Holy Blood, Holy Grail Page 10

  Item, that they adored these idols ...

  Item, that they said that the head could save them.

  Item, that [it could] make riches ...

  Item, that it made the trees flower.

  Item, that it made the land germinate.

  Item, that they surrounded or touched each head of the aforesaid idols with small cords, which they wore around themselves next to the shirt or the flesh.24

  The cord mentioned in the last item is reminiscent of the Cathars, who were also alleged to have worn a sacred cord of some kind. But most striking in the list is the head’s purported capacity to engender riches, make trees flower, and bring fertility to the land. These properties coincide remarkably with those ascribed in the romances to the Holy Grail.

  Of all the charges leveled against the Templars, the most serious were those of blasphemy and heresy—of denying, trampling, and spitting on the cross. It is not clear precisely what this alleged ritual was intended to signify—what, in other words, the Templars were actually repudiating. Were they repudiating Christ? Or were they simply repudiating the Crucifixion? And whatever they repudiated, what exactly did they extol in its stead? No one has satisfactorily answered these questions, but it seems clear that a repudiation of some sort did occur and was an integral principle of the order. One knight, for example, testified that on his induction into the order he was told, "You believe wrongly, because he [Christ] is indeed a false prophet. Believe only in God in heaven, and not in him."25 Another Templar declared that he was told, "Do not believe that the man Jesus whom the Jews crucified in Outremer is God and that he can save you." 26 A third knight similarly claimed he was instructed not to believe in Christ, a false prophet, but only in a "higher God." He was then shown a crucifix and told, "Set not much faith in this, for it is too young." 27

  Such accounts are frequent and consistent enough to lend credence to the charge. They are also relatively bland; and if the Inquisition desired to concoct evidence, it could have devised something far more dramatic, more incriminating, more damning. There thus seems little doubt that the Templars’ attitude toward Jesus did not concur with that of Catholic orthodoxy, but it is uncertain precisely what the order’s attitude was. In any case, there is evidence that the ritual ascribed to the Templars—trampling and spitting on the cross—was in the air at least half a century before 1307. Its context is confusing, but it is mentioned in connection with the Sixth Crusade, which occurred in 1249.28

  KNIGHTS TEMPLAR—THE HIDDEN SIDE

  If the end of the Knights Templar was fraught with baffling enigmas, the foundation and early history of the order seemed to us to be even more so. We were already plagued by a number of inconsistencies and improbabilities. Nine knights, nine "poor" knights, appeared as if from nowhere and—among all the other crusaders swarming about the Holy Land—promptly had the king’s quarters turned over to them! Nine "poor" knights—without admitting any new recruits to their ranks—presumed, all by themselves, to defend the highways of Palestine! And there was no record at all of them actually doing anything, not even from Fulk de Chartres, the king’s official chronicler, who must surely have known about them! How, we wondered, could their activities, their move into the royal premises, for instance, have escaped Fulk’s notice? It would seem incredible, yet the chronicler says nothing. No one says anything, in fact, until Guillaume de Tyre, a good half century later. What could we conclude from this? That the knights were not engaged in the laudable public service ascribed to them? That they were perhaps involved instead in some more clandestine activity, of which not even the official chronicler was aware? Or that the chronicler himself was muzzled? The latter would seem to be the most likely explanation. For the knights were soon joined by two most illustrious noblemen, noblemen whose presence could not have gone unnoticed.

  According to Guillaume de Tyre the Order of the Temple was established in 1118, originally numbered nine knights, and admitted no new recruits for nine years. It is clearly on record, however, that the count of Anjou—father of Geoffrey Plantagenet—joined the order in 1120, only two years after its supposed foundation. And in 1124 the count of Champagne, one of the wealthiest lords in Europe, did likewise. If Guillaume de Tyre is correct, there should have been no new members until 1127; but by 1126 the Templars had in fact admitted four new members to their ranks.29 Is Guillaume wrong, then, in saying that no new members were admitted for nine years? Or is he perhaps correct in that assertion but wrong in the date he attributes to the order’s foundation? If the count of Anjou became a Templar in 1120, and if the order admitted no new members for nine years after its foundation, its foundation would date not from 1118 but, at the latest, from 1111 or 1112.

  Indeed, there is very persuasive evidence for this conclusion. In 1114 the count of Champagne was preparing for a journey to the Holy Land. Shortly before his departure he received a letter from the bishop of Chartres. At one point, the bishop wrote, "We have heard that ... before leaving for Jerusalem you made a vow to join ’la milice du Christ,’ that you wish to enroll in this evangelical soldiery."30 "La milice du Christ" was the name by which the Templars were originally known and the name by which Saint Bernard alludes to them. In the context of the bishop’s letter the appellation cannot possibly refer to any other institution. It cannot mean, for example, that the count of Champagne simply decided to become a crusader, because the bishop goes on to speak of a vow of chastity that his decision has entailed. Such a vow would hardly have been required of an ordinary crusader. From the bishop of Chartres’ letter, then, it is clear that the Templars already existed, or had at least been planned, as early as 1114, four years before the date generally accepted; and that as early as 1114 the count of Champagne was already intending to join their ranks—which he eventually did a decade later. One historian who noted this letter drew the rather curious conclusion that the bishop cannot have meant what he said!31 He could not have meant to refer to the Templars, the historian in question argues, because the Templars were not founded until four years later, in 1118. Or perhaps the bishop did not know the year of Our Lord in which he was writing? But the bishop died in 1115. How, in 1114, could he "mistakenly" refer to something that did not yet exist? There is only one possible, and very obvious, answer to the question—that it is not the bishop who is wrong, but Guillaume de Tyre, as well as all subsequent historians who insist on regarding Guillaume as the unimpeachable voice of authority.

  In itself an earlier foundation date for the Order of the Temple need not necessarily be suspicious. But there are other circumstances and singular coincidences that decidedly are. At least three of the nine founding knights, including Hugues de Payen, seem to have come from adjacent regions, to have had family ties, to have known each other previously, and to have been vassals of the same lord. This lord was the count of Champagne, to whom the bishop of Chartres addressed his letter in 1114 and who became a Templar in 1124, pledging obedience to his own vassal! In 1115 the count of Champagne donated the land on which Saint Bernard, patron of the Templars, built the famous Abbey of Clairvaux; and one of the nine founding knights, André de Montbard, was Saint Bernard’s uncle.

  In Troyes, moreover, the court of the count of Champagne, an influential school of Cabalistic and esoteric studies had flourished since 1070. 32 At the Council of Troyes in 1128 the Templars were officially incorporated. For the next two centuries Troyes remained a strategic center for the order; and even today there is a wooded expanse adjacent to the city called the Forêt du Temple. And it was from Troyes, court of the count of Champagne, that one of the earliest Grail romances issued—quite possibly the earliest, composed by Chrétien de Troyes.

  Amid this welter of data we could begin to see a tenuous web of connections—a pattern that seemed more than mere coincidence. If such a pattern did exist, it would certainly support our suspicion that the Templars were involved in some clandestine activity. Nevertheless, we could only speculate as to what that activity might have been. One basis for our sp
eculation was the specific site of the knights’ domicile—the wing of the royal palace, the Temple Mount— so inexplicably conferred upon them. In A.D. 70 the temple that then stood there was sacked by Roman legions under Titus. Its treasure was plundered and brought to Rome, then plundered again and perhaps brought to the Pyrenees. But what if there were something else in the temple as well—something even more important than the treasure pillaged by the Romans? It is certainly possible that the temple’s priests, confronted by an advancing phalanx of centurions, would have left to the looters the booty they expected to find. And if there were something else, it might well have been concealed somewhere nearby. Beneath the temple, for instance.

  Among the Dead Sea Scrolls found at Qumran, there is one now known as the Copper Scroll. This scroll, deciphered at Manchester University in 1955-56, makes explicit reference to great quantities of bullion, sacred vessels, additional unspecified material, and "treasure" of an indeterminate kind. It cites twenty-four different hoards buried beneath the temple itself. 33

  In the mid-twelfth century a pilgrim to the Holy Land, one Johann von Würzburg, wrote of a visit to the so-called Stables of Solomon. These stables, situated directly beneath the temple itself, are still visible. They were large enough, Johann reported, to hold two thousand horses; and it was in these stables that the Templars quartered their mounts. According to at least one other historian, the Templars were using these stables for their horses as early as 1124, when they still supposedly numbered only nine. It would thus seem likely that the fledgling order, almost immediately after its inception, undertook excavations beneath the temple.

  Such excavations might well imply that the knights were actively looking for something. It might even imply that they were deliberately sent to the Holy Land with the express commission of finding something. If this supposition is valid, it would explain a number of anomalies—their installation in the royal palace, for example, and the silence of the chronicler. But if they were sent to Palestine, who sent them?

  In 1104 the count of Champagne had met in conclave with certain high-ranking nobles, at least one of whom had just returned from Jerusalem. 34 Among those present at this conclave were representatives of certain families—Brienne, Joinville, and Chaumont—who, we later discovered, figured significantly in our story. Also present was the liege lord of André de Montbard, André being one of the cofounders of the Temple and Saint Bernard’s uncle.

  Shortly after the conclave the count of Champagne departed for the Holy Land himself and remained there for four years, returning in 1108. 35 In 1114 he made a second journey to Palestine, intending to join the "milice du Christ," then changing his mind and returning to Europe a year later. On his return he immediately donated a tract of land to the Cistercian order, whose preeminent spokesman was Saint Bernard. On this tract of land Saint Bernard built the Abbey of Clairvaux, where he established his own residence and then consolidated the Cistercian order.

  Prior to 1112 the Cistercians were dangerously close to bankruptcy. Then, under Saint Bernard’s guidance, they underwent a dazzling change of fortune. Within the next few years half a dozen abbeys were established. By 1153 there were more than three hundred, of which Saint Bernard himself personally founded sixty-nine. This extraordinary growth directly parallels that of the Order of the Temple, which was expanding in the same way during the same years. And, as we have said, one of the cofounders of the Order of the Temple was Saint Bernard’s uncle, André de Montbard.

  It is worth reviewing this complicated sequence of events. In 1104 the count of Champagne departed for the Holy Land after meeting with certain nobles, one of whom was connected with André de Montbard. In 1112 André de Montbard’s nephew, Saint Bernard, joined the Cistercian order. In 1114 the count of Champagne departed on a second journey to the Holy Land, intending to join the Order of the Temple—which was co-founded by his own vassal

  5 Jerusalem—the temple and the area of Mount Sion in the mid-twelfth century

  together with Andre de Montbard and which, as the bishop of Chartres’ letter attests, was already in existence or in process of being established. In 1115 the count of Champagne returned to Europe, having been gone for less than a year, and donated land for the Abbey of Clairvaux—whose abbot was André de Montbard’s nephew. In the years that followed both the Cistercians and the Templars—both Saint Bernard’s order and André de Montbard’s— became immensely wealthy and enjoyed phases of phenomenal growth.

  As we pondered this sequence of events, we became increasingly convinced that there was some pattern underlying and governing such an intricate web. It certainly did not appear to be random or wholly coincidental. On the contrary, we seemed to be dealing with the vestiges of some complex and ambitious overall design, the full details of which had been lost to history. In order to reconstruct these details we developed a tentative hypothesis—a "scenario," so to speak—that might accommodate the known facts.

  We supposed that something was discovered in the Holy Land, either by accident or design—something of immense import, which aroused the interest of some of Europe’s most influential noblemen. We further supposed that this discovery involved, directly or indirectly, a great deal of potential wealth—as well, perhaps, as something else, something that had to be kept secret, something that could only be divulged to a small number of high-ranking lords. Finally, we supposed that this discovery was reported and discussed at the conclave of 1104.

  Immediately thereafter the count of Champagne departed for the Holy Land himself, perhaps to verify personally what he had heard, perhaps to implement some course of action—the foundation, for example, of what subsequently became the Order of the Temple. In 1114, if not before, the Templars were established, with the count of Champagne playing some crucial role, perhaps acting as guiding spirit and sponsor. By 1115 money was already flowing back to Europe and into the coffers of the Cistercians, who, under Saint Bernard and from their new position of strength, endorsed and imparted credibility to the fledgling Order of the Temple.

  Under Bernard the Cistercians attained a spiritual ascendancy in Europe. Under Hugues de Payen and André de Montbard, the Templars attained a military and administrative ascendancy in the Holy Land that quickly spread back to Europe. Behind the growth of both orders loomed the shadowy presence of uncle and nephew, as well as the wealth, influence, and patronage of the count of Champagne. These three individuals constitute a vital link. They are like markers breaking the surface of history, indicating the dim configurations of some elaborately concealed design.

  If such a design actually existed, it cannot, of course, be ascribed to these three men alone. On the contrary, it must have entailed a great deal of cooperation from certain other people and a great deal of meticulous organization. Organization is perhaps the key word; for if our hypothesis was correct, it would presuppose a degree of organization amounting to an order in itself—a third and secret order behind the known and documented orders of the Cistercians and the Temple. Evidence for the existence of such a third order was not long in arriving.

  In the meantime we devoted our attention to the hypothetical "discovery" in the Holy Land—the speculative basis on which we had established our "scenario." What might have been found there? To what might the Templars, along with Saint Bernard and the count of Champagne, have been privy? At the end of their history the Templars kept inviolate the secret of their treasure’s whereabouts and nature. Not even documents survived. If the treasure in question were simply financial—bullion, for example—it would not have been necessary to destroy or conceal all records, all rules, all archives. The implication is that the Templars had something else in their custody, something so precious that not even torture could wring an intimation of it from their lips. Wealth alone could not have prompted such absolute and unanimous secrecy. Whatever it was had to do with other matters, such as the order’s attitude toward Jesus.

  On October 13, 1307, all Templars throughout France were arrested by Philippe l
e Bel’s seneschals. But that statement is not quite true. The Templars of at least one preceptory slipped unscathed through the king’s net—the preceptory of Bézu, adjacent to Rennes-le-Chateau. How and why did they escape? To answer that question we were compelled to investigate the order’s activities in the vicinity of Bézu. Those activities proved to have been fairly extensive. Indeed, there were some half dozen preceptories and other holdings in the area, which covers a mere twenty square miles.

  In 1153 a nobleman of the region—a nobleman with Cathar sympathies—became fourth grand master of the Order of the Tem- ple. His name was Bertrand de Blanchefort, and his ancestral home was situated on a mountain peak a few miles away from both Bézu and Rennes-le-Château. Bertrand de Blanchefort, who presided over the order from 1153 until 1170, was probably the most significant of all Templar grand masters. Before his regime the order’s hierarchy and administrative structure were, at best, nebulous. It was Bertrand who transformed the Knights Templar into the superbly efficient, well-organized, and magnificently disciplined hierarchical institution they then became. It was Bertrand who launched their involvement in high-level diplomacy and international politics. It was Bertrand who created for them a major sphere of interest in Europe, and particularly in France. And according to the evidence that survives, Bertrand’s mentor—some historians even list him as the grand master immediately preceding Bertrand—was André de Montbard.

  Within a few years of the Templars’ incorporation Bertrand had not only joined their ranks but also conferred on them lands in the environs of Rennes-le-Château and Bézu. And in 1156 under Bertrand’s regime as grand master, the order is said to have imported to the area a contingent of German-speaking miners. These workers were supposedly subjected to a rigid, virtually military discipline. They were forbidden to fraternize in any way with the local population and were kept strictly segregated from the surrounding community. A special judicial body, la Judicature des Allemands, was even created to deal with legal technicalities pertaining to them. And their alleged task was to work the gold mines on the slopes of the mountain of Blanchefort—gold mines that had been utterly exhausted by the Romans nearly a thousand years before.36