dry, and his hand stiffened. He stared at the yellowed sheets full of symbols. He didn’t recognize much, but the black skull was unmistakable. He focused on it. No, it wasn’t the familiar skull on his SS helmet. It was misshapen—and it was wearing a grotesque smile.
François Le Guermand started laughing uncontrollably, like a madman, as he slipped into the shadows.
BOAZ
One of two pillars guarding the temple entrance,
derived from Hebrew, meaning “in strength”
1
2005
The speaker, a Generation Xer with jet-black hair, stood in front of a stylized sun painting. He scanned the room. It was silent.
This space in Rome’s Alessandro di Cagliostro Freemason Lodge resembled a large dark-blue cavern. Thin rays of light shone down from the ceiling, which was adorned with stars to make it look like the night sky.
To his left and right were forty or so men in black suits, white aprons, and gloves. They were impassive, motionless, like statues made of flesh. There were also a few women in long robes.
He turned to the east, toward the man presiding over the meeting. “I have spoken, Worshipful Master,” he said.
The master waited a few seconds and then pounded a wooden mallet on his small desk. Behind him hung a huge all-seeing Egyptian eye.
“Brothers and sisters, I would like to thank our brother Antoine Marcas for coming from France to speak to us. His lecture on the origins of ancient Masonic rites was quite instructive. He claims to just be a little curious, but it’s clear that he has taken great pains to educate himself in our mysteries. I am sure you have many questions. Sisters and brothers, you may speak.”
A brother clapped, asking to be acknowledged. The senior steward spoke the ritual words and invited him to speak.
“Worshipful Master in person, Worshipful Masters from the Orient, and my brothers and sisters, as we all know, our lodge was named after Alessandro di Cagliostro, and I would like to ask our distinguished brother Marcas to clarify, if possible, the origin of the Cagliostro ritual.”
The speaker looked over the notes he had jotted down on three-by-five cards. “In 1784, in Lyon, France, Cagliostro inaugurated his High Egyptian Masonic Rite in the Triumphant Wisdom Lodge. According to current biographers, Cagliostro was initiated in Malta at the Saint John of Scotland Lodge of Secrecy and Harmony, which is where he founded the ritual that now bears his name.”
Another man clapped.
Antoine Marcas took a closer look at the audience. Both Italian and French lodges were represented. He recognized the Grande Lodge brothers with their red-trimmed Scottish rite aprons and the Memphis Misraïm sisters dressed in white.
The worshipful master gave the floor to a brother with a strong Milanese accent, which made him sound very serious. “Italy’s declining institutions and political corruption continue to make headlines. And the country’s troubles appear to be affecting the rest of Europe, especially France. Some are accusing the Freemasons of being at least partly responsible for this situation. What do you have to say about this?”
Marcas nodded. He didn’t like political questions.
Fifteen years earlier, his idealistic trust in the secular values of the republic had motivated him to become a Freemason. He was also excited by the promise of personal development. Since then, he had watched the image of freemasonry decline in France. Before, the media had praised Freemason contributions to education and conflict resolution. Now they were focused on scandal and mysterious networks of shadowy figures.
Marcas took time to choose his words. He wouldn’t fully disclose his thoughts about anti-Freemason media campaigns or about the brothers who didn’t deserve their aprons. For a while, Marcas had attended a lodge that was full of money launderers and others in cahoots with politicians skilled at rigging public contracts. The lodge was nestled in a suburban Paris townhouse and was
François Le Guermand started laughing uncontrollably, like a madman, as he slipped into the shadows.
BOAZ
One of two pillars guarding the temple entrance,
derived from Hebrew, meaning “in strength”
1
2005
The speaker, a Generation Xer with jet-black hair, stood in front of a stylized sun painting. He scanned the room. It was silent.
This space in Rome’s Alessandro di Cagliostro Freemason Lodge resembled a large dark-blue cavern. Thin rays of light shone down from the ceiling, which was adorned with stars to make it look like the night sky.
To his left and right were forty or so men in black suits, white aprons, and gloves. They were impassive, motionless, like statues made of flesh. There were also a few women in long robes.
He turned to the east, toward the man presiding over the meeting. “I have spoken, Worshipful Master,” he said.
The master waited a few seconds and then pounded a wooden mallet on his small desk. Behind him hung a huge all-seeing Egyptian eye.
“Brothers and sisters, I would like to thank our brother Antoine Marcas for coming from France to speak to us. His lecture on the origins of ancient Masonic rites was quite instructive. He claims to just be a little curious, but it’s clear that he has taken great pains to educate himself in our mysteries. I am sure you have many questions. Sisters and brothers, you may speak.”
A brother clapped, asking to be acknowledged. The senior steward spoke the ritual words and invited him to speak.
“Worshipful Master in person, Worshipful Masters from the Orient, and my brothers and sisters, as we all know, our lodge was named after Alessandro di Cagliostro, and I would like to ask our distinguished brother Marcas to clarify, if possible, the origin of the Cagliostro ritual.”
The speaker looked over the notes he had jotted down on three-by-five cards. “In 1784, in Lyon, France, Cagliostro inaugurated his High Egyptian Masonic Rite in the Triumphant Wisdom Lodge. According to current biographers, Cagliostro was initiated in Malta at the Saint John of Scotland Lodge of Secrecy and Harmony, which is where he founded the ritual that now bears his name.”
Another man clapped.
Antoine Marcas took a closer look at the audience. Both Italian and French lodges were represented. He recognized the Grande Lodge brothers with their red-trimmed Scottish rite aprons and the Memphis Misraïm sisters dressed in white.
The worshipful master gave the floor to a brother with a strong Milanese accent, which made him sound very serious. “Italy’s declining institutions and political corruption continue to make headlines. And the country’s troubles appear to be affecting the rest of Europe, especially France. Some are accusing the Freemasons of being at least partly responsible for this situation. What do you have to say about this?”
Marcas nodded. He didn’t like political questions.
Fifteen years earlier, his idealistic trust in the secular values of the republic had motivated him to become a Freemason. He was also excited by the promise of personal development. Since then, he had watched the image of freemasonry decline in France. Before, the media had praised Freemason contributions to education and conflict resolution. Now they were focused on scandal and mysterious networks of shadowy figures.
Marcas took time to choose his words. He wouldn’t fully disclose his thoughts about anti-Freemason media campaigns or about the brothers who didn’t deserve their aprons. For a while, Marcas had attended a lodge that was full of money launderers and others in cahoots with politicians skilled at rigging public contracts. The lodge was nestled in a suburban Paris townhouse and was
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