The Book of Love (12 page)

“Like Frederick?”

Frederick was her father’s oldest servant, another trusted member of the circle from Lucca that surrounded the noble family. Frederick often entertained Matilda by carving trinkets for her out of wood. Her favorite doll, an exquisite carving of the legendary Ariadne, was a masterwork that the old man had created for her at Christmastide. He had even carved a replica of the labyrinth on the doll’s back, that Matilda might begin to understand the complex pattern that was so intrinsic to their tradition.

“Yes, very much like our Frederick. But because Nicodemus was present when our Lord died on the cross, he could not get such a holy image out of his mind. So he decided to carve it in wood, that the world would have a memory of this great sacrifice for many centuries to
come. It took him a year to complete his task, but when it was finished, Nicodemus had created the very first piece of art that shows us what our Lord looked like. It is called the
Volto Santo
, the Holy Face, because it is one of only two pieces of art in the world that were created by men who looked into the face of Jesus during both his life and death. One is in Rome, a painting that was created by holy Luke the Evangelist and is in the keeping of the pope. But the
Volto Santo
is the only one that I have seen, and it is most magnificent.”

Matilda’s eyes grew wide. “You have seen this carving?”

“Yes, and so will you.”

Matilda began her customary squirming again. “But when? How?”

Isobel interrupted her. “Patience, my sweet. Let me tell you more of the story. When Nicodemus died, the carving disappeared. The earliest Christians took it away to hide it from the Romans so it would not be lost or destroyed. It was hidden in the Holy Land for seven hundred years. And then, when the prophets decreed that it was time, the
Volto Santo
, which had once held the most sacred treasure of our people, was brought from its hiding place and prepared for a voyage.”

“Sacred treasure?” Matilda’s eyes were wide with the idea of a great secret.

“Yes, love. For you see, while carving the
Volto Santo
, Nicodemus had left an opening in the back of the sculpture, a secret opening in which to store the most holy of items.”

“The Libro Rosso?”

Isobel nodded. “Yes, the Libro Rosso. And it was the most sacred of treasures because it contained the teachings of the Way of Love as written by our Lord himself, and later the prophecies of his holy daughter. But you shall learn more of that when we arrive in Lucca. For it is there that you will view the Libro Rosso in person. It is time, my angel, for you to begin your proper training in earnest.”

Matilda was speechless, which was entirely uncustomary, causing Isobel to laugh out loud. It was a beautiful, ringing sound. “What’s wrong, little one? Are you so surprised that your time has come? You have just turned six, and that is a magic number. It is the number of
Venus, the number of love. The year when the training begins, particularly for an Expected One. And do not worry, I will be with you every step of the way.

“Now, I must prepare you to meet the great teacher. You will refer to him as the Master, and nothing else.”

“Doesn’t he have a name?”

“I am sure he does, but we do not use it. We call him the Master as a sign of respect, for he is from a very long line of chosen leaders for the Order, all of whom have been called the same thing. He is a very holy man.

“And I must warn you. He has a scar on his face, Matilda. A very ugly scar. But you must not be afraid of him. It will be a first lesson for you in learning not to judge a man by his physical appearance, but rather to wait and see what his disposition tells you about the true human within. The Master is a great man, a gentle man, and he will teach you as he taught me and many others.”

Matilda wanted to cry with the weight of this news, but she would not allow herself to do so. But this fearsome Master with the scarred face, the training to begin in mysterious Lucca…it was all so much! Perhaps going to Lucca was not such a wonderful present. Staying here in Mantua, where she had never known anything but security, might be better. She bit her lower lip and would not allow it to tremble.

“Don’t be afraid,
ma petite
.” Isobel hugged Matilda tightly. She had the heart of a lioness, this child, but she was still just a little girl. “It is your destiny, and a beautiful one at that. Just remember who you are at all times, by the grace of God.”

Matilda nodded solemnly. She was the countess of Canossa, and the heir of the great Bonifacio. She was a daughter of both Lucca and Mantua; she was the child of the prophecy. She was The Expected One.

She was
Matilda, by the Grace of God Who Is.

Lucca
1052

T
he city of Lucca was sacred by its very nature, one of earth’s blessed power places that had been recognized as possessing a special aura for as far back as human history endures. There were scraps of paleolithic settlements that gave a glimpse into the truly ancient nature of this place, yet it owed its early endurance to the ancient Etruscans and the Ligurian Celts. It was generally believed that the origins of its name came from a Celtic word,
luks
, which meant “area of marshes.” By the third century BCE, the Romans recognized Lucca as a special locale.

But for early Christians, it was the first and second century that formed the heart and soul of the city they considered sacred above many others. While the Romans continued to build superlatively, surrounding Lucca with important roads, enclosing it in its first set of walls and creating a spectacular amphitheater, it was the quiet settlement of the Christian underground that formed the backbone of the culture that would endure here within the hearts of the Lucchesi.

While traditional Catholicism flourished on the surface, Lucca had another Christian culture at its foundation, one that lived in harmony with the more traditional Catholic converts. For it was taught
that the children of the original apostles and their followers settled here, where legend says they were joined by members of the holy family. These Christians claimed that their teachings came directly from Jesus Christ himself through the legacy of his children, and they had in their possession a sacred book from which they taught their descendants.

At the time of Matilda’s arrival in Lucca, the power of orthodoxy in the Church through ascetic monasticism was growing in a way that required those who practiced the “old ways” of Christianity to be very discreet. Certainly, the new reforms concerned those who were devoted to the Way of Love. The whispers of heresy were beginning to grow in Italy and had already spread to other areas of Europe. Isobel’s people were like many in Lucca who publicly attended and supported the Catholic Church but maintained their secret traditions behind the closed doors of their homes. But Isobel, as a descendant of Siegfried of Lucca’s family, had been raised with the innermost teachings of the old traditions. She was a member of the Order of the Holy Sepulcher, the secret society created on the original Easter by Luke the Evangelist along with the holy Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea. The Order had branches in Jerusalem, the southern Italian region of Calabria, Rome, and throughout Tuscany. It was an order that not only accepted women as members but recognized them as leaders. This was in honor of Maria Magdalena, whom the Order was formed to protect, and her daughter, the prophetess Sarah-Tamar. They were the recognized successors of Jesus in their tradition, the holy women by whom Christianity endured and flourished in Europe.

The name by which the children of Lucca chose to be known, the
Lucchesi
, was a clever play on words. It defined them as inhabitants of Lucca but also as children of Luca the Evangelist, the founder who brought the sacred Order of the Holy Sepulcher to Italy.

The entourage entered through the San Frediano gate at the north, and Matilda was delighted to see that they were to be received with great festivity. She was wearing a golden dress of finest brocade and perched with her father upon his enormous black charger. Bonifacio
was equally bedecked; his riding cape was trimmed in ermine and encrusted with jewels; there were thick and solid golden cuffs at his wrists that gleamed in the Tuscan sunlight. The people of Lucca had come out in throngs to catch a glimpse of this legendary little countess with the shining tresses and the extraordinary blue-green eyes. Isobel had braided her hair and woven flowers through the plaits that morning. Her refusal to cover the child’s hair with a veil had caused some consternation in Bonifacio, who thought it unseemly for his daughter to be seen in public this way. But Isobel had a way with Matilda’s father; she knew how to play to his familial sympathies and soften him. That Isobel was as lovely and graceful as she was did not hurt when she needed to make a point with the acutely male Tuscan warrior prince, albeit she never used her charms inappropriately.

The child countess of Canossa would need the support of the people in Tuscany as she grew older. She was now the only living heir of a great fortune, a fortune that law decreed could not be inherited by a woman. In order for Matilda to retain her claim as Bonifacio’s heiress, she would need, among other blessings, to be beloved by the people of Tuscany. Isobel had explained this patiently to Bonifacio. Matilda’s entrance into Lucca must be memorable. She must become the cherished child of the Tuscan people in order to ensure any hope of her inheritance when she was older.

But Isobel was also well aware of the growing strength of Matilda’s living legend, even at this young age. The indoctrinated in Lucca were well versed in the enigmatic prophecies left by Sarah-Tamar and they had known that Matilda could be The Expected One since the propitious day of her equinox birth here. If this were the case, she was to be revered as the new Shepherdess, the woman who would lead them spiritually in the teachings and preservation of the Way of Love. Matilda had arrived at a time when the ancient Lucchesi people needed the symbol of hope that she represented for them. All of these factors must be considered as Matilda made her triumphant return to her birthplace.

Bonifacio relented, and the savvy Isobel had prepared the prophe
sied princess for her debut into the public eye. Matilda, for her part, behaved beautifully, laughing and waving and looking every bit like the petite, mythical creature she was believed by many to be. This came naturally to her, but today her excitement bubbled over and into the streets. She was with her heroic father, wearing a beautiful new dress, and people were shouting her name in the streets! She would remember it as one of the shining moments of her life.

“Has she had the dreams yet, Isobel?”

The enigmatic wise man, known to his students only as the Master, stood over the sleeping figure of the exhausted little countess. It had been a busy day of parades and banquets, of being doted upon by her father and adored by his people. Matilda’s official meeting with the Master would occur on the morrow, once she was rested. But the wise man wanted to have a first glimpse of her, and to speak to her guardian in preparation. He was an imposing presence, tall and weathered, with an appearance made deceptively fearsome by the long jagged scar that crossed the left side of his face.

“Yes, but she does not understand what they are or what they mean.”

“And she has dreamt of Golgotha?”

“Not specifically, but she has dreamed of Good Friday, of that I am certain.”

The Master nodded, deep in thought. He was satisfied. It was enough to fulfill the prophecy, even at this early age. For the prophetess had decreed that The Expected One would have visions of “the black day of the skull.” While this had been interpreted to mean specific visions of the crucifixion, for a child so young and of otherwise promising birth to be dreaming of Good Friday was a strong omen.

“I believe she is what they say she is,” the Master decreed. “Bring her to me immediately after breaking her fast. We have much work to do. And Isobel…”

“Yes, Master?”

“You have done well with her. She is a credit to your love.”

Isobel smiled at her adored teacher, eyes welling with tears.

“No, Master. She is a credit to God.”

The Lord challenged Solomon to build a tabernacle, a place where access to God’s will might be attained by the faithful. In his wisdom and obedience to his Lord, Solomon constructed the Temple, and it is holy above all.

And within the sanctity of the bridal chamber, Solomon and Sheba created the labyrinth with its eleven paths in and out as a new tabernacle, where fully realized men and women may find there is no separation between themselves and God. It is a place where the Aeon, which is to say the Temple Space, can be simulated and experienced for those who cannot reach the Temple otherwise.

In the center of the labyrinth, the children of God will open their eyes. For most souls live in this world in a state of slumber. They must awaken in this life, in these bodies where everything they are on earth exists. Their bodies are their own sacred temple spaces, and yet they do not see this. They believe that the kingdom awaits them only in the afterlife, and so they miss the most important teaching: that we are to live on earth as it is in heaven, and create heaven where it does not exist on earth. The kingdom of God is for us, here and now, on earth and in our earthly bodies of flesh if we will only claim it. This is done through love and love alone.

In the labyrinth, one reaches the Temple Space, where one speaks directly to God. It is a gift to the children that they may become anthropos, fully realized humans, and fully awake. That they may find their authentic selves, their unique being, and simply become who they are meant to be on earth.

Pray in the manner I have shown you, at the center of the labyrinth and at the center of your life. Use the prayer as a rose and marvel at the beauty of its six petals, for it contains all you need to find the kingdom of heaven on earth. The central circle is love perfected.

The children of the world must open their eyes to see God all around them. Then they can live as love expressed. It is in doing this that they fulfill their destinies, and likewise their promises to and from eternity. They must awaken. And they must awaken now.

Love Conquers All.

For those with ears to hear, let them hear it.

F
ROM THE
B
OOK OF
L
OVE, AS PRESERVED IN THE
L
IBRO
R
OSSO

Lucca
1052

H
IS SCAR
was horrible. She couldn’t take her eyes off it.

“Come, little one. Let us get this out of the way. I want you to put your hand on my face and touch the scar for yourself. You will see that it is just old flesh, and nothing to fear. Come now.”

Matilda looked over at Isobel, who nodded at her with a smile. She allowed the Master to take her tiny hand in his and hold it up to his ravaged face. Matilda ran her index and middle fingers along the jagged edge. Now curiosity was overcoming fear. She mustered the courage to ask, “How did you get this scar, Master?”

Isobel breathed a silent sigh of relief. Matilda had remembered her manners.
Praise God.

“Ah, a fair question, and one that requires a story. Come and sit beside the fire and I shall tell you.”

As promised, Isobel and Matilda had come early this morning to the settlement of ancient stone buildings known simply as the Order. Here the Master lived and worked, instructing students from the oldest local families in the teachings of the Way. The chamber where they sat was one of the study rooms, furnished with a long table with ink and parchment and a large wooden box containing scrolls of instruction. There was a massive stone fireplace for mornings such as this when the Tuscan spring was yet young enough to contain a chill. The Master spoke often of his aged bones and how he felt that cold deep within them.

Matilda and Isobel sat on the bench that was adjacent to the fireplace. The Master sat opposite them on a wooden stool and began his explanation.

“Long ago, child, one of the earliest leaders of our Order was injured in a great war. It was an epic battle between the forces of light and the forces of darkness. While it was feared for a very long time that he had lost this battle, in truth he did not. He won, through the power of love and faith, and through what evolved as his unshakable belief in an all-powerful and loving God. But he was left scarred from his ordeal,
with a jagged mark across his face. He was easy to identify, to be sure, with such a mark. In the centuries since, those of us who would follow in his path have taken the same scar in his honor, a mark to show that we are dedicated only to the teachings left behind in the Order. It is self-inflicted as part of our vow. I know it is hard to understand why a man would take such a scar upon himself. But it is a sign of our devotion to what is inside, and not what is out.”

Matilda’s hands flew up to her porcelain face, causing the Master to laugh out loud.

“No fear, my little one. Such a thing would never be asked of you. I see that your beauty will be one of your greatest weapons as a warrior for the Way. But always remember that God has graced you with it to be used wisely.”

Matilda nodded solemnly before asking in a small voice, “Did it hurt?”

The Master shrugged. “Honestly, I do not remember. It was so long ago. If it did hurt, all I know is that it did not hurt as much as what our Lord suffered through in his own final sacrifice. And now if we have sufficiently covered the history of my face, I would like to begin your instruction. Is that acceptable to you, my lady?”

Matilda nodded again and then replied politely, prompted by Isobel’s clearing of the throat, “Yes, the Master.”

He laughed in appreciation of her desire to show good manners. “Good. Then I shall start by giving you a flower. A very special flower for a very special young lady. It is a rose with six petals.”

The Master opened the creaking hinge of the wooden casket that rested on the table and removed one of the scrolls. This one was tied with a scarlet silk ribbon embroidered with golden diamonds. Matilda’s eyes lit up with the beauty of the gift as the teacher handed it to her.

“You may open it. And keep the ribbon.” He winked at her, and suddenly his scarred face took on an animation that was kindly rather than fearsome. Isobel was right, of course. It was important not to judge a man solely by his appearance. The day would come when Matilda would remember this as the most beautiful face she had ever seen.

Matilda unrolled the scroll to see that it was a rough ink drawing of a flower. Six large, rounded petals surrounded a central circle.