The Templar legacy

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He was called first Cephas in Aramaic, then Petros, rock, in Greek. Eventually he became Peter and the Gospels proclaimed that Christ said, Upon this rock I shall build my church.

The testimony was the first ancient account he'd ever read that made sense. No supernatural events or miraculous apparitions. No actions contrary to history or logic. No inconsistent details that cast doubt on credibility. Just the testimony by a simple fisherman of how he'd borne witness to a great man, one whose good works and kind words lived on after his death, enough to inspire him to continue the cause.

Simon certainly did not possess the intellect or ability to fashion the type of elaborate religious ideas that would come much later. His understanding was confined to the man Jesus, whom he knew, and whom God had reclaimed through a violent death. In order to know God, to be a part of Him, it was clear to Simon that he must emulate the man Jesus. The message could only live if he, and others after him, breathed life into it. In that simple way, death could not contain the man Jesus. A resurrection would occur. Not literal, but spiritual. And within the mind of Simon, the man Jesus had arisen-he lived again-and from that singular beginning, during an autumn night six months after the man Jesus was executed, the Christian Church was born.

"Those arrogant assholes," de Roquefort muttered. "With their grand churches and theologies. Every bit of it is wrong."

"No, it's not."

"How can you say that? There's no elaborate crucifixion, no empty tomb, no angels announcing the risen Christ. That's fiction, created by men for their own benefit. This testimony here has meaning. It all started with one man realizing something in his mind. Our Order was wiped from the face of the earth, our brothers tortured and murdered, in the name of the so-called resurrected Christ."

"The effect is the same. The Church was born."

"Do you think for one minute the Church would have flourished if its entire theology was based on the personal revelation of one simple man? How many converts do you think it would have obtained?"

"But that's exactly what happened. Jesus was an ordinary man."

"Who was elevated to the status of a god by later men. And if anyone challenged that determination, they were deemed a heretic and burned at the stake. The Cathars were wiped from the face of the earth right here in the Pyrenees for not believing."

"Those early Church fathers did what they did. They had to embellish in order to survive."

"You condone what they did?"

"It's done."

"And we can undo it."

A thought occurred to him. "Sauniere surely read this."

"And told no one."

"That's right. Even he saw the futility of it."

"He told no one because he would have lost his private treasure trove. He had no honor. He was a thief."

"Perhaps. But the information obviously affected him. He left so many clues in his church. He was a learned man and could read Latin. If he found this, which I'm sure he did, he understood it. Yet he placed it back in its hiding place and locked the gate when he left." He stared down into the ossuary. Was he looking at the bones of the man Jesus? A wave a sadness swept through him as he realized all that remained of his father were bones, too.

He locked his gaze on de Roquefort and asked what he truly wanted to know. "Did you kill my father?"

MALONE WATCHED AS STEPHANIE HUSTLED TOWARD THE LADDER, a gun from one of the guards in her hand. "Going somewhere?"

"He may hate my guts, but he's still my son."

He understood she had to go, but she wasn't going alone. "I'm coming, too."

"I prefer to do this alone."

"I don't give a damn what you prefer. I'm coming."

"I am, too," Cassiopeia said.

Henrik grabbed her arm. "No. Let them do it. They need to resolve this."

"Resolve what?" Cassiopeia demanded.

The chaplain stepped forward. "The seneschal and the master must challenge each other. His mother was involved for a reason. Let her be. Her destiny is below with them."

Stephanie disappeared down the ladder and Malone watched from above as she hopped to one side, avoiding the pit. He then followed her down, lamp in one hand, gun in the other.

"Which way?" Stephanie whispered.

He signaled for quiet. Then he heard voices. From his left, toward the chamber he and Cassiopeia had found.

"That way," he mouthed.

He knew the path was free of traps until almost to the chamber entrance. Still, they inched ahead slowly. When he spied the skeleton and the words etched into the wall, he knew just ahead they'd have to be cautious.

The voices were clearer now.