Steve Berry - The Templar legacy

"You look just like him."

He fought to repress his surprise. "You knew my father?"

"He came to this area many times. He and I spoke often."

"Did he tell you anything?"

The priest shook his head. "You know better."

"Do you know what I'm to do?"

"Your father told me that if you ever made it here, you should already know what it is for you to do."

"You know he's dead?"

"Of course. I was told. He took his own life."

"Not necessarily."

"That's fanciful thinking. Your father was an unhappy man. He came here looking but, sadly, found nothing. That frustrated him. When I heard that he took his own life, I was not surprised. There was no peace for him on this earth."

"He spoke to you about those things?"

"Many times."

"Why did you lie to me about never hearing the name Berenger Sauniere?"

"I didn't lie. I've never heard that name before."

"My father never mentioned him?"

"Not once."

Another riddle stood before him, as frustrating and irritating as Geoffrey, who was now walking back toward them. The church surrounding him clearly contained no answers, so he asked, "What about the abbey of Hildemar, the castle he turned over to Agulous in the tenth century? Is any of that still standing?"

"Oh, yes. Those ruins still exist. Up in the mountains. Not far."

"It's no longer an abbey?"

"Goodness no. It hasn't been occupied in three hundred years."

"Did my father ever mention the place?"

"He visited there many times, but found nothing. Which only added to his frustration."

They needed to go. But he wanted to know, "Who owns the abbey ruins?"

"They were bought years ago. By a Dane. Henrik Thorvaldsen."

DE ROQUEFORT STARED ACROSS THE TABLE AT THE CHAPLAIN. THE priest had been waiting for him when he returned to the abbey from Givors. Which was fine. After their confrontation yesterday, he needed to speak with the Italian, too.

"You will not ever question me," he made clear. He possessed the authority to remove the chaplain if, as Rule stated, he caused disturbances or was more a hindrance than an asset.

"It's my job to be your conscience. Chaplains have served masters in this way since the Beginning."

What went unsaid was the fact that any decision to remove the chaplain had to be approved by the brotherhood. Which could prove difficult, since this man was popular. So he retreated a bit. "You'll not challenge me before the brothers."

"I was not challenging you. Merely noting that the deaths of two men weigh heavily on all of our minds."

"And not on mine?"

"You must tread carefully."

They were sitting behind the closed door of his chamber, the window open, the distant waterfall a gentle roar. "That approach has taken us nowhere."

"Whether you realize it or not, those men dying has shaken your authority. There's talk already, and you've only been master a few days."

"I will not tolerate dissension."

A sad but tranquil smile came to the chaplain's lips. "You sound just like the man you so opposed. What's changed? Has the seneschal so affected you?"

"He's not seneschal any longer."

"Unfortunately, that's the only name I know him by. You apparently know far more."

But he wondered if the cagey Venetian sitting across from him was being truthful. He'd heard talk, too, his spies reporting that the chaplain was quite interested in what the master was doing. Far more than any spiritual adviser needed to be. He wondered if this man, who professed to be his friend, was positioning himself for more. After all, he'd done the same thing years ago himself.

He actually wanted to talk about his dilemma, explain what happened, what he knew, seek some guidance, but sharing that with anyone would be foolhardy. Claridon was bad enough, but at least he was not of the Order. This man was altogether different. He had the potential to become an enemy. So he voiced the obvious. "I'm searching for our Great Devise, and I'm close to locating it."

"But at the price of two dead."

"Many have died for what we believe," he said, voice rising. In the first two centuries of our existence, twenty thousand brothers gave their lives. Two more dying now is insignificant."

"Human life has a much greater value now than then." He noticed the chaplain's voice had lowered into a whisper.

"No, the value is the same. What's changed is our lack of dedication."

"This not a war. There are no infidels holding the Holy Land. We're talking about finding something that most likely doesn't exist."

"You speak blasphemy."

"I speak the truth. And you know it. You think finding our Great Devise will change everything. It will change nothing. You must still garner the respect of all who serve you."

"Doing what I promised will generate that respect."

"Have you thought this quest through? It's not as simple as you think. The issues here are far greater than they were in the Beginning. The world is no longer illiterate and ignorant. You have much more to contend with than the brothers did then. Unfortunately for you, there exists not one mention of Jesus Christ in any secular Greek, Roman, or Jewish historical account. Not one reference in any piece of surviving literature. Just the New Testament. That's the whole sum of His existence. And why is that? You know the answer. If Jesus lived at all, He preached His message in the obscurity of Judea. No one paid Him any mind. The Romans couldn't have cared less, provided He wasn't inciting rebellion. And the Jews did little more than argue among themselves, which suited the Romans. Jesus came and went. He was inconsequential. Yet He now commands the attention of billions. Christianity is the world's largest religion. And He is, in every sense, their Messiah. The risen Lord. And nothing you find will change that."

"What if His bones are there?"

"How would you know they're His bones?"

"How did those nine original knights know? And look at what they accomplished. Kings and queens bowed to their will. How else can that be explained except through what they knew."

"And you think they shared that knowledge? What did they do-show the bones of Christ to each king, each monetary donor, each one of the faithful?"

"I have no idea what they did. But whatever their method it proved effective. Men flocked to the Order, wanting to be a part of it. Secular authorities courted its favor. Why can't that be again?"

"It can. Only not in the manner you think."

"It galls me. For all we did for the Church. Twenty thousand brothers, six masters, all died defending Jesus Christ. The Knights Hospitallers' sacrifice cannot compare. Yet there is not one Templar saint, and there are many canonized Hospitallers. I want to right that injustice."

"How is that possible?" The chaplain did not wait for him to answer. "What is will not change."

He thought again of the note. THE ANSWER HAS BEEN FOUND. And the phone resting in his pocket. I WILL CALL BEFORE THE SUN SETS WITH INFORMATION. His fingers lightly caressed the bulge of the cell phone in his trouser pocket. The chaplain was still talking, murmuring more about "the quest for nothing." Royce Claridon was still in the archives, searching.

But only one thought raced through his mind.

Why won't the phone ring?

"HENRIK," MALONE SCREAMED. "I CAN'T TAKE MUCH MORE OF this."

He'd just listened to Mark's explanation that the ruins of the nearby abbey belonged to Thorvaldsen. They stood in the trees, half a mile from St. Agulous, where they'd parked and waited.

"Cotton, I had no idea that I own that property."

"We're supposed to believe that?" Stephanie said.