The Lost Symbol (Dan Brown) - PDF File
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Prologue
House of the Temple
8:33 P.M.
The secret is how to die.
Since the beginning of time, the secret had always been how to die.
The thirty-four-year-old initiate gazed down at the human skull cradled in
his palms. The skull was hollow, like a bowl, filled with bloodred wine.
Drink it, he told himself. You have nothing to fear.
As was tradition, he had begun this journey adorned in the ritualistic garb
of a medieval heretic being led to the gallows, his loose-fitting shirt gaping
open to reveal his pale chest, his left pant leg rolled up to the knee, and his
right sleeve rolled up to the elbow. Around his neck hung a heavy rope
noose—a “cable-tow” as the brethren called it. Tonight, however, like the
brethren bearing witness, he was dressed as a master.
The assembly of brothers encircling him all were adorned in their full
regalia of lambskin aprons, sashes, and white gloves. Around their necks
hung ceremonial jewels that glistened like ghostly eyes in the muted light.
Many of these men held powerful stations in life, and yet the initiate knew
their worldly ranks meant nothing within these walls. Here all men were
equals, sworn brothers sharing a mystical bond.
As he surveyed the daunting assembly, the initiate wondered who on the
outside would ever believe that this collection of men would assemble in
one place . . . much less this place. The room looked like a holy sanctuary
from the ancient world.
The truth, however, was stranger still.
House of the Temple
8:33 P.M.
The secret is how to die.
Since the beginning of time, the secret had always been how to die.
The thirty-four-year-old initiate gazed down at the human skull cradled in
his palms. The skull was hollow, like a bowl, filled with bloodred wine.
Drink it, he told himself. You have nothing to fear.
As was tradition, he had begun this journey adorned in the ritualistic garb
of a medieval heretic being led to the gallows, his loose-fitting shirt gaping
open to reveal his pale chest, his left pant leg rolled up to the knee, and his
right sleeve rolled up to the elbow. Around his neck hung a heavy rope
noose—a “cable-tow” as the brethren called it. Tonight, however, like the
brethren bearing witness, he was dressed as a master.
The assembly of brothers encircling him all were adorned in their full
regalia of lambskin aprons, sashes, and white gloves. Around their necks
hung ceremonial jewels that glistened like ghostly eyes in the muted light.
Many of these men held powerful stations in life, and yet the initiate knew
their worldly ranks meant nothing within these walls. Here all men were
equals, sworn brothers sharing a mystical bond.
As he surveyed the daunting assembly, the initiate wondered who on the
outside would ever believe that this collection of men would assemble in
one place . . . much less this place. The room looked like a holy sanctuary
from the ancient world.
The truth, however, was stranger still.