Holy Blood, Holy Grail

by Baigent, Michael

  Under Visigoth auspices Arianism became the dominant form of Christianity in Spain, the Pyrenees, and what is now southern France. If Jesus’ family did indeed find refuge in Gaul, their overlords, by the fifth century, would have been the Arian Visigoths. Under an Arian regime the family is not likely to have been persecuted. It would probably have been highly esteemed and might well have intermarried with Visigoth nobility before its subsequent intermarriage with the Franks to produce the Merovingians. And with Visigoth patronage and protection it would have been secure against all threats from Rome. It is thus not particularly surprising that unmistakably Semitic names—Bera, for instance—occur among Visigoth aristocracy and royalty. Dagobert II married a Visigoth princess whose father was named Bera. The name Bera recurs repeatedly in the Visigoth-Merovingian family tree descended from Dagobert II and Sigisbert IV. The Roman Church is said to have declared that Dagobert’s son had converted to Arianism,2 and it would not be very extraordinary if he had done so. Despite the pact between the Church and Clovis, the Merovingians had always been sympathetic to Arianism. One of Clovis’ grandsons, Chilperic, made no secret of his Arian proclivities.

  If Arianism was not inimical to Judaism, neither was it to Islam, which rose so meteorically in the seventh century. The Arian view of Jesus was quite in accord with that of the Koran. In the Koran Jesus is mentioned no less than thirty-five times, under a number of impressive appellations—including "Messenger of God" and "Messiah." At no point, however, is he regarded as anything other than a mortal prophet, a forerunner of Muhammad, and a spokesman for a single supreme God. And like Basilides and Mani, the Koran maintains that Jesus did not die on the cross: "they did not kill him, nor did they crucify him, but they thought they did."3 The Koran itself does not elaborate on this ambiguous statement, but Islamic commentators do. According to most of them there was a substitute— generally, though not always, supposed to have been Simon of Cyrene. Certain Muslim writers speak of Jesus hiding in a niche of a wall and watching the crucifixion of a surrogate—which concurs with the fragment already quoted from the Nag Hammadi scrolls.

  JUDAISM AND THE MEROVINGIANS

  It is worth noting the tenacity, even in the face of the most vigorous persecution, with which most of the heresies—and especially Arianism—insisted on Jesus’ mortality and humanity. But we found no indication that any of them necessarily possessed any first-hand knowledge of the premise to which they so persistently adhered. Still less was there any evidence, apart from the Nag Hammadi scrolls, to suggest their awareness of a possible bloodline. It is conceivable, of course, that certain documents did exist—documents akin to the Nag Hammadi scrolls, perhaps even genealogies and archives. The sheer virulence of Roman persecution might well suggest a fear of such evidence and a desire to ensure that it would never see the light. But if that was the case, Rome would appear to have succeeded.

  The heresies, then, provided us with no decisive confirmation of a connection between Jesus’ family and the Merovingians, who appeared on the world stage some four centuries later. For such confirmation we were obliged to look elsewhere—back to the Merovingians themselves. At first glance the evidence, such as it was, seemed to be meager. We had already considered the legendary birth of Merovée, for example—child of two fathers, one of whom was a mysterious aquatic creature from across the sea—and guessed that this curious fable might have been intended simultaneously to reflect and conceal a dynastic alliance or intermarriage. But while the fish symbolism was suggestive, it was hardly conclusive. Similarly the subsequent pact between Clovis and the Roman Church made considerably more sense in the light of our scenario; but the pact itself did not constitute concrete evidence. And while the Merovingian royal blood was credited with a sacred, miraculous, and divine nature, it was not explicitly stated anywhere that this blood was in fact Jesus’.

  In the absence of any decisive or conclusive testimony we had to proceed cautiously. We had to evaluate fragments of circumstantial evidence and try to assemble these fragments into a coherent picture. And we had first to determine whether there were any uniquely Judaic influences on the Merovingians.

  Certainly the Merovingian kings do not seem to have been anti-Semitic. On the contrary, they seem to have been not merely tolerant but downright sympathetic to the Jews in their domains— and this despite the assiduous protests of the Roman Church. Mixed marriages were a frequent occurrence. Many Jews, especially in the south, possessed large landed estates. Many of them owned Christian slaves and servants. And many of them acted as magistrates and high-ranking administrators for their Merovingian lords. On the whole the Merovingian attitude toward Judaism seems to have been without parallel in Western history prior to the Lutheran Reformation.

  The Merovingians themselves believed their miraculous power to be vested, in large part, in their hair, which they were forbidden to cut. Their position on this matter was identical to that of the Nazorites in the Old Testament, of whom Samson was a member. There is much evidence to suggest that Jesus was also a Nazorite. According to both early Church writers and modern scholars his brother, Saint James, indisputably was.

  In the Merovingian royal house and in the families connected with it, there were a surprising number of specifically Judaic names. Thus, in 577 a brother of King Clotaire II was named Samson. Subsequently one Miron "le Lévite" was count of Bésalou and bishop of Gerona. One count of Roussillon was named Solomon, and another Solomon became king of Brittany. There was an Abbot Elisachar—a variant of Eleazar and Lazarus. And the very name "Merovée" would seem to be of Middle Eastern derivation. 4

  Judaic names became increasingly prominent through dynastic marriages between the Merovingians and the Visigoths. Such names figure in Visigoth nobility and royalty, and it is possible that many so-called Visigoth families were in fact Judaic. This possibility gains further credence from the fact that chroniclers would frequently use the words "Goth" and "Jew" interchangeably. The south of France and the Spanish marches—the region known as Septimania in Merovingian and Carolingian times—contained an extremely large Jewish population. This region was also known as Gothic or Gothia, and its Jewish inhabitants were thus often called Goths—an error that may, on occasion, have been deliberate. By dint of this error Jews could not be identified as such, save perhaps by specific family names. Thus, Dagobert’s father-in-law was named Bera, a Semitic name. And Bera’s sister was married to a member of a family named Levy.5

  Granted, names and a mystical attitude toward one’s hair were not necessarily a solid basis on which to establish a connection between the Merovingians and Judaism. But there was another fragment of evidence that was somewhat more persuasive. The Merovingians were the royal dynasty of the Franks—a Teutonic tribe that adhered to Teutonic tribal law. In the late fifth century this law, codified and couched in a Roman framework, became known as Salic Law. In its origins, however, Salic Law was ultimately Teutonic tribal law and predated the advent of Roman Christianity in western Europe. During the centuries that followed it continued to stand in opposition to the ecclesiastical law promulgated by Rome. Throughout the Middle Ages it was the official secular law of the Holy Roman Empire. As late as the Lutheran Reformation the German peasantry and knighthood included in their grievances against the Church the latter’s disregard for traditional Salic Law.

  There is one entire section of the Salic Law—Title 45, "De Migrantibus"—that has consistently puzzled scholars and commentators and been the source of incessant legal debate. It is a complicated section of stipulations and clauses pertaining to circumstances whereby itinerants may establish residence and be accorded citizenship. What is curious about it is that it is not Teutonic in origin, and writers have been driven to postulate bizarre hypotheses to account for its inclusion in the Salic Code. Only recently, however, it has been discovered that this section of the Salic Code in fact derives directly from Judaic law.6 More specifically it can be traced back to a section in the Talmud. It can thus be said that Salic Law, at
least in part, issues directly from traditional Judaic law. And this in turn suggests that the Merovingians—under whose auspices Salic Law was codified—were not only versed in Judaic law, but had access to Judaic texts.

  THE PRINCIPALITY IN SEPTIMANIA

  Such fragments were provocative, but they provided only tenuous support for our hypothesis—that a bloodline descended from Jesus existed in the south of France, that this bloodline intermarried with the Merovingians, and that the Merovingians, in consequence, were

  15 The Jewish Princedom

  partly Judaic. But while the Merovingian epoch failed to provide us with any conclusive evidence for our hypothesis, the epoch that immediately followed it did. By means of this "retroactive evidence" our hypothesis suddenly became tenable.

  We had already explored the possibility of the Merovingian bloodline surviving after being deposed from its thrones by the Carolingians. In the process we had encountered an autonomous principality that existed in the south of France for a century and a half—a principality whose most famous ruler was Guillem de Gellone. Guillem was one of the most revered heroes of his age. He was also the protagonist of the Willehalm by Wolfram von Eschenbach and is said to have been associated with the Grail family. It was in Guillem and his background that we found some of our most surprising and exciting evidence.

  At the apex of his power Guillem de Gellone included among his domains northeastern Spain, the Pyrenees, and the region of southern France known as Septimania. This area had long contained a large Jewish population. During the sixth and seventh centuries this population enjoyed extremely cordial relations with its Visigoth overlords, who espoused Arian Christianity, so much so, in fact, that mixed marriages were common and the words "Goth" and "Jew" were often used interchangeably.

  By 711, however, the situation of the Jews in Septimania and northeastern Spain had sadly deteriorated. By that time Dagobert II had been assassinated and his lineage driven into hiding in the Razès—the region including and surrounding Rennes-le-Château. And while collateral branches of the Merovingian bloodline still nominally occupied the throne to the north, the only real power resided in the hands of the so-called mayors of the palace—the Carolingian usurpers who, with the sanction and support of Rome, set about establishing their own dynasty. By that time, too, the Visigoths had themselves converted to Roman Christianity and begun to persecute the Jews in their domains. Thus, when Visigoth Spain was overrun by the Moors in 711, the Jews eagerly welcomed the invaders.

  Under Muslim rule the Jews of Spain enjoyed a thriving existence. The Moors were gracious to them, often placing them in administrative charge of captured cities like Cordova, Granada, and Toledo. Jewish commerce and trade were encouraged and attained a new prosperity. Judaic thought coexisted, side by side, with that of Islam, and the two cross-fertilized each other. And many towns— including Cordova, the Moorish capital of Spain— were predominantly Jewish in population.

  At the beginning of the eighth century the Moors crossed the Pyrenees into Septimania; and from 720 until 759—while Dagobert’s grandson and great-grandson continued their clandestine existence in the Razes—Septimania was in Islamic hands. Septimania became an autonomous Moorish principality with its own capital at Narbonne and owing only nominal allegiance to the emir of Cordova. And from Narbonne the Moors of Septimania began to strike northward, capturing cities as deep into Frankish territory as Lyons.

  The Moorish advance was checked by Charles Martel, mayor of the palace and grandfather of Charlemagne. By 738 Charles had driven the Moors back to Narbonne, to which he then laid siege. Narbonne, however—defended by both Moors and Jews—proved impregnable, and Charles vented his frustration by devastating the surrounding countryside.

  By 752 Charles’ son, Pepin, had formed alliances with local aristocrats, thereby bringing Septimania fully under his control. Narbonne, however, continued to resist, withstanding a seven-year-long siege by Pepin’s forces. The city was a painful thorn in Pepin’s side at a time when it was most urgent for him to consolidate his position. He and his successors were acutely sensitive to charges of having usurped the Merovingian throne. To establish a claim to legitimacy he forged dynastic alliances with surviving families of the Merovingian royal blood. To further validate his status he arranged for his coronation to be distinguished by the biblical rite of anointing— whereby the Church assumed the prerogative of creating kings. But there was another aspect to the ritual of anointing as well. According to scholars, anointing was a deliberate attempt to suggest that the Frankish monarchy was a replica, if not actually a continuation, of the Judaic monarchy in the Old Testament. This in itself is extremely interesting. For why would Pepin the usurper want to legitimize himself by means of a biblical prototype? Unless the dynasty he deposed—the Merovingian dynasty—had legitimized itself by precisely the same means.

  In any case Pepin was confronted by two problems—the tenacious resistance of Narbonne and the matter of establishing his own legitimate claim to the throne by referring to biblical precedent. As Professor Arthur Zuckerman of Columbia University has demonstrated, he resolved both problems by a pact in 759 with Narbonne’s Jewish population. According to this pact Pepin would receive Jewish endorsement for his claim to a biblical succession. He would also receive Jewish aid against the Moors. In return he would grant the Jews of Septimania a principality, and a king, of their own.7

  In 759 the Jewish population of Narbonne turned suddenly upon the city’s Muslim defenders, slaughtered them, and opened the gates of the fortress to the besieging Franks. Shortly thereafter the Jews acknowledged Pepin as their nominal overlord and validated his claim to a legitimate biblical succession. Pepin, in the meantime, kept his part of the bargain. In 768 a principality was created in Septimania—a Jewish principality that paid nominal allegiance to Pepin but was essentially independent. A ruler was officially installed as king of the Jews. In the romances he is called Ayrnery. According to existing records, however, he seems, on being received into the ranks of Frankish nobility, to have taken the name Theodoric or Thierry. Theodoric, or Thierry, was the father of Guillem de Gellone. And he was recognized by both Pepin and the caliph of Baghdad as "the seed of the royal house of David."8

  As we had already discovered, modern scholars were uncertain about Theodoric’s origins and background. According to most researchers he was of Merovingian descent.9 According to Arthur Zuckerman he is said to have been a native of Baghdad—an "exilarch," descended from Jews who had lived in Babylon since the Babylonian Captivity. It is also possible, however, that the "exilarch" from Baghdad was not Theodoric. It is possible that the "exilarch" came from Baghdad to consecrate Theodoric and subsequent records confused the two. Professor Zuckerman mentions a curious assertion that the "western exilarchs" were of "purer blood" than those in the east. 10

  Who were the "western exilarchs," if not the Merovingians? Why would an individual of Merovingian descent be acknowledged as king of the Jews, ruler of a Jewish principality, and "seed of the royal house of David" unless the Merovingians were indeed partly Judaic? Following the Church’s collusion in Dagobert’s assassination and its betrayal of the pact ratified with Clovis, the surviving Merovingians may well have repudiated all allegiance to Rome—and returned to what was their former faith. Their ties to that faith would, in any case, have been strengthened by Dagobert’s marriage to the daughter of an ostensibly "Visigoth" prince with the patently Semitic name of Bera.

  Theodoric, or Thierry, further consolidated his position, and Pepin’s as well, by an expeditious marriage to the latter’s sister—Alda, the aunt of Charlemagne. In the years that followed, the Jewish kingdom of Septimania enjoyed a prosperous existence. It was richly endowed with estates held in freehold from the Carolingian monarchs. It was even granted sizable tracts of Church land—despite the vigorous protests of Pope Stephen III and his successors.

  The son of Theodoric, king of the Jews of Septimania, was Guillem de Gellone, whose titles included count of B
arcelona, of Toulouse, of Auvergne—and of Razès. Like his father Guillem was not only Merovingian but also a Jew of royal blood. Royal blood acknowledged—by the Carolingians, by the caliph and, albeit grudgingly, by the Pope—to be that of the house of David.

  Despite subsequent attempts to conceal it, modern scholarship and research have proved Guillem’s Judaism beyond dispute. Even in the romances—where he figures as Guillaume, prince of Orange—he is fluent in both Hebrew and Arabic. The device on his shield is the same as that of the eastern "exilarchs"—the Lion of Judah, the tribe to which the house of David, and subsequently Jesus, belonged. He is nicknamed "Hook-Nose." And even amidst his campaigns he takes pains to observe the Sabbath and the Judaic Feast of the Tabernacles. As Arthur Zuckerman remarks,

  The chronicler who wrote the original report of the siege and fall of Barcelona recorded events according to the Jewish calendar ... [The] commander of the expedition, Duke William of Narbonne and Toulouse, conducted the action with strict observance of Jewish sabbaths and Holy Days. In all of this, he enjoyed the full understanding and cooperation of King Louis." 11

  Guillem de Gellone became one of the so-called Peers of Charlemagne—an authentic historical hero who, in the popular mind and tradition, ranked with such legendary figures as Roland and Olivier. When Charlemagne’s son, Louis, was invested as emperor, it was Guillem who placed the crown on his head. Louis is reported to have said, "Lord William ... it is your lineage that has raised up mine."12 It is an extraordinary statement, given that it is addressed to a man whose lineage—so far as later historians are concerned— would seem to be utterly obscure.