The Da Vinci Code

daresay Peter was something of a sexist.”

Sophie was trying to keep up. “This is Saint Peter. The rock on which Jesus built His Church.”

“The same, except for one catch. According to these unaltered gospels, it was not Peter to whom Christ gave directions with which to establish the Christian Church. It was Mary Magdalene.”

Sophie looked at him. “You're saying the Christian Church was to be carried on by a woman?”

“That was the plan. Jesus was the original feminist. He intended for the future of His Church to be in the hands of Mary Magdalene.”

“And Peter had a problem with that,” Langdon said, pointing to The Last Supper. “That's Peter there. You can see that Da Vinci was well aware of how Peter felt about Mary Magdalene.”

Again, Sophie was speechless. In the painting, Peter was leaning menacingly toward Mary Magdalene and slicing his blade-like hand across her neck. The same threatening gesture as in Madonna of the Rocks!

“And here too,” Langdon said, pointing now to the crowd of disciples near Peter. “A bit ominous, no?”

Sophie squinted and saw a hand emerging from the crowd of disciples. “Is that hand wielding a dagger?”

“Yes. Stranger still, if you count the arms, you'll see that this hand belongs to… no one at all. It's disembodied. Anonymous.”

Sophie was starting to feel overwhelmed. “I'm sorry, I still don't understand how all of this makes Mary Magdalene the Holy Grail.”

“Aha!” Teabing exclaimed again. “Therein lies the rub!” He turned once more to the table and pulled out a large chart, spreading it out for her. It was an elaborate genealogy. “Few people realize that Mary Magdalene, in addition to being Christ's right hand, was a powerful woman already.”

Sophie could now see the title of the family tree.

The Tribe of Benjamin

* * *

“Mary Magdalene is here,” Teabing said, pointing near the top of the genealogy.

Sophie was surprised. “She was of the House of Benjamin?”

“Indeed,” Teabing said. “Mary Magdalene was of royal descent.”

“But I was under the impression Magdalene was poor.”

Teabing shook his head. “Magdalene was recast as a whore in order to erase evidence of her powerful family ties.”

Sophie found herself again glancing at Langdon, who again nodded. She turned back to Teabing. “But why would the early Church care if Magdalene had royal blood?”

The Briton smiled. “My dear child, it was not Mary Magdalene's royal blood that concerned the Church so much as it was her consorting with Christ, who also had royal blood. As you know, the Book of Matthew tells us that Jesus was of the House of David. A descendant of King Solomon—King of the Jews. By marrying into the powerful House of Benjamin, Jesus fused two royal bloodlines, creating a potent political union with the potential of making a legitimate claim to the throne and restoring the line of kings as it was under Solomon.”

Sophie sensed he was at last coming to his point.

Teabing looked excited now. “The legend of the Holy Grail is a legend about royal blood. When Grail legend speaks of 'the chalice that held the blood of Christ'… it speaks, in fact, of Mary Magdalene—the female womb that carried Jesus' royal bloodline.”

The words seemed to echo across the ballroom and back before they fully registered in Sophie's mind. Mary Magdalene carried the royal bloodline of Jesus Christ? “But how could Christ have a bloodline unless…?” She paused and looked at Langdon.

Langdon smiled softly. “Unless they had a child.”

Sophie stood transfixed.

“Behold,” Teabing proclaimed, “the greatest cover-up in human history. Not only was Jesus Christ married, but He was a father. My dear, Mary Magdalene was the Holy Vessel. She was the chalice that bore the royal bloodline of Jesus Christ. She was the womb that bore the lineage, and the vine from which the sacred fruit sprang forth!”

Sophie felt the hairs stand up on her arms. “But how could a secret that big be kept quiet all of these years?”

“Heavens!” Teabing said. “It has been anything but quiet! The royal bloodline of Jesus Christ is the source of the most enduring legend of all time—the Holy Grail. Magdalene's story has been shouted from the rooftops for centuries in all kinds of metaphors and languages. Her story is everywhere once you open your eyes.”

“And the Sangreal documents?” Sophie said. “They allegedly contain proof that Jesus had a royal bloodline?”

“They do.”

“So the entire Holy Grail legend is all about royal blood?”

“Quite literally,” Teabing said. “The word Sangreal derives from San Greal—or Holy Grail. But in its most ancient form, the word Sangreal was divided in a different spot.” Teabing wrote on a piece of scrap paper and handed it to her.

She read what he had written.

Sang Real

* * *

Instantly, Sophie recognized the translation. Sang Real literally meant Royal Blood.

Chapter 59

The male receptionist in the lobby of the Opus Dei headquarters on Lexington Avenue in New York City was surprised to hear Bishop Aringarosa's voice on the line. “Good evening, sir.”

“Have I had any messages?” the bishop demanded, sounding unusually anxious.

“Yes, sir. I'm very glad you called in. I couldn't reach you in your apartment. You had an urgent phone message about half an hour ago.”

“Yes?” He sounded relieved by the news. “Did the caller leave a name?”

“No, sir, just a number.” The operator relayed the number.

“Prefix thirty-three? That's France, am I right?”

“Yes, sir. Paris. The caller said it was critical you contact him immediately.”

“Thank you. I have been waiting for that call.” Aringarosa quickly severed the connection.

As the receptionist hung up the receiver, he wondered why Aringarosa's phone connection sounded so crackly. The bishop's daily schedule showed him in New York this weekend, and yet he sounded a world away. The