Powdered Gold: Templars and the American Ark of the Covenant (Templars in America Series Book 3)

by David S. Brody

  Amanda didn’t attend all of Cam’s lectures, but when she did Cam liked her to sit off to one side and observe the audience’s body language. Much of their research not only challenged conventional wisdom about American history, but called into question many mainstream religious beliefs as well. Some groups were open to these possibilities—the Freemasons, for example. And groups like the Sons of Norway were, for obvious reasons, receptive to suggestions the Norse did more than just touch their toes on the North American continent during the centuries before Columbus. Amanda not only observed, she also had begun to teach Astarte how to judge an audience’s reaction—a person with crossed legs and arms folded across the chest indicated a defensive, uncomfortable posture while an audience member leaning forward and making constant eye contact with Cam reflected enthusiasm for the information being delivered. Cam had himself been studying body language since his days in law school, where reading a jury was a crucial skill. But having a second—and even third—set of eyes helped him refine and improve his presentations.

  After being introduced, Cam began his lecture. “Anyone know any good archeologist jokes?” He scanned the room, eyebrows raised. “No?” He shook his head. “Me neither. And I’m surprised by that. Because if you look at their record, they’re not much better than weathermen and economists.”

  Cam paused. “Here’s what I mean: A generation or two ago the archeologists told us that the Clovis culture was the original Native American culture, dating back about ten thousand years. And they also told us that civilization as we know it today begin in the Middle East approximately six thousand years ago, in Mesopotamia. Well, we now know the Solutrean and other coastal migration peoples preceded the Clovis culture. And we also know from the Gobekli Tepe dig in Turkey that civilization began earlier than what we were taught. But here’s the amazing thing: The dates we were taught aren’t just wrong, they’re wrong by a factor of two. It wasn’t ten thousand years ago that people came to America, it was twenty thousand. And it wasn’t six thousand years ago that civilization began, it was twelve thousand. Think of that. The archeologists weren’t even close.”

  Cam scanned the room. If there were any archeologists in the crowd—or mothers of archeologists for that matter—they wouldn’t be too happy. But at least he had everyone’s attention. “In light of that, I’m here to tell you that the historians—who often rely on the archeologists for their information—are also wrong. Christopher Columbus wasn’t first. In fact, he was a few hundred years late to the North American party.”

  This was always a tricky part of his presentation. Nobody liked a know-it-all and—even though he was about to explain why every history book in America was wrong—Cam didn’t want to appear to be one. It was like talking to people who recently discovered religion, who seemed to respond to every question or comment with a smug look that said, ‘Well, that may be the case, but I will be spending eternity in heaven while you alternate between needles being poked in your eyes and fire ants crawling into your ears.’ He didn’t want to tell his audience about this hidden history, he wanted them to see it for themselves.

  One by one he projected images of artifacts and sites evidencing medieval exploration of America. Rhode Island’s Newport Tower and Narragansett Rune Stone, Minnesota’s Kensington Rune Stone, Maine’s Spirit Pond Rune Stones, Massachusetts’ Westford Knight carving and Westford Boat Stone—Cam explained how all of these objects had been studied and, in most cases, scientifically shown to date back to the medieval era.

  “We shouldn’t be surprised by this,” Cam said. “We know the Vikings were in North America in the early years of the 11th Century. So why wouldn’t they, or their Norse descendants, continue to island-hop their way across the North Atlantic over future decades and centuries?” It was just common sense—they would have been drawn by the abundance of fish, timber and fur. “In fact, Vatican records tell us the bishop from Iceland set off for the Vinland settlement in the early 12th Century. We can debate where Vinland was specifically—Newfoundland, Maine, Cape Cod, Narragansett Bay—but everyone agrees it is on the east coast of North America. Why would the Vatican send a bishop to Vinland?” He scanned the room. “Well, presumably, because there were Christian souls to minister to.”

  Cam stole a glance at Amanda. She nodded. So far, so good. He would plow on. The next part was a bit more controversial. “So, who were these explorers and why did they come? Putting aside the obvious economic reasons, I think we have one possible answer.”

  He displayed an image of Bernard de Clairvaux, a French cleric later elevated to sainthood. “In the early part of the 12th Century, Bernard became the leader of the Cistercian order of monks. A few years later, he created a sister order to the Cistercians called the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon, more commonly known as the Knights Templar. While the Cistercians prayed and farmed, the Templars fought and traveled and engaged in commerce. For approximately 200 years, the Templars were the most powerful force in Europe, second only perhaps to the Church itself.”

  Cam flashed an image of the Kensington Rune Stone and explained how various clues in the carving indicated it was carved by Cistercian monks. “Because of similarities between the Kensington stone and the rune stones in Maine and Rhode Island, we think all the stones were carved by the same men or group of men: the Cistercians. And if the Cistercians were here, the Templars could not have been far behind. So, again, why?”

  Cam hesitated for a second before clicking to the next image. This one often single-handedly changed the dynamic of his lectures. “We believe Saint Bernard—along with the Cistercians and the Templars—was engaged in a secret battle with the Catholic Church. It was a simple battle, as old as religion itself: The Church wanted God to be viewed as a strong, masculine deity while Bernard and his groups believed in a god who shared feminine characteristics as well as masculine. In short, Bernard worshiped the Sacred Feminine.” He finally displayed the image.

  BERNARD DE CLAIRVAUX AND THE VIRGIN MARY

  “This is a medieval painting showing Saint Bernard, drinking from the breast of the lactating Virgin Mary while the baby Jesus looks on.” Cam paused. “As you might imagine, this teaching was not part of the orthodoxy of the medieval Church. In fact, a century later thousands of French Christians who followed Bernard in venerating the Sacred Feminine were murdered by the Church in the Albigensian Crusade.”

  Cam paused for some water, allowing his audience to digest his message for a few seconds. He stole another glance at Amanda. She shrugged this time rather than nodded. This could go either way.

  “So,” he continued, “what was up with Saint Bernard? To answer that we need to go back to the time of Jesus. After his crucifixion, the legend is that Mary Magdalene fled Jerusalem and ended up in the Provence region of France; even today, many churches in that area are dedicated to her. And many people in that area believe, and believed, that when she arrived she was carrying Jesus’ child. Most of us just learned of this from The Da Vinci Code book and movie, but this legend has been floating around Europe for two thousand years. And for two thousand years the Church has been trying to quash it. But if you know where to look, and you have eyes that see, you can find the clues.” This was the part of his research that Cam found so compelling—ferreting out fresh clues from ancient fragments of parchment and in dingy corners of churches. Even the Catholic Church could not scrub the historical record completely clean.

  Cam clicked to the next image.

  4th CENTURY COPTIC CHRISTIAN FRAGMENT

  “This is a fragment from a 4th Century Coptic Christian writing. It makes a specific reference to the ‘wife of Jesus.’ That reference tells us that Christians in the 4th Century believed that Jesus had a wife.”

  He clicked again.

  14th CENTURY PAINTING CISTERCIAN MONASTERY, TARRAGONA, SPAIN

  “This is a 14th Century painting from a Cistercian monastery in Tarragona, Spain. I’ve cropped it, but we can see Mary Magdalene at the foo
t of Jesus’ cross. To my eye she is clearly pregnant. If so, this tells us that at least some Cistercian monks in the 14th Century believed in the marriage of Jesus and Mary Magdalene.”

  He was about to click again when a movement in the back of the room caught his eye. A man had stood up and was edging toward the rear exit—not a big deal, as sometimes people walked out on Cam as he started getting into sensitive religious subjects. But this guy was wearing an Expos cap. Cam shifted his eyes to Amanda and pointed his chin toward the back of the room. She blanched and reached her arm around Astarte. Cam waited until the door swung closed, took a breath and clicked to the next image.

  KILMORE CHURCH STAINED GLASS, SCOTLAND

  “This…” He coughed and cleared his throat before sipping at his water again. “This is Jesus and Mary Magdalene on a stained glass window in a church in Scotland. Their right hands are clasped in the universal sign of matrimony and, again, she pretty clearly is pregnant. Once more, this tells us that at least some people in Scotland believed in the Jesus and Mary Magdalene marriage.”

  One eye still on the back door, Cam clicked yet again. As he did so he searched the front and side of the auditorium for other egress points. There was a fire door leading outside on both sides, but presumably they were locked from the outside. So at least Expos man could not sneak back into the room. But he and Amanda and Astarte would still need to leave the auditorium at some point….

  BASILICA OF NOTRE DAME, MONTREAL

  He refocused on the lecture. “This is a mural from the Basilica of Notre Dame, in Montreal. The Basilica was first built in the late 1600s by a group called the Sulpicians, who were descendants of the French Templar families. Most people who look at this think it is the Virgin Mary with the baby Jesus. But the Virgin Mary is never depicted with her hair down—I challenge you all to go home tonight, get on the internet and try to prove me wrong on this. And she’s almost always wearing a blue gown, not orange. In fact, orange is the color of Mary Magdalene. And look at that long hair.” He paused again to let the image sink in. “More to the point, if this is the Virgin Mary holding Jesus, why is she wearing a crown and yet Jesus isn’t?”

  He glanced up at the projection; even after years of studying it, the painting still fascinated him. How many people looked at it every day and immediately assumed it was the Virgin Mary, their preconceptions tricking their brains into seeing what they expected to see? “I would suggest it is not the baby Jesus we are looking at in this mural. It is the baby of Jesus.”

  A number of people nodded. “I could show you more,” Cam continued, “but you get the idea. What these images tell us is that, over the centuries, many different groups in Europe believed Mary Magdalene was the wife of Jesus and bore his child. Whether this is true or not is not really relevant. Because it is beliefs that motivate behavior.”

  Cam clicked back to the stained glass window of Jesus and Mary Magdalene with their hands clasped, leaving the image up for a few extra seconds. There really was no other way to interpret it, and sometimes images like this swayed even the staunchest skeptics. He took the opportunity to again check the back door. He guessed that Expos man was waiting for them in the school lobby, or perhaps the parking lot. “So let’s go back to southern France for a minute. Like I said, this is the area where Mary Magdalene supposedly ended up after the Crucifixion, and it is the Provence region that historically has been most open to the idea of a Jesus bloodline. In fact, in the 5th and 6th centuries, France was ruled by a series of kings known as the Merovingians. The Merovingians believed themselves to be descended from Mary Magdalene. The name itself tells us all we need to know: Etymologically, the word ‘Merovingian’ means ‘Vine of Mary.’”

  He had made it through the toughest part of the talk. “So, not surprisingly, we find that most of the key champions of the Jesus bloodline are from southern France and are descended from the Merovingians: not just Bernard de Clairvaux, but also the nine French noblemen who first founded the Knights Templar and most of the Templar Grand Masters as well. Also the Sinclair/St. Clair family, who eventually immigrated to Scotland and built Rosslyn Chapel.”

  Cam took a step closer to his audience. “It is these people who fought to have Mary Magdalene recognized as the wife of Jesus. It is these people who were massacred by the medieval Church in the Albigensian Crusade. It is these people who were eventually arrested and tortured when the Church outlawed the Knights Templar in 1307. And it is these people who looked to America as a haven from religious persecution.”

  He paused. “And, believe it or not, it is these people who found their way to Tucson approximately twelve hundred years ago.”

  He displayed an image of two of the more ornate lead crosses. “I just examined these artifacts today.” He described the collection’s history and the geological testing. “They are authentic. The science doesn’t lie. So, the obvious question is, what were French Christianized Jews doing in the Arizona desert in the 8th century? Well, I think I’ve just explained it to you. These families were part of the Merovingian line. They knew at some point the Church would turn on them. They came to America for the same reason so many millions of others have done so: They came looking for religious freedom.”

  Amanda watched as Cam took questions. She knew as much about this research as did Cam—in fact, she had first introduced Cam to the Templars and their role in the hidden history of America. But she was happy to watch Cam, trained as a lawyer, give the lectures and interviews.

  A burly, bearded man in the back, near where the Expos hat had been sitting, raised his hand. “The argument we most often hear to rebut the idea of explorers being here before Columbus is that there is no archeological evidence supporting it. Even if we don’t totally trust the archeologists, shouldn’t we expect to see archeological remnants of these visitors?”

  “You mean no archeological evidence other than the artifacts themselves?” Cam asked. “I would argue the artifacts are strong evidence in their own right.”

  The man bowed his head. “Fair point. I’m talking about pottery shards and stuff like that.”

  Amanda knew this was an easy question for Cam. “There are a number of problems with this premise,” Cam said. “First, in this case, let’s assume our European friends here in Arizona were on the move, fleeing or trying to escape as the natives turned on them. At some point they would have abandoned their 300 pounds of lead artifacts in an effort to survive. In that case, there would be no evidence of a settlement or village—they were on the run. Any evidence—things like campfires and bones of animals eaten—would have long since disappeared and in any event be undistinguishable from native campsites. Second, even if there had been a small settlement at the Tucson site, why should we think the settlers would have left things behind? Even today people who are out camping typically don’t leave behind their tools and weapons and utensils—they need them, so they take them with them. Today we call it ‘carry in, carry out.’ In the old days they called it survival—you leave your knife or your flint behind and you’re likely to die. Archeologists are good at finding large villages, but bad at finding explorers and temporary settlements.”

  Cam waited for the bearded man to nod before continuing. “Thirdly, and this is probably the most fundamental reason: Less than one-tenth of one percent of these areas has been excavated.” He smiled, the same confident, kind smile Amanda had been captivated by when she first met him. “So they tell us there is no archeological evidence to support the theory of pre-Columbian exploration. But why should we expect there to be? Do we expect this evidence to just magically bubble its way to the surface? Most areas have never been excavated. Digs are expensive, and there are very few of them. But then the archeologists say, ‘Aha, no evidence!’ Well, that’s silly. The absence of proof is not proof itself—it just means we haven’t looked in the right places yet.”

  Willum shook his head. Whoever this Cameron Thorne fellow was, Willum liked his passion and intellect. Most of all he appreciated his will
ingness to fly into the wind, to question the establishment, to live outside the comfort zone. His answer to Willum’s question about the absence of archeological evidence had been both well-argued and persuasive. Thorne was an independent, contrarian thinker—this nation needed more men and women like that.

  Willum sat, waiting for the crowd to clear after the lecture—a few people had approached Thorne to question him. Willum reflected on Thorne’s findings. He had placed Templar forbearers here in Arizona over a thousand years ago. There were still many missing pieces to the puzzle, but Thorne’s research offered at least a plausible explanation for why the Templars, and their treasure, might have been in Arizona. Maybe old Boone really was onto something.

  As the last of the audience members left, Willum ambled down the auditorium stairs. Before he could greet Thorne, Willum’s phone buzzed. Boonie. Boonie was old Boone’s grandson. He was a bit of an outcast—a quiet, harmless fellow with some learning disabilities—but he had been one of the first to move to the compound with Willum. He came and went sporadically, sometimes disappearing for a few days to camp in the mountains or hitchhike to Las Vegas to play the slots with whatever money he scrounged. When he was around Willum paid him to do odd jobs, such as driving Willum to tonight’s lecture. “I’m still here. Sure, come on in if you want.”

  Willum greeted Thorne, introduced himself and shook his hand. “Great lecture, and thanks for answering my question. Do you have a few minutes?”