The Last Scion

by Richard Reed

  “Have you made any progress in translating the gospel?”

  “Some. I have had some preliminary results back from the high-res photographic files I’ve sent to the lab – only four pages so far, but the results are interesting, to put it mildly. I’ve sent off the translation to one of National Geographic’s best theological scholars.”

  “Can you give me any clues to pass on to Marianne?”

  David hesitated. “It’s very early days yet, and I’m no scholar…”

  “But?”

  “As I initially thought, the use of language – grammar, syntax etc – is much older than you would expect for a document of purely medieval origin. It also seems to lack a narrative form: in other words, it doesn’t form an ongoing story, as you might expect from having read Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. It’s seem to be more a collection of events, sayings, and theological discourses. It’s not dissimilar, in that respect, to the Gnostic text, The Gospel of Thomas – which some scholars believe may be ‘Q’, the missing gospel used as source material – along with Mark – by the authors of Matthew and Luke.”

  A look of disappointment shadowed the Count’s face. “So it’s not quite what we were hoping for, then?”

  “On the contrary, I would say the style strongly suggests the original text was of a very early origin – written down by someone who knew Jesus closely during his lifetime – or at least, very shortly afterwards.”

  The Count studied David’s face closely. “There’s something you’re holding back, isn’t there?” he said.

  David smiled. “You’ve come to know me well enough in our short time together. Yes, there is something else; something potentially so controversial and ground-breaking that I want to be absolutely sure before discussing it even with Marianne. But you can be assured that if my theory turns out to be true, it will be one of the most momentous discoveries of the Christian era.”

  “That would be tremendous,” beamed the Count.

  “A word of caution, however,” continued David.

  “Yes?”

  “However revelatory this discovery may prove to be, unless we can find and carbon-date the original document from which it was copied, I’m afraid no-one will take it seriously. It will make great TV, but that’s about it.”

  Chapter 51

  Two more days passed before Rachel was well enough to be allowed out of bed by the Count’s doctor; two days in which she fretted and nagged so much that Dr Fougère finally gave up trying to make her take things quietly. “You may as well be up and around, for all the rest you’re getting here,” he told her. “You’ve obviously got a strong constitution, as your rapid recovery from the car accident bears witness.”

  “It takes more than cars and bullets to put her down – she’s as tough as an ox,” joked David, earning himself a glare of disapproval. “If you’re feeling up to it, Rachel, we could do with talking about where we go next in this quest,” he continued hurriedly.

  “I agree totally,” said Rachel, climbing out of bed. “We need to find the original source of the gospel, or it’s going to be a five-minute wonder. As will Marianne. It would give the whole story so much more authenticity. From what she’s said so far, the implication is that the gospel and the body of Mary Magdalene were moved at the same time, during the crusade against the Cathars. So is it stretching a point to suggest they may have been kept together?”

  “I don’t think so. Two priceless holy relics, removed for safekeeping – it would make sense to keep them together. The question is, where?”

  “I’ve got a gut feeling it’s something to do with the Templars,” said Rachel.

  “Why does every medieval mystery have to revolve around the Templars?” groaned David.

  “Oh for God’s sake, stop being such a bloody cynic. We’ve heard from Marianne herself that the Templars were closely linked to the Cathars, and helped protect the Madeleine during the crusade. Is it that much of a leap to suggest they may have helped smuggle the gospel and Mary Magdalene’s body to safety?”

  “I suppose not. But let’s stick to what we know, or what we can discover through research, before embarking on a wild goose chase.”

  “I seem to remember you thinking this whole venture was a wild goose chase when we started out. So while I agree with you about the need for research, let’s not lose sight of the fact that sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.”

  “OK. Why don’t we start by going back to the original research we carried out in Rennes-le-Château and see if Saunière has left us any clues on this one? There is so much information scattered around the church, and so far we have only focused on the search for the original tomb of the Magdalene. Saunière was priest of Rennes from 1885-1917 – he had more than 30 years to carry out research and accumulate evidence. We’ve had just six months.”

  “It’s as good as place as any,” agreed Rachel. “And we still haven’t exhausted all those books on Rennes they’ve accumulated. It’s time to get our brains in gear again. Now, if the two of you wouldn’t mind getting out of my bedroom, I would like to take a shower.”

  Half an hour later they were both ensconced in the library, sifting once more through all the evidence. David fired up his MacBook and began browsing through all the photos he had taken in and around the church, while Rachel thumbed through some of the books left on the table from their earlier brainstorming sessions.

  “Here’s something we’ve missed,” said David after a few minutes. “The paintings of the Stations of the Cross – we’ve never had the chance to go through all these in detail. Like everything else to do with the church restoration, the content was rigidly controlled by Saunière.” He picked up a reference book on the Stations of the Cross, and flipped it open. “And, I seem to remember, one of them gave you the insight about a reference to Mary Magdalene coming to France. Chances are there may be other clues in here.” He opened the picture file of Station I. “Not much there,” he mused after studying the photo for a while.

  “I agree, though it does seems rather odd that Pontius Pilate is wearing a veil!”

  “Odd indeed.”

  “Unless it’s symbolic – look beneath the surface; a hidden mystery – that sort of thing.”

  “The words ‘straw’ and ‘clutching’ come to mind…”

  “You’re probably right,” said Rachel quickly, anxious to avoid an argument. “What about Station II?”

  “Jesus receiving the cross,” said David. “Seems pretty run of the mill. Though what’s that young boy picking up off the ground? He looks pretty pleased with himself.”

  “Could it be a reference to the shepherd boy who found the gold coins?”

  “Hmm… That is an idea. I reckon you could be right – I certainly can’t think of any religious significance. Just as with the rest of the church, it looks as though Saunière is dropping little clues in all these Stations. This is starting to get interesting. OK, let’s look at Station III – Jesus falls for the first time.”

  They studied the picture for a while, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary for a religiously themed painting. “There really isn’t much there,” said Rachel disappointedly. “Just a soldier blowing some kind of horn…”

  “That’s a buccina – a war horn. The Romans used them to announce a change of watch, among other things. In keeping, historically – Jerusalem was a city under occupation, after all.”

  “OK, smart arse.”

  “Station IV – Jesus meets his mother. That’s the one you think contains a sail, a nod to the legend of Mary coming to France. I’m assuming the other woman in the picture is Mary Magdalene.”

  “Can we compare it with the crucifixion scene?” said Rachel.

  “OK… Here we go: Station XII. Yes – we’ve got a matronly, older woman here whom I assume is meant to be the Virgin Mary, and the same woman in yellow as in Station IV, kneeling at Jesus’s feet. That’s got to be the Magdalene. OK, let’s keep these in order – just in case the clues are arranged sequenti
ally for some reason. Next, Station V – Simon of Cyrene carrying the cross. See anything there?”

  They both pored over the image for some time, but again neither could see anything of obvious relevance.

  “Well, I guess he didn’t necessarily put clues in all the stations,” said Rachel. “Next!”

  “Right, Station VI. Something to do with Saint Veronica, I believe.”

  “Legend has it that on the way to Golgotha, she offered her veil to Jesus to wipe his face. When he gave it back, his face was imprinted on it. Needless to say, thanks to this miracle, she was canonised. Can’t see anything special there, unfortunately.”

  “How about Station VII – Jesus falls for the second time?”

  “That spear has a very odd point to it,” observed Rachel. “It’s bright silver, and rather than a blade, it’s engraved with some kind of elaborate spiral design. It may well be hinting at something, but I haven’t a clue what.”

  “Nor me – I can’t say I recognise it as a typical piece of Roman battle gear. OK, here’s Station VIII – Jesus meets the women of Jerusalem.”

  “I’ve read something about this – it seems some people believe the tartan pattern the child is wearing refers to the Templars.”

  “I was waiting for you to bring them in again – The Da Vinci Code rears its head once more; the alleged Scottish connection to Rosslyn Chapel.”

  “For once I agree with you – it’s a bit of a stretch to suggest that the Templars, who were outlawed in 1314, mysteriously reappeared in Scotland more than a century later. Building work on Rosslyn Chapel didn’t start until around 1450. Still, it’s worth bearing in mind. Whatever the truth about a Templar link, Saunière may have included it for a reason.”

  “True,” said David. “Station IX – Jesus falls the third time. The obvious thing here is that has someone has hacked off Jesus’s head from the fresco. A souvenir hunter? A mindless vandal? Or some other reason?”

  “Probably just a souvenir hunter, judging from what Hélène’s told us about the place. She said someone actually chopped off the head of the Devil from the statue by the door – the one there now is just a copy, apparently. It’s unbelievable the depths some people will sink to. Can’t see much else that stands out… Although having said that, I suppose the soldier on a rearing horse behind the cross could symbolise a knight, or something. And the way the cross is being held in front of it forms a perfect diagonal St Andrew’s Cross. Another reference to the Templars?”

  “I buy the knight imagery, but you’re getting carried away with the Templar connection. Still, as we’ve said, I guess it’s important to distinguish between what we think is plausible, and what Saunière believed to be the truth. OK, next up is Station X – Jesus is stripped of his garments – the scene where the soldiers gamble for Jesus’s clothes. Another missing body part, by the look of it – see how that man’s arm has been chiselled off?”

  “I agree it’s odd,” said Rachel, squinting at the screen. “But in this case the background is painted behind the missing arm.”

  “Perhaps it’s been retouched.”

  “Possibly. Or maybe there’s another reason. Anything strike you as odd about those dice, directly underneath?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “I can’t put my finger on it, but they jar for some reason.” Rachel paused. “I wonder what the numbers add up to… Three and four are showing on the first dice, five on the second. Even with my appalling arithmetic, I make that 12. Hmm. Any dice round here?”

  “What?”

  “Have you come across any dice around here? I’ve got an odd feeling on this one.”

  “I think the Count said there was a box in the corner there with a few old games in it – I was looking for something to keep you occupied in your sick bed…”

  “Here we are!” said Rachel triumphantly, dragging out an ancient, battered box of what was evidently a French version of Ludo. She opened the lid and pulled out the dice. “OK, here’s the five, and here’s the…” Her voice trailed off, and look of astonishment crossed her face. “I don’t believe it,” she said finally. “The three and the four are on opposite sides of the dice – yet this painting shows them on adjacent faces! Whatd’ya make of that, Sherlock?”

  “Gobsmacked, to use your vernacular,” said David, a look of puzzlement on his face. “How on earth did you know there was something odd about those dice?”

  “Feminine intuition,” said Rachel, with a superior smile.

  David grunted. “Of course. How silly of me. But how do these dice fit into the picture, if you will forgive the pun?”

  “That I don’t know – but let’s remember those numbers; particularly the three and the four. OK, what’s next?”

  “Right, nearly there. Station XI – Jesus is nailed to the cross.”

  “Wow, this one’s a bit creepy,” said Rachel. “Look at the dark, stormy background. That looks like a mountain of some sorts in the background, right in the middle of the picture. I wonder if it has any significance?”

  “Perhaps it’s meant to be Golgotha…”

  “No, they’re on Golgotha, you ninny – he’s being nailed to the cross!”

  “Sorry, you’re right – not thinking.”

  “And those weird silver discs on the end of that Roman soldier’s spear? It’s almost as if they’re pointing straight at the mountain! It looks as though they’ve got some kind of inscription on them, but I can’t make out what it is.”

  “I think the word you’re looking for is phalerae. Those discs are war medals – decorations for bravery, and so on. Centurions would normally have worn them, though they were also sometimes mounted on poles.” David magnified the image and peered hard at the screen. “It’s really hard to make out, but it looks like another spiral design of some description – the sort of thing you might find in a Neolithic tomb. Normally phalerae would be decorated with the head of a god, an emperor, a lion or something. Right, moving on… Station XII – Jesus dies on the cross – the one we looked at earlier.”

  “You were right about looking at them in order,” observed Rachel. “Look at the difference in the backdrop! In Station XI we had a mountainous landscape, but here, in the same crucifixion scene, we have the city of Jersualem in the background, as you would expect. Flip back to the other one for a minute… Look at that – completely different. Saunière must have been trying to tell us something in Station XI. Those mountains don’t even look like they belong in Palestine – they’re way too green, and the sky is really murky. More north European, than anything, if you ask me.”

  “I think you’re right… There’s definitely something going on here – it’s a question of trying to pull together the threads. OK, penultimate picture. Station XIII – Jesus’s body is removed from the cross. Still no hills – again, it looks pretty urban; Station XI is definitely a one-off in that respect. Mary Magdalene is still there – something all the gospels agree on. Anything else?”

  “Not that I can see…”

  “And so to the final painting – Station XIV – the body of Jesus is laid in the tomb.”

  “There it is again!” said Rachel excitedly.

  “What?” said David, zooming in on the picture.

  “No, zoom out again. Look, at the top – it’s that bloody mountain again! The one in Station XI!”

  “Hmm.” David opened Station XI once more, and positioned the picture next to the first on the screen. “Well, there’s some similarity, I grant you – particularly the volcanic-looking peak – but the flanks look different.”

  “It’s a different perspective,” said Rachel. “They didn’t bury his body on Golgotha.”

  “No. So you think the scene in Station XI is looking across to the burial site?”

  “Well, I suppose that’s possible, but that wasn’t what I meant.”

  “What, then?”

  “Well, clearly the mountain is being viewed from a different perspective; but I don’t think in either case it’s i
n Palestine. Look at the lichen on the rocks, and the stones around that grotto, glistening with water…”

  Her voice trailed off and she stared at David with disbelief. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she whispered, her eyes registering total shock. “It seems sacrilegious to even think it, but is it possible that Jesus’s body was brought here, to France, with Mary, and buried in that cave?”

  “Oh come on, that’s stretching it.”

  Rachel gave a pensive frown. You’re probably right. But I’m assuming – and clearly we are making some pretty big assumptions at the moment – that the hill in those Stations of the Cross must have something to do with all this. Maybe Saunière was simply trying to hint at the place where Mary herself was actually buried. Why don’t we look at the other photos to see if there are any more clues?”

  “There aren’t many we haven’t seen. Still, I suppose we could have another look at the statues of the saints, and the altar.”

  “Let’s do the altar first. That’s where this whole mystery started, with Saunière knocking down the old one. We’ve already found references on it to the tomb of the Magdalene; it was one of the clues that pointed us in the right direction. And you discovered the sword and the gold, which turned out to be the Visigoth treasure in the undercroft. Maybe there are other clues in there.”

  “It’s certainly possible,” said David, scrolling through the folder of Rennes photos until he came across the file he was looking for. “Right, here we are.” The altar painting flashed up on screen, brightly lit thanks to his earlier work in Photoshop.

  “This is just too much to take in,” said Rachel, shaking her head in utter disbelief. “There it is again.”

  “What?”

  “Are you blind? That damned hill! The one in the Stations of the Cross – supposedly in Palestine!”

  “It does look pretty similar, I’ll admit…”

  “Similar! You need your eyes testing. It’s obviously the same one, right next to the ruined castle in the shape of an ‘M’ for Magdalene, which we spotted earlier, and the cross – which we assumed was a symbolic reference to Jesus and the bloodline.”