First Templar Nation

by Freddy Silva

  Secrets of this magnitude deserved to be well protected. Any fool determined to get past the heavily armed Levite guard faced an electrified Ark, followed by a perimeter of unspecified defenses that proved so effective that it gave the Philistines who approached it hemorrhoids. Even if they survived these trials, the tablets containing the word of God could only be read by a person initiated into the secret Mysteries—such as Moses, who was an adept of the Egyptian Temple.7

  Initiates, adepts, and Mysteries schools were not in short supply in the enlightened duchies of Burgundy and Champagne of the eleventh century. Kabalistic schools may have existed there three centuries earlier when Jews were granted a kingdom within a kingdom and insisted to have at its head a recognized descendent of the Royal House of David. This took shape in Count Guilhelm de Toulouse, a Merovingian, who acceded to the throne as king of Septimania, as the region was then named.8 Later, persecuted Jews found a new sanctuary with the enlightened Counts of Troyes and Champagne, particularly the Templar supporter Comte Hugh de Champagne, who sponsored an influential school of Kaballah and other esoteric studies that flourished in the town of Troyes around the year 1070. This Mysteries school was founded by Rabbi Solomon ben Isaac, or as he was affectionately called, Rashi, a man of great intellectual repute with an obsession for procuring information on the Ark of the Covenant. And given that he resided in Troyes,9 he was a frequent guest at the court of Comte Hugh de Champagne.

  This Kabalist school, then, was well funded and placed and prepared for the continuing cryptic translation of documents found by the Templars under Temple Mount, especially as Lambert de Saint-Omer passed away shortly after receiving the first scrolls from the Templar knight Godefroi de Saint-Omer.10 A scroll named Seper Yatzirah (Book of Formation) was given particular attention because it allegedly provided a guide to the creation of the universe. It was the most mathematical of all the scrolls, as though it were a formula or manual of manifestation or, in a manner of speaking, a kind of holy Graal.11 Naturally, its esoteric contents were to be made accessible to no one but the pious and only then under certain conditions.

  A second man who took a great interest in such Kabalistic studies was Stephen Harding, a clergyman who gave up a seat at Sherbourne Abbey in England to become a traveling scholar in France. En route to Molesme Abbey (a few miles south of Troyes), Stephen became acquainted with Rashi,12 and no doubt his esoteric studies shaped his worldview when he became abbot of the Cistercian abbey at Citeaux.

  Solomon ben Isaac, known as Rashi.

  In 1112 Stephen had the opportunity to share this passion for Kaballah’s spiritual philosophy with a visitor to the abbey, a young monk by the name of Bernard de Clairvaux. When Bernard later created the abbey of Clairvaux, 33 miles southeast of Troyes he maintained the collaboration with the Kabalist school.

  The knowledge transmitted at this school involved an understanding of sacred geometry, especially with regard to Solomon’s Temple. Chief among Solomon’s masons—the so-called Children of Solomon—was their master mason, Asaph, an architect skilled in the importance of geometric harmonics and the behavior of resonance, particularly as applied to sacred buildings. Such “masters of the craft” were denoted by degrees of knowledge and proficiency concerning universal laws. It is probable, then, that Bernard was taught to understand and apply the sacred geometry of Solomon’s Temple contained in the scrolls, because when asked to describe God, Bernard cryptically replied, “He is length, width, height and depth.”13

  That God is geometry is something every Muslim knows, since the elaborate geometric tile work prominently featured in every mosque is said to depict the face of Allah; the same truth is encapsulated in every mandala, be it from a Buddhist monk or a Native American shaman, and it is claimed that working with such geometry induces an altered state of awareness.14

  On one level, it would seem that the treasure rediscovered by the Templars during their digs was a thesaurus of cosmic laws that included the secrets of geometry and harmonics, knowledge sacred to architects of pyramids, temples, and other holy places. These savants were keenly aware that such harmonics are capable of inducing the kind of shamanic experiences that lead to a personal and mystical experience of God.15 That the Templars applied this knowledge became obvious when the first Cistercian pope allowed them the unique right to build churches whose round form and octagonal geometry generate acoustics of such clarity they are capable of inducing trance-like states in the listener.16 Even the pillars of the buildings produce a ringing tone.17

  The understanding of the Templar and Cistercian architects was certainly advanced for medieval times (it is exceptional even by modern standards),18 leading one contemporary eyewitness in Jerusalem to remark, “On the other side of the palace the Templars have built a new house, whose height, length and breadth, and all its cellars and refectories, staircase and roof, are far beyond the custom of this land. Indeed its roof is so high that, if I were to mention how high it is, those who listen would hardly believe me.”19

  Within six years of returning from Temple Mount they introduced this knowledge into Europe in the shape of Gothic architecture. Gothic is derived from the Greek goetia (by magic force); its extension is goeteuein (to bewitch), a rather appropriate term given how the spatial relationship of the buildings generates frequencies that find their correspondence in the human body, particularly DNA,20 not to mention the pineal gland,21 as well as the area of the brain associated with mystical experiences, the amygdala.22

  One of the first cathedrals to be erected in the Gothic style was Saint Denis in Paris, on the site of a previous structure founded by Dagobert I, a Merovingian king. In Portugal, the Gothic style appeared in 1153 when Afonso Henriques laid the foundation stone for the breathtaking Cistercian monastery of Alcobaça, a building of superlative acoustical properties built in honor of his uncle Bernard de Clairvaux. But perhaps the most bewitching of all Gothic buildings is the one that arose to the west of Troyes: Chartres cathedral.

  Every facet of this temple reveals information, be it overt or coded, much like the Egyptians did with the Great Pyramid of Giza.23 Bernard de Clairvaux himself held daily consultations with the builders,24 and a careful look at the pillars framing the Door of the Initiates leaves no doubt as to where the knowledge came from. A relief carved in limestone depicts the Ark of the Covenant transported on a cart, its open lid revealing a tablet and an orb inscribed with the fleur-de-lys, symbol of the holy bloodline in France; beside it, a man conceals the wooden receptacle with his robe, flanked by four individuals who look as though they are ascending a stairway to heaven. On the pillar is inscribed the accompanying phrase, “Here, things take their course; you are to work through the Ark.”25

  It is as though the cathedral is a sermon by Bernard set in stone.

  This was by no means the only craft known to Bernard de Clairvaux. He would sometimes let on that he was well versed in cryptography by using it playfully in his many works, particularly his sermons. The Latin text of the Song of Songs—referring to Bernard’s experience of the divine—consists of exactly ninety-nine syllables. In Roman numerals this would be written IC, the initials of Iesus Christos.26 Another coded reference exists in the final quotation of sermon 74 of Super Canticum, which consists of exactly 159 syllables. In Roman numerals this is written CLIX. Since X was often interchanged and equated with S, the letters read CLIS, a common contraction for CLARAVALLIS, the Latin for Clairvaux. The abbot is suggesting his mystical experience of God is closely associated with his place of residence, an unusual choice of location for an abbey to begin with, where a person could live, move, and be in God. Such cryptic language suggests he knew the choice of location coupled with the spiritual practices conducted in a specifically shaped building were paramount to achieving the shortest route between the material world and another dimension.27

  The Ark of the Covenant on the Door of Initiates at Chartres cathedral.

  When they first arrived in Jerusalem in 1104, Hugues de Payns and C
omte Hugh de Champagne carefully surveyed Temple Mount and ascertained the challenges involved in reaching their predetermined goal. They returned a decade later, perhaps a little wiser, because by then they knew where to dig and what to find when they got there. Since a number of the original Templars were also Cistercians (Brothers Roland and Gondemare, in particular28), if Bernard de Clairvaux was privy to knowledge gained from the Kabalistic school of Troyes, it is feasible he then transmitted it via these knights to the other Templars. He knew in advance that locked inside that sacred hill were documents holding the greatest of all treasures.

  If the Templars found such documents outlining the process of initiation into the art of spiritual resurrection, it may explain why so many nobles and laypeople alike readily gave the Templars so much of their personal wealth, assistance, or protection. The Catholic Church was as loathed as it was corrupt, a symbol of oppression, and many monarchs merely paid lip service to its authority just to keep the peace or stay alive. What the Templars offered was a way out, a route for every candidate of the Mysteries to find self-empowerment through a direct experience of God—“the joys of Paradise,” as Templar recruits claimed.

  In a manner of speaking, Lambert de Saint-Omer was literally following the advice of Jesus a thousand years earlier, when he said to the apostles, “To you was given the Mysteries of the kingdom of Heaven. But others only see them through parables, so that when looking they do not see and hearing they do not understand.”29 Indeed, and when these Mysteries of initiation were recorded by the Essenes they were encrypted from profane eyes, their true meaning revealed only by those deemed worthy of receiving secret instruction.

  To the east of Saint-Omer lies the library of Ghent University, where a twelfth-century work titled Liber Floridus survives. It is a copy of a diagram found in the Essene scrolls and depicts the heavenly Jerusalem: a walled city with eight entrances inside a vesica piscis (the geometry depicting, with the Divine Feminine, the balance of opposites). Inside stand twelve towers, along with motifs of the square and compass, the prime emblem of Freemasonry. The foundation of this heavenly city is attributed to John the Baptist.30 The picture is the work of Lambert de Saint-Omer. Obviously, he decoded what was concealed in the scrolls brought back from Jerusalem by Godefroi the Templar.*22

  Lambert’s decoded heavenly Jerusalem.

  It appears the Templars found the keys to the heavenly Jerusalem. And they may have undertaken an obligation to re-create it in a Portuguese municipality called Ceras, and specifically its dilapidated town, Thamara.

  34

  1159. CERAS. A PILE OF RUBBLE NEAR A DILAPIDATED TOWN . . .

  Silence and perpetual remoteness from all secular turmoil that compels the mind to meditate upon celestial things.” It was Bernard de Clairvaux’s decree by which discipline is brought to a world governed by perpetual chaos. Amid an age of anarchy, his Buddhist ideal—New Age even—set a rare example of order.

  The Cistercian model required a retirement from the sight of human habitation, insofar as it was possible. Thus, Cistercian properties tended to be located in some forgotten valley, a lonely hilltop, or some other empty, deserted environment. And in twelfth-century Portugal there was no better place than the depopulated territory around Ceras. This may partly explain why Bernard’s monks and a group of affiliated Templar knights chose the furthermost corner of Europe to create afresh a country in which their utopia might be fully realized.

  The Cistercians were masters of raising lands from the dead. “Give the Cistercians a desert and in a few years you will find a dignified abbey in the midst of smiling plenty,” wrote the medieval chronicler Gerald de Barri. He was right. They drained marshes, tamed wild woods, and resuscitated the soil. The Templars who settled in Ceras would apply these principles to rebuild an entire functioning community within a handful of years, while 33 miles away in Alcobaça, the Cistercians in their new monastery traded surplus food with local towns and cities. And between them they created a paradise.

  When Master Gualdino Paes and the Templars first moved to the region all they had to work with was a tumbledown old church with grass growing out of its creviced façade. Nevertheless, they took refuge inside its sacred walls and used as beds the broken pews and the floor of damp flagstones. No doubt Bernard de Clairvaux would have nodded in approval from heaven.

  From the church’s position on a flood plain populated by oaks and elms and the clear waters of the river Nabão, they gazed up at a limestone hill and an acropolis in dire need of substantial rebuilding.1 Below, the town of Thamara consisted of no more than ramshackle remains and rubble. It was quite a downgrade from their first home in Fonte Arcada back in 1125, or Braga, Souré, or Santarém for that matter,2 but nevertheless they set about making plans for their fifth and final home in Portugal.

  Whatever attracted the Templars to this place attracted others thousands of years earlier.3 By 480 BC, a town had been founded by a tribe of Lusitanian Celts called the Turduli, who named it Nabancia, in honor of the goddess of sacred waters; two hundred years later, the Visigoths moved in and with them came a Benedictine monastery, which grew into two, along with a host of nearby sanctuaries. One was a sacred cave by the river Nabão, a sanctuary where the virgin Erea practiced her orations.

  Benedictine monastery and statue of Saint Erea.

  Erea*23 was born into a wealthy family of Nabancia and joined the Benedictine monastery, where she became a very learned woman whose great intellect complemented her beauty. She used her knowledge to improve the lives of locals, and in time she was beloved by them. Particularly the local men. Needless to say, a woman of such magnitude inevitably attracted a foolish man vying for her affections. He came in the form of a youth named Britaldo, son of a noble family, whose unrequited love for Erea drove him to sickness that no remedy could cure.

  The young man’s family held her responsible for bewitching their son, and if that was not pressure enough, Erea’s spiritual counsel also lusted after her, but upon learning he was one of many men with a bulge in his loins, he was overcome with jealousy and handed Erea a laced drink, giving the unsuspecting woman the outward signs of pregnancy. Predictably, she was expelled from the monastery.

  She found her way to the cave by the river, and there she stayed awhile in contemplation and prayer until one of Britaldo’s servants tracked her down and killed her in an act of revenge, stripping her of clothes as proof of his deed before dumping her naked body in the river.4

  At this point, the story takes an extraordinary turn, particularly in relation to the Templars who had just moved upriver from Santarém to what used to be old Nabancia. The currents carrying Erea’s body merged with those of the river Tejo, flowing south until the waters of the ancient river finally deposited her lifeless body gently upon a sandbar below the old city of Scallabis, 33 nautical miles from its point of origin. As is the case with legends of many holy people, her body remained incorruptible throughout the ages and a cult developed, so much so that the city where her body washed up was renamed in her honor to Sancta Irene, and finally Santarém—the birthplace of Prior Arnaldo da Rocha and the city that the Templars “lost” in favor of a seemingly useless territory and its decaying town of Thamara, whose patron saint is Erea.

  So it would appear the Templars inherited a worthless plot of land just to follow in the footsteps of a local martyr. But to what end?

  At some point after a Roman occupation, Nabancia was destroyed by a flash flood, and with it drained the fortunes of all who lived and prayed there. When the Arabs repopulated the area, they found the town in much the same condition the Templars did. They rebuilt it and renamed it Thamara*24 (also spelled Ta’amarah and Tamara),5 meaning palm tree.6 Since the local climate of that era was too cold to support such a variety of tree, it is an odd choice of name for a town.

  The Arab lords were said to have been tolerant to the locals; they allowed them to cultivate their lands and continue their laws, and it was not unusual for mosques and Christian churc
hes to be sited side by side.7 When Afonso Henriques and the Templar army reached Thamara in March 1159, the town was guarded only by a token army of Moors, which was quickly dispatched thanks to the knights, who took the watchman by surprise.

  The king then donated the town and its municipality of Ceras to the Order of the Temple under Gualdino Paes by way of a former promise, implying the Templars had earlier put in a request for this specific location.8

  By the time they moved to Thamar (as the name was also spelled at the time), the Templars were already in possession of hundreds of properties throughout Portugal, all in far better shape than this one. Thamar was in tatters; it was situated on a plain prone to attack by Saracen and Moorish outlaws, only the seven gentle hills overlooking it from the west could be deemed a defensive position, and even that required a little imagination given that the fortification was also decrepit.*25

  Against standard military practice, not to mention common sense, Gualdino and the Templars ditched the safety of the hill in favor of the exposed old church on the river plain and took up residence there. Paes is said to have overseen its reconstruction take precedence over the fortifications, despite the two sites being within walking distance of each other, and for a whole year they mustered all resources to this exercise. They located the sacred spring feeding the river—the Fonte do Agroal—and honored its presiding menhir, in keeping with the local custom of touching the sacred monolith whenever approaching the spring. The stone had stood there since Neolithic times, like so many others in the vicinity, and now it had the Templar logo etched upon its granite face.9