The Templar's Code

The guard pointed to a hall on the other side of the atrium. “Take the stairs to the basement level. Then walk through the portrait gallery. The reading room’s on the right. Can’t miss it.”

“It is a beautiful sanctuary,” Saviour murmured, glancing about one last time. “You, my friend, have an enviable job.”

The other man shrugged. “There are better jobs.”

“Trust me, brother, there are far worse ways to earn a living.” Degrading, humiliating ways. For a few coins, the price of two oranges at the fruit vendor’s stall, he’d learned that man’s depravity knew no bounds.

Saviour shoved the unpleasant memories aside. Those days had passed. He had reinvented himself. A feat no other wharf rat could lay claim to.

He stepped toward the staircase, his stride purposeful. Perhaps it was the energy exuded by the exotic chamber, but suddenly he was excited. Invigorated. A Greek warrior about to launch an attack against the unsuspecting Trojans.

He’d been following the blond-haired man for the last week. Ever since the archaeologist dug up the mass grave site. There could be no witnesses to the massacre. Not even five hundred years after the fact.

Not now.

Not ever.

CHAPTER 4

“Shit, where are my manners? Like I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Jason Lovett. Doctor Jason Lovett,” the blond-haired man quickly amended. “Which makes me a bona fide archaeologist rather than some Templar nut job.”

A statement no doubt meant to assuage any misgivings or preconceived notions.

Misgivings aplenty, Caedmon politely nodded as he shook Dr. Lovett’s right hand. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

He detected a tremor in Lovett’s arm. The man’s a tangled package of nerves. Like a downed electric wire flapping in a gale-force wind.

“Okay, I know that what I wrote on the inscription page is way out there”—the shabbily dressed archaeologist jutted his head at the copy of Isis Revealed still clutched in Caedmon’s hand—“but I found it. Or rather, I’m really close to finding it. I just have to decipher some Templar symbols. Which is why I need someone who’s not only well versed in Templar symbolism but who can think outside the box. Dude, you’re an academic renegade. I couldn’t put that damned book down. And I’m not even a big fan of Egyptian mysticism.”

“Such high praise puts the blush to my cheek. But returning to your assertion regarding the Ark of the Covenant…” He let the opening dangle, hoping to steer the anxious archaeologist back on course.

“The Ark. Right. I checked out your Web page and saw that you’re a Templar expert. So, I won’t bore you with any details about the Templars and their sordid tale. You know the facts better than most.”

Indeed, he was well acquainted with the “sordid tale.” An order of warrior monks, the Knights Templar were founded during the Crusades, the church-sanctioned series of bloodbaths that attempted to free the Holy Land from the Muslim infidel.

When Acre, the last European stronghold in the Holy Land, fell in 1289, the Templars lost their raison d’etre. With no more wars to fight, the Templars returned to France, a move that gave the French king, Philip le Bel, fitful sleep. What monarch of sane mind wanted the powerful Templars encamped on his doorstep?

Strapped for cash, the French king concocted a stratagem to have the entire Order arrested en masse on heresy charges, enabling him to confiscate the Templar treasury. With Pope Clement’s blessing, the plan was enacted on October the thirteenth, 1307. A Friday. On that fateful morning, the Templars were arrested by the king’s seneschals and turned over to the Inquisition. Accused of everything from worshiping Satan to ritualized sodomy.

So went the conventional history.

From his doctoral research, Caedmon knew that was a slanderous myth. During their tenure in the Holy Land, the Templars were exposed to the Egyptian mysteries. That exposure had a profound effect on their religious beliefs. When the Templars returned to France, they were Catholics in name only. The religious volte- face was the real reason for their downfall.

“I am well acquainted with the Templars,” Caedmon replied, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“Then you know that the Templars were obsessed with finding the Ark of the Covenant.”

“Their search proved futile, the Ark’s whereabouts still a mystery.” As he said it, Caedmon wondered if the youthful archaeologist had even been present for his earlier lecture.

Extending his arm, Lovett jabbed an index finger against the book cover. “Like I wrote, I’ve got proof to the contrary.”

“Indeed.” Out of the corner of his eye, Caedmon saw Edie Miller approach bearing a capped water bottle. Seeing him, she broke into a grin.

“What do you know? Conspiracy theorist makes good.”

“A conspiracy theorist? You’ve obviously been reading my reviews. Regardless of what the critics write, I am but a simple man trying to earn an honest quid,” he retorted, feigning indignation. Having met four months ago, he and Edie were taking a stab at a transatlantic relationship. Currently they were in that hazy stage between the hay and the grass.

“Great lecture, by the way.” She offered him the plastic bottle. “Here. I thought you might need to wet your English whistle.”

“Dr. Jason Lovett, allow me to introduce you to Edie Miller. Edie shot all of the photographs during the recent Ethiopian trip.” Tucking the unopened bottle under his arm, he opened the book cover, allowing Edie to view the scrawled inscription. “Interestingly enough, Dr. Lovett is an archaeologist.”

Edie’s brow furrowed. Just as he knew it would.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but there’s a glaring historical fact that you seem to have overlooked… Columbus didn’t discover America until 1492,” she baldly stated. “My medieval history is a little rusty, but weren’t the Knights Templar rendered null and void in the early fourteenth century?”

“Columbus never set foot in America. Besides, Irish monks and Norse Vikings reached these shores long before ol’ Chris ever set sail,” Lovett countered, his feathers clearly ruffled.

Caedmon joined the fray. “The Templars had Arabic sea charts acquired in the Holy Land during the Crusades. Moreover, they were able to navigate with a primitive but effective lodestone compass. Making a transatlantic journey entirely possible.”

Edie rolled her eyes. “You are such a history wonk.”

“Who happens to be right on the money,” Lovett remarked. “The standing story is that the mighty Knights Templar were laid low by the French king. While it’s true that a general arrest warrant was issued for every friggin’ Templar in France, only a handful of them were actually arrested. Meaning that a whole slew of them managed to escape.”

“Rumors have swirled ever since as to how the missing knights managed to elude the royal seneschals,” Caedmon added, the centuries-old rumors still hotly debated among Templar cognoscenti.

“Someone tipped them off, maybe even the pope himself.” Jason Lovett shrugged, the how of it clearly unimportant to him. “It doesn’t matter. When the royal seneschals stormed the Templar stronghold in Paris, the fabled Templar treasure trove had vanished into thin air.” The archaeologist peered over his shoulder. Verifying that no one outside their small circle would be privy to his remarks, he said, “I’m pretty certain that the Templars transported their treasure trove by wagons to their naval base at La Rochelle. From there, eighteen galleys, all flying the skull and crossbones, set sail. Never to be heard from again.” The last utterance had about it the cliched foreboding usually reserved for a low-budget horror film.

“You just referred to the Templar ‘treasure trove.’” Edie punctuated the two words with a pair of air quotes. “I thought we were talking about the Ark of the Covenant. What are you saying, that the Ark is part of a much larger hoard?”