Chapter 20
Sharyn refused to hand over the book without some explanation, wanting to know about the man who penned a book that had led to so many deaths.
Sir Kelly leaned back. “You’re right to inquire, Ms. Karr, and deserve an answer. Though, I must say the author—the Count of Saint-Germain—remains as much a mystery as the book itself.”
“Then what can you tell us?” Sharyn pressed. “We had to toss all our electronics and never had a chance to search the internet for his name.”
“If you had, you would’ve come across stories both historical and fanciful.
In fact, even where he came from is fiercely debated.
Some say he descended from a disgraced royal family, and to save face, he kept his past secret.
Others that he was raised by the infamous Medici banking family.
Or he might have been an Alsatian Jew or a Spanish Jesuit.
No one really knows. Still, regardless of his origin, he arrived at the French court already a man of great wealth, always appearing in public with clothing adorned in jewels. ”
“Then what is known about him?” Sharyn asked.
“To best answer that,” Sir Kelly continued, “I’ll stick to what is substantiated by court records from the time, along with written accounts from luminaries of that era, including Frederick the Great, Mozart, Voltaire, even Casanova.
The London Chronicle wrote of the man, along with newspapers in Italy and the Netherlands.
For a time, throughout Europe, he was a celebrity in his own right. ”
Sharyn lowered to her seat. “What made him so famous?”
“Ah, first, he was a savant in many fields. He was a musical composer, a skilled violinist, a poet and painter. He spoke every language in Europe. He was also a well-studied historian, not just of Europe, but farther afield. As such, he served for a time as diplomat for King Louis XV. In fact, his politics were so astute that he predicted the French Revolution years before the Terror started, but his early warnings fell on deaf ears. Still, that all aside, his greatest fame lay in his scientific work.”
“Scientific work?” Sharyn asked.
“He called it alchemy, a word synonymous with science at the time. Though, the two terms grew apart around the middle of the eighteenth century. But Saint-Germain still considered himself primarily an alchemist.”
“Why do you say that?” Tag asked.
Sir Kelly reached over and tapped the symbol embossed on the book’s cover. “It’s practically his signature.”
Sharyn frowned. “How do you mean?”
“I’ll show you.” He turned to his daughter. “May I borrow your phone?”
Moira handed it over.
Her father worked on it for a spell, then sighed, “Ah, here it is.”
He slid the phone next to the old book.
“If you compare what’s engraved into the book’s leather, you can see how it matches this symbol.”
They all gathered closer to look, studying the two side by side. The image on the phone showed a hand-drawn circle with radiating spokes, overwritten with words in Latin. Despite the differences, it was obvious Saint-Germain was inspired by this drawing to fabricate the signature atop his book.
Tag pointed to the phone. “What’s the symbol? Where did it come from?”
“It was drawn in the early eighteenth century by Gottfried Leibniz, a German polymath, who is credited, along with Isaac Newton, of inventing the field of calculus.” Kelly turned to Sharyn. “And later in life, he became a librarian.”
Sharyn straightened, intrigued despite the terrors of the past days. “And what does it mean?”
“It’s Leibniz’s representation of the universe, uniting together Aristotle’s four elements: Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. It became the heraldic symbol of alchemy and the sciences that grew from it.”
Naomi leaned forward. “That’s all well and good. But whether Saint-Germain called himself an alchemist or a scientist, what field did he study?”
“Most everything, to be truthful. Like many alchemists of this time, he dabbled with the transmutation of metal, of turning lead into gold. But he also introduced new dyeing techniques, invented novel paints and oils. Over his lifetime, he consulted with physicists, astronomers, and mathematicians, both gaining knowledge from them and adding to it. Still, his most astounding accomplishments were in geology and mineralogy. Skills he learned in Arabia during his time spent at the Court of the Shah of Persia. Some claimed the man could melt diamonds and remove their flaws. In fact, King Louis attested to this fact and eventually built Saint-Germain a private laboratory at Chambord Castle.”
Moira made a small scoffing noise, which earned a frown from her father.
“Such tales of the man must be taken with a grain of salt,” she warned.
“Over the centuries, his story has grown, bloated by mysticism, layered in infamy. Some say he had magical abilities. To teleport, to levitate, to control people telepathically. Many concluded he must be some Ascended Master birthed during the time of Christ and still influences the world today.”
Sir Kelly scowled. “As you can see, it has become hard to separate truth from fantasy. But we must try our best to remain grounded.”
Moira shook her head. “Like believing the man could remove flaws from diamonds?”
Sharyn looked at the orb shining atop the book. She remembered the astrological symbols embedded therein, a skill that defied comprehension, especially considering when it had been crafted.
Maybe such stories had a seed of truth to them.
Sir Kelly reached over and patted Moira’s arm. “My lovely daughter, always the skeptic. Like so many others in the past. During Saint-Germain’s lifetime, dozens of others tried to discredit the man—testing him, challenging him—but they all came away convinced otherwise.”
“But not the Marquise de Maurepas,” Moira added.
“No, not him,” her father agreed dourly. “But his stubbornness was steeled more by jealousy.”
“Who are you talking about?” Sharyn asked.
“Ah, of course, I’m getting ahead of myself. The Marquise de Maurepas was Louis XVI’s minister of state and hated how the king had grown enamored of Saint-Germain. Fearing he might be displaced, the man set about to discredit Saint-Germain.”
Sharyn frowned. “Why? Did he believe Saint-Germain was a charlatan who was fooling the king?”
“I can’t say for sure. But the Marquise was deeply religious. As boisterously as he sought to dismiss Saint-Germain, he also vilified the alchemist as a blasphemer and Satanist. Eventually, the Marquise discovered that his enemy was crafting a grimoire of great power.”
“You mean the book,” Tag said.
Sir Kelly nodded. “Hoping to prove Saint-Germain’s wickedness, the Marquise assembled a cabal of religious leaders, a crude start of the Confrérie des Illuminés, to hunt for the man and his grimoire.”
“Which clearly failed,” Naomi said.
“But they did set him on the run. Some believe he faked his death in 1784. Although, he was seen five years later in Paris and several times by others over the next decades.”
“It was perhaps such events,” Moira added, “that led to rumors of the Count’s ability to defy death, with many believing he had discovered the key to immortality.”
Sharyn remembered the phone conversation this morning. “Monsieur Laurent told us Saint-Germain claimed as much himself, writing it in the preface to his book.”
Sir Kelly shrugged. “Some in our group take the Count at his word. Others assume it was merely poetic hyperbole. Either way, Saint-Germain had already gained a reputation for agelessness. Account after account stated how the man always appeared to be around fifty years old, with dark hair and an unblemished complexion. His regimen in life was very strict. He would never eat in public, avoided all meat and wine.”
“So, the first vegan,” Archie said.
While this was meant as a joke, Sir Kelly simply shrugged. “Quite likely, young man. Additionally, Saint-Germain studied with village healers, where he gained a great understanding of herbs and plants, and concocted medicines that he regularly consumed.”
Tag sat straighter, eyeing the book with renewed interest, plainly drawn by his interest in ancient herbal remedies. “So he was both a vegan and a holistic pharmacologist.”
“Perhaps. Whatever elixir he did develop, there are repeated accounts of him sharing his recipe. Like with a countess of his time, Madame de Georgy. It is said his elixir maintained her youthful look for twenty-five years. She eventually earned the title, the Everlasting Countess.”
Moira maintained a stern expression. “Or his elixir could have been some new cosmetic regimen, one that would be the envy of the Paris fashion houses today.”
“We cannot dismiss this possibility,” Sir Kelly admitted.
“And what about the Marquise’s Confrérie?” Sharyn asked. “How are they still plaguing us now?”
“Ah, eventually the Brotherhood changed with the times. Interest in the book waned as it remained out of their reach and became more legend than real. Still, power does not tolerate a vacuum. Over time, the Brotherhood grew stronger and wider, rooting across Europe and the New World. Its members eventually sought new avenues of power, pathways not found buried in some lost grimoire. Thus, the book was all but forgotten.”
“Until World War II,” Duncan noted.
Sharyn remembered what the Frenchman had told them about the discovery of a cache of gold coins.
Sir Kelly steepled his fingers at his chin. “After the First Adage was deciphered, aided by codebreakers during the war, we popped up on the Brotherhood’s radar once again.”
Duncan frowned. “Those codebreakers? Where were they from?”
“Bletchley Park, a team working under Alan Turing as he broke the code to decrypt Nazi communications.”
Duncan’s eyes pinched at this revelation. Sharyn recalled his story of his grandfather’s involvement with a team of codebreakers.
Was it this same group?
Duncan noted her attention and must have read the question on her face. He gave her the smallest nod, confirming the same.
Before she could digest more, Sir Kelly continued. “Once Saint-Germain’s diary proved itself to be of astounding value, the Confrérie renewed their pursuit of the book.”
“Scooping us up in the process,” Naomi noted.
Archie let out an exasperated sigh. “Even if you could make the book vanish, what about us? Those bastards framed us good.”
“I understand. The Gardiens will do our best to clear your names.”
Sharyn frowned. “Gardiens?”
Moira answered. “The Gardiens du Livre. The Keepers of the Book. The name given to those who sought to preserve Saint-Germain’s diary and keep it out of the hands of those who would abuse it.”
Her father nodded. “The First Keeper who took possession of the diary was Countess d’Adhémar, the former lady-in-waiting to Marie-Antoinette. She received the book directly from Saint-Germain in 1820, long after his supposed death.”
“Unfortunately, she wrote about this encounter in her personal diary,” Moira noted sourly.
“She did,” her father confirmed. “But she must have suspected no one would read her words. Unfortunately, fourteen years after her death, someone found those journals and published them, which exposed the book to the Confrérie once again. By then, the book had moved on to its Second Keeper, someone the Countess had entrusted to continue her guardianship, giving birth to our organization.”
Moira looked across at their group. “Your professor, Julian Wright, was the intended Thirteenth Keeper.”
Sir Kelly turned to Sharyn. “A role you sadly had to assume, if only for a short time.”
“So for two centuries,” Duncan said, “your group has kept this book under wraps, while slowly piecing together its secrets.”
“Indeed. It took us five decades to even discover how to safely open it. Saint-Germain had it booby-trapped, infusing the pages with an incendiary chemical.”
Tag cast the book a wary look. “What do you mean?”
“Any mishandling or attempt to force the book open would ignite it on fire, burning it all to ash. Such was the level of Saint-Germain’s fear that his knowledge might fall into the wrong hands.”
“And after opening it,” Sharyn said, “you’ve been attempting to decipher what was written.”
“Painstakingly so, especially as we had to take care with whomever we reached out to for help. We solved the First Adage, but it took until the science of cryptology had advanced enough to eke out its meaning.”
“Advancements made at Bletchley Park,” Duncan noted.
Sir Kelly nodded. “Since then, while we’ve made progress on the Second Adage, its secret still eludes us. The code is vastly different from the first, one so daunting that it might take until science advances again to solve it.”
“Maybe that was Saint-Germain’s intent,” Sharyn noted. “To only let his knowledge return to the world once humanity had matured enough to be ready for it.”
Sir Kelly stared silently at her, his gaze thoughtful, before finally offering a bow of his head.
“Very astute of you, Ms. Karr. In fact, Saint-Germain had warned Countess d’Adhémar that his diary would only return to the world after a long span of time, when it would be most needed, during a time of great tribulation. ”
Archie sighed. “That certainly describes our group’s sorry state.”
Sharyn remained focused on the book. “And what of the Third Adage, the last in the book? During our conversation with Monsieur Laurent, he believed that it might lead to the key to immortality.”
“Again, the opening line to the diary might simply be poetic hyperbole. But many in our group, after decoding snatches from various pages, do suspect the Third Adage will point to a location of Saint-Germain’s lost Elixir of Life.”
“But that’s not all,” Moira added.
Sir Kelly frowned at her, as if scolding her for mentioning this.
Sharyn had enough of such guardedness and pressed him. “What else is supposedly hidden there?”
Moira crossed her arms and gave her father a hard look.
Sir Kelly closed his eyes and sagged a bit in resignation. “It may hold one last secret. A prophecy of sorts.”
“Of what?”
He opened his eyes. “Of Earth’s final destiny.”
Before anyone else could react, Hugh burst off his perch with a flare of black wings. A scream burst out, sounding like a clarion call. “Traitors! Traitors all!”
Moira turned to the bank of windows, now gone dark. While they had talked, the sun had set. Lampposts glowed across the Tower Green, now empty of tourists.
“Someone’s coming,” she warned.