The Secret of the Ancient Alchemist (18 page)

He took a
broader picture of the whole affair and, in that frame, he sealed
his personal doctrine forever. Matter could and did harbour a great
mind. The ancient message from the universe was crystal clear to
him. He didn’t need to speculate any further on the possibility of
a divine force being bound to the elements of nature. It was
real.

He didn’t
expect to find the rod of Moses or of Aaron’s either, for they were
long gone along with their powers. Still, he had no idea of what
Father Tarafi was guarding. He did it so diligently he didn’t think
his task was merely an act of worship. How much was actually hidden
in this land, he wondered, and would he find any of it?

He moved
through the city’s maze skipping across mud that settled from heavy
rain. Packed with shops and coffee houses, Addis Ababa was a
culture clash of Italian cuisine and Ethiopian culinary delights.
Hart opted for a wood-fired pizza at Ristorante De Bruno.

He sat
outdoors, gazing at the many lanes that cut through the city, and,
then beyond to the green hills that reminded him of Scotland. He
browsed through a map looking for a path to Laibela and hoping to
get to the monastery of Abba Garima. The Abba had arrived in the
fifth century and had penned a three hundred and fifty page
gospel.

Five hours
later, he was in Laibela facing ten steps leading to a church cut
from rock. He ventured into the Bet Medhane Alem and soon met a
priest who held a cross in his hand. He wore a white turban and a
purple satin robe. An amicable man, he smiled and held out his hand
as Hart approached.

“
I’m
Father Belele. You must be Mr. Hart. Tarafi told me that I should
expect you. You have an interest in our ancient manuscripts. Am I
right?”

“
Yes, and
thank you for taking the time to talk to me. The Septuagint, Father
Belele, the Greek version of the Old Testament, the Books of Enoch,
Jubilees and Meqabyan all feature in your religion. Do they mention
anything about supernatural matter?”

“
The
Jubilees is best known for its prediction that Man would live a
thousand years in peace. I’ve never seen anything on matter, Mr.
Hart. Only the hidden gospels reinforce the idea. The kingdom of
God exists in the physical world. It is in you and outside you. The
blood that runs in you comes from earthly mother. Over the
centuries, many of our documents got lost. European conversion
wiped out a lot. Our revered philosopher, Zera Yakob, lived in a
cave for years in the sixteenth century in Aksum. He claimed God
and nature were one and that our soul bears the power of
God.”

“
Our
matter changes, decays, breaks down.”

“
We do
to,” Belele reminded.

“
That’s
my point. I believe there’re places where matter is permanent and I
believe this was discussed in the Gospel of Mary Magdalene.
Actually, I’m looking for the missing pages.”

“
I really
don’t think you’ll find them.”

Accustomed to
hearing that, Hart sat on the ground and leaned back on a column of
granite. With his hands around his knees, he peered through a stone
window. He could see the countryside that spread for miles in the
distance. If he could choose a place to die, it would be here, he
thought, for he had never before felt so serene. He was miles from
civilization in an ancient monastery that was cool, peaceful and
kind.

“
Ancient
Ethiopia extended to the Upper Nile,” he said. “The ancient
Ethiopians taught the Egyptians all they knew of religion and they
even built their pyramids before they were locked in war. The Nile
Nubians built temples and cities. They were wise in many
ways.”

“
They
carved petroglyphs, Mr. Hart. Mankind will find rest says the Book
of Enoch. According to the Ge’ez version, we know that, through a
portal, Enoch came to a realm of eternal peace where years of joy
multiplied, a place where nothing died.”

“
Do other
volumes substantiate this?”

“
Four is
of the Secrets of Nature and five is the Book of Celestial Physics.
There’s also the Book of Dream Visions. They are all missing
text.”

“
Aramaic
fragments of other books were found among the Dead Sea Scrolls,
isn’t that so?”

Hart was
knowledgeable, Belele thought. “You’re referring to the Book of
Giants, aren’t you?”

“
I
am.”

“
Why does
it interest you?”

“
The book
was used extensively by Manichaeans.”

“
Manichaeism was nothing but a hodgepodge of Christianity,
Buddhism and Zoroastrianism.”

“
It was
once the most widespread religion in the world. Did you know that?
It survived from the third to the seventh century.”

“
This
religion really intrigues you.”

“
Its
leader, Mani, claimed he had a divine twin who instructed him in
self-realization. He pointed out that the Zoroastrian God, Ahura
Mazda, was originally a man. He was the only one to embrace the
Gospel of Thomas when most dismissed it. He wholly embraced the
Book of Giants. Why would a religion endorse the Book of Giants if
it were about demons and fallen angels?”

Belele sighed.
“The Giants were offspring of the sons of gods and daughters of
men. They were men of renown.”

“
What
else do you know, Father Belele?”

“
They
lived long. Enoch himself live three hundred and sixty five
years.”

“
Did they
live long enough to perfect their minds?”

“
Probably.”

“
The era
before the biblical flood wasn’t a period of darkness, was
it?”

“
It was
an enchanting time when men mingled with angels. Men traversed the
cosmos.”

“
Do you
think such an age would come again?’

“
The Book
of Jubilees is better known to us as the Book of Division and it’s
an account of divisions of time on earth. The Jubilees were
revealed to Moses by angels on Mount Sinai. A new kingdom would
come to earth signified by transformations in the physical nature
of the world and the behaviour of men. Man would live one thousand
years.”

“
Does the
book have a date?”

“
No.
There isn’t more I could add, I’m afraid. Our oldest surviving text
is the Abba Garima Gospel which I know you seek.”

“
What can
you tell me about it?”

“
The Abba
Garima Gospel is kept hidden.”

“
Where?”

“
In the
Abba Garima Monastery, which is secluded and difficult to get
to.”

“
You’re
saying I can’t get to it?” Hart was starting to feel
futility.

“
Hardly
likely, Mr. Hart.”

“
Your
ancient monasteries were fashioned after a Gnostic sympathizer,
Pachomius. Is there some reason for this?”

“
Our
monasteries were built by saints who believed humans were both God
and Man. They led austere lives of prayer and service. The Abba
Garima Monastery was built for Abba Garima by King
Masqul.”

“
Why did
King Masqul do that?”

Belele came
forward. “Garima performed miracles. He healed the sick.”

“
What did
he write in his gospel?”

“
I don’t
know the contents of the Abba Garima Gospel. Not many
do.”

“
One of
the oldest books of Christianity and you don’t know what’s in it?
How come?”

“
The book
has healing powers. Only the privileged can touch it in case
something goes wrong.” Belele could sense Hart’s
anguish.

“
How did
the book acquire healing powers?”

“
Nobody
knows.”

“
Did it
come from Abba Garima himself?”

“
I cannot
say.”

Hart turned and
looked at his Tag-Heuer watch. Time was moving fast and he had to
catch his flight back to Addis Ababa. He’d be stuck in Laibela if
he didn’t. He got up and dusted his trousers, disappointed that he
would not get to the Abba Garima monastery or be able to search its
ancient gospel. He was sure the Abba had written something about
the miraculous power of supernatural matter.

“
Thanks,
Father Belele, for talking to me. I appreciate it,” he said moving
to the exit.

“
Wait,
Mr. Hart!”

“
Yes?”
Hart’s blue eyes rested on the man’s round face wondering why there
was such urgency in his voice.

Belele smiled
as he recollected himself. “I believe the missing pages of the
gospel will explain supernatural matter and, truly, I wish you
success in finding them. I also know you’re a close friend of
Julius Olsen. We want the date for the new age, more than anything
else.” Belele’s eyes didn’t hide his deep concern.

“
He’ll
find it, Father, and soon. I promise you.”

Hart
walked up the steps of the
Bet Medhane Alem
into open air. In the distance, he could see the
outline of the Abba Garima Monastery. It was set high, a structure
of wood and mud lying on bare rock. He badly wanted to see the
gospel, he thought again, but the task daunted him. No one was
allowed in. A gust of wind blew his flowing Gabi into the air as he
stared hopelessly at the ancient monastery. There was no point in
trying, he finally conceded.

As he continued
along a trail, a bullet whizzed past his left ear. Hart wasn’t sure
of anything as he gazed around. The open land was devoid of humans
and a vulture circling the air was the only sign of life. He sped
up a steep hill as a second bullet hit a boulder in front of him.
Hart ran as fast he could until he reached the top of a hill, every
muscle in his body aching. In his frenzy, he slipped and began
rolling towards a slab of steps. Bleeding from his wounds and very
fearful, he pulled himself up and scampered down the wooden
staircase. In the distance, he could hear the sound of a third shot
being fired. At the bottom of the staircase, he collapsed.

It was a while
before a vision of a man in a pope hat and white gown appeared. In
his hand, he held a glass of water.

“
Are you
ok?” The Head of the Ethiopian Orthodox church asked.

As Hart’s
vision cleared, he realized he was on a chair with a cloth on his
head. The drink of cool water awakened his senses. Hart looked at
the face of the mysterious man whose eyes sparkled with wisdom. A
faint scent of incense permeated the air.

“
Someone’s trying to kill me. I don’t even know why,” he
said.

“
You are
safe here.”

The Patriarch’s
strong, deep words were the best ones he’d ever heard.

“
Thank
you, Father,” he replied trying to fathom why anyone would want him
dead. “Where am I?”

“
This is
the Abba Garima Monastery.”

“
The
monastery?”

“
Yes.”

Hart
straightened up. He realized there were five monks in the monastery
and they all had eyes on him.

“
I…I want
to see the gospel.”

The monks
looked at each other with concern. One spoke.

“
You’re
shouldn’t be here, far less see the gospel. The gospel is over
there.” The young monk pointed to a bright blue, circular
hut.

“
I’m
sorry to intrude like this, really sorry.”

“
The
gospel is magical and we guard it with our lives.”

Hart stared at
the fourth century text that was a mere five feet away. Not much
was known of its writer, the Abba, except that he was a Byzantine
royal who had come to Aksum. Maybe, what was known was also being
kept a secret.

“
Magical?” he asked.

“
If a
person is ill and we read from the text, the person is
healed.”

Could you read
to me, he wanted to plead as the pain of his wounds heightened. He
took a sip of water again. Hart suddenly remembered a poster he’d
seen at a museum in the city. It was of the Abba holding out two
fingers, producing a fish. The man, who looked middle-eastern, was
illuminated by light. He bit his lip, thinking. What would make a
royal abandon his comforts to come here? Had Garima seen something?
Was it in the Ark of the Covenant? Did it affect his mind, giving
him the ability to produce an object with a thought?

“
What do
you read?” he asked.

“
We read
from its Cannon Tables.”

“
Can you
tell me a bit more?”

“
The
illuminations in the book are divine, of the four evangelists,
Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. There are depictions of the Temple of
Solomon and depictions of birds and gardens from
paradise.”

Hart sighed,
not knowing what to say. The expression of the young Ethiopian monk
was genuine. He was among folks who held nothing higher than their
deep belief in the Garima Gospel. He cleared his throat.

“
Can you
tell me anything about the Gospel of Mary Magdalene?”

“
What do
you want to know?” The Patriarch stared.

“
Six
pages are missing from the part that deals with matter. I’m looking
for them.”

“
That
gospel was well-circulated. Fragments of a Greek version were found
at an ancient library in Oxyrynychus, in Lower Egypt.”