CARTHAGE – MIDDLE AGES
IACOBUS LOOKED BACK, and faced with the imminent need to escape his pursuers, who were quickening their pace with the intention of going around the buildings and surrounding him, before he reached the main entrance door and took shelter in the immunity granted by the religiosity of the sanctuary. He knew very well what punishment was reserved for those who disobeyed the precepts of the lodge. Just thinking about it made his blood freeze in his veins. So much so that, upon noticing the light of the lanterns, to the right and left of the walls of the cathedral, he had no choice but to seek shelter in the portico called the Apostles1.
There he huddled, hoping to disappear, to merge with the icons hidden behind the shadows of the night. He looked up at the sky. The brightness of the stars told him of this immortal magic that elevated his craft above the common ignorance of people, and he immediately understood that he had been stupid in trying to memorize the mystery of the temples, in order to later leave a legacy to humanity. There was no point in complaining. The die was cast and he would have to pay dearly for his mistake. There was no time to lose... He immediately took the chisel and the small hammer that he kept in his bag and quickly engraved his initials on the bottom of the door, hoping that future generations would understand the message of anguish that he was trying to convey. Then, when he realized that his hiding place would not prevent him from being punished and that it would be impossible to reach the chapel of the Templar virgin, he tried to flee to the river, his last hope. Several of his companions followed him, surrounding him like a wounded animal that they wanted to kill, in order to prevent him from suffering even more. They remained silent, firmly observing the man who had betrayed them by secretly writing down the knowledge of the Widow's Sons. Iacobus could see the condemnation on their faces. They felt deceived. He had let them down.
The eldest, who was wearing a purple tunic and a blue velvet cape, approached, the colors of copper and iron from which the mason's compass is forged. It was the Master Builder.
"Tell us... Where did you hide him?" asked the one called Justus Bravatius in a grave voice.
Iacobus of Carthage was surprised by his own bravery when he shook his head, breathing quickly as he tried to catch his breath, to gain strength in the face of the lethal threat that loomed over him.
— I don't need to tell you what the brotherhood's decision is regarding the traitors — he reminded — If you continue with this attitude, I will be forced to carry out the punishment that awaits those who break their oath.
Justus was serious. He would fulfill his promise, despite the years of friendship that existed between the two masons.
— I have made a decision and I do not intend to retract it — Iacobus dared to say, even knowing that, by doing so, he was signing his own death sentence. He continued:
— I believe that we have taken possession of a right that belongs to everyone and it is time for man to understand the importance of deciphering the secret of Wisdom, the power of the lost temples and the mystery that surrounds the work of the ancient masters. The Throne of God is not only a celestial symbol exclusive to the bishop, it also belongs to the people. We cannot continue to hide the truth from them.
— It has been this way for thousands of years and it must continue to be this way, until humanity is ready to listen to the voice of the great Architect. None of us should break the bond that unites us to tradition.
Unable to help it, Iacobus began to laugh. He found it funny that people were talking about links, especially after having chiseled, for months, the enormous stone links that hung from the upper part of the octagonal chapel, still under construction, a feat that was praised by Pedro Fajardo, Marquis of Vélez himself.
"Did you know that one of the links in the chain is cracked from one side to the other?" he asked his former master. "I damaged it myself, because tradition must cease."
Justus Bravatius turned to see the response of the other members of the lodge. In the strict expressions of his companions, he recognized the need to put an end to Iacobus's unbridled efforts. The masons, in unison, shouted the brotherhood's maxim:
"Don't tell anyone the secrets of the chamber, or anything you do in the lodge! Don't tell anyone the secrets of the chamber, or anything you do in the lodge!" they shouted, at the same time as they tightened the circle around the traitor.
Before everyone fell upon the artist and murdered him with their own hands, since the excited spirits of the congregation meant a death threat, Justus ordered that the rebel be taken to the back of the cathedral, where the areas reserved for the rest and gathering of fellow masons were located.
Shortly afterwards, tied to a post of the scaffolding that surrounded the chapel under construction, he was whipped by Justus himself, before the complacent gaze of all the others. Despite the severity of the torture, Iacobus resisted giving them a reason for pleasure, silently drowning out his screams and pain. His teeth gnashed at the caresses of the whip, without letting out a single moan. His body arched forward with each thrust, bending his head and back as he felt his skin tear into bloody shreds. And even so, the punishment failed to subdue his spirit or make him say where he had hidden the manuscript of discord. The firm conviction he held in his ideas was greater than the purpose of saving his own life. Once the flogging was over, and seeing that his old friend was incapable of recognizing the absurdity of his effort, Justo Bravo ordered that a drill and also a very sharp dagger be brought to him. Iacobus responded to the master's request by tensing the muscles of his body, now torn apart by the stinging balls of silicon. "You leave me no choice, Iacobus," said the person in charge of the works in a glacial voice. — Since you have decided to hide the whereabouts of your writings from us, I feel obliged to faithfully fulfill the punishment that corresponds to the lodge's oath. To ensure that you cannot recover them without someone's help, if you manage to survive, I will take the punishment further.
Before the master fulfilled his promise, Iacobus looked up, towards the dark and eternal night. The figures that supported and protected the Chacón y Fajardo coat of arms, born of his imagination as an artist, watched him with significant sadness.
The mechanical crane, the objects on the construction site, the central scaffolding that would be used to build the starry dome, had bid him their final farewell, in absolute silence. Despite everything, he felt satisfied. Encoiay would never bring his testimony.
Without delaying the cruel sentence any longer, Justus Bravatius mercilessly pierced the condemned man's eyes and, after making a deep cut in his lower jaw, tore out his tongue from under his chin. The screams could be heard far beyond the narrow streets of the neighborhoods located on the other side of the river.