A journalist and travel writer in the employ of the Ethiopian government in the early 1980's hears mention that the great lost treasure of the Jewish race - the ark of the covenant in which Moses placed the ten commandments - is reputed to be held in a church somewhere in Ethiopia ...
The same man later sees the Hollywood blockbuster 'Raiders of the lost Ark', and an idea begins to find shape in his mind which will take some years to come to fruition ...
In 1989 at Chartres Cathedral, France, he is drawn to a small, seemingly insignificant carving which mysteriously hints that the tale he heard in Ethiopia may be true - that that may, in fact, be the last resting place of the Ark ...
The man is Graham Hancock - and the story of his quest to discover the truth behind the legends is the breathtaking real life adventure of The Sign and The Seal. the book that launched Graham into the bestseller lists worldwide.
Following obscure clues found within ancient stories and Biblical tales, through the occult knowledge gleaned from the coded Grail epic of Wolfram Von Eschenbach, and the obscure and secretive workings of the enigmatic Knights Templar, Graham traces the Ark from its source in ancient Egypt, to Jerusalem, and from there to its final resting place in Africa.
This is a tale worthy of Indiana Jones himself! A real modern day quest set against the lost knowledge of the ancient world and the political intrigues of the contemporary one.
Here is the first inkling that the technology of ancient Egypt, that produced the Ark, was something mysterious and powerful - a legacy, perhaps of something older and forgotten - here is the seeds that would flower in Fingerprints of the Gods. Was Moses an initiate of the lost Egyptian wisdom - the lost wisdom of the survivors of a cataclysmic flood?
The Sign and the Seal, Sample chapter: Chapter 1
By Graham Hancock
Chapter 1
INITIATION: 1983
It was growing dark
and the air of the Ethiopian highlands was chill when the monk
appeared. Stooped and leaning on a prayer stick he shuffled towards
me from the doorway of the sanctuary chapel and listened attentively
as I was introduced to him. Speaking in Tigrigna, the local language,
he then sought clarification through my interpreter about my
character and my motives: from which country had I come, what work
did I do there, was I a Christian, what was it that I wanted from
him?
I answered each of
these questions fully, squinting through the gloom as I talked,
trying to make out the details of my inquisitor's face. Milky
cataracts veiled his small sunken eyes and deep lines furrowed his
black skin. He was bearded and probably toothless — for
although his voice was resonant it was also oddly slurred. All I
could be sure of, however, was that he was an old man, as old as the
century perhaps, that he had his wits about him, and that he did not
seem to be seeking information about me out of idle curiosity. Only
when he was satisfied with everything that I had said did he
condescend to shake hands with me. His grip was dry and delicate as
papyrus and from the thick robes that he wore, faint but
unmistakable, arose the holy odour of frankincense.
Now that the
formalities were over I got straight to the point. Gesturing in the
direction of the building that loomed in shadowy outline behind us, I
said: 'I have heard of an Ethiopian tradition that the Ark of the
Covenant is kept here . . . in this chapel. I have also heard that
you are the guardian of the Ark. Are these things true?'
'They are true.'
'But in other
countries nobody believes these stories. Few know about your
traditions anyway, but those who do say that they are false.'
'People may believe
what they wish. People may say what they wish. Nevertheless we do
possess the sacred Tabot, that is to say the Ark of the Covenant, and
I am its guardian...'
'Let me be clear about
this,' I interjected. 'Are you referring to the original Ark of the
Covenant — the box made of wood and gold in which the Ten
Commandments were placed by the prophet Moses?'
'Yes. God Himself
inscribed the ten words of the law upon two tablets of stone. Moses
then placed these tablets inside the Ark of the Covenant —
which afterwards accompanied the Israelites during their wanderings
in the wilderness and their conquest of the Promised Land. It brought
them victory wherever they went and made them a great people. At
last, when its work was done, King Solomon placed it in the Holy of
Holies of the Temple that he had built in Jerusalem. And from there,
not long afterwards, it was removed and brought to Ethiopia...'
'Tell me how this
happened,' I asked. 'What I know of your traditions is only that the
Queen of Sheba is supposed to have been an Ethiopian monarch. The
legends I have read say that when she made her famous journey to
Jerusalem she was impregnated by King Solomon and bore him a son —
a royal prince — who in later years stole the Ark...'
The monk sighed. 'The
name of the prince you are speaking of was Menelik — which in
our language means "the son of the wise man". Although he
was conceived in Jerusalem he was born in Ethiopia where the Queen of
Sheba had returned after discovering that she was carrying Solomon's
child. When he had reached the age of twenty, Menelik himself
travelled from Ethiopia to Israel and arrived at his father's court.
There he was instantly recognized and accorded great honour. After a
year had passed, however, the elders of the land became jealous of
him. They complained that Solomon showed him too much favour and they
insisted that he must go back to Ethiopia. This the king accepted on
the condition that the first-born sons of all the elders should also
be sent to accompany him. Amongst these latter was Azarius, son of
Zadok the High Priest of Israel, and it was Azarius, not Menelik, who
stole the Ark of the Covenant from its place in the Holy of Holies in
the Temple. Indeed the group of young men did not reveal the theft to
Menelik until they were far away from Jerusalem. When at last they
told him what they had done he understood that they could not have
succeeded in so bold a venture unless God had willed it. Therefore he
agreed that the Ark should remain with them. And it was thus that it
was brought to Ethiopia, to this sacred city ... and here it has
remained ever since.'
'And are you telling
me that this legend is literally true?'
‘It is not a
legend. It is history.'
'How can you be so
sure of that?'
'Because I am the
guardian. I know the nature of the object that has been placed in my
care.'
We sat in silence for
a few moments while I adjusted my mind to the calm and rational way
in which the monk had told me these bizarre and impossible things.
Then I asked him how and why he had been appointed to his position.
He replied that it was a great honour that he should have been
chosen, that he had been nominated with the last words of his
predecessor, and that when he himself lay on his death-bed his turn
would come to nominate his own successor.
'What qualities will
you look for in that man?'
'Love of God, purity
of heart, cleanliness of mind and body.'
‘Other than
you,' I asked next, 'is anyone else allowed to see the Ark?'
'No. I alone may see
it.'
'So does that mean
that it is never brought out of the sanctuary chapel?'
The guardian paused
for a long while before answering this question. Then, finally, he
told me that in the very distant past the relic had been brought out
during all the most important church festivals. More recently its use
in religious processions had been limited to just one occasion a
year. That occasion was the ceremony known as Timkat which took place
every January.
'So if I come back
next January will I have a chance of seeing the Ark?'
The monk looked at me
in a way that I found strangely disconcerting and then said: 'You
must know that there is turmoil and civil war in the land . . . Our
government is evil, the people oppose it, and the fighting comes
closer every day. In such circumstances it is unlikely that the true
Ark will be used again in the ceremonies. We cannot risk the
possibility that any harm might come to something so precious . . .
Besides, even in time of peace you would not be able to see it. It is
my responsibility to wrap it entirely in thick cloths before it is
carried in the processions . .
'Why do you wrap it?'
'To protect the laity
from it.'
I remember asking my
interpreter to clarify the translation of this last puzzling remark:
had the monk really meant 'to protect the laity from it'? Or had he
meant 'to protect it from the laity'?
It was some time
before I got my answer. 'To protect the laity from it. The Ark is
powerful.'
