Feeling a moment of panic take hold of him, Rahn's voice came out with trembling uncertainty. 'Major Bachman tells me. . . that is, I understand. . . from him.. .' Rahn took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. He was like a school boy facing examinations before the master! 'I understand you have some hope of my finding the Grail.'
Himmler did not look at Bachman, nor did he appear surprised. His curious gaze remained settled on Rahn. 'You said in your book that it was at Montségur before the surrender. As I recall, you tell a story in your book about how it was taken and hidden somewhere
in
Mount Tabor.'
'I said it was a legend the locals told amongst themselves - something no outsider had ever heard.'
Himmler's face remained expressionless. 'That was what appealed to me. I am curious, have the caves all been thoroughly explored?'
'There is of course a great deal of interest at the moment, but no, I think there are many that have been overlooked. The thing is I am not convinced the Grail is even an object.'
Himmler's eyes cut to Bachman, and Rahn understood everything. Bachman had given Himmler more than his book. He had convinced Himmler that Rahn needed only the funding in order to find the Grail. He had probably told Himmler that Dr Rahn had secretly been in search of the Grail for over a decade but had not had the funds to make a proper go of it. Once upon a time Rahn
had
thrown himself into the search, but that had given way to the actual beauties of history he had discovered along the way and ultimately to the story that he had realised he wanted to tell. But Himmler had no interest in history unless it served him. He wanted to believe the Cathars were Aryans and keepers of the Grail and of course persecuted by an evil and corrupt Church.
'That is not to say,' Rahn added, 'that there was no sacred object at Montségur.' He had the sensation suddenly of listening to himself as if from some perspective beyond his own body. 'In fact, I have always believed they worshipped the Blood Lance that Percival witnessed in the Grail Castle.'
Himmler moved in his chair. 'The Blood Lance?'
'The Blood Lance, of course, was never identified as the spear that had pierced Christ at the Crucifixion. It was simply a lance of pure ivory that dripped blood into a gold chalice.'
'You think that is what they possessed?' Himmler asked excitedly. The exhaustion Rahn had seen in his eyes only moments ago had simply vanished.
'From what I can see, the Cathars accorded the Blood Lance a higher honour by far than the Cross. If you recall Eschenbach's narrative, Percival saw it carried through the banquet hall at the Grail Castle and no one gave a word of explanation about its origins. For many years, I have to admit, I imagined the Lance
guarded
the Grail, which was either the cup or something inside the cup that Percival could not see. I think now, however, that the Grail refers to the blood - that
which dripped from the tip. You have only to look at the word
Sangraal
to see the possibility. We normally break the word down into
San Graal
, the Sacred or Holy Grail, but if we break it down as
Sang Raal
you see that
Sacred
becomes instead
blood
and
raal
is a pun on
real
- meaning Royal. In other words
Sangraal
means Royal Blood - the blood which flows continuously from the Lance!'
'You are telling me the Grail
is
the Blood Lance?'
'More precisely the
blood
of the Lance is the Grail.' Rahn held up his hands. 'This is only theory, you understand, and I do not mean to suggest that there is actually an ivory lance that bleeds. This is what you have to understand: the Blood Lance and gold chalice are divine visions. The Cathars, after all, were a spiritual people. They rejected the world and its treasures. They took no succour from its pleasures because they sought something much finer in the world of the spirit. And that spirituality was embodied in their vision of the bleeding Lance.'
Himmler's eyes lost their lustre. He did not care to be disillusioned.
'That is not to say they did not possess
something
. The problem for me has always been to determine just what the relic was exactly. It is difficult, as you can imagine, to be certain without actually finding it, of course, but I am now convinced that the relic they possessed is the Holy Lance Peter Bartholomew discovered at Antioch during the first Crusade. If you recall your history, Reichsführer, the Crusaders had laid siege to Antioch for seven months, all the while hoping for reinforcements and supplies that never came. Just when they were convinced they were going to have to retreat, one of the barons arranged for someone inside the city to open one of the gates. That was all it took. By the end of the day, Antioch belonged to the Crusaders. The following morning, however, an army of two hundred thousand Turks arrived on the plain before Antioch. A day sooner and they would have annihilated the Christians. As it was, the Turks were forced to lay siege to
the city, whilst the Crusaders enjoyed the protection of Antioch's impressive defensive works, including some four hundred towers. The problem for the Christians was this: they had no supplies and no way of getting any.
'They consumed what rations they had within the first few days of the siege. After that it was every man for himself and all that comes of an army in the grip of famine. Soon the army could barely climb the walls to defend the city. When a fire broke out one evening - a common enough occurrence in medieval times - the men did not even roll out of their beds to try to put it out. Against Christians they would have sued for peace. Against the Turks surrender meant massacre. So they starved instead and prayed for a miracle. Then even the prayers ceased. They were dead men, every last one of them, and every last one of them knew it.
'Now it was just at this point that a cleric named Peter Bartholomew went to his priest and told the man about a vision he had had on a number of occasions. In it St. Andrew would tell him the Holy Lance - the spear that had pierced the side of Christ - was buried under the floor of a church somewhere inside the city. In those times, something like this was more than a curiosity. It was a sign from God to be taken very seriously, and the priest went at once to Bartholomew's feudal lord, Raymond, Count of St. Gilles. Raymond went to his fellow barons with the news. After some obvious skepticism the barons agreed to lead Peter from church to church through the city and see if he could recognise the place he had seen in his vision. When they came to the church of St. Peter, Bartholomew cried out, "This is the place I saw!" Within a few hours they had dug a deep trench under the floor in front of the altar. Exhausted and discouraged the last of the enthusiasts were ready to leave when Peter threw himself into the trench and began clawing into the mud. A moment later he screamed to them it was here, he had found something. Then as they waited he brought a piece of mud-caked iron out of the earth.
'He had not even got out of the trench when Raymond fell
to his knees at the edge of the trench and, according to the chronicles, bathed the mud-smeared object with his tears and kisses. Naturally word of the discovery spread through the army, and a faith that had gone dead suddenly stirred again inside every man's heart. God himself might as well have appeared in the skies to promise them victory. This was a sign and every man knew it: the Lord had willed them to take Jerusalem from the infidel and the Jews. They had only to stand up and fight. Victory was theirs for the asking!
'Instead of manning the walls to defend the city, the army
insisted
they be given the chance to face the enemy in the open. The Lance held high on a stake so that every man might see it, the Crusaders marched out in formation and broke the enemy's force in the course of a single afternoon.
'Now,' Rahn said, 'here is the interesting part of the story.'
Himmler tipped his head forward - enamoured of the tale.
'For a time, everyone turned to Peter Bartholomew before the army made any decision. He would hold the Lance against his chest and declare whatever vision or thought came into his mind. Eventually, of course, the priests, all of them slaves of the papacy, became jealous and they stirred resentment against Peter Bartholomew's divine oracles.'
'Yes!' Himmler whispered, for he hated the Church, even as he had once loved it.
'To put an end to Peter Bartholomew's authority, the priests baited the poor man into a trial by fire to prove his relic was genuine. In those days, Reichsführer, a trial by fire was not a metaphor. They set a large area afire and waited until it had burned down and only white coals remained. Then they sent a man walking across the coals to see if God protected him. Peter, clutching the Lance to his chest, crossed the coals in his bare feet, and he would have made it, but certain of the priests came pushing their way to the edge of the trench and told him he had got turned around. He must go the other way to cross the coals. Naturally, the poor man turned and started back the way he had come - every step melting his flesh. His friends
tried to help him out of the pit, but poor Peter wanted to prove his Lance and so he stayed in the pit until he had returned the way he had come - so confused he nearly collapsed and died where he stood. And he would have. . . if not for the Lance.
'It was of course too much for any man, and Peter lay close to death, but he would not let go of the Holy Lance. He held on to it for thirteen days before he died - some even say he was murdered. Whatever the truth, it ended for him on 20 April, 1098.'
'The twentieth of April! That is the Führer's birthday!' Himmler cried.
Rahn nodded, afraid to show too much enthusiasm. 'I thought too it was a propitious omen.'
'But what happened to the Lance!'
'At Peter's death the Lance passed into the care of his feudal lord, Raymond of St. Gilles. According to eyewitnesses Raymond had a reliquary made for it. By later standards it could not have been very impressive, and it was certainly not very large, but he had it gilded and then covered the lid with the pearls and rubies he had in his personal treasury. Then he arranged to have armed priests guard his relic night and day and carry it behind him everywhere he went. You have to understand, a relic of the Passion, as he believed this was, could buy a kingdom in those days. Naturally, something of that value could turn an otherwise quite religious man into a thief. This object, after all, had been covered in their Saviour's blood and had proved its miraculous power at Antioch and then again when Peter Bartholomew survived what would have killed any other man!
'For five years Raymond's priests carried the Lance of Antioch in a procession behind him - even into war - and for five years the army that marched behind Raymond was never defeated.'
'The True Lance!' Himmler whispered.
'It seemed so,' Rahn admitted, 'but then, on the occasion of
Raymond's visit to Constantinople, it simply disappeared.'
Rahn hesitated, watching Himmler, then Bachman. Both men waited for more - the point of his narrative. 'That was the story Raymond gave, at least. As far as I'm concerned he had good reason to lie and absolutely no motivation to admit to having the relic still in his possession. You see, as Raymond was leaving Constantinople, an old rival of his, the Prince of Antioch, kidnapped him. According to the custom of the day, he demanded a ransom for Raymond's release. Obviously the prince, a fellow Crusader, expected to be given the Lance in exchange for Raymond's freedom. He wanted it returned to Antioch, which is understandable, but Raymond told him it had been taken from him in Constantinople. Despite continual torture and interrogation for over a year, Raymond held to his story. He had lost it! He could not return what he did not have. A year later, apparently convinced, the prince accepted gold instead of the relic he desired, and nobody has ever heard of the Lance of Antioch since.'
'But he had it all along!' Himmler cried.
Rahn smiled. 'If Peter Bartholomew could walk over burning coals Raymond was man enough to hold out against torture. After his release his health was broken, of course. He was an old man at the start of the Crusade. He knew he had only a few weeks to live before his body gave out, and he arranged his affairs as best he could. To his eldest, an illegitimate son, he gave command of his forces in the Levant. To his infant son, and rightful heir, he gave his possessions in the Languedoc and sent the boy home in a ship. And with the boy, I believe he sent the Lance of Antioch as well.'
Himmler sat back in his chair, his eyes lit with passion.
'Now you must understand,' Rahn told him, 'the Lance was nothing more than a piece of twisted, corroded iron. It did not even look like the head of a lance. That much we know from eyewitness descriptions, but what it had inspired was undeniably miraculous. As the story was told from one to another over the years the relic became something more than a piece of iron. Its rust became in the imagination of those who
venerated it the
Sang Raal
- the Sacred Blood. Its twisted, corroded form became the ivory lance that bled continuously into a gold chalice that could never be filled.