by Richard Reed
Chapter 22
“I’ve had the carbon-dating results from Oxford,” said David, putting down the telephone as Rachel walked into the Finds Room. “As I suspected, those scraps of funeral shroud we found aren’t 1st century, they’re 10th century – around the time the church was built.”
Rachel looked crestfallen. They had been waiting three weeks for the results to come back from Oxford; three weeks of boredom, tidying up the site and cataloguing their finds, alleviated by a few snatched days back in England with her daughter. Emma was happy enough with her grandmother, who adored her, but she couldn’t help feeling like a bad mother for leaving her so long. She was beginning to feel she would be glad to see the back of Rennes-le-Château.
“Well, you thought they would probably be medieval. What about the parchment?”
“That’s interesting…” said David in a teasing voice.
“Are you holding out on me?”
“Maybe!”
“If you don’t level with me, I’ll have to use my feminine wiles on you.”
“Now there’s a thought.”
Rachel blushed. There was a good chemistry between them, but she was reluctant to get involved further. At least, now for now… Later, she was open to possibilities… “David! Tell me what you’re holding back then go take a cold shower.”
“Well, from the fragment we sent them it would appear…” he hesitated deliberately.
“What!” shrieked Rachel in frustration.
“…to be 1st century Middle East.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Absolutely not.”
She couldn’t stop herself from running over and giving him a hug before quickly disentangling herself.
“And there’s some more good news,” he said, walking over to the table where the small, yellow parchment scroll lay in its polycarbonate container. “I think this baby is about ready to reveal its secrets.”
Rachel went over to where David was standing. “Why does it take so long to treat this stuff?” she asked, as David gently lifted out the ancient parchment scroll with a pair of tweezers.
“Parchment becomes very fragile with age – a process accelerated by the iron pigment usually found in inks. Because parchment is made from the skins of cows or goats, you can’t treat it with anything that’s primarily water based, or the gelatine turns it to mush. I’ve used a 90 per cent mixture of isopropyl alcohol, with just enough water to rehydrate the skin, no more. Now, if I’m careful, I should be able to open this up without breaking it. Here goes…”
Picking up a pencil, David inserted it into the middle of the tightly bound parchment scroll, gently unrolled it and clipped it flat. “It’s in Latin,” he murmured in surprise.
“Not what you expected, then?” queried Rachel.
“No. Most parchments of this era – the early Christian period – are either in Greek or Aramaic, the language of ancient Palestine. Or sometimes in Coptic, if they are Egyptian. Egypt was the first country to convert to Christianity, and Coptic was the language spoken there before Arabic came along. It’s directly descended from the ancient hieroglyphs of the pharaohs.”
“So what does it say?”
“Latin’s not my strong suit, but I’ll give it a go. Sue can give us an accurate translation later – she’s the languages expert. It starts off with a place name – Alexandria, the capital of Egypt at the time, though Egypt was really just a Roman province by then. But it was home to the biggest Jewish community in the world outside of Israel, so it’s not totally surprising to see that here. In fact some of the earliest versions of the Bible were drafted in Egypt.”
David pored over the manuscript for several minutes while Rachel fidgeted impatiently. Eventually he looked up at her, a strange expression on his face. “OK. This is roughly what it says,” he said hesitatingly. “I’ll try to put it into ‘King James’ English so you can get the flavour.” He started to read:
“Here lies the body of Mary,
That is called the Magdalene.
Companion of Christ,
Light to the light.
As she bore witness,
So shall her daughter,
And her daughter’s daughters.
When the time is come
Her truth shall be revealed
For as the Lord hath said
‘Seek and ye shall find,
Knock and the door
Shall be opened unto you’.
For the Lord hath foretold,
There will come a time
When poverty and hunger shall roam the land
And nation shall wage war upon nation
And great terror and bloodshed
Shall be wrought upon the world.
For man hath broken his covenant with God:
The meek shall inherit the earth.
The mighty shall be cast down
And the true kingdom
Shall be raised up.
For as the Lord hath said,
‘Beware that no-one lead ye astray,
Saying “Lo here” or “Lo there”,
For the Son of Man is within you.
Seek out she who waits
At the grotto where Our Lady is laid to rest
Find her, and she will guide you
Past the Devil’s door
And unto the holy sepulchre.
For it is the destiny of her issue
To reveal Christ’s truth unto all men.”
David and Rachel stood in awed silence.
“Wow,” was all Rachel was able to say after a few minutes. “Heavy stuff – it’s like something from Revelation.”
“It’s odd, though, that last section,” said David thoughtfully. “It’s in different handwriting and ink from the original. Interestingly, the word ‘companion’, or ‘consort’ – the Greek word koinonos – is also used about Mary in the gnostic Gospel of Philip, a gospel conveniently left out of the New Testament.”
“That’s the gospel which describes Jesus kissing Mary on the mouth, isn’t it?” said Rachel.
“That’s right. It would also explain why, in the Garden of Gethsemane after the Resurrection, Jesus told Mary not to ‘cling’ to him because he was not yet fully resurrected. Traditionally this was interpreted as ‘touch’, but the Greek word haptomai is much stronger than that – it actually means to cling or hold.”
“Surely in first-century Palestine, the code governing the behaviour of women was very rigid – much as in strict Islamic societies today,” said Rachel. “It would have been unthinkable for a woman to even consider ‘clinging’ to a man who was not a family member in some way. Doesn’t this just back up the theory that Mary and Jesus were, in fact, married – and had a child? And that perhaps that line is still alive today?”
“As I’ve said, there is no ‘fact’ at all about that theory,” said David disparagingly, “though I’m sure it will make good TV. But with an empty tomb, the real proof is missing – other than the scroll, which let’s face it, is pretty rambling. But why would Mary’s body have been moved? It must have been prompted by something pretty catastrophic.”
Rachel started pacing up and down, trying to force her tired brain to make sense of all the disparate facts. Then she spun round and stared at him, her eyes shining. “Of course!” she said. “The Albigensian Crusade! Thousands of Christians – the Cathars – were labelled heretics and murdered on the direct orders of Pope Innocent, right here in the Languedoc in the 13th century. If the Pope’s men had found the tomb of a pregnant Mary Magdalene, they would certainly have destroyed it. We know very little about the Cathars – maybe they venerated her in some way, and moved her body to a place of safety.”
“That’s a pretty good working theory,” said David.
“It’s much more than a working theory,” said another male voice.
David and Rachel spun round in surprise. An immaculately dressed Frenchman, complete with cravat, stood a few feet away, regarding them with an air of detached am
usement. He was in his mid-60s, with greying, well-groomed hair, and a trim figure. “Forgive me,” he continued in slightly accented English. “I heard the news about the carbon-dating, and your colleagues said I would find you here. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Pierre Dubois. I have been studying the mysteries of Rennes-le-Château for many years. I could not resist the opportunity of seeing for myself what it is that you have found in the crypt.”
Rachel and David looked at each other in stunned silence. They had been so engrossed in the parchment that neither had any idea how long the man had been standing there.
“How on earth did you know about the Oxford results?” asked David in a strangled voice, quickly removing the clips from the parchment and allowing it to curl up again. “I’ve only just heard myself.”
“There are way and means of discovering these things,” he replied enigmatically, walking over to join them. “So this is what all the excitement is about. You found it in the Magdalene tomb?”
David’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said unconvincingly. “I’m afraid we haven’t been allowed down into the crypt. It’s been sealed off by the papal legate.”
The man smiled condescendingly. “Come, Monsieur Tranter, you really cannot expect me to believe that. An unlocked door, and your curiosity didn’t get the better of you?”
“We agreed not to enter the crypt without the Vatican’s permission.”
“So you claim to know nothing of Mary’s tomb, or the treasures that lie beyond,” said Dubois smoothly. “In which case, if you don’t mind me asking, where did you acquire this parchment?”
David blanched visibly. “With respect, we need to time to evaluate our findings,” he blustered. “We will publish a paper in due course, and it will be covered by National Geographic.”
“You assume I am just another amateur treasure hunter,” said Dubois. “I cannot blame you. There are hundreds of them climbing all over this place in the summer. But my interest is rather more… how do you say… personal. You see, Marie Dénarnaud was my great-aunt.”
Rachel raised her eyebrows and shot a look at David.
“I was born and raised here, in the village, though now I live in Couiza. Ever since I was a boy, I have devoted myself to finding out more about the mysteries of this place. Perhaps I can help you with your quest.”
“Thank you, but I’m not sure that’s practical…” started David.
“That’s really interesting,” interrupted Rachel, seeing a great chance to add a human interest twist to the upcoming docu-drama. “We would be grateful for any help you can give us. But – and I mean no disrespect – how do we know you are telling the truth?”
“I understand your caution, mam’selle. It is very sensible. Perhaps the fact I knew about the carbon-dating might suggest I have some excellent connections. I also have some documents that will help to prove my authenticity.” Dubois opened his briefcase and pulled out a thick file. From it he took a series of ageing yellow documents. “Here,” he said, passing them over to Rachel. “Records of the cash Saunière withdrew from the Fritz Dörge bank in Budapest, for what today would be hundreds of thousands of dollars.”
“Payments from Emperor Franz Joseph, of the Austro-Hungarian empire? I’ve heard about a possible involvement from that quarter,” said Rachel.
“Yes, though more likely through a close relative, Archduchess Maria Theresa of Austria-Este. She was also the Countess of Chambord, wife of the pretender to the French throne at that time, and we know that she gave Saunière an endowment of 3,000 gold francs – the equivalent of five years’ salary – soon after he became priest at Rennes-le-Château. These documents show that payments continued long after her death in 1886 – right up until the First World War, in fact.”
“Wow, that’s impressive,” said Rachel, leafing through the papers. “Clearly, as staunch Catholics, they were paying him to keep quiet about this whole affair. This is just the sort of thing we need for the documentary – can I keep these for the time being?”
“You may certainly use them, but I would prefer it if you copied them and returned them to me. One cannot be too careful. Now will you tell me what you found in the crypt? In return, I would be happy to share with you some of my own findings over the years.”
“Rachel, I need to talk to you. Now – in private,” said David, looking pointedly at Dubois.
“If you must,” she said irritatedly. “Will you excuse us a moment, monsieur?”
“Bien sûr, mam’selle.”
Rachel followed David out into the yard.
“Well?” she asked impatiently.
“Rachel, listen to me. We don’t have a clue who this guy really is. He could be anybody – he could even be a Vatican stooge, for all we know. By all means let’s listen to what he has to say, but I think we should be very careful about how much we tell him.”
“He seems pretty genuine to me – look at all that paperwork he brought with him.”
“Nevertheless, the timing is fishy, to say the least. This guy turns up the moment we get the carbon-dating results, just as we open the scroll. Even allowing for loose talk among the team, that’s a pretty big coincidence in my book.”
“You’re being paranoid…”
“I am not being paranoid, Rachel – I am just saying we’ve got some great stuff here, let’s not hand everything over on a plate to someone who could very well be a spy. And whatever you do, don’t tell him what was on that parchment.”
“OK, you’ve got a point, though I still think you’re being paranoid…” She held up her hand to silence David’s incipient protest. “I’ll be careful what I say, particularly when it comes to what’s on that parchment. What the hell was that all about, anyway? ‘Seek out she who waits, At the grotto where Our Lady was laid to rest’ – it’s all a bit cloak-and-dagger, isn’t it?”
“Totally – and you know how much I hate that stuff. It’s probably just some medieval mumbo jumbo. But it’s our find, and for now it’s all we’ve got to go on.”
Rachel led the way back into the Finds Room, where Dubois was waiting for them patiently.
“Monsieur, we will gladly accept your help, but you must promise to treat any information we give you with the strictest confidence. Would you be prepared to sign a confidentiality agreement and agree that nothing we discuss is made public until after the programme has aired?”
“Mais bien sûr,” said Dubois, bowing slightly.
“Now’s a good a time as any,” said Rachel, going to a filing cabinet and pulling out one of National Geographic’s pro-forma agreements. “They have been translated into French, though your English is excellent, monsieur. Would you like to take this away and have it checked?”
“I am happy to trust you, mam’selle,” said Dubois, taking out an exquisite Mont Blanc fountain pen and signing the form with a theatrical flourish.
“Now, may I see the parchment?”
“Very well,” said David reluctantly, giving Rachel a hard stare. “But please don’t touch it – it’s still extremely fragile.”
Dubois took some spectacles out of his jacket pocket and peered closely at the rolled-up parchment. “Fascinating! Is it possible to open it up again?”
“I’d rather not, just for the moment,” said David. “I want to give it another soak, just to be on the safe side.”
“Of course, m’sieur – you know best. Would you be so kind as to let me have a translation, once your linguist has done her job?”
“Of course,” said Rachel casually. “You mentioned findings of your own – what would they be, exactly?”
The Frenchman smiled enigmatically. “Let us say I know what Saunière found.”
“Something relating to the tomb in the crypt, presumably,” said David. “Though we know he can’t have seen this parchment.”
“Indeed not. But he did find something else.”
“How do you know?”
“Because what he found was e
ventually passed on to me, in a manner of speaking. And the discovery is quite, how do you say – earth-shaking.”
“If you know this, why haven’t you published a book, or gone to French TV?” queried Rachel.
“I did not want to be dismissed as just another crank, mam’selle. And I did not want to damage further the reputation of Marie. I knew that sooner or later, scientists would carry out a full excavation of the crypt. It was only a matter of time before money talked. The mighty dollar, eh?” Dubois smiled benignly.
“So what was it that was passed down to you?”
“In short, an explanation of a puzzle that has had everybody investigating the Rennes mystery tied up in knots. An explanation that shows that not only did Saunière discover the Magdalene tomb, but…” he paused and looked around him melodramatically.
“Yes?” said Rachel, impatiently.
“This you will find hard to believe, mes amis. But it is true. You must promise me you will not reveal it to a soul – not ever, not on TV, not in your paper. Unless you are given permission.”
“What if we find out by some other means?” queried Rachel, reluctant to give up so easily on a potentially great exclusive.
“Trust me, mam’selle, you won’t,” said Dubois.
“Very well, then. Unless you give us permission,” she said, wondering how much money he was angling after.
“It’s not about money,” said Dubois, reading her mind. “It’s about ensuring someone’s safety. There are people who would kill to find out the information I am about to tell you. You will understand when you have heard.”
Rachel looked shocked, but nodded her assent.
“Very well, then. Mary Magdalene – or at least, her direct descendant – is alive and well, even as we speak.”
Chapter 23
There was stunned silence in the room. Rachel and David stared open-mouthed at Dubois.
“How on earth do you know that Mary Magdalene – or at least her God-knows-how-many-greats granddaughter – is still alive?” asked David, eventually.
