Dan Brown: The Da Vinci Code

When Sophie awoke, the floor felt cold.

«Grand-père?»

There was no answer. Standing up, she brushed herself off. The side door was still open. The evening was getting darker. She walked outside and could see her grandfather standing on the porch of a nearby stone house directly behind the church. Her grandfather was talking quietly to a person barely visible inside the screened door.

«Grand-père?» she called.

Her grandfather turned and waved, motioning for her to wait just a moment. Then, slowly, he said some final words to the person inside and blew a kiss toward the screened door. He came to her with tearful eyes.

«Why are you crying, Grand-père?»

He picked her up and held her close. «Oh, Sophie, you and I have said good-bye to a lot of people this year. It’s hard.»

Sophie thought of the accident, of saying good-bye to her mother and father, her grandmother and baby brother. «Were you saying goodbye to another person?»

«To a dear friend whom I love very much,» he replied, his voice heavy with emotion. «And I fear I will not see her again for a very long time.»

Standing with the docent, Langdon had been scanning the chapel walls and feeling a rising wariness that a dead end might be looming. Sophie had wandered off to look at the code and left Langdon holding the rosewood box, which contained a Grail map that now appeared to be no help at all. Although Saunière’s poem clearly indicated Rosslyn, Langdon was not sure what to do now that they had arrived. The poem made reference to a ‘blade and chalice’, which Langdon saw nowhere.

The Holy Grail ‘neath ancient Roslin waits.

The blade and chalice guarding o’er Her gates.

Again Langdon sensed there remained some facet of this mystery yet to reveal itself.

«I hate to pry,» the docent said, eyeing the rosewood box in Langdon’s hands. «But this box… might I ask where you got it?»

Langdon gave a weary laugh. «That’s an exceptionally long story.»

The young man hesitated, his eyes on the box again. «It’s the strangest thing – my grandmother has a box exactly like that – a jewelry box. Identical polished rosewood, same inlaid rose, even the hinges look the same.»

Langdon knew the young man must be mistaken. If ever a box had been one of a kind, it was this one – the box custom-made for the Priory keystone. «The two boxes may be similar but – »

The side door closed loudly, drawing both of their gazes. Sophie had exited without a word and was now wandering down the bluff toward a fieldstone house nearby. Langdon stared after her. Where is she going? She had been acting strangely ever since they entered the building. He turned to the docent. «Do you know what that house is?»

He nodded, also looking puzzled that Sophie was going down there. «That’s the chapel rectory. The chapel curator lives there. She also happens to be the head of the Rosslyn Trust.» He paused. «And my grandmother.»

«Your grandmother heads the Rosslyn Trust?»

The young man nodded. «I live with her in the rectory and help keep up the chapel and give tours.» He shrugged. «I’ve lived here my whole life. My grandmother raised me in that house.»

Concerned for Sophie, Langdon moved across the chapel toward the door to call out to her. He was only halfway there when he stopped short. Something the young man said just registered.

My grandmother raised me.

Langdon looked out at Sophie on the bluff, then down at the rosewood box in his hand. Impossible. Slowly, Langdon turned back to the young man. «You said your grandmother has a box like this one?»

«Almost identical.» «Where did she get it?» «My grandfather made it for her. He died when I was a baby, but my grandmother still talks about him. She says he was a genius with his hands. He made all kinds of things.»

Langdon glimpsed an unimaginable web of connections emerging. «You said your grandmother raised you. Do you mind my asking what happened to your parents?»

The young man looked surprised. «They died when I was young.» He paused. «The same day as my grandfather.»

Langdon’s heart pounded. «In a car accident?»

The docent recoiled, a look of bewilderment in his olive-green eyes. «Yes. In a car accident. My entire family died that day. I lost my grandfather, my parents, and…» He hesitated, glancing down at the floor. «And your sister,» Langdon said.

Out on the bluff, the fieldstone house was exactly as Sophie remembered it. Night was falling now, and the house exuded a warm and inviting aura. The smell of bread wafted through the opened screened door, and a golden light shone in the windows. As Sophie approached, she could hear the quiet sounds of sobbing from within.

Through the screened door, Sophie saw an elderly woman in the hallway. Her back was to the door, but Sophie could see she was crying. The woman had long, luxuriant, silver hair that conjured an unexpected wisp of memory. Feeling herself drawn closer, Sophie stepped onto the porch stairs. The woman was clutching a framed photograph of a man and touching her fingertips to his face with loving sadness. It was a face Sophie knew well. Grand-père.

The woman had obviously heard the sad news of his death last night.

A board squeaked beneath Sophie’s feet, and the woman turned slowly, her sad eyes finding Sophie’s. Sophie wanted to run, but she stood transfixed. The woman’s fervent gaze never wavered as she set down the photo and approached the screened door. An eternity seemed to pass as the two women stared at one another through the thin mesh. Then, like the slowly gathering swell of an ocean wave, the woman’s visage transformed from one of uncertainty… to disbelief… to hope… and finally, to cresting joy.

Throwing open the door, she came out, reaching with soft hands, cradling Sophie’s thunderstruck face. «Oh, dear child… look at you!»

Although Sophie did not recognize her, she knew who this woman was. She tried to speak but found she could not even breathe.

«Sophie,» the woman sobbed, kissing her forehead.

Sophie’s words were a choked whisper. «But… Grand-père said you were…»

«I know.» The woman placed her tender hands on Sophie’s shoulders and gazed at her with familiar eyes. «Your grandfather and I were forced to say so many things. We did what we thought was right. I’m so sorry. It was for your own safety, princess.»

Sophie heard her final word, and immediately thought of her grandfather, who had called her princess for so many years. The sound of his voice seemed to echo now in the ancient stones of Rosslyn, settling through the earth and reverberating in the unknown hollows below.

The woman threw her arms around Sophie, the tears flowing faster. «Your grandfather wanted so badly to tell you everything. But things were difficult between you two. He tried so hard. There’sso much to explain. So very much to explain.» She kissed Sophie’s forehead once again, then whispered in her ear. «No more secrets, princess. It’s time you learn the truth about our family.»

Sophie and her grandmother were seated on the porch stairs in a tearful hug when the young docent dashed across the lawn, his eyes shining with hope and disbelief.

«Sophie?»

Through her tears, Sophie nodded, standing. She did not know the young man’s face, but as they embraced, she could feel the power of the blood coursing through his veins… the blood she now understood they shared.

When Langdon walked across the lawn to join them, Sophie could not imagine that only yesterday she had felt so alone in the world. And now, somehow, in this foreign place, in the company of three people she barely knew, she felt at last that she was home.