sent. We were outnumbered ten to one. It was money then and it’s money now.”
The pope waved his hand dismissively. “Ancient history. I would hate to think I have traveled this far merely to dredge up old misgivings. Why am I here?”
“To make a deal.”
Clement laughed. “You are in no position to bargain.”
“I want you to reinstate the Order. Not for my sake, but for your own.”
“Come now, Jacques, you cannot be serious.”
DeMolay forged on, determination flickering in his gaze. “After Acre had fallen, there was no time for us to return to Jerusalem. We had left many treasures behind. Valuable treasures that could easily fall into Muslim hands.” These days, if there was one thing that Clement responded to, it was anything that could help the Papal States’ impending economic collapse.
“Which relics might you be referring to?” The pope pressed his face close to the bars mockingly. “The head of John the Baptist? Christ’s cross? Or perhaps the Ark of the Covenant?”
DeMolay gritted his teeth. The extreme secrecy of the Order had many speculating as to how they had acquired their tremendous wealth and was the reason why it had been so easy for the pope and the king to demonize them and fabricate their vicious falsities. But hearing some of them coming out of Clement’s womanly mouth was torturous. “I want you to listen to me very closely. Because the entire future of your great Church could be in jeopardy.”
The pope looked at him quizzically, moving back slightly from the cage. He sized up the prisoner—a man who, despite recent tribulations, he had never considered a liar. “I am listening.”
With a knot tightening in his stomach, DeMolay couldn’t believe what he was about to do. But having waited for six long years, he had come to the dismal conclusion that the surviving Templars would not endure another year if something drastic did not happen. With remorse, he had resigned himself to divulging the Order’s most coveted secret—the very thing the monastic brotherhood had sworn a secret oath to protect. “There is an ancient book that has remained under the protection of the Order for over two centuries. It is called the Ephemeris Conlusio.”
“The Journal of Secrets?” The pope’s tone was impatient. “What secrets?”
For the next fifteen minutes, the Templar Grand Master recounted a remarkable story of a discovery so profound that if it were true, history itself hung in the balance. And the details were far too precise to be anything but real. The pope listened intently because for centuries, the Catholic hierarchy had circulated rumors of just such a threat.
When the Grand Master had finished, he sat perfectly still, waiting for the pontiff to respond.
After almost a minute of brooding, Clement finally spoke, his tone less confident now, almost afraid. “And you left this book in Jerusalem?”
“We had no choice. The city had already been seized.” The truth was, they had never intended to remove the relics. The Templars had merely secured them. That was God’s will.
“That is quite a story,” Clement admitted. “Why now do you tell it to me?”
“So you can reverse the injustice that has befallen the Order. We need to raise a new army to reclaim what has been lost. If not, I think you realize the consequences.” DeMolay could see by Clement’s expression that he did.
“Even if I were to exonerate the Templars,” he thought out loud, “I would have to convince Philip to do the same.” Doubtful, he shook his head. “After all that has happened, I do not think that he will concede.”
“You must try,” DeMolay urged. He knew that he had succeeded in finding Clement’s one vulnerability. The pope was seriously considering his recommendation. “Give me your word that you will try.”
Clement had expected today to be the day when he would finally break DeMolay and thus put an end to this whole charade. Suddenly, he realized he needed the old man more than ever. “As you wish,” he surrendered. “You have my word.”
“Before you leave here, I want it in writing. I need reassurance.” “I cannot do such a thing.”
“Without my support, you will never recover the book ...and what it is meant to find,” DeMolay insisted. “I am your only hope.”
The pontiff considered the idea for a long moment. “So be it.” He instructed one of the guards to fetch his scribe. “And if Philip does not agree to this?”
“Then it is of no matter what fate holds for me or my men...for you, King Philip, and all of Christendom will be doomed.”
21
******
Vatican City
In the Apostolic Palace, Father Patrick Donovan sat at a heavy oak desk in an expansive library that could only be entered by passing through a biometric retinal scanner, a complex series of key-encrypted entryways and a contingent of Swiss Guards.
The Archivum Secretum Apostolicum Vaticanum—the Vatican Secret Archive.
Over the years the Vatican had enhanced the security system here, recognizing that there were no treasures in Vatican City more valuable than its secrets.
Newly installed hulking fireproof metal cabinets lined the walls, reaching toward the main room’s lofty frescoed ceiling, housing over 35,000 vellums and manuscripts within airtight glass compartments. From rejected scriptural works blending philosophy, pagan mythology, and the Christ story, to Renaissance heretics like Galileo, the Vatican Archive was a depository for centuries of heretical works banned by past pontiffs, as well as Vatican City’s land deeds, depository certificates, and legal documents.
Contrary to popular belief, the Vatican still actively sought new additions to its vast holdings. Heresy was considered very much alive and well in the twenty-first century; the attacks against Christendom ever more
