The Magic Circle Katherine Neville (top 100 novels of all time TXT) 📖

know as manna, wisdom, sapienta, the Word of God. It is associated with a mysterious, invisible element called “ether” that the ancients conceived as binding the universe together: the axis.

Miriam, I may tell you, when the Master finished this story, no one in the upper chamber of my home made a sound. The Master gazed slowly around the circle of his disciples, and in that absolute silence he posed an unexpected question.

“Does anyone know the true identity of ‘the Shulamite’?” He added, “I speak of King Solomon’s darkly beautiful and mysterious love in the Song of Songs. Shulamite means Salem-ite, for she was a city-dweller, and Salem was an early name of Jerusalem. When Solomon asked God for her hand in marriage, perhaps she was more ancient than the city itself. So who was she, really?”

After a moment’s awkward silence, Simon Peter responded for the others.

“But, Master,” he objected, “for a thousand years since the time of Solomon, rabbis and priests have debated the matter of that famous woman who was neither queen nor official royal concubine, but only a lowly keeper of vineyards. Yet the efforts of those wise men met with no success. How can we, here in this room, untutored as we are in all the scholarly aspects of Torah, be expected to fare any better?”

The Master’s answer, though delivered in the same soft tone, struck Peter so bluntly that he nearly recoiled.

“Miriam of Magdali would know the answer.” Then the Master smiled. “It is a knotty problem. But perhaps you’ll recall that the night before Solomon began construction on the temple, God appeared in a dream and told him to ask anything he wished. The young king replied that his only desire was the Shulamite’s hand in marriage—”

“Forgive me, Master,” young Johan Zebedee cut in. “I’m afraid that isn’t so. As everyone knows, Solomon’s first wife was Pharaoh’s daughter. Furthermore, Solomon only asked one thing of God that night—not marriage, but wisdom.”

“Exactly,” agreed the Master, still smiling. “And though Solomon had many wives, the one that remained first in his heart, as you’ve correctly said, was the dark, mysterious beauty with whom he celebrates his betrothal in the Song of Songs. To what better bride could a king wish to be yoked, throughout his days, than Wisdom? In the Song of Songs, she herself tells us her symbol is that five-pointed star that Solomon later accepts as his own seal:

“‘Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death.… the coals thereof are coals of fire.’

“This is the secret flame, the eternal leaven,” the Master said. “For the Greeks, the morning star was Artemis or Athena, virgins noted for their wisdom. The evening star was Aphrodite, goddess of love. Since we know these two stars are one, it reveals that in earliest days, men held the key to the highest mystery: the knowledge that wisdom and love are one, a knowledge permitting us to transcend even death.”

Those in the room remained in stunned silence as the Master casually tousled the hair of the young, and very confused-looking, Johan Zebedee, who was reclining near him on the sofa. Then he motioned for my son to pour him more wine.

“Master, forgive me,” said Philip of Bethsaida. “Your words seem to touch on past, present, and future events, so I’m never quite sure how to interpret what you say. But when you speak of love, surely you mean that our love of the Divine, if properly understood and nourished, might enable us to transcend even death? And yet, one must agree that the Song of Solomon, like the historical king himself, would suggest a very different, sensual, one might almost say a carnal picture of love—a portrayal that seems scarcely to suit the image of the coming kingdom which you, yourself, have foretold.”

“Indeed, Philip,” said the Master. “And that is precisely where the mystery lies.”

Mona Island, Britannia: Autumn, A.D. 44

To: Miriam of Magdali

at Lugdunum, Gaul

From: Joseph of Arimathea

at Mona, Sea of Eire, Britannia

Dearest Miriam,

As you see, your last parcel found me, though it took some time to arrive here. Due to last year’s “conquest” of southern Britannia by the emperor Claudius, I’ve temporarily relocated our base of activities here to the north, a druidical stronghold where we’ve received much support. Though I was never physically in danger—the Roman landing was a bloodless takeover, no battles were fought, there were no casualties, and the Romans were in and out in a few months’ time, leaving only a few legions behind to start construction—still I feared for the safety of those things I possess, which as you know are of some value. This leads naturally to the topic of your letter.

With regard to your offer—much as I yearn to see you in person, I don’t think it a good time for you to travel here just now from Gaul. I’ll explain in more detail below. But first I must convey my great appreciation for the new information you’ve provided, which I’ve taken much care in reviewing.

More and more, as our original numbers are decimated by the Romans or their puppets—James Zebedee’s brutal execution last spring at the hands of Herod Agrippa, or Simon Peter’s imprisonment, followed by his self-imposed exile to the north—I have come to see how very important it is for us to piece together a much fuller vision of what the Master was trying to accomplish in that fateful last week of his life.

Further, with all his warnings of false prophets, it seems clear Jesua must have foreseen someone like this Saul of Tarsus of whom John Mark speaks in his letter, who might arrive on the scene after his death and try to alter his entire message in such fashion. So I’ve tried to combine this new account you’ve sent of the Master’s last supper with his disciples with the information we’d previously collected. And I agree that we can see far more clearly now