The Templar Legacy (39 page)

“The image on the shroud,” Mark said, “is not of Christ. It’s Jacques de Molay. He was arrested in October 1307 and in January 1308 he was nailed to a door in the Paris Temple in a manner similar to that of Christ. They were mocking him for his lack of belief in Jesus as Savior. France’s grand inquisitor, Guíllaume Imbert, orchestrated that torture. Afterward, de Molay was wrapped in a linen shroud the Order kept in the Paris Temple for use during induction ceremonies. We now know lactic acid and blood from de Molay’s traumatized body mixed with the frankincense in the cloth and etched the image. There’s even a modern equivalent. In 1981 a cancer patient in England left a similar trace of his limbs on bedsheets.”

Malone recalled the late 1980s when the Church finally broke with tradition and allowed microscopic examination and carbon dating on the Shroud of Turin. The results indicated that there were no outlines or brushstrokes. The coloration lay upon the linen. Dating showed that the cloth came not from the first century, but from the late thirteenth to the mid-fourteenth century. But many contested those findings, saying the sample had been tainted, or was from a later repair to the original cloth.

“The image on the shroud fits de Molay physically,” Mark said. “There are descriptions of him in the Chronicles. By the time he was tortured his hair had grown long, his beard was unkempt. The cloth that wrapped de Molay’s body was removed from the Paris Temple by one of Geoffrey de Charney’s relatives. De Charney burned at the stake in 1314 with de Molay. The family kept the cloth as a relic and later noticed that an image had settled upon it. The shroud initially appeared on a religious medallion that dated to 1338 and was first displayed in 1357. When it was shown, people immediately associated the image with Christ, and the de Charney family did nothing to dissuade that belief. That went on until the late sixteenth century when the Church took possession of the shroud, declaring it acheropita— not made by human hand—deeming it a holy relic. De Roquefort wants to take the shroud back. It’s the Order’s, not the Church’s.”

Thorvaldsen shook his head. “That’s foolishness.”

“It’s how he thinks.”

Malone noticed the annoyed look on Stephanie’s face. “The Bible lesson was fascinating, Henrik. But I’m still waiting for the truth about what’s happening here.”

The Dane smiled. “You’re such a joy.”

“Chalk it up to my bubbly personality.” She displayed her phone. “Let me make myself real clear. If I don’t get some answers in the next few minutes, I’m calling Atlanta. I’ve had my fill of Raymond de Roquefort, so we’re going public with this little treasure hunt and ending this nonsense.”

MALONE WINCED ATSTEPHANIE’S DECLARATION. HE’D BEEN WONDERINGwhen her patience would run out.

“You can’t do that,” Mark said to his mother. “The last thing we need is for the government to be involved.”

“Why not?” Stephanie asked. “That abbey should be raided. Whatever they’re doing is certainly not religious.”

“On the contrary,” Geoffrey said in a tremulous voice. “Great piety exists there. The brothers are devoted to the Lord. Their lives are consumed with His worship.”

“And in between you learn about explosives, hand-to-hand combat, and how to shoot a weapon like a marksman. A bit of a contradiction, wouldn’t you say?”

“Not at all,” Thorvaldsen declared. “The original Templars were devoted to God and were a formidable fighting force.”

Stephanie was clearly not impressed. “This is not the thirteenth century. De Roquefort has both an agenda and the might to press that agenda onto others. Today we call him a terrorist.”

“You haven’t changed a bit,” Mark spat out.

“No, I haven’t. I still believe that covert organizations with money, weapons, and chips on their shoulders are problems. My job is to deal with them.”

“This doesn’t concern you.”

“Then why did your master involve me?”

Good question, Malone thought.

“You didn’t understand when Dad was alive, and you don’t now.”

“Then why don’t you clear up my confusion?”

“Mr. Malone,” Cassiopeia said in pleasant tone. “How would you like to see the castle restoration project?”

Apparently their hostess wanted to speak with him alone. Which was fine—he had some questions for her, too. “I’d love that.”

Cassiopeia pushed back her chair and stood from the table. “Then let me show you. That’ll give everyone else here time to talk—which, clearly, needs to happen. Please, make yourselves at home. Mr. Malone and I will return in a short while.”

He followed Cassiopeia outside into the bright afternoon. They strolled back down the shaded lane, toward the car park and the construction site.

“When finished,” Cassiopeia told him, “a thirteenth-century castle will stand exactly as it did seven hundred years ago.”

“Quite an endeavor.”

“I thrive on grand endeavors.”

They entered the construction site through a broad wooden gate and strolled into what appeared to be a barn with sandstone walls that housed a modern reception center. Beyond loomed the smell of dust, horses, and debris, where a hundred or so people milled about.

“The entire foundation for the perimeter has been laid and the west curtain wall is coming along,” Cassiopeia said, pointing. “We’re about to start the corner towers and central buildings. But it takes time. We have to fashion the bricks, stone, wood, and mortar precisely as was done seven hundred years ago, using the same methods and tools, even wearing the same clothes.”

“Do they eat the same food?”

She smiled. “We do make some modern accommodation.”

She led him through the construction area and up the slope of a steep hill to a modest promontory, where everything could be clearly seen.

“I come here often. One hundred and twenty men and women are employed down there full time.”

“Quite a payroll.”

“A small price to pay for history to be seen.”

“Your nickname, Ingénieur. Is that what they call you? Engineer?”

“The staff gave me that name. I’m trained in medieval building techniques. I’ve designed this entire project.”

“You know, on the one hand, you’re an arrogant bitch. On the other, you can be rather interesting.”

“I realize my comment at lunch, about what happened with Henrik’s son, was inappropriate. Why didn’t you strike back?”

“For what? You didn’t know what the hell you were talking about.”

“I’ll try not to make any more judgments.”

He chuckled. “I doubt that, and I’m not that sensitive. I long ago developed a lizard skin. You have to in order to survive in this business.”

“But you’re retired.”

“You never really quit. You just stay out of the line of fire more often than not.”

“So you’re helping Stephanie Nelle simply as a friend?”

“Shocking, isn’t it?”

“Not at all. In fact, it’s entirely consistent with your personality.”

Now he was curious. “How do you know about my personality?”

“Once Henrik asked me to be involved, I learned a great deal about you. I have friends in your former profession. They all spoke highly of you.”

“Glad to know folks remember.”

“Do you know much about me?” she asked.

“Just a thumbnail sketch.”

“I have many peculiarities.”

“Then you and Henrik should get along well.”

She smiled. “I see you know him well.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Since childhood. He knew my parents. Many years ago, he told me of Lars Nelle. What Lars was working on fascinated me. So I became Lars’s guardian angel, though he thought of me as the devil. Unfortunately, I couldn’t help him on the last day of his life.”

“Were you there?”

She shook her head. “He’d traveled south to the mountains. I was here when Henrik called and told me the body had been found.”

“Did he kill himself?”

“Lars was a sad man, that was plain. He was also frustrated. All those amateurs who’d seized on his work and twisted it beyond recognition. The puzzle he tried to solve has remained a mystery a long time. So, yes, it’s possible.”

“What were you protecting him from?”

“Many tried to encroach on his research. Most of them were ambitious treasure hunters, some opportunists, but eventually Raymond de Roquefort’s men appeared. Luckily, I was always able to conceal my presence from them.”

“De Roquefort is now master.”

She crinkled her brow. “Which explains his renewed search efforts. He now commands all the Templar resources.”

She apparently knew nothing about Mark Nelle and where he’d been living the past five years, so he told her, then said, “Mark lost to de Roquefort in the selection of a new master.”

“So this is personal between them?”

“That’s certainly part of it.” But not all, he thought, as he stared down and watched a horse-drawn cart work its way across the dry earth toward one of the partial walls.

“The work being done today is for the tourists,” she said, noticing his interest. “Part of the show. We’ll return to serious building tomorrow.”

“The sign out front said it’ll take thirty years to finish.”

“Easily.”

She was right. She did possess many peculiarities.

“I intentionally left Lars’s notebook for de Roquefort to find in Avignon.”

That revelation shocked him. “Why?”

“Henrik wanted to talk to the Nelles privately. It’s why we’re here. He also said that you’re a man of honor. I trust precious few people in this world, but Henrik is one I do. So I’m going to take him at his word and tell you some things no one else knows.”

MARK LISTENED ASHENRIKTHORVALDSEN EXPLAINED. HISmother appeared interested, too, but Geoffrey simply stared at the table, hardly blinking, seemingly in a trance.

“It’s time you fully understand what Lars believed,” Henrik said to Stephanie. “Contrary to what you may have thought, he was not some crackpot chasing after treasure. A serious purpose lay behind his inquiries.”

“I’ll ignore your insult, since I want to hear what you have to say.”

A look of irritation crept into Thorvaldsen’s eyes. “Lars’s theory was simple, though it really was not his. Ernst Scoville formulated most of it, which involved a novel look at the Gospels of the New Testament, especially with how they dealt with the resurrection. Cassiopeia hinted at some of this earlier.

“Let’s start with Mark’s. His was the first Gospel, written aroundAD 70, perhaps the only Gospel the early Christians possessed after Christ died. It contains six hundred sixty-five verses, yet only eight are devoted to the resurrection. This most remarkable of events only rated a brief mention. Why? The answer is simple. When Mark’s Gospel was written, the story of the resurrection had yet to develop, and the Gospel ends without mention of the fact that the disciples believed Jesus had been raised from the dead. Instead, it tells us that the disciples fled. Only women appear in Mark’s version of what happened, and they ignore a command to tell the disciples to go to Galilee so the risen Christ could meet them there. Rather, the women, too, are confused and flee, telling no one what they saw. There are no angels, only a young man dressed in white who calmly announces that He has risen. No guards, no burial clothes, and no risen Lord.”

Mark knew everything Thorvaldsen had just said was true. He’d studied that Gospel in great detail.

“Matthew’s testimony came a decade later. The Romans had by then sacked Jerusalem and destroyed the Temple. Many Jews had fled into the Greek-speaking world. The Orthodox Jews who stayed in the Holy Land viewed the new Jewish Christians as a problem—as much of one as the Romans were. Hostility existed between the Orthodox Jews and the emerging Jewish Christians. Matthew’s Gospel was probably written by one of those unknown Jewish Christian scribes. Mark’s Gospel had left many unanswered questions, so Matthew changed the story to suit his troubled time.

“Now the messenger who announces the resurrection becomes an angel. He descends in an earthquake, with a face like lightning. Guards are struck down. The stone has been removed from the tomb, and an angel perches upon it. The women are still gripped with fear, but it is rapidly replaced with joy. Contrary to the women in Mark’s account, the women here rush out to tell the disciples what’s happened and actually confront the risen Christ. Here, for the first time, the risen Lord is actually described. And what did the women do?”

“They took hold of His feet and worshiped Him,” Mark softly said. “Later, Jesus appeared to His disciples and proclaimed that ‘all authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.’ He tells them he’ll always be with them.”

“What a change,” Thorvaldsen said. “The Jewish Messiah named Jesus has now become Christ to the world. In Matthew, everything is more vivid. Miraculous, too. Then comes Luke, sometime aroundAD 90. By then the Jewish Christians had moved further away from Judaism, so Luke radically modified the resurrection story to accommodate this change. The women are at the tomb again, but this time they find it empty and go tell the disciples. Peter returns and sees only the discarded burial clothes. Then Luke tells a story that appears nowhere else in the Bible. It involves Jesus traveling in disguise, encountering certain disciples, sharing a meal, then, when recognized, vanishing. There is also a later encounter with all of the disciples where they doubt His flesh, so He eats with them, then vanishes. And only in Luke do we find the story of Jesus’s ascension into heaven. What’s happened? A sense of rapture has now been grafted onto the risen Christ.”

Mark had read similar Scripture analyses in the Templar archives. Learned brothers had for centuries studied the Word, noting errors, evaluating contradictions, and hypothesizing on the many conflicts in names, dates, places, and events.

“Then there’s John,” Thorvaldsen said. “The Gospel written the furthest away from Jesus’s life, aroundAD 100. There are so many changes in this Gospel, it’s almost as if John talks of a totally different Christ. No Bethlehem birth—Nazareth is Jesus’s birthplace here. The other three talk of a three-year ministry. John says only one. The Last Supper in John occurred on the day before the Passover—the crucifixion on the day the Passover lamb was slaughtered. This is different from the other Gospels. John also moved the cleansing of the Temple from the day after Palm Sunday to a time early in Christ’s ministry.