»Forget about Clairvaux. I googled the abbey; it no longer exists. The only thing that’s left is a museum. The monastery was dissolved in 1791, and in 1808 it was converted into a prison. Today it is one of the most state-of-the-art high security prisons in France.«
Don Luigi handed Peter the printout of a satellite photo of the abbey that he had found on the internet. The picture showed a number of smaller buildings around a yard with green areas, which corresponded to the layout of the former abbey. Behind this were several building complexes that took up most of the rest of the area. Peter could easily make out the silhouettes of watchtowers, cell blocks and divided yards. Walls everywhere.
»Shit. And the museum?«
»I got the museum’s director out of bed. She assured me that they have no handwritten documents in their museum. Philip IV dismantled the Order of the Knights Templar in 1307. Jacques de Molay and other Grand Masters of the Order were charged with heresy and sodomy and burned at the stake. The surviving Templars dispersed all over the world. Clairvaux Abbey was a major center for the Templars. The knights who lived there fled with whatever moveable property they could carry.«
»Including the legendary treasure of the Templars.«
»Well, it is unlikely that there was much of a treasure except for the documents. But I am convinced that the original prophecy of Malachy was one of them.«
»Where did the Templars flee to, Padre?«
Don Luigi made a vague gesture.
»There are several legends about that. According to one of them, a fleet with the skull and crossbones emblem of the Templars on its sails left the port of La Rochelle under the command of Antonio Zeno, bound for America. This was about ninety years after the end of the Order of the Temple. In 1558, a descendant of Antonio Zeno published an alleged map of the journey. According to that, the Templars even discovered America – long before Columbus did. But these are all conspiracy theories that you can find all over the internet.«
»Do you have any idea, Padre?«
Don Luigi shook his head sadly. Peter thought for a while.
Finally he said, »Where is the computer?«
In the office of the Carmelite nuns, Peter found two computers with fast internet connections. He had just opened a browser when Maria entered the room.
»I just heard.« She sat down in front of the other computer immediately. »So what is it we’re looking for?«
»Anything to do with the Templars,« Peter explained to her. »Any clue as to where they might have hidden the documents, even if it sounds crazy as hell. Check every nutty forum about conspiracy theories. Scream if you find something interesting.«
»Oui, mon general,« Maria replied and saluted.
Peter grinned at her. »Do you want me to explain to you how to use the computer?«
»You can go to hell if you like. Ready, set – go!«
Peter’s knowledge about the Knights Templar was rudimentary at best. The brief research that he conducted brought his knowledge at least to a level where he might have survived the first round of a game show. After a good half-hour, he shared the results with Maria.
»Founded between 1118 and 1121 by Hugues de Payens and Godfrey de Saint-Omer, the Templars were at first just some kind of militia for the protection of the pilgrims and merchants who were streaming into the Holy Land after the First Crusade. They were probably a band of stinking mercenaries and no less dangerous than the highwaymen themselves. They received their name in memory of the Temple of King Solomon in Jerusalem. Until Hugues de Payens returns to France and talks to Bernard of Clairvaux. Some assume that Hugues de Payens discovered a great secret in Jerusalem, hidden there somewhere, and that Bernard desperately wanted to bring it into the Church’s possession. But whatever the reason, it’s at this stage that Bernard becomes the head marketing honcho of the Templars.«
Maria grimaced in disapproval.
»No kidding,« Peter continued, »the Templars as we know them from legends and books are an invention of Bernard of Clairvaux. He was a strict taskmaster. He reformed the Cistercian Order and showed no mercy in removing all ornaments and relics from the churches. Back to basics, so to speak. He was a hardliner, a heretics hunter, ordering the burning of books and instigating inquisition trials against anyone who rubbed him up the wrong way. In any case, Bernard devised 72 clauses to define the ideal behavior for these adventurers in the Holy Land, and these were strict rules. The Templar knights were to be monk-soldiers and had to wear white mantles without fur, and when they ate, two knights had to share one bowl. When they slept, two knights had to share one mattress and one blanket and they had to sleep dressed in shirt, breeches, shoes and belts. Meat, only three times a week. Ornate bridles or embellishments on the clothes were forbidden. No frippery, back to basics. But their weapons had to be in good shape at all times. Not for hunting, because that was also forbidden. A Templar was supposed to fight. But above all, these new knights had to be chaste. Stay away from women because women were deemed dangerous. A life in battle and repentance. How does that sound?«
»Like a horde of stinking slaughterers,« Maria said.
»And that’s exactly what they were. But under a strict leadership. Look at the seal of the Templars. It depicts two knights riding on one horse. The image was probably supposed to symbolize brotherly solidarity. But it might also be the reason for the rumors that later followed that the Templars were engaging in sodomite practices. It is said that they worshipped a fabled idol by the name of Baphomet and that they had obscure rituals, during which they kissed each other on the ass cheeks.«
Maria did not comment on that. Peter showed her different illustrations of Baphomet from the Late Middle Ages.
»Doesn’t look too Christian, does it? Later he was even equated with Satan. Anyway, it’s a hard life. There you are, a good Knight Templar devoting your entire workday to slaughtering Saracens and pagans, always with a Hail Mary on your lips, and come night you’re not even allowed to get hammered or look at a woman. While your crusader colleagues in the next-door tent get royally pissed and fuck until they drop. What a shitty life. But nobody cares because the Templars are growing, even though their first battle during the Siege of Damascus ends in a fiasco. Most of the Templars die. They say that the superstition of Friday the 13th has its roots in this event. Still, they continue to grow. Why? Because Bernard takes donations that were made to the Benedictine monasteries and simply passes them along to the Templars. Amazingly enough, the Templars stop fighting soon afterwards. They make themselves at home in the Temple of Jerusalem and they even strike up friendships with Muslims. A band of mercenaries who are so bored that they gradually begin to make their own laws and rituals, which are only mildly reminiscent of the strict Rule of the Knights. They invent the check. It’s the Middle Ages and all you need is a letter of credit from the Templars in your pocket and you can travel cash free through the Orient. But what happened to the big secret that Bernard believed was hidden in the Holy Land? Did they actually find it? Nobody knows. What we know is that over time they became so powerful and wealthy that Philip IV decided he’d had enough and began to level all kinds of accusations against the Templars. He disbanded the Order in 1307 and plundered all its possessions. If the Templars really did find a secret or a treasure in the Holy Land, then it was either lost or…«
»… Or they had the presence of mind to bring it to a safe place,« Maria finished his sentence, »and I even know where that place is.«
Peter stared at her. And it was obvious that Maria enjoyed his bafflement.
»Just put yourself in their shoes: imagine you are a Templar from Clairvaux and you are desperate to go into hiding. You know that the Pope is on your side. Because Pope Clement V wants to avoid a trial against the entire Order of the Temple, as he used to be one of its supporters. It comes to a trial of strength between Philip IV and Clement V. And Clement is clever. In March of 1312, he simply dissolves the Order of the Templars. No Order, no trial. It all ends with the Inq
uiry into the Templars. In 1314, Jacques de Molay, the last Grand Master of the Knights Templar, is burned at the stake in Paris. The Templars are expropriated of their property and it is given to the Knights of St. John. Of course, only after deduction of the costs and expenses of the inquiry as assessed by Philip and the other European kings, which means an outrageously huge price tag. Even though it is said that all of the Templars in France are arrested, only a handful of death sentences are executed. In Avignon, not a single one. And why?«
Suddenly Peter remembered. »Because at that time, Avignon was the seat of the Papacy! This was the time of the schism!«
»Exactly! Pope Clement V is sitting in Avignon and gives refuge to the Templars and their salvaged property.«
Avignon, of all places. How far away is that? Nine hours? Ten?
»It’s just a guess,« Maria added.
»No, you’re right,« Peter said. »If the original prophecy still exists at all, then it’s highly likely that it is in Avignon.«
»But how are you supposed to get to Avignon? That’s well over a ten-hour drive and you’re the subject of an international manhunt. So I will go there alone. By plane.«
Do I see a glint of triumph in your eyes, Maria? Is this possible? Peter couldn’t believe it.
»No way. Won’t happen. This is my problem.«
»You don’t think that I can do it, do you?«
»Damn it, Maria, that’s not the point. I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me.«
Her face reddened and a vein rose in anger on her forehead.
»Now listen to me very carefully, Peter Adam. Take your arrogant and patronizing attitude and stuff it up your, well, you know where. You’ve already gotten me in trouble. I am well capable of taking care of myself, but as you might remember, I am even less safe in Rome than anywhere else in the world. And that’s why I will go to Avignon, either alone or with you, if you want to join me. Got it? Capisce? Dammit!«
»Do you nuns actually pray every now and then, or do you just swear all the time?«
»Piss off, Peter Adam.«
»You will both go.«
Don Luigi was standing in the door to the office. He seemed amused. »If we take your vision seriously, Peter, you don’t have much time left.«
»What do you suggest?«
A sly expression that Peter had seen before washed over Don Luigi’s face.
»I made a few phone calls last night. It wasn’t easy but finally I was able to convince these people that it is in their personal interest to help us.«
»Which ›people‹, Don Luigi?«
»Perhaps it might be better for you to freshen up a bit. Get changed and I will explain everything to you.«
Thirty minutes later, when Peter returned to the small parlor that the Carmelite nuns had made available to them, he was showered, wearing fresh clothes and already feeling much better. Don Luigi and Maria were waiting for him along with a man of around fifty with asian features who was wearing a black suit.
»Peter, may I introduce you to Mohammed Al Naimi, the Ambassador of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia.« Don Luigi pointed at the man in the black suit who was scrutinizing Peter with an impenetrable expression on his face but without stretching out his hand or deigning to offer any other sign of politeness.
»What is this all about?« Peter asked suspiciously.
»His Excellency the Ambassador is so kind as to take you and Sister Maria to Avignon on a private jet belonging to His Royal Highness Prince Salman Abd al-Aziz ibn Saud. You don’t have to worry about passport controls. You will be traveling under diplomatic protection.«
Peter eyed the Arab in the black suit with blatant suspicion. And it was obvious that the suspicion was mutual.
»Don Luigi, I’m not quite sure whether I understand this correctly. Why should the Saudi Royal Family aid an accused murderer and terrorist in fleeing the country?«
Don Luigi exchanged a brief look with the Arab, and the Ambassador condescended to give Peter a brief explanation.
»This is of no concern to you. But let’s put it this way: your former Pope, who resigned, had established certain connections with high Islamic dignitaries who enjoy the trust of His Royal Highness, and who have made it perfectly clear to him that this – I would like to stress – onetime action will serve the interests of our country and Islam.«
»Or to put it in a nutshell,« Don Luigi added, »no further questions, Peter.«
Peter threw a brief glance at Maria. She appeared calm and fearless. She seemed to have complete trust in Don Luigi’s string pulling abilities.
Peter took Don Luigi aside.
»Why are you doing this to me?« he hissed at the Padre.
»Trust me, Peter.«
»No, Don Luigi. It smells like a trap. First they take me out of the country and then they take me out, right?«
»I can understand why you think that way, Peter. But if you look at it in the cold light of day, you don’t have many options. You want to prove your innocence? Benissimo. Then you can either surrender to the police or the secret service agencies and trust that, this time, they won’t throw you into a torture chamber but treat you with velvet gloves and believe you. Or you can trust me. It’s your decision, Peter.«
Suddenly, Don Luigi’s expression turned harsh.
»Shit,« Peter cursed and turned away from him.
The Saudi Ambassador rose stiffly to his feet. »If you are ready, the car is waiting for you outside.«
XXXIV
May 13, 2011, Rome
Pain is a weakness that leaves the body. Hatred is the focus of the light. The divine vapor that fills your body. The light is the cleansing power of the universe. You are hatred and you are walking on the path of the pain. The light breathed life into you; you were born to bring pain. You were chosen to cleanse the world.
»I failed, Master.«
»Yes, you did! I am very disappointed in you, Nikolas!«
Nikolas, who was lying prone on his front with his arms stretched out to the sides, did not dare to look up. Seth stood at the window of the elegant parlor and glanced over the rooftops of the Eternal City. Not too far in the distance, the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica rose up above the Vatican Hill. It was not necessary for Nikolas to look up. He could feel his Master’s rejection. It was a rejection that hurt Nikolas more than the gunshot wound in his shoulder. Nikolas had learned to honor pain as a palpable sign of the light. As a sign that he was on the right path. It was not without pride that Nikolas remembered that he could bear more pain than most other people. Not that he didn’t feel pain, but he regarded it as a friend, as a cleansing power that cleared his thoughts and helped him to bring his feelings to a complete standstill. What remained was nothing but hatred, clear and pure hatred, untainted by rage or the thirst for revenge.
However, the pain of the rejection went deeper and was worse than any other pain he had felt before. For Nikolas loved the Master. The Master was the visible part of the divine light. The Master was the embodiment of the purity of hatred. The Master was the sun and he, Nikolas, was just a dirty comet who would forever be encircling the sun and vaporizing to ice and dust, happily.
But he had failed. He had run away when the man had shot at him in the church. Not so much out of fear, more out of a completely unfamiliar feeling which had suddenly grabbed him: a feeling of terrible forlornness. He had simply let go of the nun and bolted out of the church, bleeding. Nikolas, the vessel of hatred, had fallen prey to the worst of all vices – cowardice.
The only question that remained was why.
Nikolas waited humbly for the Master to speak to him again. Seth turned away from the window and looked down at Nikolas in blatant disgust.
»Why, Nikolas? Why?«
»I … I don’t know, Master.«
»But I do.«
Seth sat down in one of the leather armchairs and, with an indignant gesture, he took a small folder from the table. »Sit down.«
Nikolas obeyed and rose f
rom the floor, relieved.
»How is your shoulder doing?«
»It is nothing, Master.«
»Did you recognize the man?«
»No, Master.«
»He is a journalist. His name is Peter Adam. Of course, the Jesuit is behind all this.«
»I can kill the Jesuit for you, Master.«
Seth made a dismissive wave with his hand. »I will take care of the Jesuit personally, when the time comes. First, he has to lead me to Laurenz.«
Seth handed Nikolas the folder. »This is the man you ran away from.«
Nikolas opened the folder. When he saw the photo of Peter Adam, the composed and indifferent look on his face disappeared in the blink of an eye. »This is the man?«
»It was my mistake that it had to come to this point. You will correct this mistake and give proof that you are still walking on the path of the light. Peter Adam is in possession of the relic now. He escaped from the clutches of the secret service agencies and, according to my information, he is as we speak, on his way to Avignon. Along with this nun. The Jesuit helped them.«
»What do they want there?« Nikolas asked. He was still staring at the photo of the man who had shot at him and from whom he had run away.
»That’s what you are going to find out. … Nikolas?«
»Do you want me to kill them, Master?«
»No. Not now. Just get me the relic and everything else they might find in Avignon and bring it to the island.«
For a brief moment, Nikolas was at a loss.
»What about the list? There are still nineteen names left.«
»The relic has priority.«
Nikolas stared another moment at the photo of Peter Adam and then he closed the folder resolutely. His face was back to its usual emotionless state.
Only when your hatred is as pure and clear as a mountain stream, only when you are free of all passions, not thirsting for revenge or rage, for sorrow, compassion or love; only then will you walk along the path of the light.
He had made his decision. For the first time in his life, he would defy his Master’s order. He would kill Peter Adam.
Apocalypsis I Page 17
