by Richard Reed
“OK, that’s interesting, but it doesn’t prove anything.”
“No, but it adds to the evidence, doesn’t it?” said Rachel. “And, of course, it explains the necklace!”
“Indeed,” said Marianne.
“How long has it been in your family?”
“For centuries. Grandmère gave it to me when I was 21 as a coming-of-age present. It has been held by every Madeleine at some stage in her life, and passed down from mother to daughter. It was indeed around the neck of the Madeleine at the last supper Christ held with his disciples.”
She paused and looked from Rachel to David, noting his quizzical expression. “Perhaps I owe you an explanation, David,” she said at length. “You have every right to be sceptical, and if you are both to help me in this quest, and put your lives in further danger, you have a right to know the truth.”
Rachel glanced at David with raised eyebrows. This was intriguing.
“The first Madeleine, my many-times-great grandmother, was indeed the bride of Jesus. It was their wedding, at Cana, that the gospel of John records as witnessing Christ’s first miracle. Why else would Jesus’s mother have come to him to report that the master of ceremonies had complained they were running out of wine? If he had been but an honoured guest, it would have been nothing to do with him.
“But the marriage of Jesus and Mary Magdalene was much more than that. As you have hinted at, Rachel, it was a dynastic alliance between the two greatest tribes of Israel – Judah and Benjamin. For Jesus was of King David’s line, and he was from Judah; while Mary was a Benjamite, the tribe of the first king of Israel, Saul, and his son, Jonathan. That is why Mary anointed her husband with oil – it was a ceremonial act to sanctify a royal wedding, if you will, and by custom something only his bride could perform.”
Marianne paused. “I am not suggesting that this was a revolutionary act. Christ had no desire to become involved in Jewish politics, or challenge the authority of the Roman empire. His comment about ‘Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s’ makes that quite clear. But it was still highly symbolic. Let us not forget – though many Christians do – that Jesus was Jewish, and practised the Jewish faith. But he felt it had lost touch with its original purpose, and needed a new sense of spiritual direction. This is what he was preaching: a new version of the Torah based on love and forgiveness, rather than fear and punishment. By uniting the two houses of Judah and Benjamin, he was giving his new sect, as we would call it today, a formidable power-base.
“Mary was the sister of Martha, and brother of Lazarus, and they lived with their father, Simon the Pharisee. There you can see another anomaly in branding Mary a sinner – for would a Pharisee, infamous for their strict code of behaviour and ‘holier than thou’ attitudes, have allowed a strange ‘woman of the city’ to come into his house and anoint Our Lord with oil? Matthew devotes a whole chapter to Jesus berating the Pharisees for their hypocritical behaviour. He says, ‘Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence.’ Yet Christ sits and eats with a Pharisee – because that Pharisee was his father-in-law!
“After Christ’s crucifixion, Christians were widely persecuted, not just by the Romans, but by their fellow Jews, too. Simon and his family, including Mary Magdalene and her sister Martha, were arrested for their faith and exiled to Gaul – a fact recorded in the Jewish Talmud, though the father’s name was given as Nicodemus, not Simon. Since Jesus had another close follower called Nicodemus, it seems their names may have been mixed up – according to Jewish custom, in cases of execution, the names of the individuals concerned were deleted from the official records for a whole generation, so the confusion over names is not surprising.”
“So they were officially exiled to Gaul, then?” queried David. “It just seems an unlikely place to send someone.”
“Why?” said Marianne. “Is it any different to you Brits sending convicts to Australia, on the other side of the world, in the 19th century? Gaul was part of the Roman Empire, and situated on the other side of the Mediterranean – a little closer than the South Pacific!”
Rachel smiled sweetly at David. “I suppose if they had wanted to send them somewhere really barbaric they have been exiled to Britain,” she said smugly.
Marianne laughed. “Oh, our cousins across the Channel are not so bad, really, once you get used to their ways! But you are right. France was not so remote. Even the puppet Jewish king, Herod Antipas, was exiled to Gaul by Caligula for allegedly conspiring against him.”
“Herod Antipas was really exiled to Gaul? I didn’t know that,” said David.
“Mais oui! I am surprised, Monsieur Tranter! You should know that,” teased Marianne.
David held up his hands in submission. “Guilty as charged. So tell me, is there anything else we should know?”
“Well, Dan Brown was not completely wrong. Although the early Madeleines lived in relative obscurity during the early centuries after Christ’s death, Europe became a much more dangerous place with the advent of the First Crusade in 1096, when thousands of knights and their followers journeyed to Jerusalem to take the city from the Muslims.
“After the successful capture of Jerusalem in 1099 by Count Raymond IV of Toulouse, thousands of pilgrims journeyed to the Holy Land – but many were routinely slaughtered. As a result, the French knight Hugues de Payens asked the new king of Jerusalem, Baldwin II, for permission to establish a religious order to protect pilgrims. Permission was duly granted, and Baldwin gave the new order quarters in the Al-Aqsa mosque on the Temple Mount, adjacent to the Dome of the Rock, built over the ancient Temple of Solomon.
“The Knights Templar, as they became known, subsequently carried out extensive excavations beneath the Temple Mount – archaeologists have found a whole network of tunnels, together with the remains of swords and lances, but due to Arab sensitivities over the mosque, the tunnels have not been fully explored. What, precisely, the Templars discovered is not entirely known, although there has been much speculation – some believe they found the Ark of the Covenant, others the Holy Grail or the Holy Lance that pierced Jesus’s side.
“Suffice it to say that on their return to Europe, they found… how do you say?… an empathy with the Cathars, who came to prominence at just this time. It’s also interesting to note that, Alfonso, the grandson of Raymond IV, having travelled to the Holy Land himself, supported the Cathars against persecution – and two generations later, Raymond VI of Toulouse was at the heart of resistance to the Pope’s crusade against the Cathars. Was he, too, privy to some secret knowledge?
“In any event, the Templars and the Cathars became closely linked, and Templar knights took no part in the crusade. It may well have been this sympathetic behaviour to the Cathars and their heretical beliefs that drew unwanted attention, and gave King Philip IV of France the excuse he needed to bully the Pope into declaring the order illegal – accusing them of idolatry. In fact, Philip owed huge amounts of money to the Templars, who founded the world’s first banking system, and saw the perfect opportunity to rid himself of his debts and, at a stroke, acquire a huge source of wealth.
“The rest is well known – the arrest and burning at the stake of the Templar Grand Master, Jacques de Molay, on Friday, October 13, 1307, a day which, like the burning of the Cathars at Montségur, will go down in infamy. Coincidentally, the last leaders of the Cathars, Pierre and Jacques Autier, were executed just three years later in 1310 after an attempted uprising failed.”
“So are you saying the Knights Templar helped to protect the Madeleine?” asked Rachel.
Marianne removed a large silver ring from her finger. “I wore this especially for the occasion,” she said, passing it to Rachel.
“My God, a Templar ring!” exclaimed Rachel, looking at the ring, with its emblem of two knights mounted on a single horse, before passing it to David.
He traced the words inscribed around the edge o
f the ring, heavily worn but still just legible: sigillum militum xpisti. “ ‘The seal of the army of Christ’,” he said slowly. “I have to say, it looks pretty genuine. How did you get this?”
“Like the necklace, it has been in my family for many generations. It was given to one of my ancestors during the crusade against the Cathars, to warn anyone who might seek her harm that she was under the protection of the Templars. Some believe this is how the legend of the Holy Grail first started, although the ‘grail’ in question was not a sacred cup, or any other earthly treasure, but the womb of the Madeleine and her successors, which carried the children of Our Lord. The Knights Templar have always been closely linked to the Grail legend. The first known Grail story, Le Conte du Graal, was written by Chrétien de Troyes in 1180, and it was at the Council of Troyes in 1129 that the Templar Order was first officially sanctioned by the Church.”
“So… you are the Holy Grail?” asked Rachel, staring at Marianne in awe.
Marianne laughed. “I have never really thought of it quite like that, but I suppose, yes, though it sounds a little too grand for my liking. I am just an ordinary woman who happens to carry the bloodline of Jesus.”
“I don’t see how that can possibly make you ‘ordinary’.”
“‘Ordinary’ in the sense that I am a human being just like you. It is the message I carry that is important; the message for which many of my ancestors have sacrificed their lives. But without evidence, as David would say, there is no proof. And he is right. As I have said, this is why I need your help. Now let’s eat before the food spoils, and then you can tell me what you have found out about the Blanchefort tombstone.”
As the meal progressed, Rachel and David explained their attempt to decode the cryptic inscription.
“So you see,” said Rachel at length, “it’s not exactly bullet-proof, but it is at least a working hypothesis.”
“Well, it sounds like a good enough place to start,” said Gilles. “These treasure hunters always want to complicate things. They have come up with any number of theories, each more unlikely than the last. Maybe they are missing the obvious.”
“Indeed,” added Marianne. “And this is where the information about the Templars may be of use to you. For as well as helping to protect the Madeleine, it is believed they helped her to hide the Lost Gospel – together with another secret treasure.”
“Another treasure?” queried David. “I’ve just got used to the idea there’s a Lost Gospel out there somewhere. There is something else besides?”
“Oui.”
“Do you have any idea what it is?”
Marianne hesitated. “There are legends…” She bit her lip and glanced at Gilles, then fell silent for a while. “I am sorry, David, but I cannot say more. I am not willing to repeat things that may be merely the accumulation of centuries of gossip. What lies at the heart of this is too precious for idle speculation. If we find something that leads us in a certain direction, then so be it. But until then… Until then, let us be satisfied with the gospel, and the truths I know it will bring to Christendom.”
Everyone at the table fell silent.
“Forgive me for being practical, but let’s get down to brass tacks,” said David at length. “The question is, how do we proceed from here? You’ve told us, Marianne, that the gospel is believed to be in the undercroft; the Visigoth burial chamber beneath the crypt itself. Since Rachel and I have both been there, I can tell you that it’s a large natural underground cavern, containing what appear to be several tombs. As an archaeologist, I cannot agree to simply going in and ransacking the place, however important the ‘find’ we are looking for. However, I accept that under the circumstances, we would never get permission from the authorities to carry out an official dig down there – we would be obstructed at every turn. It could take years to get a government permit – not to mention permission from the landowner.”
“We would most definitely not want you to ‘ransack’ the place, as you put it,” said Gilles gravely.
“Surely it wouldn’t hurt to open up the tombs and carefully sift through the contents?” put in Rachel.
“Absolutely not – who knows what evidence you might be destroying in the process? Archaeology is an exact science: as far as tombs are concerned, it is not just about the contents, but about noting the order in which items are laid out – and, of course, an analysis of any debris. What might appear insignificant to you – perhaps a few fragments of cloth – might actually help to date the whole tomb, using radio-carbon dating. Only if we find a specific clue on a tomb would I agree to open it. And then we would only remove an item if there were an obvious connection.”
“So be it,” murmured Marianne, nodding her head in assent.
“That, then, leaves us only one option,” continued David. “We have a clue – a somewhat flimsy clue, but a clue nonetheless. We must go back and search the cavern for something that fits in with the phrase, ‘he should note where the sword is put’. It might be something else, but a tomb sounds like the most likely option.”
“How do you propose to get into the cavern?” questioned Gilles.
“The same way we got out. The cave is obviously part of an old underground river system – we followed a passage out of the burial chamber and eventually came out on the hillside below Rennes-le-Château. That means we can get back in undetected – hopefully.”
“And what will you need?”
“I left all my equipment back at the dig site, and for obvious reasons I have no intention of going back there at the moment. So, we will need two folding shovels, a couple of small bricklayer’s trowels, and some paintbrushes for cleaning artefacts. We will also need a portable 12v arc light, and some torches, both hand-held and on head straps – preferably LED, as they consume a lot less power. Oh, and some climbing ropes and pitons, just in case. Not to mention a couple of decent rucksacks to put everything in.”
“When are you thinking of going?” asked Gilles.
“As quickly as possible,” said David. “The sooner this is all out in the open, the sooner we can get on with our lives. Since we will obviously have to arrive at Rennes under cover of darkness, to avoid the slightest risk of us being seen, I suggest tomorrow night – assuming you can get the equipment together in time.”
“That will not be a problem,” said the Count.
“Tomorrow night it is, then,” said David.
Chapter 45
It was well past midnight as the ageing Renault van wound its way slowly up the steep hill to Rennes-le-Château, its ancient springs squeaking in protest at every bump and twist in the road. The Count had insisted they use the battered old vehicle, normally used for maintenance around the estate, to avoid attracting unwanted attention.
“God help me,” said David as he crashed through the gears. “I never want to drive one of these things again.”
“Well, at least you can’t do it much damage,” said Rachel brightly. “And you really do look the part with that beret on your head.”
David scowled at her. “I hope they make it in one piece,” he said, nodding his head towards the back of the van where two of the Count’s bodyguards were bouncing around like a couple of sacks of potatoes. “I wouldn’t like to do this without someone guarding our backs. Here we are,” he added, as he pulled off the road below an outcrop of rock. “I’m pretty sure this is where we came out.”
David got out of the car and opened the rear doors. Marcel and Pierre climbed out stiffly, scowling at them, as David reached in and pulled out the rucksacks containing their lighting and excavating gear, each with a coil of climbing rope attached to the side.
“Follow us to the entrance so you know exactly where it is, then move the vehicle up the road, Marcel,” whispered David. “When you get back, make sure you wait just inside the cave so you can’t be seen. Pierre, as agreed, you come with us.”
Marcel, a thin, wiry man with thinning black hair combed over his bald pate, nodded his assent. Pierre, a hulki
ng brute who had played rugby for Toulouse in his youth, merely grunted. The four of them started climbing the steep hillside towards the cave, winding their way between outcrops of rock and dense patches of maquis, the evergreen scrub that pervaded the barer slopes where the oak and sweet chestnut forest could not gain a foothold. It took barely 10 minutes to reach the entrance, but they were all out of breath by the time they arrived at the jagged limestone outcrop, where the action of rain and ice had, over the millennia, splintered the exposed rock into a series of deep fissures. They felt their way along, trying to avoid using their torches, until Rachel found a deep crevice that disappeared into an inky blackness.
She crawled up it a little way on her hands and knees to confirm she had found the right spot. “Here we are,” she said quietly.
David nodded to Marcel. The Frenchman nodded curtly, then turned and started to retrace his steps to the van.
“OK, it’s just us and Pierre now,” said David, sotto voce, retrieving the head-torches from his rucksack and handing one to Rachel. “Let me go first – no arguments,” he added, as she opened her mouth to speak. “Pierre – you bring up the rear.”
Rachel, for once, was happy for him to take the lead. It was an eerie, moonless night and she had a strange sense of foreboding. “Just watch out for that chimney,” she warned.
David had no intention of missing that particular obstruction, studying the ground ahead intently as he led the way along the tortuous passageway, the walls worn smooth through the action of an ancient underground river. Eventually his torch picked out the gaping chasm in the floor ahead. “This time we’ll be a bit more careful,” he said. “We’ll rope ourselves together – you go first this time; Pierre and I will back up round the corner and brace you in case you slip.”
“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence. Is Pierre going to make it over that rock-fall, though?”