“Now we open Pandora’s box.” Caedmon placed the exhumed metal container on top of a scarred table. Thrilled by the discovery, he hoped its contents would put them one step closer to the elusive Templar treasure. He gallantly swept his arm in Edie’s direction. “Since you so cleverly solved the mystery, I think you should do the honors.”
“Wish me . . . What is that?” she screeched the moment the metal box was opened. She pointed an accusing finger at a skeletal hand nesting in a bed of packing materials.
“A casualty of war, I daresay, the skeletal appendage severed at the wrist.” And a clean cut, at that, indicating a very sharp blade had been used. He assumed that the rest of the skeleton was in the mass grave that Lovett had uncovered.
He carefully removed the tray from the box and placed it on the table. Beneath it was a neatly packed assortment of resealable plastic bags. He removed a large see-through bag and held it aloft. “Good God! Unless I’m mistaken, this hilt came from a sixteenth-century hand-and-a-half wheel pommel sword.”
“Do you think we can get anything for it on eBay? Just kidding,” she added when he cast a chastising glance in her direction. Edie lifted a smaller plastic bag from the metal box, dangling it in front of his face. “This silver ring looks pretty old. What do you want to bet it goes with the severed hand?”
Caedmon did a double take. Stunned, he snatched hold of Edie’s wrist, stilling the plastic bag’s back-and-forth motion.
Can it really be?
“May I?” When she nodded, he took custody of the polyethylene bag.
Taking a deep, stabilizing breath, he unzipped the bag and, with reverential care, removed the tarnished silver ring. Utterly bowled over, he stared at the pair of armed and helmeted knights engraved on a circular disk.
Un-bloody-believable.
Weak in the knees, he walked over to the one chair in the room that hadn’t been knocked asunder. Holding the chair back with his free hand, he eased himself onto the wooden seat.
Edie approached, clearly bemused by his reaction. “Given your dumbstruck state, I have deduced that that is not your garden-variety cocktail ring. Pretty valuable, huh?”
“It’s a signet ring. When pressed into molten wax, it created a seal,” he informed her, finally regaining his senses. “And, yes, I suspect it would fetch a pretty penny. Although its historic value is immeasurable.” And the reason for his “dumbstruck state.” “Each grand master had his own unique signet ring with which he stamped letters and documents, enabling him to validate—”
“Back up!” Edie interjected. “Are you saying that’s a Templar signet ring that belonged to a Knights Templar grand master?”
He gazed at the ring still cradled in his palm. “Yes, that’s precisely what I’m saying. Proof positive that the Knights Templar landed on these shores and established a secret colony at Arcadia. The smoking gun as it were.”
“Well, this I’ve got to see.”
Pronouncement made, Edie strode over to the far side of the room. Yanking open the middle drawer on Lovett’s desk, she rummaged through its contents. When she didn’t find what she was looking for, she opened another drawer.
“ ’Bout time,” she muttered, removing a magnifying glass. “Can’t imagine an archaeologist without one of these at the ready. Now let me have a look at that ring.” She pinched the ring between her thumb and index finger, examining it under the magnifying lens. “Hey, I recognize these guys. This is the famous image of two Templar knights riding one horse.”
“Symbolic of the Templars’ vow of poverty.”
“Well, let’s hope they didn’t take the vow too seriously because I will be highly disappointed if we don’t find a chest full of gold florins.” Brown eyes mischievously twinkling, she resumed her examination. “There’s a bunch of Latin inscribed on the outer rim of the ring . . . testis sum agnitio.”
“Agni,” he corrected. “Typically seen on Templar seals, the phrase means ‘I am a witness to the lamb.’ As in the Lamb of God.”
“That’s well and good, but this inscription reads ‘testis sum agnitio.’ ”
His jaw slackened. “My God . . . are you certain?”
“Here. See for yourself.” She handed him both the seal and the magnifying glass. “Significant or just a medieval typo?”
Confirming that the inscription did, in fact, read agnitio, he slumped against the wooden chair. “A most dangerous play on words,” he murmured. “It means ‘I am a witness to knowledge.’ Knowledge, or gnosis in the Greek, refers to a transcendental understanding of creation. Mystics describe it as a momentary flash of insight. A glimpse into the mind of God. Testis sum agnitio—the heretic’s creed.”
“Because the little people were supposed to kneel and genuflect and not ask any questions, right?”
He nodded. “The medieval church took great pains to ensure it was the sole proprietor of knowledge and was quick to condemn anyone who laid claim to spiritual knowledge that differed from their carefully crafted orthodoxy. All of which begs the question, what knowledge did the Templars possess?”
“Whatever it was, it brought the wrath of the Inquisition down upon them. And that, in turn, spelled the Templars’ doom. Which is why they ‘loaded up the truck and they moved to Beverly.’ ” The last part of her remark was sung rather than spoken. Giggling, Edie apologized. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist. And from your blank expression, I have ascertained that you’ve never watched a single episode of The Beverly Hillbillies.”
“To get back on point, it’s clear from both the Newport Tower and this signet ring that the Knights Templar did have a doomsday plan that involved the New World.” They would have been fools not to have a contingency plan, their enemies not only numerous but virulent. “I need to see what else is in that blasted metal box.”
As he lurched to his feet, Caedmon handed Edie the ring and magnifying glass. She, in turn, pointedly glanced at her wristwatch.
“Only fifteen minutes have lapsed since we entered the cottage. We have time,” he assured her, unwilling to wait until they’d checked into their hotel to examine the contents of the gray metal box. Having spent years studying the Knights Templar, Caedmon knew that trying to understand the elusive order of warrior monks was akin to finding a wisp of smoke in a thick fog. But the mist had just cleared, however briefly, thanks to Jason Lovett having unknowingly bequeathed to him an extraordinary artifact.
Testis sum agnitio.
His belly tight with anticipation, he lifted another bag out of the box. “We next enter into evidence, several black rosary beads along with a very tarnished Sacred Heart of Jesus medallion. Inscribed with the year 1523, it is convincing evidence that the Jesuits were directly involved in the Templar massacre at Arcadia. An unpleasant smell, the stench of orthodoxy.”
“Being awfully melodramatic, aren’t you?”
“Tell that to the poor souls who met their death at the end of a Maltese sword. Since the good Jesuits were forbidden to draw blood, the Knights of Malta were often used as their armed proxies.” He placed the plastic packet on the table next to the tray. “Ah! This should pique your interest.” He removed a bag containing six gold coins.