The Mystery of the Cassium Parchment
A Historical Investigation into the Lost Magisters of Britannia
By Professor Edmund Vale, University of Amsterdam
First published 1897, revised edition 1924

Foreword

Since its discovery by farmers in 1732, near the village of Brynsiencyn (on the Isle of Anglesey, Wales), the Cassium Parchment has remained a subject of persistent controversy. Upon its first publication, the document attracted immediate attention within the Order, for it appeared to resolve a number of questions that had occupied our scholars since our founding. Before turning to these matters, however, it is necessary to consider the document itself.

The Cassium Parchment

To those who might read these words, know that I, Cassium Veridicus, Magister Nemoris of the Ordo Lucorum and bearer of Scipio Fulminis, leave this testament:

The world of my youth has unraveled before my eyes and the prosperity built by Emperors has waned as our legions abandoned the island one by one. For centuries, Rome protected these borders - allowing law and philosophy to thrive - and we of the Order to find sanctuary in the quiet comfort of our libraries and in our private groves. Now, the forts stand empty, the roads are broken, and the ties that bound our civilization together have all become false promises.

As I write this, invaders burn villas upon the eastern shore. These barbarians do not come to trade, to learn, to read, to write, or to bargain. They are people of iron, superstitious and cruel, impervious to the gifts we can bestow. Every emissary I have sent to their leaders has returned without his head.

Sadly, the locals, who have long enjoyed the fruits of our magic, have fractured into squabbling bands and in their panic, have become no better than the invaders who come to destroy our civilization.

We are alone.

As I commit words to parchment it is impossible to avoid the truth of our situation: the second age of magisters in Britannia is at an end. I have taken steps to protect the scrolls of the First Magister Aurelius Sagus as well as the formulae of Decimus Strigus, all our histories, the holy relics, along with all our sacred texts. I have taken pains to seal these treasures in leaden vaults deep beneath the earth lest they be tossed into bonfires by ignorant men. The path to each can be found in the appendix listing included with this text using our ancient ciphers.
A great weight presses upon my heart. I fear the sacred inheritance we wrested from the people of this land four centuries ago is again under threat and a long night is again falling. While I do not doubt that humanity will endure on this island, I fear the magick discoveries we of the Order kept alive, will soon be lost forever.

Perhaps enough of us will survive to dig up our treasures and rekindle the flame. But if we fall, let this scroll stand as our monument. It shall be proof that we were here, a testament we only sought the truth, and we wept as the light of Rome went out.

This text has excited minds for nearly two centuries. Read in isolation, it is one man’s account of a world ending. Veridicus does not merely mourn a civilization, he claims to have hidden a precious inheritance beneath the soil of Britain, and he promises a means of recovery, but sadly no appendix accompanied the discovery.

Of immediate interest is the name of the organization he serves. Ordo Lucorum, rendered in English as the Order of the Sacred Groves. The similarity between that organization’s name and ours has raised eyebrows since the document was first revealed.

At the outset, we must admit the possibility that the parchment is a fraud. In many respects it is too convenient, answering a great many questions about our past while offering no real proof. Every first-year student of Order history knows of our rapid rise to prominence during the Benedictine Reforms. What has never been fully explained is how a body of witches, disorganized under the best of circumstances, could emerge fully formed during the reign of King Edgar, introducing many of the tools and traditions we still use today.

The Cassium Parchment appears to resolve this difficulty. Suppose a far older organization had existed, one that spent centuries refining its craft. Suppose it remained hidden, shaping events without leaving a trace until it grew powerful enough to find refuge in the Church itself, the last place anyone would think to look for a witch.

Modern witches need little instruction why their ancestors might seek this type of concealment. We know the untalented have always regarded our kind with suspicion. They are rarely comfortable with abilities they cannot possess, much less control.

We felt their wrath as the seams of the church tore apart. We saw how easily the fears of the untalented swayed their actions in the persecutions that followed, and in the later calamities across the Atlantic. The lessons of the Malformation taught us that our influence is best exercised in an indirect fashion, through businesses, parishes, and local school boards, rather than the more dangerous spotlight of direct rule.

The parchment's discovery conveniently arrived in the wake of those tragedies and reinforce the belief that we are the latest in a long line stretching back to the Stone Age. It is comforting to think we descend from venerable figures like Aurelius Sagus, Veridicus, Myrddin, Saint Cuthbert, and Saint Dunstan. Comfort is not evidence. Beyond this single document, there is little to support the claim. Every answer it provides gives rise to further questions.

Who was Cassium Veridicus, and how much authority did the Ordo Lucorum wield in Roman society? How did this organization fare during the Anglo-Saxon invasions, and what happened to its members? How are we to understand the circumstances of this particular parchment’s discovery in 1732, so long after its supposed composition? Most pressing of all, what became of the appendix, and where are the vaults to which it was said to lead? Perhaps they were dug up and formed the basis of a new Order. Or perhaps one day another portion of Veridicus’s hoard will be found and settle the matter. Until then, the answers remain rumor. Each of these problems has attracted defenders and detractors, and each has been argued with a vehemence that has ended friendships.

The chapters that follow approach these questions in order. The next turns to the document itself, tracing its passage from its supposed origin in Roman times to Anglesey farmers to English antiquarians and, eventually, to the Order. Subsequent chapters consider the physical and linguistic evidence for its authenticity, the intellectual and institutional history of the Ordo Lucorum, and the long succession of expeditions undertaken in search of the vaults. It is my contention that the parchment can be understood only by following it through all of these contexts.

One truth is certain. If Veridicus existed, and hoped his testament would endure as a monument, he succeeded far beyond anything he could have imagined. It has survived, it has been read, and it has been fought over. Whether it also fulfilled its secondary purpose, that of establishing a continuous line from past to present, is the question to which this study will ultimately return.

Chapter 1 - The Document That Should Not Exist

History is built upon evidence…