of wardrobe that identified him as a novice. Kanner had made the same adjustment to his own dress.
The venerable was addressing two of his sergeants who had come forward. One of them was carrying a lamp and a large leather-bound volume.
“Brother Master of Ceremonies, you will now repair with the brother orator to the seeker, in order that this brother may make him more fully acquainted with the principles of our craft, and invite him to once again examine himself. If he stands to his decision to enter our craft, then lead him, deprived of his jewelry and outer clothing, according to the ancient usages of Freemasonry, to the gate of the temple.”
The two sergeants bowed, turned, and walked toward the bronze doors that swung open to facilitate their passage. Above the entrance the All-Seeing Eye surveyed the throng with transcendent disinterest. As the two men dissolved into the gloom, the sound of a pipe organ filled the air. The combination of stops that the organist had employed created a sound similar to that of a small band of recorders. The chords progressed like a hymn, and the transparent, luminous harmonies, suffused with gentle, compassionate warmth, declared the unmistakable handiwork of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. The company began to sing: “Lasst uns mit geschlungnen Handen, Bruder, diese Arbeit enden…” With clasped hands, brethren, let us end this work…
Liebermann was not familiar with the melody and wondered whether it belonged to some obscure body of work jealously guarded by the Masons. May this bond tightly embrace the entire globe,
As it does this holy place…
As the music continued, Liebermann scanned the faces of those standing opposite. There were so many of them, and what with their hats and the gloomy light, the task of trying to identify Olbricht among such a large gathering was beginning to feel like an insurmountable challenge. Moreover, his general view was restricted. He could not see the Masons standing behind him, nor the faces of what appeared to be a secretariat seated at tables below the venerable's throne. Then not in the east alone will light shine, Not in the west alone, But also in the south and in the north.
The organ progressed to a final cadence, and then there was silence.
It was broken by three loud knocks on the door. Each blow boomed like a bass drum.
In the blue-gray misty distance, Liebermann saw a tall, gaunt man raise his hand.
“Venerable Master!” he cried out. “One knocks as a stranger.”
“See who knocks,” replied the venerable.
The bronze doors were opened again.
“It is Brother Master of Ceremonies and Brother Hansel, with the seeker.”
“Inquire of him if the seeker is a free man who has the good repute of his fellow citizens.”
More questions and answers followed, and a request for the sponsor to show himself. A man appeared between the two columns of the doorway and declared, “As far as I know, I believe that the seeker is worthy of my sponsorship, and I hope that he will persevere.”
His accent was Hungarian.
The venerable responded, “Now then, you will let the seeker enter.” He gave a single rap with his gavel and continued. “To order, my brethren.”
Again, the sound of the pipe organ filled the air, and a tenor voice began to sing a familiar refrain. “O heiliges Band der Freundschaft treuer Bruder…” Oh, holy Bond of the Friendship of true Brothers…
Liebermann recognized it immediately. It was the song that Kanner had been singing in the private dining room.
A young man with long black hair had been marched to the threshold of the temple. He was blindfolded and his shirt-the cut of which suggested the eighteenth rather than the twentieth century- flapped open at the neck and hung loosely from his shoulders. This, then, was the seeker: Prince Ambrus Nadasdy. Now that both the venerable and the prince were in the same room, Liebermann tensed.
Where is he?
The question made him peer into the darkened corners of the temple in trepidation.
As the music faded, the prince's guide proclaimed, “Up to now I have led you safely. Now I must turn you over to another conductor. Trust in his guidance.”
The guide presented the young man to the gaunt Mason.
“My Lord!” cried the venerable. “No mortal eye can gaze into the heart. If you were led here by some selfish motive, or if you had the hope of discovering supernatural information and hidden knowledge through us, which was unobtainable outside of our tie, then you would see deceptions in your expectations. Our craft is devoted to humanity. Our closest task is to cultivate the pure nature of man within us with a united effort. If you are determined to unite with us in the noble work of humanity, you will affirm it according to your conscience and on your honor by a distinct Yes.”
The prince responded as instructed: “Yes.”
“Will you submit yourself to our guidance?” asked the venerable. “Do you trust us?
Again, the decisive affirmative: “Yes!”
“Man alone,” continued the venerable, “among all terrestrial creations is capable and called upon to work on his self-improvement. Man is destined to a higher perfection. But the way thereto is difficult to find and beset with dangers. Brother Junior Warden, let the seeker try his strengths upon the travels he now enters upon.”
Kanner tugged Liebermann's sleeve. At once, all the Masons sat down.
The gaunt, willowy Mason addressed the prince-but in tones that could be heard by all of the assembly.
“In the ancient mysteries, allegorical journeys and tests were arranged for those who were to be admitted. Accordingly, we have retained these forms of the tradition. The journeys that you will undertake are representative of life. Masonry educates its youths by imprinting their lives through symbolic acts.”
Liebermann felt uneasy. Although nothing material had changed, he felt a disturbing prickling at the back of his neck-like the prescient discomfort that precedes turning around to discover that one is being stared at.
“Pay sharp attention,” intoned the junior warden, “and keep true in mind the admonitions that will be given to you on these journeys. Whoever travels in darkness to unfamiliar places, as you do, requires a conductor. Fortunate is he who finds in the darkness an honest friend as a skillful guide. Follow me, I will lead you safely.”
The gaunt Mason took the prince's left hand and walked him into the body of the temple. When they reached the three columns, the pair began a slow, stately circumnavigation of the carpet.
“The life of man moves in a circular fashion,” the guide continued. “But the eternal center of these circuits is the one God that Freemasons worship under the designation of the Great Architect of the World. Freemasons are worshippers of God, however different your conception of God may be.”
Since the brethren had sat down, Liebermann had been afforded a better view of the desks that flanked the venerable's throne. He scrutinized the seated figures. Then Kanner nudged him in the ribs to draw his attention back to the central drama. Clearly, something significant was about to happen.
The junior warden suddenly pulled the prince back a step. “Deprived of your eyesight,” he taunted, “you would fall into the abyss before your feet if the hand of a friend did not hold you back. The blindfold over your eyes is a representation of your ignorance, which does not know the dangers that threaten the paths of life.”
Liebermann returned his gaze to the desks.
One of the secretaries was not looking up.
His head was bowed and there was something odd about his position. He looked uncomfortable, awkward, angular. Liebermann realized why. The secretary's right arm was pulled back and his hand was gripping the hilt of his sabre.
Could it possibly be…
Liebermann's instinct was to act, but the formality of the initiation ceremony demanded caution, respect.
Olbricht? A Mason?
Liebermann felt bound, inhibited-unable to raise an alarm. What if he was wrong?
And yet…
The gaunt Mason was leading his royal ward up through the nave, toward the venerable's throne. They were drawing closer together. If it was Olbricht, then the venerable and the prince would very soon be in striking distance.
Sarastro and Tamino.
It must be him.
