Temple of the Grail(140)

‘But all these deaths have been for nothing, all this anguish which you and Setubar have brought about together, one out of curiosity, and the other out of a mad belief, for now you will never see what you so dearly desire to see, leaving your friend Asa to die on the pyre.’

‘I had suspected for some time that Asa was not interested in the wondrous treasures of the catacombs, he was seduced by the idea of the immortal man . . . as if there could ever be such a thing, and so he died for his ideal.’

‘And what of poor Jerome, the friend whom you infected with your lust for the new, with your desire for the unknown?’

‘Jerome is a sad case, he had an unnatural affection for me, he came here of his own accord to find the codices . . . the ass! No doubt he expected a kiss for his labours . . .’ Anselmo laughed and it echoed down many tunnels. ‘I was not sorry to find he had indeed been kissed . . . by death. But tell me, have you worked it all out yet? It intrigues me.’

‘More or less,’ he smiled proudly, and I prayed for his immortal soul.

The boy nodded and my master continued. ‘Firstly, I realised that the monastery was founded by Templars sent here by the Grand Master Gerard of Ridefort, after the fall of Jerusalem, have I guessed correctly?’

There was a nod.

‘They came here in possession of the Tables of the Law, and other secret gospels, for Setubar had elucidated this for us, but we also because we saw translations in the library.’

‘So you entered the library? Very clever . . . Ahhh . . . but perhaps you do not know that they were sent here after the loss of Jerusalem, when there was a difference of opinion between those who wanted to keep the order pure to follow the ‘bloodline’, and others who wanted to admit ‘new blood’. Then there was the possession of the articles from the Temple of Solomon . . .’

‘Ezekiel must have told you,’ my master confirmed.

‘Yes . . .’

‘And so the grand master had the articles brought here by the twelve Templars . . . to hide them! By the sword of Saladin!’

The boy sat back with satisfaction. ‘This is a monastery of Templars disguised as Cistercians with the sanction of St Bernard, and so you now see why each abbot is an accomplished translator . . . but none could translate the one precious item, the Tables of the Law.’

‘But there was one who could,’ my master said, ‘namely a special child whose arrival had been foretold . . . only the one who was brought here by the four Cathar brothers was capable of reading the ancient texts. Before he could do this, however, he needed time to mature, but more importantly, he needed to undergo a special training, a kind of initiation into the mysteries in order to accomplish the task, the perfect work! Unfortunately the terrible war against the heretics by Gregory, and then by Innocent, made it difficult for the four Cathars to bring him here immediately, so they stayed at Montsegur waiting for an opportune moment. It did not help that they were caught up in the siege, which they luckily escaped with the help of Cathar nobles and other sympathisers. On their arrival here they found that the twelve initial founders had become hermits, and that there were others now who, during the course of time, had taken on the everyday running of the monastery. Let us say then that these four who had for so long kept this child safely guarded were now compelled to hand him over to the twelve, am I right? And were then to live out the rest of their lives without ever knowing what would become of him. Now these four wore the Cistercian habit, but they were Cathars and kept their perfecti status inviolate all these years. They integrated into the community well, and through time became important members of it until the brothers became curious about the boy whom they loved. When they heard his health was failing and that he was being taken to the catacombs regularly, they wanted to see him, but were denied this privilege. Brother Setubar had suspicions about whatever was happening and it became a great source of uneasiness. Somehow he found out about the great work, he disagreed with it and found a way of alerting the authorities. He sent a message to the Bishop of Toulouse, written by a left-handed person, outlining the numerous heretical tendencies that had taken hold in the monastery, alluding to the existence of a known murderer in their midst who he knew was sure to interest Rainiero Sacconi. This suited the bishop, for Rainiero was a fellow countryman and would do what was necessary to assure his interests in the monastery’s wealth . . .’

‘But Brother Setubar was not left-handed, preceptor,’ Anselmo grinned.

‘No, but you are,’ my master answered, elated. ‘He had you write the message, didn’t he? Because his hands are gnarled with age, and also because if he were to send a message to Toulouse it would incur suspicion, you could say you were seeking some transaction pertaining to your duties in the scriptorium. Now, Brother Setubar knew that you were lusting after the position of head translator, so he told you he would talk Ezekiel into giving you the position if you helped him, am I right?’