Thief on the Cross: Templar Secrets in America (Templars in America Series Book 2)

by David S. Brody

  Cam studied the stone. “So this, along with the calendar alignments, is pretty good evidence the Phoenicians built this place.”

  “Or if not built it, at least used it and modified it. The Merrimack River is only about 6 miles away and a tributary runs right by—it would have been easy to get here.”

  “Wait. I think I read something recently about a Phoenician coin found at the mouth of the Merrimack River.”

  The staffer allowed Amanda to plug into the Internet; she did a quick search. “Indeed you did,” she nodded. “A 2,000-year-old Phoenician coin was found in Newburyport, Massachusetts during construction of a home.” Skimming the article, she laughed out loud. “Some archeologist theorized that a seagull picked up the coin and flew across the Atlantic with it in its beak, dropping it in Newburyport.” She angled her computer. “Here’s a picture of the coin. If you look closely you can see the beak imprint.”

  PHOENICIAN COIN

  Cam smiled and leaned over her shoulder. “Amanda, it says here the coin came from the city of Tyre.” He shook his head. “You may not believe this, but Tyre is the name carved on a lot of January’s Burrows Cave artifacts.”

  She grinned up at him. “That was one busy seagull.”

  “No kidding. But, seriously, there were dozens of major Phoenician port cities back then. Is it just a coincidence that the name ‘Tyre’ keeps appearing on artifacts in North America?”

  “I don’t believe in coincidences, Cam.”

  “Neither do I.”

  Using her iPad, Amanda found a shopping mall off the highway near the America’s Stonehenge site. “Whoever is looking for us is probably expecting us to be along the Massachusetts Turnpike somewhere, heading out to the Catskills,” Cam said. “So let’s get our supplies up here in New Hampshire. Then we can take back roads out to New York.”

  Amanda fitted herself for some hiking boots and a heavy fleece pullover before returning to the SUV and live-parking in front of a Starbucks; she wanted to access their WiFi while Cam and Astarte finished shopping. The forecast was for heavy rain the rest of the afternoon, clearing later that night. She cranked the heat, trying to stay warm. The wet leaves would no doubt make for a challenging Thanksgiving Day hike, but at least the sun would be out. Astarte seemed pretty hardy—hopefully she’d be able to keep up.

  Amanda tried a couple of Internet searches with ‘Templars’ and ‘Madoc’ along with ‘Catskills,’ but came up with nothing. She modified her search to follow the Phoenician angle, which led her to a link to a presentation at a recent conference focusing on early exploration of the Americas. Amanda watched a video of a researcher explaining how carvings of the Phoenician goddess ‘Tanit’ had been found in both Vermont and New York. The Phoenicians, the researcher theorized, had originally crossed the Atlantic in search of copper to meet growing demand during the Bronze Age.

  Cam and Astarte returned, Astarte’s teeth clenched as she strained under the weight of her bags. “Boy,” Cam announced as Amanda opened the door to help, “Astarte is a big help.”

  Amanda grinned. “I knew she would be.” The girl was less weepy today. The key would be to keep her busy and active.

  Astarte set down her bags and huffed. “Mr. Thorne says we’re only going for one day. But he bought enough food for a week.”

  He ruffled her hair. “That’s because I’ve seen how much you eat.” Turning to Amanda he explained, “We have the SUV, and I’d rather not go out in public more than we have to.” He climbed into the driver’s seat. “Let’s get going.”

  “Before you drive, check out this carving. There’s a researcher who found a number of stone artifacts that depict Phoenician goddess worship. This one was found in the Catskill Mountains. She calls it the ‘Goddess Stone.’”

  THE GODDESS STONE

  Cam studied the images carved onto the stone—a spiral, a candelabra, some ancient script, a bird-like figure, an oval bisected by a horizontal line. He looked up at Amanda questioningly.

  “Trust me. All these descriptions represented the goddess in ancient times. And all these symbols trace back to the eastern Mediterranean—what we now know as Israel and Lebanon but what used to be Phoenician trading ports.”

  “I’m not sure I see the relevance.”

  “For one thing Tanit was the consort of our friend Baal--”

  “The god on the America’s Stonehenge piece.”

  “Right. But beyond that I’m not sure either. It just seems like everywhere we look, the Phoenicians turn up.”

  “Sort of like the Where’s Waldo? book,” Astarte interjected. “Waldo is on every page.”

  “That’s exactly what it’s like,” Amanda laughed. “Perhaps Waldo was Phoenician.”

  As Cam drove and Astarte napped, Amanda stared out the window and tried to organize her thoughts. “There are so many loose ends here; I don’t know which ones to follow.” Plenty of artifacts existed that showed someone had traveled to North America in pre-historic times. But for every artifact there seemed to be multiple possibilities as to who may have carved it and why they may have journeyed across the ocean. She hadn’t even told Cam about her Thief on the Cross research yet, and they still hadn’t figured out why Jesus was praying to John the Baptist, but for now she wanted to stay focused on the Phoenician angle. She pulled out a spiral notebook and she and Cam compiled a list of the artifacts, their age and who may have carved them.

  • Burrows Cave (Illinois) stones (first wave). Circa 500 BC. According to January, they were carved by Nephites escorted to North America by Phoenician sailors. Many stones have the word ‘Tyre’ on them, a Phoenician port.

  • America’s Stonehenge ‘Baal’ piece (New Hampshire). Circa 500 BC. Probably carved by a Phoenician since Baal is a Phoenician god.

  • ‘Tanit’ goddess figures found in Vermont and New York. Circa 500 BC. Probably carved by Phoenicians.

  • ‘Goddess’ Stone (Catskill Mountains, NY). Circa 500 BC. Probably carved by a Hebrew-speaking people, influenced by Goddess-worshiping Phoenicians.

  • Burrows Cave stones (second wave). 1st Century AD. According to January, they were carved by refugees from Mauretania who came to North America to join the Nephites. Some refugees supposedly descend from both Cleopatra and Jesus’ niece, Anna. Many of the carvings, including a menorah, reference the Phoenician port of Tyre.

  • Phoenician coin found along Massachusetts coast. 1st Century AD. Originally minted in Tyre.

  • Bat Creek Stone (Tennessee). Circa 2nd Century AD. Translated as “Hail the Jews.” Language is ancient form of Hebrew.

  • Ohio Decalogue Stone. 100 BC-500 AD. Carved by Hebrew-speaking peoples who followed the Ten Commandments.

  • Clairvaux Codex. Late 1100s AD. Written by Templars who traveled to Catskill Mountains. According to January, mission was to refortify Jesus bloodline.

  “So,” Amanda said, “there are some definite patterns emerging.”

  “Well, obviously the Phoenicians are a key part of this. Which makes sense. In addition to being expert navigators, they have ancient ties to the Templars and Freemasons. The Masonic rituals all trace back to the construction of the First Temple of Solomon around 960 BC. King Hiram was friends with King Solomon; he sent his craftsmen to Jerusalem to help Solomon build his Temple. That’s why Hiram is such a key part of Freemasonry.”

  “Okay.”

  “So guess what Hiram was king of.”

  “Um, Tyre?”

  “Exactly.”

  Amanda pulled her knees up to her chest. “Wow. That’s sort of creepy.” She rolled some possibilities around in her mind. “So, if we believe the Templars and the Masons are two sides of the same coin, it’s possible the Templars knew about travelers exploring the New World even before they went to Jerusalem in the 12th century.”

  “Right. Maybe they didn’t know the exact details, but they knew what to look for in Jerusalem. Ancient maps, charts, travel logs, that kind of stuff.”

  “Well, if that’s the case
—if the Templars were just following the Phoenicians across the pond—then this has nothing to do with the Mormons at all.”

  “Not necessarily. I’ve been thinking about this. What if Joseph Smith really did find golden scrolls up in New York that told of ancient voyages to North America? But let’s say the scrolls weren’t gold, they were copper. That’s what people did in ancient times—they carved stuff on copper sheets, just like the Dead Sea Scrolls; and don’t forget Smith found the scrolls right in an area the Phoenicians would have been mining for copper.” Cam tapped the brakes as the rain intensified. “And let’s say Smith embellished things a little, added a story about angels and visions and speaking to God. People believe him and pretty soon he’s got himself his own little religion. The whole thing may be a lie, but the scrolls themselves could be real.”

  “I like your thinking. But I don’t think January would.”

  “Yeah, well, screw him. The last thing I care about is authenticating the Book of Mormon. In fact, if we could prove it to be a fake, that’d be fine with me. Serve January right for dragging us into this.”

  Astarte was pretending to be napping, but she heard what the adults were saying in the front seat. She didn’t understand all of it, but what she did understand made her sad. Uncle Jefferson had spent his whole life trying to show people the Book of Mormon was real. And now Mr. Thorne was saying he wanted to prove the Book wasn’t true.

  She didn’t quite understand how it all worked, but she knew the Book of Mormon was an important part of her becoming the Fortieth Princess. Mr. Thorne seemed nice, and she loved Miss Amanda, but Uncle Jefferson had told her that sometimes the devil sent people who seemed nice to do his work. She knew the devil would do whatever he could to stop people from reading the Book of Mormon and following God’s words. And wasn’t that what Mr. Thorne was trying to do when he said he wanted to show the Book was a fake?

  It was all very confusing. But nobody ever said being princess would be easy.

  CHAPTER 12

  Trey barged into Georgia’s hotel room without knocking. “Get your stuff together. We leave in ten.”

  “Where to?” She tossed the remains of an egg salad sandwich into the trash. So much for lunch.

  “The Catskills. We’re pretty sure they’re on their way. And we have a plate number and description of their car. Maroon Ford Explorer.”

  “Good work. From your guy in Boston?”

  “No, not from him. He hit a dead end. But it’s reliable.”

  “What’s the source?”

  “Like I said, it’s reliable.”

  She was getting used to Trey’s evasiveness. But this was different: He was hiding something. “If we have the plate and vehicle, why not just have the police pull them over? Why go all the way to the Catskills?”

  Trey shook his head. “No cops. This is our operation.” He paused. “Hayek’s orders.”

  “When did Hayek say that?”

  He ignored the question. “I’ve got two of our guys from New York driving up. Plus us. Should be plenty.”

  “Plenty? For what? Do you think they’re going to put up some kind of fight?” Georgia had assumed Trey would just flash his badge and that would be the end of it. Thorne and Spencer were not criminals, after all.

  Trey shrugged. “You never know. And Hayek said to take no chances.”

  As Cam drove, the rain pelting the windshield, Amanda stared out the window and allowed her mind to wander. Sometimes thinking about nothing was the deepest type of thought. It hit her between thwacks of the windshield wiper. “John the Baptist. That’s the key.”

  “What?”

  “You need to find me a Wi-Fi network.”

  Cam took the next exit and followed the signs to Panera Bread outside Albany, New York. While Cam and Astarte ran through the rain to buy sandwiches for an early dinner, Amanda logged on from the parking lot and pounded on the keyboard, bouncing from site to site, collecting stray bits of information and speculation and conjecture like a bird building a nest.

  Twenty minutes passed, Amanda occasionally scribbling some notes on a legal pad, before she exhaled and smiled triumphantly at Cam. “Okay, Mr. Barrister, see if this floats your boat.” She took a deep breath. “We know that for some reason the Freemasons venerate John the Baptist. They mark the beginning of the Masonic year on June 24, his birthday. And most Masonic lodges are dedicated to John the Baptist, with their cornerstones laid on June 24.”

  Water dripped from Cam’s hair down his face. “Isn’t June 24 also the date in ancient times pegged as marking the summer solstice?” They waited a couple of days after the solstice to make sure the sun had begun to ascend, just as religious Jews even today celebrate their lunar-based holidays on two consecutive days to ensure they hit the actual full moon.

  “Brilliant, yes.” Amanda clapped her hands. “That indicates some type of connection between John the Baptist and the ancient pagans who worshiped the sun and celebrated its solstices and equinoxes. And we know the Masons base a lot of their rituals on ancient pagan rites. So the circle completes itself. But why the focus on John the Baptist rather than Jesus? After all, aren’t most Freemasons Christians?”

  “Fair question.”

  “I kept thinking about that carving of John the Baptist in January’s devils rock collection, with Jesus in a subservient role. If the Freemasons venerated John the Baptist, chances are so did the Templars. Did the carving indicate that someone—perhaps the Templars—worshiped John the Baptist over Jesus? So that’s what I was just researching.” She took a deep breath. “First I found that during medieval times the Grand Masters of the Templars traditionally took the name of John upon taking office. Then I found the clincher from a book called Morals and Dogma.” She explained the work was a 19th century reference book given to every new Masonic initiate. “Morals and Dogma says that the first Templar grand master, Hugues de Payens, was secretly a Johannite—a worshiper of John the Baptist—and not a follower of Jesus and the Church. How could this be? How could the army of the Christian Church not be orthodox Christians?”

  “Another good question. Does it have anything to do with that other stone you saw, with Jesus and the words ‘thief’ and ‘cross’ on it?”

  She smiled. “It does, and I’ll get to that. But first look at this.” She turned the screen toward him. They studied a painting of two babies sitting with two women on a rocky outcrop.

  VIRGIN OF THE ROCKS, LEONARDO DA VINCI

  “This is called ‘Virgin of the Rocks,’ by Leonardo da Vinci. We know that da Vinci was initiated into the medieval secret societies and knew all about Templar beliefs and history—in fact, he was a leader of the Priory of Scion. Dan Brown was only scratching the surface when it comes to the secrets imbedded in da Vinci’s works. The woman in black is the Virgin Mary; the other adult is not a woman but the angel Gabriel. Here’s where it gets interesting: Which baby do you think is Jesus and which is John the Baptist?”

  “Probably the one Mary has her arm around is Jesus.”

  “I agree. And I think that’s what da Vinci intended. But in a later version of the painting someone added in a reed cross, which is the symbol of John the Baptist, and gave it to the baby with Mary. It’s almost like they switched the babies.”

  “Why?”

  “I think it’s because the baby that was originally supposed to be Jesus is praying to the baby John, as if in a subservient role. Just like on the devil’s rock. I wrote a paper about this at university, but could never make sense of it. Until now.”

  “That’s good stuff, Amanda.”

  “Can I see?” Astarte asked.

  Amanda lifted the laptop. “Of course honey.”

  “Yes,” the girl announced. “That’s the Virgin Mary with baby Jesus.”

  Amanda smiled. “So I think da Vinci originally intended Jesus to be praying to John the Baptist, but since the painting was in a church it was changed because it was considered heretical.”

  Cam nodded. “I can
see why.”

  “I’ll take it one step further.” Amanda took a deep breath. “One of the crimes the Templars were accused of in the trials after 1307 was that they worshiped a secret idol, a human head--”

  “Baphomet,” he interjected

  “Exactly. In fact, many members confessed to this heresy. Well, do you remember how John the Baptist was killed?”

  Cam took a bite of his sandwich. “Ah, he was beheaded.”

  “Yes. King Herod had him beheaded at the request of Salome—they made a movie about it, The Dance of the Seven Veils. Anyway, his body was put out to be eaten by the vultures, but his head was spirited away by his supporters and never seen again.”

  Cam nodded. “I see where you’re going with this. You think John the Baptist’s head became the Baphomet idol.”

  “Think about it, look at the words themselves. ‘Baphomet,’ ‘Baptism,’ ‘Baptist.’ The Templars were worshiping the skull of their patron, John the Baptist.”

  “But why?”

  “Because the Templars believed Jesus stole the messiahship, or whatever you call it, probably from John the Baptist. They think Jesus lied when he said he was the son of God.” She paused and waited until Cam turned to her. “The Templars used to call Jesus the Thief on the Cross.”

  Cam rotated his neck, trying to ease the stiffness. The back roads and heavy rain and holiday traffic had turned a four-hour drive into a seven-hour one. Astarte had been an easy travel companion—other than insisting she was big enough to use the ladies room herself she made no demands and had not complained. Amanda kept her busy by searching for every letter of the alphabet, in order, on passing signs, which reminded Cam of family ski trips when he was a kid. Now, finally, they were approaching the Catskills region. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and the forecast was for the storm to move off overnight.

  “So, where to?” Amanda asked.