The Brotherhood Of The Holy Shroud

47

ELIANNE MARCHAIS WAS A SMALL, ELEGANT woman with that unmistakable French flair. She greeted Ana Jimenez with a mixture of resignation and curiosity.

She didn't like reporters. They simplified everything one told them so much that in the end all they printed were distortions-which was why she didn't give interviews. When people asked her opinion about something, her. response was always the same: "Read my books. Don't ask me to tell you in three words what I've needed three hundred pages to explain."

But this young woman was a special case. Spain's ambassador to UNESCO had phoned on her behalf, as had two chancellors of prestigious Spanish universities and three colleagues at the Sorbonne. Either the girl was truly important or she was a bulldog who'd stop at nothing until she got what she wanted, in this case that Marchais devote a few minutes of her time to her-because a few minutes was all the professor had patience for.

Ana had decided that with a woman like Elianne Marchais there could be no room for subterfuge. She would tell her the truth straight out, and one of two things would happen: The professor would either throw her out or help her.

It took her no more than a few minutes to explain to Professor Marchais that she wanted to write a history of the Shroud of Turin and that she needed the professor's help in order to separate the fantasy from the truth in the history of the relic.

"And why are you interested in the shroud? Are you Catholic?"

"No… I mean… I guess I am, in some sense. I was baptized, although I don't go to Mass."

"You haven't answered my question. Why are you interested in the shroud?"

"Because it's a controversial object that also seems to attract a certain degree of violence-fires, robberies in the cathedral……"

Professor Marchais raised an eyebrow. "Mademoiselle Jimenez, I'm afraid I can't help you," she said disdainfully. "My specialty is not esoteric gobbledygook."

Ana didn't move from her chair. She looked fixedly at the professor and tried another tack, resolving to proceed carefully.

"I think I may have misspoken, Professor Marchais. I'm not interested in esotericism, and if I've given that impression I apologize. What I'm trying to do is write a documented history, the furthest thing imaginable from any magical, esoteric interpretations. I'm looking for facts, facts, just facts, not speculation. Which is why I've come to you, so that you can help distinguish what's true in the interpretations of certain more or less recognized authors. You know what happened in France in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries as though it were yesterday, and it's that knowledge that I need."

Professor Marchais hesitated. The explanation the young woman had given was at least a serious one.

"I don't have much time, so tell me exactly what you want to know."

Ana breathed a small sigh of relief. She knew she couldn't make another mistake or she'd be thrown out like yesterday's fish bones.

"Well, specifically, I'd like you to tell me everything you can about the shroud's appearance in France."

With a bored gesture, the professor began a detailed recitation.

"The best chronicles of the time say that in 1349, Geoffroy de Charny, seigneur of Lirey, announced that he possessed a grave cloth bearing the impression of the body of Jesus, to which his family paid great devotion. Geoffroy sent letters to the pope and the king of France, asking for authorization to build a collegiate church in which to display the shroud so that it might be worshipped by the faithful. A collegiate church-in case your Catholic upbringing didn't clarify that point-is a church very like a cathedral, with an abbot and a 'college' of priests, in this case called 'canons.' It's that college of canons from which the term derives. So, to continue: Neither the pope nor the king replied to his request, which meant the collegiate church couldn't be built. But with the complicity of the clergy of Lirey, who saw an opportunity to increase their influence and importance in the seigneury, the shroud nevertheless began to be an object of public worship."

"But where had the shroud come from?"

"In the letter de Charny wrote to the king of France, which can be found in the royal archives, he assured the king that he had kept his possession of the shroud a secret so as not to inspire disputes among various communities of Christians, since other shrouds had appeared in places as far-flung as Aix-la-Chapelle and Mainz in Germany, Jaen and Tolosa in Spain, and Rome. It was in Rome, in fact, beginning in 1350, that a shroud, believed of course to be authentic, was displayed in the Vatican basilica. Geoffrey de Charny swore to the king and the pope, on the honor of his family, that the shroud that he possessed was the true one, but what he never told either man was how it had come into his power. Was it a family inheritance? Had he bought it? He never said, and thus we simply do not know.

"He had to wait years for authorization to construct the collegiate church and never lived to see the shroud displayed, since he died in Poitiers saving the life of the French king, whom he shielded with his own body during a battle. His widow donated the shroud to the church in Lirey, which contributed to the wealth of the city's clergy while at the same time inspiring the envy of the prelates of other towns and cities-and that, of course, created tremendous conflict throughout France.

"The bishop of Troyes ordered an exhaustive investigation into the Lirey shroud. An important witness was even brought forward to discredit its authenticity-a painter swore that he had been commissioned by the seigneur of Lirey to paint the image, and with that, the bishop prohibited its further display.

"It was to be another Geoffroy, Geoffroy de Charny the Second, who years later-in 1389, to be exact-persuaded Pope Clement the Seventh to authorize him once again to display the shroud. And once again, the bishop of Troyes intervened, alarmed by the influx of pilgrims to worship the relic. For a few months he managed to force de Charny to keep the shroud in its coffer and not actually display it, but meanwhile, de Charny reached a further agreement with the pope: He would be allowed to display the shroud on the condition that the clergy in Lirey be required to explain to the faithful that it was a painting done to represent the grave cloth of Christ."

In the same monotonous tone, Professor Marchais went on down through history, explaining that the daughter of Geoffroy II, Marguerite de Charny, decided to keep the shroud in the castle belonging to her second husband, the Comte de la Roche.

"Why?" asked Ana.

"Because in 1415, during the Hundred Years War, pillaging was rampant. So she thought the relic would be safer in her husband's castle, in Saint-Hippolyte sur le Doubs. She was an inventive woman, and when her second husband died, she added to the small income he had left her by charging a fee of a few pennies to anyone who wanted to see the shroud up close or pray before it. And it was her financial straits that led her several decades later to sell the relic to the House of Savoy, on March twenty-second, 1453, to be precise. The Lirey clergy protested, of course; they considered themselves the owners of the shroud, since the widow of that first Geoffroy de Charny had ceded it to them. But Marguerite ignored that. She lived in Varambom Castle and enjoyed the rents from the seigneury of Miribel, which were granted her by the House of Savoy. There is a contract to that effect, by the way, signed by the duke of Savoy, Louis the First. Since then, the shroud's history is transparent."

"1 wanted to ask you whether it's possible that the shroud came to Prance through the Templars."

"Ah! The Templars! So many legends, so unfairly they were treated, and all out of ignorance! It is rubbish, pure rubbish, that pseudoliterature on the Templars. Many organizations-some Masons, for instance-claim to be the heirs of the Temple. Some of them were, to put it in the popular parlance, 'on the good side,' during the French Revolution, for example, but others…"

"So the Temple has survived?"

"Well, of course there are organizations that, as I say, claim to be its heirs. Remember that in Scotland, the Temple was never dissolved. But in my opinion, the Temple died on March nineteenth, 1314, on the bonfire on which Philippe le Beau ordered the Grand Master Jacques de Molay immolated, along with the other knights who were with him."

"I've been in London. I found a center for Templar studies."

"I told you there are lodges and organizations that claim to be heirs of the Temple. I have no interest in them."

"Why is that?"

"Mademoiselle Jimenez, please. I am a historian."

"Yes, I know, but-"

"There are no buts. Anything else?"

"Yes, I'd like to know whether the de Charny family has come down to our own day, whether there are any descendants."

"The grand families intermarry. You should consult an expert in genealogy."

"Forgive me for pressing, professor, but where do you think this Geofrroy de Charny got the shroud?"

"I do not know. I've explained to you that he never said. Nor did his widow or the descendants who were its possessors until it passed into the hands of the House of Savoy. It could have been bought or received as a gift. Who knows? During those centuries, Europe was full of relics that had been brought back from the Crusades. Most of them were false, of course, which is why there are so many 'holy grails,' shrouds, saints' bones, pieces of the True Cross……"

"Is there any way to know whether the family of Geofrroy de Charny had any relationship to the Crusades?"

'As I said, you'll have to see a genealogist for that. Of course…"

Professor Marchais became more pensive, tapping the end of her pen on her desk. Ana sat silently, expectantly.

"It is possible, of course, that Geoffrey de Charny, whose name was spelled without the final e, may have had something to do with Geoffroy de Charney, with an e, the precept of the Temple in Normandy who died at the stake alongside Jacques de Molay and who also fought in the Holy Land. It's a question of the spelling of the name, and-"

"Yes, yes, that's it! They're from the same family!"

"Mademoiselle Jimenez, don't let yourself be led astray by what you wish the facts were. I said only that the two names might come from the same line, so that the Geoffroy de Charny who possessed the shroud-"

"-had it because years earlier the other Geoffroy brought it back from the Holy Land and kept it in the family home. That's well within the realm of possibility."

'Actually, it isn't. The precept of Normandy was a Templar. If he had possessed the relic, it would have belonged to the Temple, not to him or his family. We have a great deal of documentation on that Geoffroy, because he remained faithful to de Molay and the Temple. Let's not let our imagination run away with us."

"But there may have been some reason he didn't turn the shroud over to the Temple."

"I doubt it. I'm sorry to have confused you; in my opinion it's not a problem of spelling, it's that the two Geoffroys belonged to different families. And even if they were related, that would not account for the family's possession of the shroud, as I've just explained to you."

"I'm going to Lirey."

"Well, that's fine. Anything else?"

"Professor Marchais, thank you-you may not agree, but I think you've just unveiled part of an enigma."

By the time Elianne Marchais saw Ana Jimenez to the door she had once again confirmed her opinion of reporters: shallow, for the most part uneducated, and given to the most idiotic fantasies. It was no wonder there was so much rubbish printed in the newspapers.

Ana arrived in Troyes the day after her meeting with Professor Marchais. She rented a car to drive from there to Lirey and was surprised to find just a tiny village, with no more than fifty people living in it.

She wandered through what remained of the old seigneurial manor, her hands stroking the ancient stones, vaguely hoping the contact with them might inspire her. Lately she'd been letting herself be carried along partly by intuition, without planning things beforehand.

She approached a nicely dressed older woman walking her dog along the side of the road.

"Bonjour."

The old lady looked her over from head to toe. "Bonjour."

"This is a lovely place."

"It is, but the young people don't think so-they prefer the city."

"Well, there is more work in the city."

"Work is where one wants to find it. Here in Lirey the land is good. Where are you from?"

"I'm from Spain."

'Ah! So I thought, from the accent. But you speak French very well."

"Thank you."

"And what are you doing here? Are you lost?"

"Oh, no, not at all." Ana smiled. "I came specifically to see this place. I'm a reporter, and I'm writing a story on the Shroud of Turin, and since it appeared here, in Lirey-"

"Hmmph! That was hundreds and hundreds of years ago! Now they say the shroud is not authentic, that it is a forgery, that it was painted here."

'And what do you think?"

"I frankly could not care less-I am an atheist, and I've never been interested in the stories of saints or relics."

"No, neither have I, but I was sent out to do this story, and work is work."

"But here you will find nothing. The fortress-what remains of it-well, you see it there."

'And there are no archives or documents on the de Charny family?"

"In Troyes perhaps, although the descendants of the family live in Paris."

"Live?"

"Well, there are many branches of the family."

"How could I find them?"

"I don't know. They don't have much to do with the village now. Once in a while one of them will come around, but not often. Three or four years ago a young man was here. Such a handsome boy! We all came out to see him."

"Is there anyone here who could tell me more?"

The woman gestured down the way. "Ask in that house at the end of the valley. Monsieur Didier lives there-he oversees the de Charny lands."

Ana thanked her and began walking briskly toward the house the woman had indicated, her anticipation mounting with every step. She was certain that in this unassuming little place she would find the nexus between past and present-and concrete evidence to support her suspicions.

Monsieur Didier was a man of about sixty. Tall and strong-looking, with gray hair and a stern face, he looked at Ana mistrustfully.

"Monsieur Didier, I'm a reporter and I'm writing a story on the Holy Shroud," Ana began. "I've come to Lirey because it was here that the Shroud of Turin first appeared in Europe. I know this land belonged to the de Charny family, and I'm told you work for them."

"Your business is of no concern to me, miss," he said, clearly annoyed. "What do I care what you're doing? You think I'm going to talk about the de Charnys because you're a reporter?"

"I don't think I'm asking you to do anything wrong, sir. I know you must be proud that the shroud was discovered here in Lirey."

"We don't give a fig about the shroud, young lady- none of us. If you want to find out about the family, go talk to them in Paris. We're not gossips."

"Monsieur Didier, you've misunderstood me. I'm not looking for gossip at all, I just want to write a story in which this town and the de Charny family played an important part. They owned the shroud, it was displayed here, and… well, I should think you'd all feel proud of that."

"Some of us are." Tall and robust, the woman who had just joined Didier in the doorway looked a bit younger than he, and a good deal friendlier.

"I'm afraid you've awakened my husband from his nap, and that makes him grumpy," she said to Ana with a warm smile. "Come in, come in. Would you like some tea, coffee?"

Ana stepped into the house before the invitation could be overruled by the old grump, who finally retreated to the parlor with a parting glare as his wife led the reporter to the kitchen.

There, Ana repeated the purpose of her visit while Madame Didier poured coffee for them both.

"The de Charnys have been the lords of this land for as long as anyone can remember," Madame Didier told Ana as they sat down. "You should go to the church- that's where you'll find information on them, and of course in the historical archives in Troyes."

For a good while she went on to talk about life in Lirey, bemoaning the flight of the younger generation. Her two sons lived in Troyes; one was a doctor, the other worked in a bank. She proceeded to detail the affairs of her entire family while Ana listened patiently letting her babble on. Finally she managed to steer the conversation back on track.

"What are the de Charnys like?" she asked her hostess. "It must be exciting when they come to visit."

"Oh, there are so many different branches now. We don't know many of them, and they don't come around much, but we watch after their land and their interests here. They're a bit stuffy, you know, like all aristocrats. A few years ago a distant relative came- what a handsome young man! And so charming, so kind. Not at all like the others. He came with the superior of the church. He sees more of them than we do- the superior, I mean. We deal with an administrator who lives in Troyes, Monsieur CapeU. I'll give you his address so you can call him."

Two hours later, Ana left the Didiers' house with little more information than she'd come with. She decided to try her luck at the parish church, hoping the superior would see her. The birth records there might tell her what she needed to know.

The parish priest Pere Salvaing turned out to be a cheery septuagenarian who seemed more than happy to have a visitor.

"The de Charnys have always been linked to this place," he told Ana. "They have continued to own the land, although it's been centuries since they lived here."

"Do you know the current family?"

"Some of them. One of the branches, the one that's most closely linked to Lirey, has some important people. They live in Paris."

"Do they come here often?"

"No, really they don't. It's been years since any of them have been here."

"Madame Didier, in Lirey, told me that three or four years ago a very handsome, nice young man was here, a member of that family."

"Oh, the priest!"

"Priest?"

"Yes. Does it surprise you that somebody might be a priest?" He laughed.

"No, no, I didn't mean that. It's just that in Lirey all they told me was that he was a very handsome young man-they didn't say anything about his being a priest."

"They may not have known it; no reason for them to. The one time he came, he didn't wear a collar and he was dressed like any other young fellow his age. He didn't look like a priest, but he is, and I think he's doing very well. I mean, he didn't look like he'd remain very long as a parish priest. In fact, I understand he's moving up in the Church hierarchy. But he didn't give his name as de Charny, although apparently his ancestors had some relationship with this land. He didn't explain it much. They called me from Paris to say that he'd be coming and asked me to help him if I could."

Ana was hard-pressed to contain her excitement. After so many weeks chasing ephemeral wisps of information, hints and half-truths buried in a mountain of myth, she at last had the beginning of a solid string of facts almost within her grasp-and confirmation that the link she had seen so clearly in the middle of the night in a London hotel room was very real. And very much alive.

But it was not easy for Ana to persuade Pere Salvaing to let her see the baptismal certificates in the collegiate archives, which were locked up like diamonds.

The priest called the canon librarian, who was scandalized when he heard what Ana wanted. "If you were a scholar, a historian, but you're just a reporter-who knows what you're looking for!" he grumbled.

"I'm trying to write the most complete story possible of the shroud. I want to find out whether a fourteenth-century Templar, Geoffroy de Charney, with an e, who died at the stake in 1314, owned the shroud and perhaps hid it here, in the family house, so that Geoffroy de Charny, with no e, might appear as its owner thirty-five years later."

"That is, you want to prove that the shroud belonged to the Templars," Pere Salvaing stated more than asked.

'And if that was not the case, she'll make the case," put in the archivist.

"No, sir, I'm not going to invent anything-if that wasn't the case, then it wasn't the case. I'm just trying to explain why the shroud appeared here, and it seems likely that it was brought by someone from the Holy Land, a Crusader or a Templar knight. Who else might have brought it? If Geoffroy de Charny swore that it was the true shroud, then he must have had some reason."

"He never proved it," said the elderly superior.

"Maybe he couldn't. But let me ask you-does either of you believe that the shroud now in the cathedral in Turin is authentic?"

"My dear girl," said Salvaing after a brief silence, "the shroud is a relic loved by millions of the faithful. Its authenticity has been questioned by scientists, and yet… I must admit I was very moved when I saw it in the Turin Cathedral. There is something supernatural in the cloth, whatever the carbon-fourteen verdict may be."

For another half hour, Ana earnestly pleaded her case with the two churchmen. Finally, they reluctantly agreed to let her proceed under the supervision of the archivist.

For the better part of the afternoon, they pored through the ancient records. At last, as the sun dipped low on the horizon, she found what she was looking for. In addition to Charny in Lirey, there had also been a family that spelled its name Charney, with an e, and the two families were related. The great Crusader, Geoffroy de Charney, had come home-Ana was sure of it.

Ana had returned to Troyes elated. But although she had established the presence of Geoffroy de Charney's family in Lirey, she had found precious little on the knight himself. She made an appointment to see the administrator of the de Charny properties, Capell, in the morning. After that she would see what she could find in the extensive municipal archives in Troyes.

Monsieur Capell turned out to be a serious man of few words, who very politely made it clear to Ana that he had no intention of giving her any information about his clients. He did, however, confirm that there were dozens of descendants of the de Charny line in France and that his clients were one of those families. She left his office disappointed.

The young man in charge of the town archives in Troyes had piercings in his nose and three studs in each ear. He introduced himself as Jean and confessed he was bored spitless by his job but that all things considered, he'd been lucky to find work at all, since his degree was in library science.

Ana explained what she was looking for and Jean offered to help her.

"So you think that this precept of the Temple in Normandy was an ancestor of our Geoffroy de Charny despite the name difference?"

"I told you-there are traces of both versions of the name in the parish church outside Lirey. Now I'm trying to find more specifics and also more information on Geoffroy de Charney himself-his immediate family and his movements before he burned at the stake with the other Templars in 1314."

"Well, this isn't going to be easy. I can tell you right now that we're not going to have much, if anything, on the activities of a Templar knight. But if you'll give me a hand we'll see what we can find."

First they looked in the computerized archives, then began looking through the old files that hadn't been digitized. Ana was pleasantly surprised at Jean's intelligence and facility with the records. Besides being a librarian he had a degree in French philosophy, so medieval France was familiar territory for him.

They worked steadily and managed to unearth all the available local civil records on the de Charny family tree, but both of them knew the information was incomplete. They still knew nothing of the actual lives of these people who so often married to forge alliances with other noble families and whose traces, and offspring's traces, were almost impossible to follow.

"I think you ought to find a historian with more experience in genealogy," Jean finally told her over dinner that night.

They had become comfortable, even close, in the course of their work together, and Ana decided to trust the intense young man with the whole story, or at least most of it. She'd known him only briefly, yet they had made one of those rare instant connections that had them feeling they'd been friends for years. Jean was thoughtful, intelligent, and sensible. Behind his half-Gothic facade was a solid man, a man of integrity.

She told him almost everything she knew, not mentioning the Art Crimes Department or her brother, Santiago, and waited for his opinion.

"Maybe the two Geoffroys were related, Ana," Jean began. "I'll grant you that. But we're attributing possession of the shroud to the first one with no proof whatsoever. There's just no basis for it. If the shroud had been authentic, it would have been in the hands of the Temple. Remember that the knights made a vow of poverty and had no possessions. So it would be almost unthinkable that a Templar would have such an object in his hands or bequeath it to his family.

"Your theory is interesting, but it's a real stretch, and you know it," he continued. "You have to be rigorous when you write about this. Otherwise, people will take it as just another fanciful story about the shroud, and you know how many of those there are."

Ana began to protest, but he held up his hand and went on. "For a book of esotericism it wouldn't be bad.

But the truth is, Ana, all you're talking to me about is 'hunches' and 'intuitions' and 'feelings.' What you're telling me, well told, could be an interesting story for a magazine, but nothing you've told me is based on real proof-it's all just obscure family connections. I'm sorry, really, but if I found a story like this in a newspaper, I wouldn't believe it. I'd think it was yarn-spinning by one of those people who write about UFOs and see the image of the Virgin Mary in pepperoni pizzas."

Ana couldn't hide her disappointment, although deep inside she knew Jean was right. Nevertheless, she raised her chin and responded in a tone as serious as his own.

"I'm not going to give up, Jean. If it turns out I don't find solid proof, I won't publish a word-that's the promise I made at the beginning and I'm making again right now. That way I won't disappoint people like you who've helped me. But I'm going to continue to track this story down if it kills me. I haven't told you, but I know a modern-day de Charny right now, a gallant 'knight' of sorts if I've ever seen one."

"Who is he?"

'A very handsome, very interesting, very mysterious man, who just so happens to have visited the old family home in the past few years. I'm going to Paris; it'll be easier for me to get in touch with his family there, if it is his family."

Jean put his hand over hers on the table. "I'd go with you if I could, Ana, but I know there's not a chance they'd give me the vacation time right now. But the second best thing is, I have a friend in Paris who might be able to help. He's originally from here, Troyes. were at the university together. He moved to Paris and got his doctorate in history at the Sorbonne. He's even taught there some. But he fell in love with a Scottish reporter, and in less than three years he turned around and got another degree, in journalism, and now they have a magazine: Enigmas. It's not my kind of thing- they publish speculative stuff on history, unsolved mysteries, you know. And they have genealogists, historians, scientists who write for them. We haven't seen each other in years, practically since he got married. His wife had some kind of accident and they haven't been back here. But he's a good friend of mine, and he'll talk to you. I'll call him."

He blushed as Ana leaned across the table to kiss him on the cheek. "Jean, you've been wonderful. Thank you," she said. 'After Paris I think I'll head back to Turin, depending on what else I find. I'll call you and keep you posted. You know, you're the only person I've been able to talk to honestly about this, and I'll count on your good common sense to keep a rein on my wild fantasies."