Far worse, Philip II Auguste, was also an avid collector of relics: when, after visiting Celestine II in Rome, to get leave to quit the Crusade, in poor health but surrounded by his army, Philip returned to Paris on December 27, 1191, he prostrated himself in front of the relics of Saint Denis, to give thanks for his safe return—bringing along even more relics to add to the collection: two teeth from the Prophet Amos, and the finger of John the Baptist. Once done, hungering for power, he went to deal with the succession of the count of Flanders.
The Pope was prescient about Philip’s power-hunger, and how he could and would use his faith as an excuse to enlarge his domains—la “demesne royale” increased immensely since Philippe I was crowned in 1180 until he died in 1223. The Fourth Crusade turned Byzantium into a “new France”: Baldwin IX of Flanders, after becoming Latin Emperor of Constantinople in 1204, got Philip a piece of the True Cross, a thorn from Christ’s crown of thorns, and a fragment of Christ’s clothing. The thorn was the one salvaged from Notre Dame’s fire last April. Imagine Philip suspecting he could get the Ark of the Covenant!
Strengthened after Richard’s death in 1199, Philip didn’t go “crusading against heretics” as Celestin’s III successor, Pope Innocent III would have wanted him to— but his son, Louis le Lion, the father of Saint Louis, did. All the same, he vastly enlarged the “demesne royale” and was aggressive enough to briefly become ‘King of England’.
In short, Celestine III might have been a relatively weak, older pope—but he was no fool. In the hands of the King of France—or in those of Heinrich VI, King of Germany in 1190, Holy Roman Emperor since 1191 and King of Sicily since 1194—a relic like the Ark would have spelled submission for the Papacy, undoing a thousand years of machinations, fake documents—such as the ‘Donation of Constantine’— and quid pro quos.
The Pope was also an eminently practical man. Over a century before, when Gregory VI appointed Hildebrand to guard the papal treasury, he found it constantly looted by brigands. To answer what you would call the Riddle of the Sphinx—whether the soldier of God should only use spiritual weapons and his advance be stilled, or use violence to fight the Devil, and so win—Hildebrand opted for defending the treasury manu military, paying soldiers. And when he died, as pope in exile, in Salerno, in 1085, Rome had been looted and burned by the Normans, whom he had called to help him defend the Papal treasury. Many of the Normans of the 1190s were loyal subjects of Richard Lionheart—and William I, great-grandfather of Richard was, unquestionably, a Norman as well. Thus, a ‘Norman’ king getting such power safely to England didn’t much appeal to Celestine either.
Since apparently Berengaria, Joanna and the “Lady of Cyprus” were more ‘mules’ than anything else, and women then were used to be herded, Celestine foresaw the last two would get married, and all of them would again, sooner or later, be doing embroideries, chitchatting, and going to mass in some citadel. So, he tasked Melior of Pisa with hiding the Ark, while making sure it would not be found, damaged or used by anyone against the Popes of Rome. And to achieve that, he co-opted the Templars.
On March 29, 1139, through the Bulla “Omne Datum Optimum”, pope Innocent II had made the Knights Templar, ‘militi Templi quod Iherosolimis’ an independent religious order—as in, independent of diocesan bishops, i.e. directly under the authority of the pope.
Incidentally in that Bulla, the Pope says, referring to them: “to justify being considered among the knighthood of God you always bear on your chest the sign of the life-giving cross. In agreement with this is the fact that you, just as true Israelites and warriors most skilled in holy war, are indeed fired up by the flame of charity and fulfill by your deeds the words of the Gospel that says: “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his souls [sic, the text has animis ‘souls’ where it should say amicis ‘friends’]”, whence, in accordance with the words of the great Shepard, you are not afraid to lay down your souls for your brothers and defend them from attacks of the pagans.”
I don’t say that to annoy you, only, because it might have something to do with this gathering of souls that seems to be happening. In Latin, it reads: “atque ad comprobandum quod in Dei militia computemini signum vivifice cruces in vestro pectore assidue circumfertis. Accedit ad hoc quod tanquam veri Israelite atque instructissimi divini prelii bellatores, vere karitatis flamma succensi, dictum evangelium operibus adimpletis quod dicitur: majorem hac dilectionem nemo habet quam ut animam suam ponat quis pro animis [sic] suis; unde etiam, juxta summi Pastoris vocem, animas vestras pro fratribus ponere eosque ab incursoribus paganorum defensare”.
That Bulla recognized officially the Order of the Poor Knights of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon (the “Templars”), created the Rule of the Templar Order, and guaranteed them papal protection. It also made everything the Templars despoiled from Muslims exempt of all taxes and tithes—incidentally, including the Ark. In and of itself, this tax-free living, in days where taxes and tithes and paying from mafia-style protection were the order of the day, was, in itself, quite extraordinary.
But in 1144, Celestine II issued “Milities Templi”, another Bulla, ordering the clergy to protect the Templars, encouraging the faithful to donate to them and allowing them to collect dues once a year, even in areas under papal interdict. The next year, 1145 Eugene III issued “Militia Dei”, giving the Templars the right to collect their own tithes and burial fees, and to bury their dead in their own cemeteries, and allowing the living Templars to travel freely through Europe.
In short, these three Bullae made Templars inordinately rich.
The Rule was, in appearance, very strict; but, from the original nine Templars in 1118— when Huges de Payens vowed to the King of Jerusalem to guard public roads, live as regular canons, and fight for the King of Heaven in chastity, obedience and self-denial—to the opulence they lived in when the last Grand Master was roasted, much had changed.
For example, they were also supposed to sleep by twos, wearing a linen cloth and breeches—with a light always burning in the room; but the light, more often than not, went off. In 1172, when the Old Man of the Mountain sent envoys offering to King Amalric of Jerusalem an offer to convert to Christianity if the Templars would stop taking the tribute they exacted from the Hashashin since 1149, the Templars killed the envoys. Amalric demanded the Templars surrender the culprits; but Odo, the then Grand Master of the Temple refused to give up even the main culprit, widely known, and invoked papal protection instead.
In October 1187, to defend Tyre, I used part of their wealth, something they never forgave me for. When I wouldn’t take Guy of Lusignan—the same and one who caused the disaster at the Horns of Hattin—into my city, Templars and Hospitaliers followed him to the siege of Acre. Then when Acre fell, Philippe II took up lodgings at the Palace of the Templars, even though—or rather, precisely because—the Templars favored Richard and such was the best place to lodge a king. How’s that for a poor religious Order?
In those chivalric days, cynics used to say, the only ones decent were the horses.
Templars were always plotting against one another, jealous, jockeying for power, usurious moneylenders, and prone to debauchery. They even helped Richard get the contract that got me killed. So, for anyone to use them, as co-conspirators to hide the Ark, and not risk it being stolen, required a ruse.
I have gone for long enough, so I will now cut to the chase: in the feudal world, enemies could become allies and friends become enemies out of convenience, both at the drop of a helmet, hood or cowl.
The Church was the enemy of aggressive kings, and of the Emperor; but, also, of heretical orders that might challenge its authority—and, crucially, cut its revenues, stemming from that undisputed authority, built since the days of Constantine, trading quid pro quos and made-up donations.
By weakening an aggressive king, who also happened to be Richard’s enemy, heretics found a way to help the armed hand of the Church (the Templars) and so curry favor with them.
And I was there, when it happened; in the shadows, when Berengaria, Joanne and the “Lady of Cyprus” sailed with Melior from Pisa to Marseille; and then travelled through Arles, Saint-Gilles-du-Gard, Montpellier, Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert, Toulouse through the Via Tolosana, then followed the Garonne, went through Moissac on the Via Podiensis, Agen, La Récis on the Via Lemonicensis, Saint Eutrope de Saintes, Angely, Melle and Poitiers, from whence Berengaria left for Chinon, suspecting something odd was up—but unable to do anything about it and afraid to ask questions that could end her days. She was also angry Richard had always men around him, but was never interested in being around her—so she wasn’t very interested in risking her neck for his sake either.
With the help of the Cathars of Vezélay, who helped move the Ark discretely through the lands of Counts of Toulouse, all the way to Poitiers, and the Amauriens, who helped move it from Poitiers to Tours, and then to Trôo, the Ark was hidden until allies could be found, among the Templars, who could take it to its final destination.”
“So, after all this long dissertation, I assume you know where the Ark is?” asked Tony.
“Insolent children…there are always those,” apologized Severian.
“No. It’s fine, Severian,” contemporized Conrad. “At my age, I can understand their anxiety. Their lives are so brief. My apologies. To reassure those of you who wish to embark into what will be a dangerous challenge, I have tried to be thorough. It would be fairly simple for me to compel you all to do what’s required—but I was human, and anxious, and mistrusting as well, eight centuries ago.
So, to answer Tony’s question, the Ark was taken to the Templar House in the Perche forest, to a place near Nogent-le-Rotrou, and then to Chartres. Abbot Énald and Cardinal Melior of Pisa, the papal Legate, did record its precise location—understandably, in a cryptic manuscript, once kept at the Chartres Library.
Until 1944, Chartres’ municipal library contained 1687 manuscripts, including 500 from before the year 1500. In one of the 138 books—at the time, an enormity—kept by the then Abbey of Saint-Père-en-Vallée, of which the municipal library had 94, the exact location of the Ark was listed, in coded form—in MS65, to be more precise. Sadly, when, in 1944, a bomb struck the municipal library and it burned out, that information was lost.
In 1194, when the Cathedral itself was burning, the Templars, under instructions of Melior, finished burying the Ark and mapping the tunnels that gave access to it, hoping some day, the Order of the Temple would decide the world was finally ready for it.
Instead, the Order, as we know, was destroyed in 1312, and its last Grand Master, burned alive, after prolonged torture in 1314—incidentally in the Island of the Jews, an island now gone, under the Pont Neuf, between the Palais de la Cité and the Quai des Augustins, where Jews were executed during the Middle Ages.
In any case, we can find the directions to the Ark’s location in the Cathedral itself—but to get to it, would require considerable digging.”
“And there is more…” said Severian, a bit sheepishly.
“All right. And there is more,” admitted Conrad. “The cause of this wind, the one behind this Wotanist sorcery, might not be just those neo-Nazis, but someone else, aiding and abetting them…. Someone nearly as old as me, and, no doubt, older than Severian, herding them…perhaps, to celebrate a century since the death of Guido von List…”
“A Nazi vampire sorcerer? That is downright weird….” commented David.
“Life is weird,” said the Countess. “So, was Charpentier right all this time?”
“No. Not really, Votre Grâce,” replied Conrad, getting an acknowledging nod from the Countess. “The parvis of Chartres Cathedral does not hide the Ark. The Cathedral is a reminder that the Ark is nigh. It reminds those who want to see the High Priest’s breastplate, as…”
“…As said in Exodus, 28:12-17, the twelve stones for the twelve tribes of Israel, engraved as signet rings, plus two sandonyx stones, one on each of the High Priest’s shoulders, the remembrance stones. The Urim ve Tumim, seemingly the twelve stones on Exodus 28:30, since the breastplate…contained a piece of parchment with the Ineffable Name, which might have been used to ask questions…” added Haim.
“Yes!” agreed Conrad. “But in this part of the world, with so many blood libels, the stones use by a High Priest at a time when Solomon’s Temple and the Ark were intact would seem a bit out of place. Pope Paul VI, who wore the Ephod, and was very much for ecumenism, was considered a traitor—a true Caiaphas, in the eyes of integrists. The thing was so controversial that Pope Francis had to devote a good part of his homily on Easter Thursday in 2013 to say the Ephod has become the chasuble, the six names on the right, six on the left shoulder, symbolizing the priest taking on his shoulders the peoples he shepherds.
It wouldn’t make much sense that it should have anything to do with Richard Lionheart, either. When he was crowned, he barred all Jews and all women from the ceremony (since he was a crusader, as much as he was becoming king.) The leading Jews came anyway, bringing gifts for the new king. So Richard’s courtiers stripped and flogged them, kept the gifts, and flogged them again, out of court.
Then a rumor ran through London that Richard wanted all Jews killed, and Londoners were only very happy to oblige. Many Jews were beaten to death, robbed, and burned alive. Others were forcibly baptized. Others sought refuge in the Tower of London. That is one version. A creepier one is that bigoted Londoners did this just to satisfy their own hatred of Jews. In Richard’s defense, he punished the perpetrators, and even annulled a forced baptism. A royal writ essentially commanded Jews be allowed to live in peace—but once Richard was gone, the writ was often ignored. The details were unclear then, but sure there wasn’t lot of love on that side either.
As for the locals, here in Chartres, Blois, Chatêaudun and such, anti-Semitism was quite rampant. The first blood libel in Europe happened in Blois. On the lintel and tympanum of the Portal of the Saints Martyres by the belfry on the South entrance, under the walls of Jerusalem, the Jews stone saint Étienne. The list is long.
And Philip II Auguste wasn’t any better, but I’ll spare you the details.
In short, a symbol peculiar to the High Priest of Judaism, in this place, should be rather odd. However, originally, those stones, the Urim ve Tumim, were supposed to be used to ask questions, indeed. The High Priest would face the Ark, and those who wanted to ask questions, would be facing the High Priest’s back. That should be a clue.
Another one is the hole in the verrière of Saint Apollinaire, the hole through which, during the summer solstice, the sun illuminates a white stone on the floor, marked with a metal stud. That marks the emplacement of a key—one that, fortunately, we won’t need.
Importantly, however, this is what now is called “Corpus vitrearum 036”, originally residing on the Baie 026, where now we find the “Annonciation de la Vierge”; and the lower part, where now information is missing, is the result of an egoist act of 1328, by someone who wanted to be remembered.
More suggestively, one of the pillars of the Northwest Portal, the one called of “the Initiates”—in Templar secrets, by the way—depicts the Ark of the Covenant, a neat, unmistakable image, containing the Tables of the Law, a jar of manna, and Aaron’s staff blossoming, befitting the Christian version told by Hebrews 9:4.
Right below the image there are two inscriptions. At the base of the two scenes related to the Ark, the first one shows the Philistines giving back the Ark, after the Ark has caused Dagon’s idol to crumble. On the second, the Ark returns to Jerusalem, on a chariot pulled by two oxen, and guided by an angel. The inscriptions were once misread: ‘HIC AMITITUR ARCHA CEDERIS’ and ‘ARCHA CEDERIS’, which led Louis Charpentier in 1966, citing a Latinist named Eugène Canseliet, to interpret the first as ‘Here we leave it and let the Ark take charge’ and ‘Let the Ark take charge’.
The ad-hominem attacks on Charpentier after nothing was found there, were vicious. However, if anyone bothers reading t
he inscription, the capital T has a perfectly straight stem, the capital G has a curved stem, the first inscription reads: ‘HIC AMIGITUR ARCHA CEDERIS’, which French scholars see something like “here things get dicey, time to give up the Ark”. However, ‘HIC AMIGIT UR ARCHA CEDERIS’ would translate “Tell UR here, to give up the Arch”. UR happened to be the initials of URIM ve TUMIM, in short: ‘The stones have spoken, here the Ark is to be left.’ But it is not at the Cathedral.
If I weren’t around, maybe nobody would ever find it. And that might be all for the better—as I would have chosen to leave things, were it up to me alone.
However, this evil machination has a purpose. If it were allowed to go unchallenged, the doors separating Hell from the realms of the living and the undead would crumble, like Dagon’s statue when the Philistines abused the Ark. And this Apocalypse would come to pass…for someone to avenge treason, treason as old as it was—and is—indefensible.
If my suspicions are correct, ‘your Biblical people’, Haim, are in for naught, caught in the middle, just an essential ingredient into an infernal brew, like a root or a feather in a witches’ cauldron.
Now, the Mother has spoken, and a way to end this evil machination, has been found. So I shall help you end this nightmare.” Conrad paused. Even that made those humans look so hopeful and thought him a sort of Superman of the shadows, he clearly thought now be time for a reality check.
“But getting to the Ark will not be easy,” he continued.
“Tomorrow, when we come back, I shall tell you where it is, and how we could get to it. Milady Sól, please be so kind to check your gold sheet and that silver cylinder, to see if there is any more information about how to properly collect those stones.
Once we decide where exactly where, the how should be relatively easy: Severian and I could gather them relatively fast. But before we do, you shall decide who is to sew them onto your prayer shawl.
Quest for the Ark Page 21