ot be allowed to tell us what
notions we can and can't entertain."
"Did Jesus have a girlfriend?"
Her grandfather was silent for several moments. "Would it be so bad if
He did?"
Sophie considered it and then shrugged. "I wouldn't mind."
Sir Leigh Teabing was still talking. "I shan't bore you with the
countless references to Jesus and Magdalene's union. That has been explored
ad nauseum by modern historians. I would, however, like to point out the
following." He motioned to another passage. "This is from the Gospel of Mary
Magdalene."
Sophie had not known a gospel existed in Magdalene's words. She read
the text:
And Peter said, "Did the Saviour really speak with a woman without our
knowledge? Are we to turn about and all listen to her? Did he prefer her to
us?"
And Levi answered, "Peter, you have always been hot-tempered. Now I see
you contending against the woman like an adversary. If the Saviour made her
worthy, who are you indeed to reject her? Surely the Saviour knows her very
well. That is why he loved her more than us."
"The woman they are speaking of," Teabing explained, "is Mary
Magdalene. Peter is jealous of her."
"Because Jesus preferred Mary?"
"Not only that. The stakes were far greater than mere affection. At
this point in the gospels, Jesus suspects He will soon be captured and
crucified. So He gives Mary Magdalene instructions on how to carry on His
Church after He is gone. As a result, Peter expresses his discontent over
playing second fiddle to a woman. I daresay Peter was something of a
sexist."
Sophie was trying to keep up. "This is Saint Peter. The rock on which
Jesus built His Church."
"The same, except for one catch. According to these unaltered gospels,
it was not Peter to whom Christ gave directions with which to establish the
Christian Church. It was Mary Magdalene."
Sophie looked at him. "You're saying the Christian Church was to be
carried on by a woman?"
"That was the plan. Jesus was the original feminist. He intended for
the future of His Church to be in the hands of Mary Magdalene."
"And Peter had a problem with that," Langdon said, pointing to The Last
Supper. "That's Peter there. You can see that Da Vinci was well aware of how
Peter felt about Mary Magdalene."
Again, Sophie was speechless. In the painting, Peter was leaning
menacingly toward Mary Magdalene and slicing his blade-like hand across her
neck. The same threatening gesture as in Madonna of the Rocks!
"And here too," Langdon said, pointing now to the crowd of disciples
near Peter. "A bit ominous, no?"
Sophie squinted and saw a hand emerging from the crowd of disciples.
"Is that hand wielding a dagger?"
"Yes. Stranger still, if you count the arms, you'll see that this hand
belongs to... no one at all. It's disembodied. Anonymous."
Sophie was starting to feel overwhelmed. "I'm sorry, I still don't
understand how all of this makes Mary Magdalene the Holy Grail."
"Aha!" Teabing exclaimed again. "Therein lies the rub!" He turned once
more to the table and pulled out a large chart, spreading it out for her. It
was an elaborate genealogy. "Few people realize that Mary Magdalene, in
addition to being Christ's right hand, was a powerful woman already."
Sophie could now see the title of the family tree.
THE TRIBE OF BENJAMIN
"Mary Magdalene is here," Teabing said, pointing near the top of the
genealogy.
Sophie was surprised. "She was of the House of Benjamin?"
"Indeed," Teabing said. "Mary Magdalene was of royal descent."
"But I was under the impression Magdalene was poor."
Teabing shook his head. "Magdalene was recast as a whore in order to
erase evidence of her powerful family ties."
Sophie found herself again glancing at Langdon, who again nodded. She
turned back to Teabing. "But why would the early Church care if Magdalene
had royal blood?"
The Briton smiled. "My dear child, it was not Mary Magdalene's royal
blood that concerned the Church so much as it was her consorting with
Christ, who also had royal blood. As you know, the Book of Matthew tells us
that Jesus was of the House of David. A descendant of King Solomon--King of
the Jews. By marrying into the powerful House of Benjamin, Jesus fused two
royal bloodlines, creating a potent political union with the potential of
making a legitimate claim to the throne and restoring the line of kings as
it was under Solomon."
Sophie sensed he was at last coming to his point.
Teabing looked excited now. "The legend of the Holy Grail is a legend
about royal blood. When Grail legend speaks of 'the chalice that held the
blood of Christ'... it speaks, in fact, of Mary Magdalene--the female womb
that carried Jesus' royal bloodline."
The words seemed to echo across the ballroom and back before they fully
registered in Sophie's mind. Mary Magdalene carried the royal bloodline of
Jesus Christ? "But how could Christ have a bloodline unless...?" She paused
and looked at Langdon.
Langdon smiled softly. "Unless they had a child."
Sophie stood transfixed.
"Behold," Teabing proclaimed, "the greatest cover-up in human history.
Not only was Jesus Christ married, but He was a father. My dear, Mary
Magdalene was the Holy Vessel. She was the chalice that bore the royal
bloodline of Jesus Christ. She was the womb that bore the lineage, and the
vine from which the sacred fruit sprang forth!"
Sophie felt the hairs stand up on her arms. "But how could a secret
that big be kept quiet all of these years?"
"Heavens!" Teabing said. "It has been anything but quiet! The royal
bloodline of Jesus Christ is the source of the most enduring legend of all
time--the Holy Grail. Magdalene's story has been shouted from the rooftops
for centuries in all kinds of metaphors and languages. Her story is
everywhere once you open your eyes."
"And the Sangreal documents?" Sophie said. "They allegedly contain
proof that Jesus had a royal bloodline?"
"They do."
"So the entire Holy Grail legend is all about royal blood?"
"Quite literally," Teabing said. "The word Sangreal derives from San
Greal--or Holy Grail. But in its most ancient form, the word Sangreal was
divided in a different spot." Teabing wrote on a piece of scrap paper and
handed it to her.
She read what he had written.
Sang Real
Instantly, Sophie recognized the translation. Sang Real literally meant
Royal Blood.
CHAPTER 59
The male receptionist in the lobby of the Opus Dei headquarters on
Lexington Avenue in New York City was surprised to hear Bishop Aringarosa's
voice on the line. "Good evening, sir."
"Have I had any messages?" the bishop demanded, sounding unusually
anxious.
"Yes, sir. I'm very glad you called in. I couldn't reach you in your
apartment. You had an urgent phone message about half an hour ago."
"Yes?" He sounded relieved by the news. "Did the caller leave a name?"
"No, sir, just a number." The operator relayed the number.
"Prefix thirty-three? That's France, am I right?"
"Yes, sir. Paris. The caller said it was critical you contact him
immediately."
"Thank you. I have been waiting for that call." Aringarosa quickly
severed the connection.
As the receptionist hung up the receiver, he wondered why Aringarosa's
phone connection sounded so crackly. The bishop's daily schedule showed him
in New York this weekend, and yet he sounded a world away. The receptionist
shrugged it off. Bishop Aringarosa had been acting very strangely the last
few months.
My cellular phone must not have been receiving, Aringarosa thought as
the Fiat approached the exit for Rome's Ciampino Charter Airport. The
Teacher was trying to reach me. Despite Aringarosa's concern at having
missed the call, he felt encouraged that the Teacher felt confident enough
to call Opus Dei headquarters directly.
Things must have gone well in Paris tonight.
As Aringarosa began dialing the number, he felt excited to know he
would soon be in Paris. I'll be on the ground before dawn. Aringarosa had a
chartered turbo prop awaiting him here for the short flight to France.
Commercial carriers were not an option at this hour, especially considering
the contents of his briefcase.
The line began to ring.
A female voice answered. "Direction Centrale Police Judidaire."
Aringarosa felt himself hesitate. This was unexpected. "Ah, yes... I
was asked to call this number?"
"Qui utes-vous?" the woman said. "Your name?"
Aringarosa was uncertain if he should reveal it. The French Judicial
Police?
"Your name, monsieur?" the woman pressed.
"Bishop Manuel Aringarosa."
"Un moment." There was a click on the line.
After a long wait, another man came on, his tone gruff and concerned.
"Bishop, I am glad I finally reached you. You and I have much to discuss."
CHAPTER 60
Sangreal... Sang Real... San Greal... Royal Blood... Holy Grail.
It was all intertwined.
The Holy Grail is Mary Magdalene... the mother of the royal bloodline
of Jesus Christ. Sophie felt a new wave of disorientation as she stood in
the silence of the ballroom and stared at Robert Langdon. The more pieces
Langdon and Teabing laid on the table tonight, the more unpredictable this
puzzle became.
"As you can see, my dear," Teabing said, hobbling toward a bookshelf,
"Leonardo is not the only one who has been trying to tell the world the
truth about the Holy Grail. The royal bloodline of Jesus Christ has been
chronicled in exhaustive detail by scores of historians." He ran a finger
down a row of several dozen books.
Sophie tilted her head and scanned the list of titles:
THE TEMPLAR REVELATION:
Secret Guardians of the True Identity of Christ
THE WOMAN WITH THE ALABASTER JAR:
Mary Magdalene and the Holy Grail
THE GODDESS IN THE GOSPELS
Reclaiming the Sacred Feminine
"Here is perhaps the best-known tome," Teabing said, pulling a tattered
hardcover from the stack and handing it to her. The cover read:
HOLY BLOOD, HOLY GRAIL
The Acclaimed International Bestseller
Sophie glanced up. "An international bestseller? I've never heard of
it."
"You were young. This caused quite a stir back in the nineteen
eighties. To my taste, the authors made some dubious leaps of faith in their
analysis, but their fundamental premise is sound, and to their credit, they
finally brought the idea of Christ's bloodline into the mainstream."
"What was the Church's reaction to the book?"
"Outrage, of course. But that was to be expected. After all, this was a
secret the Vatican had tried to bury in the fourth century. That's part of
what the Crusades were about. Gathering and destroying information. The
threat Mary Magdalene posed to the men of the early Church was potentially
ruinous. Not only was she the woman to whom Jesus had assigned the task of
founding the Church, but she also had physical proof that the Church's newly
proclaimed deity had spawned a mortal bloodline. The Church, in order to
defend itself against the Magdalene's power, perpetuated her image as a
whore and buried evidence of Christ's marriage to her, thereby defusing any
potential claims that Christ had a surviving bloodline and was a mortal
prophet."
Sophie glanced at Langdon, who nodded. "Sophie, the historical evidence
supporting this is substantial."
"I admit," Teabing said, "the assertions are dire, but you must
understand the Church's powerful motivations to conduct such a cover-up.
They could never have survived public knowledge of a bloodline. A child of
Jesus would undermine the critical notion of Christ's divinity and therefore
the Christian Church, which declared itself the sole vessel through which
humanity could access the divine and gain entrance to the kingdom of
heaven."
"The five-petal rose," Sophie said, pointing suddenly to the spine of
one of Teabing's books. The same exact design inlaid on the rosewood box.
Teabing glanced at Langdon and grinned. "She has a good eye." He turned
back to Sophie. "That is the Priory symbol for the Grail. Mary Magdalene.
Because her name was forbidden by the Church, Mary Magdalene became secretly
known by many pseudonyms--the Chalice, the Holy Grail, and the Rose." He
paused. "The Rose has ties to the five-pointed pentacle of Venus and the
guiding Compass Rose. By the way, the word rose is identical in English,
French, German, and many other languages."
"Rose," Langdon added, "is also an anagram of Eros, the Greek god of
sexual love."
Sophie gave him a surprised look as Teabing plowed on.
"The Rose has always been the premiere symbol of female sexuality. In
primitive goddess cults, the five petals represented the five stations of
female life--birth, menstruation, motherhood, menopause, and death. And in
modern times, the flowering rose's ties to womanhood are considered more
visual." He glanced at Robert. "Perhaps the symbologist could explain?"
Robert hesitated. A moment too long.
"Oh, heavens!" Teabing huffed. "You Americans are such prudes." He
looked back at Sophie. "What Robert is fumbling with is the fact that the
blossoming flower resembles the female genitalia, the sublime blossom from
which all mankind enters the world. And if you've ever seen any paintings by
Georgia O'Keeffe, you'll know exactly what I mean."
"The point here," Langdon said, motioning back to the bookshelf, "is
that all of these books substantiate the same historical claim."
"That Jesus was a father." Sophie was still uncertain.
"Yes," Teabing said. "And that Mary Magdalene was the womb that carried
His royal lineage. The Priory of Sion, to this day, still worships Mary
Magdalene as the Goddess, the Holy Grail, the Rose, and the Divine Mother."
Sophie again flashed on the ritual in the basement.
"According to the Priory," Teabing continued, "Mary Magdalene was
pregnant at the time of the crucifixion. For the safety of Christ's unborn
child, she had no choice but to flee the Holy Land. With the help of Jesus'
trusted uncle, Joseph of Arimathea, Mary Magdalene secretly traveled to
France, then known as Gaul. There she found safe refuge in the Jewish
community. It was here in France that she gave birth to a daughter. Her name
was Sarah."
Sophie glanced up. "They actually know the child's name?"
"Far more than that. Magdalene's and Sarah's lives were scrutinously
chronicled by their Jewish protectors. Remember that Magdalene's child
belonged to the lineage of Jewish kings--David and Solomon. For this reason,
the Jews in France considered Magdalene sacred royalty and revered her as
the progenitor of the royal line of kings. Countless scholars of that era
chronicled Mary Magdalene's days in France, including the birth of Sarah and
the subsequent family tree."
Sophie was startled. "There exists a family tree of Jesus Christ?"
"Indeed. And it is purportedly one of the cornerstones of the Sangreal
documents. A complete genealogy of the early descendants of Christ."
"But what good is a documented genealogy of Christ's bloodline?" Sophie
asked. "It's not proof. Historians could not possibly confirm its
authenticity."
Teabing chuckled. "No more so than they can confirm the authenticity of
the Bible."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that history is always written by the winners. When two
cultures clash, the loser is obliterated, and the winner writes the history
books--books which glorify their own cause and disparage the conquered foe.
As Napoleon once said, 'What is history, but a fable agreed upon?' " He
smiled. "By its very nature, history is always a one-sided account."
Sophie had never thought of it that way.
"The Sangreal documents simply tell the other side of the Christ story.
In the end, which side of the story you believe becomes a matter of faith
and personal exploration, but at least the information has survived. The
Sangreal documents include tens of thousands of pages of information.
Eyewitness accounts of the Sangreal treasure describe it as being carried in
four enormous trunks. In those trunks are reputed to be the Purist
Documents--thousands of pages of unaltered, pre-Constantine documents,
written by the early followers of Jesus, revering Him as a wholly human
teacher and prophet. Also rumored to be part of the treasure is the
legendary "Q" Document--a manuscript that even the Vatican admits they
believe exists. Allegedly, it is a book of Jesus' teachings, possibly
written in His own hand."
"Writings by Christ Himself?"
"Of course," Teabing said. "Why wouldn't Jesus have kept a chronicle of
His ministry? Most people did in those days. Another explosive document
believed to be in the treasure is a manuscript called The Magdalene
Diaries--Mary Magdalene's personal account of her relationship with Christ,
His crucifixion, and her time in France."
Sophie was silent for a long moment. "And these four chests of
documents were the treasure that the Knights Templar found under Solomon's
Temple?"
"Exactly. The documents that made the Knights so powerful. The
documents that have been the object of countless Grail quests throughout
history."
"But you said the Holy Grail was Mary Magdalene. If people are
searching for documents, why would you call it a search for the Holy Grail?"
Teabing eyed her, his expression softening. "Because the hiding place
of the Holy Grail includes a sarcophagus."
Outside, the wind howled in the trees.
Teabing spoke more quietly now. "The quest for the Holy Grail is
literally the quest to kneel before the bones of Mary Magdalene. A journey
to pray at the feet of the outcast one, the lost sacred feminine."
Sophie felt an unexpected wonder. "The hiding place of the Holy Grail
is actually... a tomb?"
Teabing's hazel eyes got misty. "It is. A tomb containing the body of
Mary Magdalene and the documents that tell the true story of her life. At
its heart, the quest for the Holy Grail has always been a quest for the
Magdalene--the wronged Queen, entombed with proof of her family's rightful
claim to power."
Sophie waited a moment as Teabing gathered himself. So much about her
grandfather was still not making sense. "Members of the Priory," she finally
said, "all these years have answered the charge of protecting the Sangreal
documents and the tomb of Mary Magdalene?"
"Yes, but the brotherhood had another, more important duty as well--to
protect the bloodline itself. Christ's lineage was in perpetual danger. The
early Church feared that if the lineage were permitted to grow, the secret
of Jesus and Magdalene would eventually surface and challenge the
fundamental Catholic doctrine--that of a divine Messiah who did not consort
with women or engage in sexual union." He paused. "Nonetheless, Christ's
line grew quietly under cover in France until making a bold move in the
fifth century, when it intermarried with French royal blood and created a
lineage known as the Merovingian bloodline."
This news surprised Sophie. Merovingian was a term learned by every
student in France. "The Merovingians founded Paris."
"Yes. That's one of the reasons the Grail legend is so rich in France.
Many of the Vatican's Grail quests here were in fact stealth missions to
erase members of the royal bloodline. Have you heard of King Dagobert?"
Sophie vaguely recalled the name from a grisly tale in history class.
"Dagobert was a Merovingian king, wasn't he? Stabbed in the eye while
sleeping?"
"Exactly. Assassinated by the Vatican in collusion with Pepin
d'Heristal. Late seventh century. With Dagobert's murder, the Merovingian
bloodline was almost exterminated. Fortunately, Dagobert's son, Sigisbert,
secretly escaped the attack and carried on the lineage, which later included
Godefroi de Bouillon--founder of the Priory of Sion."
"The same man," Langdon said, "who ordered the Knights Templar to
recover the Sangreal documents from beneath Solomon's Temple and thus
provide the Merovingians proof of their hereditary ties to Jesus Christ."
Teabing nodded, heaving a ponderous sigh. "The modern Priory of Sion
has a momentous duty. Theirs is a threefold charge. The brotherhood must
protect the Sangreal documents. They must protect the tomb of Mary
Magdalene. And, of course, they must nurture and protect the bloodline of
Christ--those few members of the royal Merovingian bloodline who have
survived into modern times."
The words hung in the huge space, and Sophie felt an odd vibration, as
if her bones were reverberating with some new kind of truth. Descendants of
Jesus who survived into modern times. Her grandfather's voice again was
whispering in her ear. Princess, I must tell you the truth about your
family.
A chill raked her flesh.
Royal blood.
She could not imagine.
Princess Sophie.
"Sir Leigh?" The manservant's words crackled through the intercom on
the wall, and Sophie jumped. "If you could join me in the kitchen a moment?"
Teabing scowled at the ill-timed intrusion. He went over to the
intercom and pressed the button. "Rumy, as you know, I am busy with my
guests. If we need anything else from the kitchen tonight, we will help
ourselves. Thank you and good night."
"A word with you before I retire, sir. If you would."
Teabing grunted and pressed the button. "Make it quick, Rumy."
"It is a household matter, sir, hardly fare for guests to endure."
Teabing looked incredulous. "And it cannot wait until morning?"
"No, sir. My question won't take a minute."
Teabing rolled his eyes and looked at Langdon and Sophie. "Sometimes I
wonder who is serving whom?" He pressed the button again. "I'll be right
there, Rumy. Can I bring you anything when I come?"
"Only freedom from oppression, sir."
"Rumy, you realize your steak au poivre is the only reason you still
work for me."
"So you tell me, sir. So you tell me."
CHAPTER 61
Princess Sophie.
Sophie felt hollow as she listened to the clicking of Teabing's
crutches fade down the hallway. Numb, she turned and faced Langdon in the
deserted ballroom. He was already shaking his head as if reading her mind.
"No, Sophie," he whispered, his eyes reassuring. "The same thought
crossed my mind when I realized your grandfather was in the Priory, and you
said he wanted to tell you a secret about your family. But it's impossible."
Langdon paused. "Sauniure is not a Merovingian name."
Sophie wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. Earlier,
Langdon had asked an unusual passing question about Sophie's mother's maiden
name. Chauvel. The question now made sense. "And Chauvel?" she asked,
anxious.
Again he shook his head. "I'm sorry. I know that would have answered
some questions for you. Only two direct lines of Merovingians remain. Their
family names are Plantard and Saint-Clair. Both families live in hiding,
probably protected by the Priory."
Sophie repeated the names silently in her mind and then shook her head.
There was no one in her family named Plantard or Saint-Clair. A weary
undertow was pulling at her now. She realized she was no closer than she had
been at the Louvre to understanding what truth her grandfather had wanted to
reveal to her. Sophie wished her grandfather had never mentioned her family
this afternoon. He had torn open old wounds that felt as painful now as
ever. They are dead, Sophie. They are not coming back. She thought of her
mother singing her to sleep at night, of her father giving her rides on his
shoulders, and of her grandmother and younger brother smiling at her with
their fervent green eyes. All that was stolen. And all she had left was her
grandfather.
And now he is gone too. I am alone.
Sophie turned quietly back to The Last Supper and gazed at Mary
Magdalene's long red hair and quiet eyes. There was something in the woman's
expression that echoed the loss of a loved one. Sophie could feel it too.
"Robert?" she said softly.
He stepped closer.
"I know Leigh said the Grail story is all around us, but tonight is the
first time I've ever heard any of this."
Langdon looked as if he wanted to put a comforting hand on her
shoulder, but he refrained. "You've heard her story before, Sophie. Everyone
has. We just don't realize it when we hear it."
"I don't understand."
"The Grail story is everywhere, but it is hidden. When the Church
outlawed speaking of the shunned Mary Magdalene, her story and importance
had to be passed on through more discreet channels... channels that
supported metaphor and symbolism."
"Of course. The arts."
Langdon motioned to The Last Supper. "A perfect example. Some of
today's most enduring art, literature, and music secretly tell the history
of Mary Magdalene and Jesus."
Langdon quickly told her about works by Da Vinci, Botticelli, Poussin,
Bernini, Mozart, and Victor Hugo that all whispered of the quest to restore
the banished sacred feminine. Enduring legends like Sir Gawain and the Green
Knight, King Arthur, and Sleeping Beauty were Grail allegories. Victor
Hugo's Hunchback of Notre Dame and Mozart's Magic Flute were filled with
Masonic symbolism and Grail secrets.
"Once you open your eyes to the Holy Grail," Langdon said, "you see her
everywhere. Paintings. Music. Books. Even in cartoons, theme parks, and
popular movies."
Langdon held up his Mickey Mouse watch and told her that Walt Disney
had made it his quiet life's work to pass on the Grail story to future
generations. Throughout his entire life, Disney had been hailed as "the
Modern-Day Leonardo da Vinci." Both men were generations ahead of their
times, uniquely gifted artists, members of secret societies, and, most
notably, avid pranksters. Like Leonardo, Walt Disney loved infusing hidden
messages and symbolism in his art. For the trained symbologist, watching an
early Disney movie was like being barraged by an avalanche of allusion and
metaphor.
Most of Disney's hidden messages dealt with religion, pagan myth, and
stories of the subjugated goddess. It was no mistake that Disney retold
tales like Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and Snow White--all of which dealt
with the incarceration of the sacred feminine. Nor did one need a background
in symbolism to understand that Snow White--a princess who fell from grace
after partaking of a poisoned apple--was a clear allusion to the downfall of
Eve in the Garden of Eden. Or that Sleeping Beauty's Princess
Aurora--code-named "Rose" and hidden deep in the forest to protect her from
the clutches of the evil witch--was the Grail story for children.
Despite its corporate image, Disney still had a savvy, playful element
among its employees, and their artists still amused themselves by inserting
hidden symbolism in Disney products. Langdon would never forget one of his
students bringing in a DVD of The Lion King and pausing the film to reveal a
freeze-frame in which the word SEX was clearly visible, spelled out by
floating dust particles over Simba's head. Although Langdon suspected this
was more of a cartoonist's sophomoric prank than any kind of enlightened
allusion to pagan human sexuality, he had learned not to underestimate
Disney's grasp of symbolism. The Little Mermaid was a spellbinding tapestry
of spiritual symbols so specifically goddess-related that they could not be
coincidence.
When Langdon had first seen The Little Mermaid, he had actually gasped
aloud when he noticed that the painting in Ariel's underwater home was none
other than seventeenth-century artist Georges de la Tour's The Penitent
Magdalene--a famous homage to the banished Mary Magdalene--fitting decor
considering the movie turned out to be a ninety-minute collage of blatant
symbolic references to the lost sanctity of Isis, Eve, Pisces the fish
goddess, and, repeatedly, Mary Magdalene. The Little Mermaid's name, Ariel,
possessed powerful ties to the sacred feminine and, in the Book of Isaiah,
was synonymous with "the Holy City besieged." Of course, the Little
Mermaid's flowing red hair was certainly no coincidence either.
The clicking of Teabing's crutches approached in the hallway, his pace
unusually brisk. When their host entered the study, his expression was
stern.
"You'd better explain yourself, Robert," he said coldly. "You have not
been honest with me."
CHAPTER 62
"I'm being framed, Leigh," Langdon said, trying to stay calm. You know
me. I wouldn't kill anyone.
Teabing's tone did not soften. "Robert, you're on television, for
Christ's sake. Did you know you were wanted by the authorities?"
"Yes."
"Then you abused my trust. I'm astonished you would put me at risk by
coming here and asking me to ramble on about the Grail so you could hide out
in my home."
"I didn't kill anyone."
"Jacques Sauniure is dead, and the police say you did it." Teabing
looked saddened. "Such a contributor to the arts..."
"Sir?" The manservant had appeared now, standing behind Teabing in the
study doorway, his arms crossed. "Shall I show them out?"
"Allow me." Teabing hobbled across the study, unlocked a set of wide
glass doors, and swung them open onto a side lawn. "Please find your car,
and leave."
Sophie did not move. "We have information about the clef de voute. The
Priory keystone."
Teabing stared at her for several seconds and scoffed derisively. "A
desperate ploy. Robert knows how I've sought it."
"She's telling the truth," Langdon said. "That's why we came to you
tonight. To talk to you about the keystone."
The manservant intervened now. "Leave, or I shall call the
authorities."
"Leigh," Langdon whispered, "we know where it is."
Teabing's balance seemed to falter a bit.
Rumy now marched stiffly across the room. "Leave at once! Or I will
forcibly--"
"Rumy!" Teabing spun, snapping at his servant. "Excuse us for a
moment."
The servant's jaw dropped. "Sir? I must protest. These people are--"
"I'll handle this." Teabing pointed to the hallway.
After a moment of stunned silence, Rumy skulked out like a banished
dog.
In the cool night breeze coming through the open doors, Teabing turned
back to Sophie and Langdon, his expression still wary. "This better be good.
What do you know of the keystone?"
In the thick brush outside Teabing's study, Silas clutched his pistol
and gazed through the glass doors. Only moments ago, he had circled the
house and seen Langdon and the woman talking in the large study. Before he
could move in, a man on crutches entered, yelled at Langdon, threw open the
doors, and demanded his guests leave. Then the woman mentioned the keystone,
and everything changed. Shouts turned to whispers. Moods softened. And the
glass doors were quickly closed.
Now, as he huddled in the shadows, Silas peered through the glass. The
keystone is somewhere inside the house. Silas could feel it.
Staying in the shadows, he inched closer to the glass, eager to hear
what was being said. He would give them five minutes. If they did not reveal
where they had placed the keystone, Silas would have to enter and persuade
them with force.
Inside the study, Langdon could sense their host's bewilderment.
"Grand Master?" Teabing choked, eyeing Sophie. "Jacques Sauniure?"
Sophie nodded, seeing the shock in his eyes.
"But you could not possibly know that!"
"Jacques Sauniure was my grandfather."
Teabing staggered back on his crutches, shooting a glance at Langdon,
who nodded. Teabing turned back to Sophie. "Miss Neveu, I am speechless. If
this is true, then I am truly sorry for your loss. I should admit, for my
research, I have kept lists of men in Paris whom I thought might be good
candidates for involvement in the Priory. Jacques Sauniure was on that list
along with many others. But Grand Master, you say? It's hard to fathom."
Teabing was silent a moment and then shook his head. "But it still makes no
sense. Even if your grandfather were the Priory Grand Master and created the
keystone himself, he would never tell you how to find it. The keystone
reveals the pathway to the brotherhood's ultimate treasure. Granddaughter or
not, you are not eligible to receive such knowledge."
"Mr. Sauniure was dying when he passed on the information," Langdon
said. "He had limited options."
"He didn't need options," Teabing argued. "There exist three sunuchaux
who also know the secret. That is the beauty of their system. One will rise
to Grand Master and they will induct a new sunuchal and share the secret of
the keystone."
"I guess you didn't see the entire news broadcast," Sophie said. "In
addition to my grandfather, three other prominent Parisians were murdered
today. All in similar ways. All looked like they had been interrogated."
Teabing's jaw fell. "And you think they were..."
"The sunuchaux," Langdon said.
"But how? A murderer could not possibly learn the identities of all
four top members of the Priory of Sion! Look at me, I have been researching
them for decades, and I can't even name one Priory member. It seems
inconceivable that all three sunuchaux and the Grand Master could be
discovered and killed in one day."
"I doubt the information was gathered in a single day," Sophie said.
"It sounds like a well-planned ducapiter. It's a technique we use to fight
organized crime syndicates. If DCPJ wants to move on a certain group, they
will silently listen and watch for months, identify all the main players,
and then move in and take them all at the same moment. Decapitation. With no
leadership, the group falls into chaos and divulges other information. It's
possible someone patiently watched the Priory and then attacked, hoping the
top people would reveal the location of the keystone."
Teabing looked unconvinced. "But the brothers would never talk. They
are sworn to secrecy. Even in the face of death."
"Exactly," Langdon said. "Meaning, if they never divulged the secret,
and they were killed..."
Teabing gasped. "Then the location of the keystone would be lost
forever!"
"And with it," Langdon said, "the location of the Holy Grail."
Teabing's body seemed to sway with the weight of Langdon's words. Then,
as if too tired to stand another moment, he flopped in a chair and stared
out the window.
Sophie walked over, her voice soft. "Considering my grandfather's
predicament, it seems possible that in total desperation he tried to pass
the secret on to someone outside the brotherhood. Someone he thought he
could trust. Someone in his family."
Teabing was pale. "But someone capable of such an attack... of
discovering so much about the brotherhood..." He paused, radiating a new
fear. "It could only be one force. This kind of infiltration could only have
come from the Priory's oldest enemy."
Langdon glanced up. "The Church."
"Who else? Rome has been seeking the Grail for centuries."
Sophie was skeptical. "You think the Church killed my grandfather?"
Teabing replied, "It would not be the first time in history the Church
has killed to protect itself. The documents that accompany the Holy Grail
are explosive, and the Church has wanted to destroy them for years."
Langdon was having trouble buying Teabing's premise that the Church
would blatantly murder people to obtain these documents. Having met the new
Pope and many of the cardinals, Langdon knew they were deeply spiritual men
who would never condone assassination. Regardless of the stakes.
Sophie seemed to be having similar thoughts. "Isn't it possible that
these Priory members were murdered by someone outside the Church? Someone
who didn't understand what the Grail really is? The Cup of Christ, after
all, would be quite an enticing treasure. Certainly treasure hunters have
killed for less."
"In my experience," Teabing said, "men go to far greater lengths to
avoid what they fear than to obtain what they desire. I sense a desperation
in this assault on the Priory."
"Leigh," Langdon said, "the argument is paradoxical. Why would members
of the Catholic clergy murder Priory members in an effort to find and
destroy documents they believe are false testimony anyway?"
Teabing chuckled. "The ivory towers of Harvard have made you soft,
Robert. Yes, the clergy in Rome are blessed with potent faith, and because
of this, their beliefs can weather any storm, including documents that
contradict everything they hold dear. But what about the rest of the world?
What about those who are not blessed with absolute certainty? What about
those who look at the cruelty in the world and say, where is God today?
Those who look at Church scandals and ask, who are these men who claim to
speak the truth about Christ and yet lie to cover up the sexual abuse of
children by their own priests?" Teabing paused. "What happens to those
people, Robert, if persuasive scientific evidence comes out that the
Church's version of the Christ story is inaccurate, and that the greatest
story ever told is, in fact, the greatest story ever sold"
Langdon did not respond.
"I'll tell you what happens if the documents get out," Teabing said.
"The Vatican faces a crisis of faith unprecedented in its two-millennia
history."
After a long silence, Sophie said, "But if it is the Church who is
responsible for this attack, why would they act now? After all these years?
The Priory keeps the Sangreal documents hidden. They pose no immediate
threat to the Church."
Teabing heaved an ominous sigh and glanced at Langdon. "Robert, I
assume you are familiar with the Priory's final charge?"
Langdon felt his breath catch at the thought. "I am."
"Miss Neveu," Teabing said, "the Church and the Priory have had a tacit
understanding for years. That is, the Church does not attack the Priory, and
the Priory keeps the Sangreal documents hidden." He paused. "However, part
of the Priory history has always included a plan to unveil the secret. With
the arrival of a specific date in history, the brotherhood plans to break
the silence and carry out its ultimate triumph by unveiling the Sangreal
documents to the world and shouting the true story of Jesus Christ from the
mountaintops."
Sophie stared at Teabing in silence. Finally, she too sat down. "And
you think that date is approaching? And the Church knows it?"
"A speculation," Teabing said, "but it would certainly provide the
Church motivation for an all-out attack to find the documents before it was
too late."
Langdon had the uneasy feeling that Teabing was making good sense.