grip of the Old World.' Maurice paused, gazing about him. ;...The Old Country, with all of its deceit and narrow condemnations.'
'But, I fear that I may have to give up my guardianship. There are...rumours, about. Either I must leave, or find some other place, somewhere safer, that lies outside of the reach of the black hand of those who would strangle our freedom.'
'Maurice, this is wonderful, what you have created here, a safe haven of such peace. It would be a terrible thing to have this threatened.' Emlyn knew she had nothing to fear from this man, now or ever. She also knew...that she might know of just such a safe haven. A place beyond the reach of Time itself.
'I might be able to help you...if you like,' Em began, thinking quickly.
CLICK BELOW TO LISTEN. Norah Jones: Come Away With Me
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JRHTXFIKfFs
