The armageddon conspirac.., p.29
The Armageddon Conspiracy, page 29
‘What makes you think you can do any better than Hitler?’
‘Because a member of our organisation rediscovered one of our most valuable treasures – Raphael’s mural. The mural was Julius II’s attempt to preserve our beliefs, but it vanished from our awareness for centuries because it was so inaccessible. Of course, the mural led us to you.’
‘But you said I might be deceiving you, that I was a false Messiah.’ Something else occurred to Lucy. If everything Morson said about reincarnation was true, a mechanism might exist to rediscover lost history. If you could tune into the memories of your previous souls, the past would open like a book. Maybe the knowledge of the Cathar Bible wasn’t gone forever. Maybe someone with the right soul-line could retrieve it.
Perhaps some souls had a vastly superior ability to remember their previous existences. Maybe they were so attuned to their soul-lines, so capable of gaining knowledge and insight from them, that they might seem to possess magic powers. Was it possible that someone like Nostradamus didn’t so much see the future as predict how souls were likely to behave in the future? If a soul, such as that of the Emperor Titus, had a lethal hatred of Jews, wouldn’t it be logical to predict that the same soul, in the future, would persecute Jews with the same passion, but with greater resources at its disposal? That, then, would be a prediction of the rise of Hitler and the creation of death camps…but it wouldn’t be a question of seeing the future so much as projecting the past into the future.
‘There’s no going back now,’ Morson said. ‘Besides, you’ve already brought us the Sword of Destiny.’
‘It’s just a sword,’ Lucy objected. ‘You don’t know if it’s special or not.’
‘But I do. Most people, if they were faking the Sword of Destiny, would have tried to use some medieval sword supposedly linked to King Arthur. They wouldn’t realise that the Sword of Destiny had no connection with Arthur. It was the sword used to behead John the Baptist. It’s an ancient sword from the time of the Roman occupation of Judea – exactly what you brought us. I have no doubt it’s authentic.’
‘Which sword did Hitler think belonged to the Grail Hallows?’
‘I think I mentioned it before: the Sword of St. Maurice. It was kept amongst the Imperial Regalia of the Holy Roman Empire, as a partner to the Spear of Destiny, itself sometimes called the Spear of St. Maurice. Maurice, or Mauritius to give him his Roman name, was the commander of the Theban Legion. He and his men were Christians. In 285 CE, the Emperor Diocletian, who despised Christianity, ordered the legion to be decimated unless they abandoned their beliefs. Maurice refused to carry out the order and so did his men. The entire legion was then executed. The Church made Maurice a saint for his supreme sacrifice.
‘Maurice was said to have possessed the Spear of Destiny when he led the Theban Legion, so the theory arose that his sword might also be sacred. As an ancient Roman sword, it looked similar to the one you found. That, of course, is the problem. It’s so difficult to separate the genuine ones from look-alikes and fakes. The Spear of St Maurice was genuine, the Sword of St Maurice just an ordinary soldier’s sword.’
Lucy was amazed by how complicated all of this was. Was there any realistic chance of bringing together the true Grail Hallows? It appeared impossible. Maybe that was no bad thing, but her intellectual curiosity was growing. What would happen if the genuine Hallows were actually assembled? Would it be a supreme moment of destiny? She almost hoped it would happen.
But everything connected with the Grail Hallows was coded. In fact, it was probably the most elaborate code ever created by humanity. It had to be since the Gnostics’ enemies were so ruthless. The Cathars and the Templars were practically exterminated by the Catholic Church. Tens of thousands died. For secrets to survive the Inquisition, they had to be so good that those who kept them would scarcely know what they were concealing. The safest secret was the one no one knew was a secret. The Grail stories had reached that status.
Every part of the tale had pitfalls. Many people thought that the sword that King Arthur pulled from the stone to prove his legitimacy was Excalibur. In fact, the sword in the stone and Excalibur were two entirely different things. The Lady of the Lake gave Excalibur to Arthur. The sword in the stone conferred legitimacy, Excalibur mystical power. The sword in the stone reflected a real, physical sword while Excalibur was a symbolic, spiritual sword. Almost everything in the Grail Romances was conducted at both the literal and symbolic level.
The Lady of the Lake was the symbolic representation of Sophia, the Gnostic personification of wisdom. The Lake was the pool of mystical knowledge – Gnosis. Excalibur represented the sword of Gnostic truth that cut through the lies of the other religions and led the deserving to Gnosis. If you died before you attained Gnosis, you had to return the sword. That was why Arthur’s last act was to ask Sir Bedivere to throw Excalibur back into the lake. He had failed to achieve Gnosis because of his obsession with Guinevere, and his personal failure.
Most would miss the story’s underlying meaning. They would take the Grail legend at face value as a romantic story, and nothing else. But even when you thought you’d grasped what was really going on, you’d usually discover there was a deeper layer still. It was the ultimate Russian Doll. Was there anyone alive who knew the identity of the final doll in the collection?
Lucy stared at Morson. She’d missed something, hadn’t she?
‘You said two treasures were removed from Montségur. You only mentioned the Cathar Bible. What was the other?’
Morson swept his hand over his short hair. ‘The brotherhood found it at the end of the nineteenth century in the French village of Rennes-le-Château. It’s in a safe place now.’
‘What is it?’
‘Something so wondrous it’s beyond human imagining.’ His face became hard. ‘And it will prove once and for all whether you are a false Messiah.’
Chapter 63
Lucy had been given a mat to lie on. She was exhausted but couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, they opened again moments later. Her gaze kept drifting towards the lantern Morson had placed on the half-demolished altar, now the only light in the chapel. He’d ordered everyone to get a few hours’ sleep before they set off at dawn for their next destination. He’d given no indication of where that might be.
Lucy watched the light reflecting from the lid of her father’s coffin. She couldn’t decide if she was appalled or comforted knowing her dad’s body was so near. As for James, she was just as undecided about his proximity. Part of her felt elated, while another part was freaked out. Raking over her old feelings was the last thing she wanted to do. She wouldn’t know what to say to him. The words would dry in her mouth as she tried to communicate how much she still cared for him, while she struggled to avoid being sucked back into the horrors of love.
How could anyone sleep well in times like these? How many hours of life were left? She kept wondering about the second of the Cathars’ treasures. What could it be? Some said it was the Holy Grail itself, but the Cathars hated all material objects. A Bible was OK as the first treasure because it had nonmaterial value. Could the second be another source of knowledge? An earth-shattering secret, perhaps? Morson said it was something that could prove whether or not she was a false Messiah. How could she be false when she never claimed to be the Messiah in the first place? Morson had clearly meant it as a threat. What did he intend to do if she failed his test?
****
A soldier was looking down at Lucy, his hand pressed over her mouth to stop her screaming. He didn’t say anything, just gestured towards one of the small side rooms. She realised she must have drifted off to sleep. Now, instantly, she was fully alert.
In the dim light, she could see Gresnick, Sinclair and James standing in the doorway. The other soldiers were asleep. What was going on?
She tiptoed to the other room. The soldier who’d woken her followed, carefully closing the door behind him.
‘I’m the only guard on watch,’ he whispered. ‘Punch me as hard as you can,’ he said to Gresnick, ‘then tie me up. I’ve opened the side door. You can slip out that way. You’ll probably have half an hour before they discover you’ve gone. Take my flashlight.’
Without hesitating, Gresnick stepped forward and slugged the soldier in the jaw. The soldier slumped to the ground. Gresnick quickly tied him up. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
They sneaked out of the side door and emerged into the freezing night. Snow still covered the ground. Lucy felt ill. Something was out there, the same presence she’d sensed at Tintagel. She was certain it was something not of this world, and the thought terrified her. She tried to block out all awareness of the thing.
The hearse was still there, the horses tethered to a fence and shivering in the cold.
‘Get into the back.’ Gresnick gestured towards the hearse with his flashlight. ‘I can drive one of these things.’
Cardinal Sinclair climbed on top while Gresnick untied the horses, stroking them to keep them quiet.
Awkwardly, Lucy climbed into the back with James. It was spooky to be in the same place where her father’s coffin once rested. It was even spookier to be with James. She had no idea what to say to him, and he was just as hesitant. He struggled even to look at her. It amazed her that he was in a fit enough state to be here. Last time she saw him, in the helicopter wreckage at Tintagel, she was convinced he was dying.
The carriage moved off, the sound muffled by the snow. It was so dark it was virtually impossible to see ahead. One tiny bright light stood out in the northern sky. Lucy shuddered. Was that Morson’s Merica?
James lay with his back to her, breathing heavily. She wondered if she should reach out to him, maybe put her hand on his shoulder. What would it be like to touch him again? But she couldn’t, not after the way she’d treated him. Should she apologise? Tell him it was all a mistake? She had no idea what to do and turned away.
The carriage shook from side to side as they found a rough path through the woods and down Cadbury Castle’s steep slope.
She wanted to know who had helped them escape. Some sort of double agent? It must have been the same person who released Gresnick from his handcuffs earlier that night. Maybe the soldier had doubts about Morson’s plans. Another thought occurred to her. Maybe it wasn’t such a good thing to have escaped. Morson’s religious opinions were vile, but also hard to disagree with. It was so difficult to know what to think. Good and evil were merging.
‘That soldier back there,’ Gresnick said eventually. ‘He worked for the DIA a couple of years back. He said he recognised me. He couldn’t go along with the others any longer. He said they were going “too far, crazy too far.” He recently met a girl back home. It changed his outlook on things.’
Lucy frowned. It was all so grimly predictable. Love, the axis around which everything revolved. She didn’t think the soldier had much of a future. Morson was sure to uncover him.
She wondered where they were going. To the nearest army base, the nearest town? Glastonbury wasn’t too far. Maybe she’d end up back at her convent. Wherever they were going, it would be difficult getting there. There was no roadside lighting and the snow was swirling in the wind.
After a few minutes, the carriage stopped. Gresnick pointed his torch at a signpost at a roundabout.
‘We can go to either Glastonbury or Cheddar,’ he yelled. ‘Which way, Lucy?’
For a second, she was speechless. Why was Gresnick asking her? Not so long ago, he’d pointed a pistol at her head. ‘Are you sure you want me to decide?’
‘This is all about you, Lucy. I trust you to do the right thing.’
Do the right thing? Lucy had no idea what that was. She was operating on pure instinct now. To go back to Glastonbury was to go back to her cell, to close the door and wait for the end. There was a time in the last twenty-four hours when that would have been her preferred choice. Now, she wanted something else. Closure – of who she was, of Raphael’s mural, of whatever role Morson claimed was hers.
‘Cheddar,’ she said. ‘There’s a famous Gorge there that I visited it as a kid.’ She stared at the bright star in the sky. ‘And it contains a cave called King Solomon’s Temple.’
Chapter 64
They had been on the move for over an hour. There were no signs of pursuit. Lucy had expected to see flares exploding in the sky and hear the sound of Morson’s trucks, but there was nothing. The snow hadn’t let up. That meant it would be impossible to follow their tracks. She wondered if Morson would know to go to Cheddar Gorge, or if he had been expecting her to choose Glastonbury as the next logical move.
They were making slow progress in the dark and heavy snow. Luckily, Gresnick had managed to light a couple of lamps on the side of the hearse, so they had just enough light to see the way ahead, but the main road had vanished beneath the snow. Gresnick couldn’t be sure he was heading the right way.
Lucy reckoned they had put about four or five miles between them and the chapel; enough to make it unlikely Morson would find them, at least until morning. This part of the country mostly consisted of fields and woods, so she wasn’t surprised when they began to make their way through the edge of a forest.
She sat up, hunched like a ball, clasping her knees and staring ahead. All the time, she was aware of James. He was lying on his side, asleep. She wasn’t relishing the moment when they’d have to talk. With all their history, every word would be loaded with unspoken meanings. It was so long since she last deciphered language like that, words that were all subtext and practically meaningless on the surface.
As the carriage made its way through the trees, the road grew narrower. They had probably strayed off the main road and onto a country track. Maybe they were going in the wrong direction. How could they tell? They might need to stop and wait until morning to find their bearings.
As they moved deeper into the forest, Lucy huddled up even more. She was certain they were being watched from the trees. Strange sounds broke out all around. She imagined the floor of the forest had come to life, and millions of insects were crawling towards them.
The trail disappeared and a dense screen of trees blocked their way. The carriage stopped.
‘We can’t go any further tonight,’ Gresnick said.
‘We’ll freeze,’ Cardinal Sinclair objected. ‘We need to light a fire, get some proper shelter.’
Gresnick nodded. ‘I’ll go on a reccy, see if I can find a better spot.’
Lucy got out of the back of the carriage and stood shivering in the dark. The trees swayed in the wind. Their branches kept making odd, creaking noises. She’d never been anywhere quite so creepy.
Sinclair came over, rubbing his hands together. ‘Hungry? I found a packed-lunch stuffed under the driver’s seat: a couple of sandwiches, some chocolate bars, a couple of bags of peanuts and a carton of orange.’
‘Not right now,’ Lucy said.
‘How are you bearing up? You’ve been off your medication for a while. Are you feeling a bit strange?’
‘I’m OK.’
‘What about James?’
‘He’s asleep.’
‘We’ll let him rest.’
‘Cardinal, I never got the chance to thank you properly for what you did for me back at Tintagel. You saved my life.’
‘It was for all our sakes, Lucy. There’s only one thing Morson and I agree on: you are destiny’s child.’
Lucy couldn’t help smiling. As a teenager, she used to listen to a girl-band with that name. She and her friends learned all their dance moves, using them to terrorise the boys at school discos.
‘What do you think will happen next?’ she asked.
‘We’re all in God’s hands now.’
‘Do you believe God would destroy the world to stop Morson doing whatever it is he’s planning?’
‘God once drowned the world, Lucy. Only Noah and his Ark were saved. Why should he let anyone survive this time? If he does spare us, it will be thanks to you.’
‘But I have no idea what I’m expected to do.’
‘Just be yourself. That’s all anyone can ask of you.’
Gresnick came back out of the woods, his torchbeam piercing the dark. ‘I’ve found somewhere. It looks like a ruined abbey. There’s a room with a fireplace. We can stay there for the rest of the night and set out at dawn.’
They found a sheltered spot where they tied up the horses.
‘Come on, Mr Vernon,’ Gresnick said, waking James, ‘we have to move.’
Lucy watched as James stiffly emerged from the back of the carriage, a dazed look on his face. He briefly glanced at her then turned away again.
After tethering the horses, Gresnick led the way through the trees, his boots sinking into the flaky snow.
‘God have mercy on us.’ Sinclair stopped abruptly.
‘What is it?’ Gresnick spun round. ‘Did you see something?’
‘There are wolves in the woods. They’re everywhere, staring at us. They have bright yellow eyes.’
They all halted. Lucy peered into the darkness. Sinclair was right. There were yellow eyes all around them. But this was insane: England didn’t have any wolves. They were hunted to extinction long ago.
‘Why are they so quiet?’ Gresnick whispered. ‘They’re not moving a muscle.’
Sinclair fidgeted with the crucifix round his neck. ‘It’s as if they’re waiting for someone – something – to give them orders.’
‘Let’s get moving,’ Gresnick said.
The ruined abbey was just a few metres further on, in a clearing near a stream. The light from Gresnick’s torch reflected in the dark water. Drops of snow peppered the surface, melting into it. It made Lucy think of white confetti showering down on newly laid tarmac.
A graveyard full of snow-covered headstones stood in front of the abbey. They had to walk through it to get to the entrance of the room Gresnick had mentioned. Made of sandstone, with a hole in one corner of the ceiling, the room had a large fireplace with blocks of old chopped wood stacked in front of it. A rear door led to other rooms of the abbey. Gresnick checked them out with his torch.
