The Invisible Library

So, last night, I’m sitting on the couch watching TV while Elvira is fixing dinner. Our couch is just below the window in the living room, by which I mean, the whole front wall. Our building is circa 1951, and the windows go from about three feet from the floor all the way up and as wide as the whole room. That wall is nothing but window. Unfortunately, these windows don’t really open. They have little cranks in the corners that are supposed to let you ratchet open four panes in each corner but none of them have worked as long as we’ve lived in the apartment.

So, I’m being lazy, watching Gormenghast when something thumps against the window. It’s dusk, and hard to make out what it is. Sometimes pigeons land on the narrow ledge outside the window flap against the glass and fly off. But this is no pigeon. It’s a cat. On the ledge.

Now, when I say the ledge outside the window is narrow, I mean narrow. Two inches wide, tops. But here’s this little cat, balancing against the side of the building, three stories up. Elvira and I scramble to raise the blinds, and pop open the window as best we can. I’m frantic, because if there’s one thing I cannot abide, it’s animals getting hurt. I hate stories about people who are cruel to animals or let bad things happen to pets because of negligence. I’m ready to take a hammer to this window if I have to but luckily, all it takes is the butt of my hand to pop it open.

The cat comes inside, looks around and proceeds to make herself at home (as witnessed by the picture). Judging by her size, she can’t be more than a year and a half old. And she’s very friendly. However, Lucy does not play well with others. She ends up in the other room for the rest of the night and, as I write this, is still cordoned off in the hallway by the bathroom. I feel bad but it’s either that or a cat fight.

We took a picture of Mystery Cat and while Elvira went down the hall, knocking on doors to see if someone was missing a pet, I went outside to look at the building and see if I can find an open window. There it was. Right next door. Which makes sense, because, given the size of the ledge, it’s not like this cat sauntered around any corners. Neither did she fall from the sky, or a higher floor. We wrote a little note explaining where the cat was and left it taped to our neighbor’s door.

As of writing this, the cat is still at our place. Our neighbor was out quite late ( I know because we went out to a club and didn’t get back to 1 AM and the note was still on their door). Hopefully, they’ll get their lazy ass up soon and come get their cat. And fix that window.

Update: 10:00 AM– I just knocked on our neighbor’s door to see if perhaps they might be interested in having their cat back. I was greeted only by the sound of scratching and meowing from the other side of the door. There’s at least one other cat in that apartment, which kinda sucks, since these apartments are small (and ours is getting smaller by the minute). They have until noon. Then I talk to the Building manager.

Update 2:00 PM– After knocking on the neighbor’s door at noon, half past and finally quarter after 1, we were finally able to return the Mystery Cat, whose name is Bella. Lucy is very happy to have her apartment back.

The Knights Templar were an unusual order in that they were not merely knights but monks as well. Founded by Hugh de Paynes in 1118 as a charitable order, the Knights took up residence in the Temple of Solomon in Jerusalem and dedicated themselves to protecting pilgrims who ventured to the Holy land during the Crusades. They became wealthy, which made them envied and branched out into the money lending business, which made them powerful, so much so that Pope innocent II granted them immunity from excommunication. But with power comes politics. When they started to build their own castles in Europe and cart around their treasure in a private fleet of ships, to and from secret ports, they became more than envied by the kings of Europe. They became feared. Especially by King Philip “The Fair” of France.

On Friday the 13th 1307, 123 members of the Knights of the Temple of Solomon, including Grand master, Jacque de Molay, were arrested and subjected to torture until they confessed to a number of crimes. These included: blasphemy, black magic, homosexuality, heresy, spitting on the crucifix and idolatry, specifically, worshipping a severed head.

Some theories suggest that the head was ornamental, either brass or wood, either with two faces or just one, maybe female, maybe male, possibly with four legs. Other stories suggest that the head was none other than that of John the Baptist and, if the stars were right, would speak in an oracular voice, predicting events cosmic and miniscule. Still others suggested that it was not a head at all, that this particular story was merely Inquisitor’s mythologizing, that in fact the Templars had worshipped a small black doll that was an idol of a devil named Baphomet.*

In 1314 Jacque de Molay renounced his confession, declaring that the various charges were erroneous and extracted under duress of torture, especially the charges of Black magic. For his honesty, he was burned at the stake and the Order of the Knights Templar were disbanded. From the stake, as the flames licked his boots, Jacque de Molay cursed the Pope and the King of France, inviting them to join him in death within the year. Pope Clement V died one month later and King Philip IV, seven months after that.

Most historians regard the allegations of Satanism and idolatry as trumped up charges by a jealous royalty in order to seize the wealth of the Templars. Very few have anything to say on the happenstance of the predicted deaths of the Pope and king of France, other than vague allusions and nervous jokes.

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* Baphomet may actually be a name for Sophia, used in the Atbash Cipher. Sophia, in Gnosticism, is the Godess of Wisdom, often seen as the female counterpart to either God or the companion of Christ.