The Templar's Secret (The Templar Series) (8 page)

‘
I take it that’s an important –’ Edie snapped her fingers, suddenly making the connection. ‘“To see the house where Lucas dwelled, the faithful pilgrim sought the brother’s way. Setting forth from the lion’s castle, he dropped the French iron in a Spanish harbor,”’ she said excitedly, quoting from Fortes de Pinós’s riddle in the Chinon transcript. ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking, that the word “pilgrim” is some sort of clue as to the gospel’s whereabouts?’

‘While I don’t want to jump to an erroneous conclusion, there may possibly be a link between the
Evangelium Gaspar
and Château Pèlerin,’ Caedmon remarked in a circumspect tone of voice. ‘Amidst all the sensationalism, people tend to forget that the Knights Templar were originally founded to protect Christian pilgrims in the Holy Land, and Mount Carmel was one of the more popular sites on the pilgrimage route.’

Dutifully obeying the audio announcement, Edie buckled in for the landing. ‘Well, I know why Jerusalem was a must-see holy site, but what was the big deal about Mount Carmel?’

‘Its significance has more to do with the Old Testament than the New,’ Caedmon said as he, too, reached for his seatbelt. ‘Part of a coastal mountain range in northern Israel, Mount Carmel has a storied history as a religious sanctuary. When the medieval crusaders first explored Mount Carmel in 1150, they discovered a group of monastic holy men living there. Modern biblical scholars now believe that these holy men were, in fact, the descendants of an obscure Jewish sect known as the Essenes.’

‘They were the ones who hid the Dead Sea Scrolls at
Qumran, right?’

Caedmon
nodded. ‘They also maintained a sanctuary at Mount Carmel. According to the ancient Jewish historian Flavius Josephus, the sect flourished during the 300-year period between the Second Century BC and the First Century of the common era.’ Unbuckling his watch, Caedmon popped out the crown with this thumbnail and proceeded to reset his timepiece. ‘Additionally, Josephus recounts that the Essenes maintained an extensive library at Mount Carmel where they preserved the secret teachings of the ancient prophets.’

Another piece of the puzzle, albeit a small one, suddenly snapped into place. ‘So, if Mount Carmel was a sacred destination, there could have been untold relics and ancient texts stashed away in mountain hidey-holes which were discovered by the Knights Templar and taken to Château Pèlerin,’ Edie speculated. ‘Maybe the Templars found something at Mount Carmel that, in turn, caused them to set sail for
India in search of the
Evangelium Gaspar
.’

Caedmon
concurred with a brusque nod. ‘It would explain why the Knights Templars fought so desperately to hold on to their seaside bastion at Château Pèlerin. Most historians incorrectly cite Acre as the last Templar stronghold in the Holy Land to fall to the Saracens, but, in actuality, Château Pèlerin has that distinction.’

As the plane made its approach to
Cochin International Airport, they both grasped their armrests.

‘The problem with the bloody Templars is that there aren’t any surviving records,’
Caedmon continued, his voice tinged with ire. ‘Nearly every document pertaining to the order was destroyed by the Church or hidden by fugitive Templars. All that remains is a 700-year old mystery.’

What
Caedmon didn’t say, but Edie knew he had to be thinking, was that if he didn’t solve the mystery, his daughter, Anala Patel, would be executed. For him, solving the Chinon riddle and finding the
Evangelium Gaspar
was more than an academic exercise.

Moments later, the fuselage shuddered as the Airbus jet skidded to a stop on the runway.

‘We can deduce from the information engraved on the Maharaja Plate that the
Evangelium Gaspar
was in the custody of the St. Thomas Christians when Fortes de Pinós arrived in Muziris in 1307,’ Caedmon said once the signal flashed to unbuckle their seatbelts. ‘Let us hope that their descendants can shed some light on the matter.’

‘Hope
and
pray,’
Edie amended.

Galleri delle Carte Geografiche, The Vatican

‘. . . and though some of you may be disappointed that
the exhibition won’t include the love letters of Henry the Eighth to Anne Boleyn, I’m pleased to announce that Pope Clement’s official correspondence to the English parliament regarding the king’s marriage to Catherine of Aragon will be on display,’ the Cardinal Secretary informed the press corps.

Sitting at the
end of the dais that had been set up in the Galleri delle Carte Geografiche,
the Gallery of Maps, Franco Fiorio silently fumed. The journalist’s question had been directed to the Prefect of the Secret Archives
not
the Cardinal Secretary of State. The Secretary of State, who was given to self-important airs and held a position that was often described as papal prime minister and foreign secretary rolled into one, had had no direct involvement in the upcoming exhibition, ‘World Treasures of the Vatican’s Secret Archives’.

However, g
iven the way that he was monopolizing the press conference, an outside observer would think the highly anticipated exhibit was Cardinal Thomas Moran’s brainchild when, in fact, it was Franco who’d spent two hectic years working with Vatican officials, archivists and
scrittori
to curate the exhibition. Highlighting rare documents from the eighth through to the twentieth century, it would be the first time that the general public would be able to examine the historically significant pontifical letters and correspondence
.

Annoyed by Cardinal Secretary Moran’s showboating,
Franco couldn’t help but wonder if the hastily planned press conference wasn’t a contrived opportunity for the Cardinal Secretary to get his name and photograph into the international papers.
Yet again.
The announcement – that the 27th August opening for the exhibition would be temporarily delayed until after the new pontiff had been elected – could have been given in a Vatican press release. Even the choice of venue, the magnificent Gallery of Maps, was suspect. One hundred and twenty meters in length, the gallery boasted forty wall frescoes depicting topographical maps of sixteenth-century Italy. Commissioned by Pope Gregory XIII, the detailed maps were remarkably accurate given the fact that Friar Ignazio Danti, the Dominican cosmographer who’d overseen the commission, had devised his charts using a compass, gnomon and an astrolabe. The Cardinal Secretary had, rather conspicuously, positioned himself directly beneath the map of the city of Rome.

The press corps, cordoned off from the dais behind a velvet rope, was taking turns passing a microphone to various members. Having just been handed the mike, a youthful-looking reporter wearing an ill-fitting suit jacket cleared his throat, the harsh sound reverberating throughout the gallery.

‘Matt McCracken from the
Baltimore Sun
.’ The shaggy-haired young man held his press badge aloft, as though his credentials were in dispute. ‘It’s my understanding that there are reams of information contained in the archives pertaining to the, um – I don’t know how to put this delicately.’ Again, he cleared his throat. ‘– Pertaining to the, um, perverted pontiffs that reigned during the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. Will any of those documents be included in the exhibit?’

A startled hush immediately fell over the map room. It was the question that every reporter in the gallery had undoubtedly wanted to ask, but all had lacked the courage to pose. Save for the clearly nervous American.

Not missing so much as a half-beat, Cardinal Secretary Moran waved a hand in Franco’s direction. ‘Since our esteemed Prefect hails from the fair city of Baltimore, I’ll turn the question over to him.’

Franco bit back a tart reply, incensed that Moran had so effortlessly assigned him latrine duty. Slowly twisting his gold cardinal’s ring, he considered how best to respond.

For whatever reason, the lurid history of the papacy still fascinated long centuries after the fact. And because it was so lurid, Franco wasn’t going to quibble with the reporter over semantics. Those pontiffs had been perverted. Disgustingly so. Having read some of the more ‘steamy’ entries, he’d often wondered why the papal Curia hadn’t consigned the files to the flames long centuries ago. Did historians
really
need to know that Benedict IX engaged in bestiality and threw bisexual orgies; that John XII, who became pope at the tender age of eighteen, turned the papal residence into a brothel; or that Julius II had sexual relations with cardinals, pages and any comely male that caught his fancy? Although to the man’s credit, the degenerate Julius did manage to coerce a very reluctant Michelangelo into painting his greatest masterpiece on the ceiling of the Sistine chapel.

The American journalist was also correct in that records existed, carefully archived for posterity.
Would they be included in the exhibit?
Absolutely not. While sex sold, under no circumstance would the Vatican expose its dark history for the price of admission.

For a Bishop must be blameless, as the steward of God.

Gathering his dignity as best he could, Franco replied, ‘As you know, the Archives contain more than thirty miles of shelving –’ he forced a smile on to his face ‘– all tied with the legendary red tape. Not only is the history of the Church contained in those files, but that of Western civilization as well. This
pivotal aspect, the role the Church has played in world history, will be the focus of the upcoming exhibition.’ Answer given, Franco reached for his water bottle, silently signaling that he wouldn’t entertain a follow-up question.

The microphone was next handed to a leggy blonde who was dressed in head-to-toe Armani.

‘Sylvia Marsden with the
Sun.
This question is directed to the Cardinal Secretary,’ the stunning reporter announced, speaking with a plummy English accent. ‘Your Eminence, as you know, the election of the next pontiff is a matter of grave importance. Are you aware of the fact that the William Hill international gambling service currently has you listed as the hands-on favorite for becoming the new pontiff at nine-to-four odds?’

The question elicited more than a few shocked gasps, Franco aghast that anyone had the effrontery to pose such a crass
inquiry. The upcoming papal election was not a game of chance, of wagers being placed with a backroom bookie.

‘I am a man of God, Ms Marsden, not a betting man,’ the Cardinal Secretary answered smoothly, not the least bit ruffled by the rude query. ‘The election of the Vicar of Christ has always been conducted in secrecy and I think it best that we continue that solemn tradition. Besides, we wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise, would we?’ As he spoke, Cardinal Thomas Moran grasped his gold pectoral cross in his right hand. A particularly annoying affectation; as though he was
channeling the crucified Christ. ‘This concludes our question and answer session. The Prefect and I look forward to seeing each and every one of you when the exhibition opens.’

Rising to his feet, the Cardinal Secretary walked around the dais and strode
towards the cordoned press area.

Franco, utterly disgusted that he’d been hoodwinked into participating in Moran’s little publicity stunt, collected his press folder. Despite his protestations to the contrary, Cardinal Thomas Moran knew full well that his name was being bandied about as ‘the heir apparent’ to Peter’s throne. Franco, whose name was never mentioned, suspected that his own odds were somewhere in the
neighborhood of sixty-to-one. A
very
dark horse, indeed.

Getting up from the table, Franco glanced over to where the Cardinal Secretary was now holding court with the group of eager reporters. Attired in formal house dress – a black cassock piped in scarlet worn with a short pellegrina shoulder cape – the
Chicago native cut a striking figure. For good reason, Thomas Moran was known as the ‘camera-ready Cardinal’, with Vatican observers, particularly those of the fairer sex, often remarking that he possessed movie-star looks. ‘Charisma’ and ‘charm’ were also inevitably used whenever Moran’s name came up in conversation.

To the best of Franco’s knowledge, no one had ever used such flattering terms in
regards to
him
. Because of the two years he’d spent as the head of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, the Curia office responsible for maintaining Catholic
dogmata
, he was usually described in more pejorative terms.
Cunning. Secretive. Ruthless.
To name just a few. He took no offence, assuming the dark dye had to do with the fact that the CDF was more popularly referred to as the Office of the Inquisition.

Despite the fact that Franco had made great strides in reorganizing the CDF, turning it into a ‘lean, mean fighting machine’, the late pontiff had summarily given him the boot. No sooner did Pius take the papal seat than he’d cleaned house, removing conservative cardinals from prestigious positions within the Curia and replacing them with his liberal-leaning allies. It was during the shake-up that Thomas Moran, one of the pontiff’s
favorites, and an unapologetic liberal, was given his very high-profile position.