When the next king of England is crowned, he will go through the same sacred ceremonies as his illustrious predecessors. Like them, just before being crowned, he will be anointed with oil from the Holy Land. This takes place under a canopy that is lowered over the monarch’s head so that the public cannot see the actual moment of anointing. As soon as the oil is poured, according to tradition, the Holy Spirit enters into his or her body, transforming him or her into a divine being. He or she literally becomes another person, and from then on may take whatever titular name they find appropriate.
The next coronation, however, is going to be even more special, because it will take place on top of a mosaic representing the exact center of the cosmos, and the end of time. That mosaic was created in 1268 by the command of King Henry III, but it has not been seen at the coronation for over 150 years. It is called the “Cosmati Pavement,” and it has only recently been rediscovered. It was hiding under a carpet this entire time. Strangely, however, the same traditional spot for the coronation has continued to be used, just with the monarch and everybody else supposedly ignorant about what lay beneath his or her feet. It is now being restored so that the next king to reign will have the honor of standing upon it as the Holy Spirit enters into him.
To some extent, all monarchs typify the archetype of the original “Lord of the Earth” upon which their title and role is based. This primordial figure was viewed by the ancients as King Saturn, and I have already written a great deal about this in my essay series “Regnum in Potentia,” Part 1 and Part 2. The castle and throne of that king was always seen as the symbolic “center of the Earth,” the pole axis upon which the universe rotates. The king was seen as playing a pivotal role in that process as a conduit between Heaven and Earth.
Through him, the pattern on Earth modeled that of Heaven, but the two worlds were also thought to be kept separate by the polar throne, which literally was viewed by ancient man as keeping the sky, and the ethereal realm it represented, from collapsing into, and thus annihilating, the land of the living. But upon his throne, at the seat of his power, both worlds existed simultaneously, as did all moments in time. This is how the primordial King Chronos or Saturn, the god of time, was viewed back then, and this same essential symbolism was adopted by the monarchs of every civilization that came afterward.
It was in this mythical timeless realm, at the center of the world, that the Cosmati Pavement at Westminster Abbey was created to represent. A Latin inscription around the perimeter of the work states: “The spherical globe here shows the archetypal macrocosm.” There is a riddle in the tiles pertaining to the end of time, which helps tocalculate the final date. The Latin inscription gives the clues. Here are those clues, as translated by John Flete (from the official Westminster Abbey website):
In the year of Christ one thousand two hundred and twelve plus sixty minus four, the third King Henry, the city, Odoricus and the abbot put these porphyry stones together.
If the reader wisely considers all that is laid down, he will find here the end of the primum mobile; a hedge (lives for) three years, add dogs and horses and men, stags and ravens, eagles, enormous whales, the world: each one following triples the years of the one before.
The meaning of this has already been worked out by Richard Sporley, a monk who resided at Westminster in the Middle Ages. He wrote:
The ‘primum’ mobile means this world, whose age or ending the writer estimates, as he imagines it, by increasing the numbers three-fold.
Sporley had worked it out that a hedge has a lifespan of three years, with nine for a dog, twenty-seven for a horse, eighty for a man, and so on. The most interesting item on the list, here translated “enormous whales,” was actually referred to as “sea serpents” on the archeology program “Time Teams” on British television, with a very mythical lifespan attributed to them.
Sea serpents, also known as “dragons,” were very important to our ancestors. The Leviathan of the Hebrews, and Tiamat of the Sumerians, were viewed as representations of the primordial chaos that had given birth to the universe, and would one day swallow it again (or in the case of Leviathan, be swallowed itself). In the meantime, a monarch must always reign on the throne of the Lord of the Earth. By bearing the weight of the “primum mobile” on his own shoulders, he prevents chaos from overtaking the earth, and postpones the day of judgment. This is the image of St. George subduing the dragon that is now emblematic of England, for whom he is the patron saint. Although George was not one of them, the English frequently canonized their monarchs, attributing saintly and magical qualities to them, including the ability to heal and to protect their kingdom from evil.
When you add up the mythical ages of all the animals given, including the man and the sea serpent, then multiply them by three as the inscription tells you to, you get 19,683. I am not exactly sure what creation date we are supposed to state from. I have heard television presenters say that the code means the world will end at 19, 683 AD. But as far as I can tell, no beginning date is in fact given, and therefore the exact end date is not known.
What is certain, however, is that the crowning of the next king of England will be very interesting indeed, with certain apocalyptic overtones to it. I am also fairly certain that someone somewhere knew where the Cosmati Pavement was all along. They probably know what it means as well. But they aren’t telling.
Note: The official coronation anthem for a British monarch is called “Zadok the Priest” (after the priests of Israel, who anointed their monarchs). It was written by Handel in 1727, as commissioned by King George I as one of his last acts.