ROBERT LANGDON stole an anxious glance at his wristwatch: 7:58 P.M. The smiling face of Mickey Mouse did little to cheer him up. I’ve got to find Peter. We’re wasting time.
Sato had stepped aside for a moment to take a phone call, but now she returned to Langdon. “Professor, am I keeping you from something?”
“No, ma’am,” Langdon said, pulling his sleeve down over his watch. “I’m just extremely concerned about Peter.”
“I can understand, but I assure you the best thing you can do to help Peter is to help me understand the mind-set of his captor.”
Langdon was not so sure, but he sensed he was not going anywhere until the OS director got the information she desired.
“A moment ago,” Sato said, “you suggested this Rotunda is somehow sacred to the idea of these Ancient Mysteries?”
“Yes, ma’am.” “Explain that to me.”
Langdon knew he would have to choose his words sparingly. He had taught for entire semesters on the mystical symbolism of Washington, D.C., and there was an almost inexhaustible list of mystical references in this building alone.
America has a hidden past.
Every time Langdon lectured on the symbology of America, his students were confounded to learn that the true intentions of our nation’s forefathers had absolutely nothing to do with what so many politicians now claimed.
America’s intended destiny has been lost to history.
The forefathers who founded this capital city first named her “Rome.” They had named her river the Tiber and erected a classical capital of pantheons and temples, all adorned with images of history’s great gods and goddesses—Apollo, Minerva, Venus, Helios, Vulcan, Jupiter. In her center, as in many of the great classical cities, the founders
had erected an enduring tribute to the ancients—the Egyptian obelisk. This obelisk, larger even than Cairo’s or Alexandria’s, rose 555 feet into the sky, more than thirty stories, proclaiming thanks and honor to the demigod forefather for whom this capital city took its newer name.
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THE TIBER RIVER, ROME
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: imagebroker/Alamy
THE POTOMAC RIVER, WASHINGTON, D.C.
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: Cameron Davidson/Workbook Stock/Getty Images
Washington.
Now, centuries later, despite America’s separation of church and state, this state-sponsored Rotunda glistened with ancient religious symbolism. There were over a dozen different gods in the Rotunda—more than the original Pantheon in Rome. Of course, the Roman Pantheon had been converted to Christianity in 609 … but this pantheon was never converted; vestiges of its true history still remained in plain view.
“As you may know,” Langdon said, “this Rotunda was designed as a tribute to one of Rome’s most venerated mystical shrines. The Temple of Vesta.”
THE TEMPLE OF VESTA
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: Imagno/Hulton Archive/Getty Images
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“As in the vestal virgins?” Sato looked doubtful that Rome’s virginal guardians of the flame had anything to do with the U.S. Capitol Building.
“The Temple of Vesta in Rome,” Langdon said, “was circular, with a gaping hole in the floor, through which the sacred fire of enlightenment could be tended by a sisterhood of virgins whose job it was to ensure the flame never went out.”
Sato shrugged. “This Rotunda is a circle, but I see no gaping hole in this floor.”
“No, not anymore, but for years the center of this room had a large opening precisely where Peter’s hand is now.” Langdon motioned to the floor. “In fact, you can still see the marks in the floor from the railing that kept people from falling in.”
“What?” Sato demanded, scrutinizing the floor. “I’ve never heard that.”
“Looks like he’s right.” Anderson pointed out the circle of iron nubs where the posts had once been. “I’ve seen these before, but I never had any idea why they were there.”
You’re not alone, Langdon thought, imagining the thousands of people every day, including famous lawmakers, who strode across the center of the Rotunda having no idea there was once a day when they would have plunged down into the Capitol Crypt—the level beneath the Rotunda floor.
“The hole in the floor,” Langdon told them, “was eventually covered, but for a good while, those who visited the Rotunda could see straight down to the fire that burned below.”
Sato turned. “Fire? In the U.S. Capitol?”
“More of a large torch, actually—an eternal flame that burned in the crypt directly beneath us. It was supposed to be visible through the hole in the floor, making this room a
modern Temple of Vesta. This building even had its own vestal virgin—a federal employee called the Keeper of the Crypt—who successfully kept the flame burning for fifty years, until politics, religion, and smoke damage snuffed out the idea.”
Both Anderson and Sato looked surprised.
Nowadays, the only reminder that a flame once burned here was the four-pointed star compass embedded in the crypt floor one story below them—a symbol of America’s eternal flame, which once shed illumination toward the four corners of the New World.
“So, Professor,” Sato said, “your contention is that the man who left Peter’s hand here
knew all this?”
“Clearly. And much, much more. There are symbols all over this room that reflect a belief in the Ancient Mysteries.”
“Secret wisdom,” Sato said with more than a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “Knowledge that lets men acquire godlike powers?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“That hardly fits with the Christian underpinnings of this country.”
“So it would seem, but it’s true. This transformation of man into God is called apotheosis. Whether or not you’re aware of it, this theme—transforming man into god—is the core element in this Rotunda’s symbolism.”
“Apotheosis?” Anderson spun with a startled look of recognition.
“Yes.” Anderson works here. He knows. “The word apotheosis literally means ‘divine transformation’—that of man becoming God. It’s from the ancient Greek: apo—‘to become,’ theos—‘god.’ ”
Anderson looked amazed. “Apotheosis means ‘to become God’? I had no idea.” “What am I missing?” Sato demanded.
“Ma’am,” Langdon said, “the largest painting in this building is called The Apotheosis of Washington. And it clearly depicts George Washington being transformed into a god.”
Sato looked doubtful. “I’ve never seen anything of the sort.”
“Actually, I’m sure you have.” Langdon raised his index finger, pointing straight up. “It’s directly over your head.”
