Iacobus (15 page)

“But isn’t that all just fairy tales?” interrupted Jonas, “How can you say that those strange beings, those giants, were gods? There is only one True God, Our Lord Jesus Christ, who died at the cross to save us.”

“That’s right, you said it, but before Our Redeemer was incarnated in the womb of the Blessed Virgin, man sincerely believed, with the same faith with which we believe in our Saviour today, in other equally powerful gods, and long before the Greek and Roman gods, there were others, now forgotten, whose memory is barely preserved, and before them, dear Jonas, there was only one God.”

“Our Lord Jesus Christ.”

“No. A God who, in reality, was a Goddess: Megalas Matros, Magna Mater, Great Mother, the Earth, who is still secretly worshiped in many parts of the world under names such as Isis, Tanit, Astarte, Demeter ….”

“What are you saying?” cried Jonas, taking a step back and looking at me apprehensively. “You can’t be serious! A woman …!”

I smiled and said no more. That was enough for his first lesson.

“Let’s get back to our message. We left Manrique indicating that Evrard should follow the route of the Milky Way until he reached the kingdoms of Atlas. But that is very vague, firstly because, as the message itself states, the Milky Way divides into two branches before disappearing into the Atlantic ocean. How does he let him know which one to take?”

“Does it have anything to do with the great forgiveness?”

“Exactly. As I can see that you don’t know what that is, I’ll tell you: The Great Forgiveness, or what is also known as the Way of the Great Pardon, is the route that thousands of pilgrims take following one of the tails of the Milky Way, it is the Way of the Apostle James, El Camino de Santiago, Apostolus Christi Iacobus, in Spain.”

“Evrard had to leave France heading for the Pyrenees and follow the Camino de Santiago, the Way of St. James?”

“Think. The Templars escaped en masse from Europe to take refuge in Portugal. I’m sure that is where Manrique is now, and there are only two ways to get to Portugal; either by sea, or by land, crossing the Pyrenees and the Christian kingdoms of Spain. It’s obvious that Evrard was not in a position to face a long and hazardous journey by boat, suffering the abrupt swaying of the waves or an unexpected and violent storm; that would have killed him, without a doubt. However, by land, despite the slower speed and discomfort, he would have been able to stop and rest as many times as he needed, he would have been attended to by good doctors, and he would have even been able to die, as the case may be, surrounded by his companions from the Order, because remember that there seem to be many Templars who have renounced their vows in order stay close to their former commandries.”

“O.K., so this Manrique is in Portugal, and Evrard, who couldn’t flee, had to meet up with him but why use the Camino de Santiago?”

“Because of the bull, don’t forget about that.”

“The bull? What does the bull have to do with all this?”

“The bull, my dear boy, is the answer to the second mission I was entrusted with, do you remember? Find out the destination of the Order of the Temple’s gold, a gold which mysteriously disappeared in large quantities. Mendoza gets word to his companion that he mustn’t worry about anything during his journey, he begs him to escape, to leave France as quickly as possible using the route that he considers to be the safest: the Camino de Santiago, which Evrard probably traveled disguised as a sick pilgrim in search of a miracle, throughout which the bull, the taurus, i.e., the tau-aureus, would protect him.”

“Tau-aureus?”

“The Tau, the Greek T,” I explained, “or better, the Cross of Tau, the sign of the Cross, or better still, the sign of aureus, or gold.”

Now the Imago Mundi that Evrard acquired suddenly made sense. That parchment, which had unfortunately remained with Sara, didn’t contain, as I first thought, vitally important signs to complete the message. It was clear that it didn’t have any fundamental keys. What it did have, loud and clear, was the fundamental key: that Earth split into the shape of a T, for Tau. That was the sign. In light of this new detail, it was evident that the hand that had drawn the Imago Mundi and had written the list of Hebrew dates and Latin initials was not that of Evrard but rather of Manrique of Mendoza who had managed to inform Evrard about the Tau clue using all possible means. This detail shone a light on another detail. Sara, although it was true that she didn’t know how to read as she told me, perfectly distinguished the handwriting of her beloved Manrique. Which is why she wanted to keep those two documents.

“The sign of the gold!” Jonas was saying. “Of the Templar gold!”

“Indeed,” I said, retaking control of the conversation. “The Templars must have hidden their aureus, or at least part of it, along the Way of the Apostle, and Evrard, who possibly knew the hiding places, or how to find those hiding places, was authorized to use those riches to safely reach Portugal with the aid of his brethren who, without a doubt, are guarding the treasure while giving the impression that they are staying on the border of the old conflicts that put an end to their Order, living without a profession or benefit, as simple knights, in the areas surrounding their old castles, fortresses and commandries.”

“When Pope John and your Grand Commander find out about this …!” exclaimed Jonas with shining eyes.

I was the one who didn’t know what was awaiting me.

Pope John XXII and the French Hospitaller Grand Commander, frey Robert of Arthus-Bertrand, Duke of Soyecourt, listened attentively during my hour-long speech. Every now and again my two listeners made an observation, some comment between them that I didn’t really understand, like the fact that the incriminating letter, the key evidence that the Pope had asked me for, should be destroyed immediately. Of course, in light of what I told him, John XXII decided it was absolutely essential to approve the new Military Order requested by Don Dinis, King of Portugal.

Apparently, during the month that my investigation had lasted, the Hospital and the Papacy had greatly strengthened their links, and now they were both especially interested in the Templar gold. I presume that my bewilderment, and what’s more, my evident — although contained —, indignation at some of his questions, led frey Robert to give me a short explanation that, if it wasn’t for the fact that I knew so much about the very delicate information that I had given them, I would never have found out.

One of the bulls issued by the previous Pope, Clement V, during the Templar process — the Ad Providam bull–, ordered that the Hospital of St. John of Jerusalem, as the main beneficiary of the Templar assets following the suspension of the Order, pay, from the income of those goods, high pensions to the freires, sergeants and main people in charge of the Templars who, having abandoned their Templarism, had decided to stay in the Christian kingdoms where the persecution and annihilation carried out in France had not been so brutal. Therefore, said frey Robert, large amounts of money was being paid to hundreds of old Templars for the rest of their lives, while neither the Hospital nor the kingdoms had received their full part of the assets due since most of the riches, all of those that could be transported, had disappeared.

In response, Pope John XXII, who was present, was seriously thinking about issuing a new bull that would overwrite that of Clement V, provided of course that the Church — the Papal Treasury —, would receive a quantity of funds large enough to compensate this favor in return. Which is why it was vitally important to find the Temple gold, that same gold that, according to my sources, was partially hidden along the Camino de Santiago.

I could never have imagined, not even in my worst nightmares, to find such greedy men in such sacred and important positions. Greed shone in their eyes, desire to magnify the riches of both the Papal throne and, unfortunately, the Order of the Hospital of St. John (already the most powerful in Europe, after the demise of the Knights of the Temple of Solomon). This was not my idea of helping the needy, the universal spirit of generosity, consoling the sick. Admittedly, after my journey, I was much more aware of the miserly fame of usurer that John XXII had earned himself, a man who had filled the city of Avignon with bankers, merchants, dealers and money-changers; who had surrounded himself with a Court much more sumptuous, rich and palatial than any other monarch on the planet; a pope who sold bulls in exchange for money and, from what I had heard, allowed crucifixes to be displayed in which the image of the Son of God was nailed by just one hand as the other was inside a bag of money that was hanging from his belt. The truth is that I hadn’t wanted to listen to those rumors but the golden shine I was seeing reflected in his sharp, tiny eyes made me suspect that the rumors must be completely true. Unfortunately, the same could be said for the French Grand Commander of the Hospital Order, and for a second my indignation made me think about writing a very serious letter to the seneschal in Rhodes to tell him everything that I was seeing and hearing but I remembered just in time that it was the seneschal himself who had placed me under the direct orders of that unworthy man and that therefore, my maneuverability was very restricted; I had no choice but to be silent, be silent and obey, and console myself thinking that I would soon be returning to Rhodes and would no longer be shaming myself in that harmful environment.

I was ordered to wait for a moment in an adjacent room while frey Robert and His Holiness discussed what I had told them. They had to make some decisions, they said, and would call me back in a few minutes. While I waited, I suddenly realized just how important it was to personally see to my son’s education; there was no way that I wanted Jonas to run the risk of becoming a depraved and ambitious man like those seen lately in powerful circles. I wanted his only ambition to be culture and his ethics to be the best, so I told myself that I must take him with me to Rhodes, put him in the hands of my Order’s best teachers, keep a close eye on his development and get him away from the crazy world that Christianity had become; the stuff he was made of was unbeatable but what about the influences he could end up under if he headed in the wrong direction? I had to take him with me to Rhodes; there was no doubt about it.

I was thinking about these uneasy thoughts when I was called back before the presence of the Supreme Pontiff.

“We and your Commander, frere Galceran,” said the Holy Father, giving me his best smile, “have decided that you will set forth on the pilgrimage to Santiago.”

I was dumbfounded.

“We know, brother,” added frey Robert apologetically, “that you wish to return immediately to Rhodes but the mission His Holiness has decided to entrust you with is of the utmost importance for our Order.”

I remained dumbfounded.

“You see, frere, if We sent a Christian army into the Pyrenees to recover the Templar gold, do you think they would find anything? Of course not. Knowing those bastards as We do, that gold must be perfectly hidden in unexpected, inaccessible places and probably full of traps. But if you,” continued His Holiness, impassively, looking me in the eye, “with your sharp intelligence, are able to find those hiding places, it would be easy for an armed retinue of knights to remove your discovery.”

“What His Holiness and I, as spokesman of your Order, want to say,” continued frey Robert, “is that it would be impossible to find those riches using traditional methods. You have already seen that, even under torture, the Templars have refused to reveal their true secretes. However, if you follow the Camino like … what do they call them … like a concheiro, like a penitent who goes to the tomb of the Apostle to obtain the Compostela indulgence, your eyes will be able to see much more than twenty armed men, don’t you agree?”

The truth is that I was still dumbfounded. “You shall leave immediately,” the Holy Father ordered.

“Take a few days to rest and prepare for your long journey to Compostela. However, make sure that nobody sees you other than your captaincy; remember that we are surrounded by spies who could put an unfortunate end to your mission. Later, when you are ready, leave.”

“But …,” I stammered. “How …? It’s impossible, Your Holiness.”

“Impossible?” he asked, turning to the Commander. “Did I hear impossible?”

“You have no choice, Galceran,” said my superior in a tone that brooked no argument; I could be severely punished for disobeying orders, even losing the house
(6)
. “You must fulfill your mission. You will stay at the captaincy in Avignon until you feel that you ready to leave, just as the Holy Father told you, and you will then set forth on the path to Compostela. Some of the Pope’s men will follow you at a distance during the pilgrimage, so that you can inform us of your discoveries using channels that we will establish. You will adopt the persona of a poor pilgrim and use your knowledge and skills to find those ‘Tau-aureus’ that you have so splendidly revealed.”

“At least give me a moment to think …,” I begged, troubled. “At least let me take my squire with me, the novicius I took out of the monastery in Ponç de Riba to teach him the basics of medicine. He has turned out to be a fine lad and an excellent companion for my investigations.”

“What does this novicius know about all this?” asked Pope John, enraged.

“He was the one, Holiness, who resolved the enigma of the message.”

“So we must assume that he knows about everything.”

“Correct, Holy Father,” I replied, firmly decided that Jonas would accompany me at whatever cost, even that of a harsh penalty. All things considered, that journey could lead to the reunion for the both of us with the third party implied in our common history; his mother, Isabel of Mendoza. “By the way, Holy Father,” I added, taking the question of Jonas to be finalized, “I’m going to need a very special authorization that only you can give me ….”

CHAPTER IV

During the first few days of August 1317, helped by reading a beautiful copy of the Liber peregrinationis from the Codex calixtinus
(7)
, compiled by the monks of Ripoll, we meticulously prepared every detail of our upcoming journey to the tomb of the Apostle James in the land of Galicia. We also received abundant and very helpful information from various priests who had made the pilgrimage in recent years, who told us that the infinite number of Jacobean paths that ran through Europe are drastically reduced in France to four main routes: the ‘Tolosana’ through Toulouse, the ‘Podense’ through Le Puy, the ‘Lemovicense’ through Limoges and the ‘Tourense’ through Tours. It was obvious that if Evrard had to reach the Pyrenees from Paris, his most direct route would have been the ‘Tourense’ which ran through Orleans, Tours, Poitiers, Bordeaux and Ostabat, to enter Spain through Valcarlos and Roncesvalles. However, as we were in the southernmost state of Avignon, we would go down to Arles and take the route known as ‘Tolosana’ which, leaving from Saint Gilles, passed through Montpellier and Toulouse, to cross the Pyrenees by the Summus Portus
(8)
.

However many times I went over it, I had no idea how to begin the search for the gold which, without a doubt, would be impossibly hidden. To reassure myself, I told myself that if these riches really were hidden along the Camino, whoever prepared these hiding places must have left signs to allow for its recovery. Unfortunately, I was sure that these signs would follow secret codes that would make finding them incredibly difficult, or even impossible, to anyone who didn’t have the keys but I was sure that the Templars, as the initiates they were, would have used universally known cryptic signs which I would also know. I also told myself that the gold had not been placed in the Camino with the sole purpose of Evrard finding it during his flee, so it would probably be more beneficial to begin the Camino in Aragon instead of Navarre, as we would cover the longest route.

I needed to pay special attention to the old Temple Order properties, places where I would more than likely find answers to my question, although I was worried about the large number of farms, commandries, castles, mills, palaces, forges and churches that had formed part of those properties. The Order was established during the first third of the twelfth century throughout Aragon, Catalonia and Navarre, later spreading through Castile and Leon. They had fought bravely to defend the borders with the Muslims and had taken part in great battles, such as the Occupation of Valencia and Mallorca, with James I of Aragon, the Conquest of Cuenca, the Battle of Las Navas in Tolosa and the Occupation of Seville. That meant that its previous heritage was immeasurable and was distributed throughout all of the Christian kingdoms of Spain. A route such as the long Camino de Santiago posed a serious problem for someone like me, who had to visit each and every one of the buildings constructed or acquired by the Temple freires over two centuries, without taking into consideration the fact that, as I didn’t know which method they had used to signal their hidden treasures, I had to examine anything that caught my attention.

To begin our false pilgrimage, both Jonas and I had to take on new identities that would protect us from the dangers we would obviously come across. After much deliberating, and so as not to stretch the truth too far — as the time would come when we would have to —, I became the person I would have become had I not followed the dictates of the spirit and knowledge, that is to say, I became Knight Galceran of Born, second son of the noble gentleman of Taradell, recent widower of a distant cousin, who was on a pilgrimage to the site of the Apostle accompanied by his first-born, Garcia Galcerañez, to seek forgiveness for wrongs done to his young, deceased wife. The plot was completed with the penance imposed by my confessor to walk the Camino in abject poverty, taking advantage of people’s generosity. Luckily, according to the Codex calixtinus:

Peregrini sive pauperes sive divites a liminibus Sancti Jacobi redientes, vel advenientes, omnibus gentibus caritative sunt recipien-di et venerandi. Nam quicumque illos receperit et diligenter hospicio procuraverit, non solum beatum Jacobum, verum etiam ipsum Dominum hospitem habebit. Ipso Domino in evangelio dicente: Qui vos recipit me recipit
(9)
.

Jonas, who since leaving Ponç de Riba, was shamelessly losing his character of a respectful and humble novicius, energetically protested:

“Why can’t we make this tough pilgrimage with a little comfort? It’s terrible thinking of what lies ahead! I don’t think I want to go with you.”

“You, Garcia Galcerañez, will come with me until the end, whether you want to or not.”

“I don’t agree. I wish to return to my monastery. Patience, patience!”

“This again?” I exclaimed, snapping my fingers.

Finally, on Thursday the 9th of August, we crossed the walls of Avignon on foot and left behind the magnificent Pont St. Benezet over the black Rhone, while the sunlight was still barely glowing in the sky. It didn’t take long before we came across the first group of pilgrims who, like ourselves, were en route to Arles. It was a large Teutonic family who, together with their close relatives and all their servants, were going to Santiago to fulfill an old promise. On that first day we shared their food and their wine but at dusk, the Teutonics realized that they were losing a lot of time pulling back on their wagons and their horses to stay at or pace, as we were on foot, and they happily bade us farewell with friendly gestures. We were glad to say goodbye, as the Germans are the most friendly but the most boring people I have ever met, and we were again alone on the road. At sunset, we lit a fire next to the river and slept on the ground, listening to the tireless croaking of the frogs.

It took us another half a day to reach Arles, and we did it pretty pathetically: First, neither the boy nor I were used to so much walking, so our leather sandals had cut into our flesh to the point of almost leaving our bones exposed, and secondly, our limp had caused us to walk the last few miles completely off-balance, so in addition to the bloody sores and ulcers, we were suffering from pain throughout our bodies, from the hair on our heads to our toenails. If we could have at least stayed in an inn like the one in Paris, we would have rested our sorrows on some good straw mattress but the penance of poverty imposed by the non-existent confessor on the non-existent Knight Born denied us even this meager comfort. This penance was not a foolish whim on my part, even though Jonas couldn’t see it any other way. The fact of having to depend on the charity and mercy of others allowed us into almost any house, castle, borough, village, parish, monastery or cathedral we came across which really helped us to chat to and make contact with the locals. No information is trivial when you are lacking all of the necessary data.

So, battered and injured, we had to seek shelter, like so many other pilgrims, in the naves of the venerable Basilica of St. Honoratus, where we were kicked out at dawn by a sacristan so the first Mass of the day could be held. And by God was I glad when he did! I was sick of the smell, the dirt, the rats, the insects and the fleas in our lodgings, as well as the stench of our fellow companions.

That morning, with the last of my money, I bought linen and ointment for our wounds, as well as some barley bread and honey. With a thin bone needle, I pricked the blisters on mine and on the boy’s feet, taking care not to tear the dead skin when removing the serum, and then carefully applied the ointment. Although we really wanted to visit the famous Cemetery of Alyscamps — where, according to the legend, rest the ten thousand warriors of Charlemagne’s army —, our bodies didn’t allow it, forcing us to rest next to the fountain in the square until night. So we returned to the Church of St. Honoratus to sleep badly and wait for the following day, Sunday, when the solemn religious ceremony of blessing and bidding farewell to the many concheiros who had gathered for that purpose in Arles over the last few weeks took place. It is customary for pilgrims to travel in groups to protect themselves from the bandits and thieves who infest the roads, however I was not planning on traveling with anyone (at least not until we had entered the land of Aragon) but it was more prudent to begin the long journey with the food and gifts that the city gave to the travelers upon their departure.

The crowd began to gather outside the gates of the basilica in the early hours of the morning. There was a festive atmosphere and the weather was on our side, as it was hot and the sun was rising strongly. The canons from all the churches in the city celebrated the Holy Mass with great pomp, at the end of which they gave us the pilgrim’s supplies, after blessing each article or garment: the food bag.

“In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, take this bag, an insignia of your pilgrimage, so that punished and amended, you may reach where you long to reach, the feet of St. James, with more haste, and so that after completing your journey you return to us with joy, with the help of God, who lives and reigns forever after. Amen
(10)
.”

The staff for walking and for defense.

“Take this staff to support you in your travel and work, for walking your pilgrimage, so you can defeat enemy hordes and arrive safely at the feet of St. James, and, having completed your journey, you can return to us with joy, with the consent of God himself, who lives and reigns forever after. Amen
(11)
.”

The pumpkin to hold our water, the hat for the sun and the cloak for the cold and the bad weather. Most of us also had a tin box thrown over our shoulder where we kept the documents and passes necessary for the journey (Jonas’ and mine were obviously false). Later in the square, there was food and drink for all while the minstrels sang bold versus and they acted with the magicians. Jonas stuffed himself on sugared almonds and I had to pull a cup of flavored wine from his hands as it was reaching his lips.

We left Arles as a group, later breaking off into smaller groups as we headed towards Saint Gilles, about ten miles away, between Nimes and the Rhone, where the body of the saint with the same name was buried; he had an excellent reputation throughout France for his speed in responding to pleas. This sanctuary was an inevitable stop along the Camino when taking the Toulouse route since visiting the tomb of the saint and kissing his alter was considered to be very advantageous and miraculous.

We arrived at dawn, and once we had left our possessions at the inn, we set out to fulfill the salutation. Accustomed to the dark outside, we had to raise our arms to our faces to protect our eyes as we entered which did little good as the temple shone like gold, illuminated by thousands of altar candles and lamps, and it was such a strong light that Jonas, whose admiration had no limits, spent a long time blinking with watery eyes until he became used to it. The truth is that the tomb of that gentleman was remarkable and something worth visiting. His body was protected by a golden chest, whose pitched roof was decorated with fish scale shapes, with thirteen crystals set into the finish. In the center of the front of the chest, inside a golden circle surrounded by two rows of all kinds of precious stones, was the seated image of Jesus Christ imparting a blessing with one hand while the other held an open book with the words: ‘Love, peace and truth’. Nevertheless, what really caught my attention was the center strip on the left of the chest which crudely displayed the twelve solar signs: Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Leo, Virgo, Libra, Scorpio, Sagittarius, Capricorn, Aquarius and Pisces. I was asking myself, intrigued, what the hell those signs were doing there, when I was suddenly startled, and my hand reached for my belt, without remembering that I was unarmed:

“Beatus vir qui timet dominum
(12)
,” said a gruff voice from behind me.

“Caeli enarrant gloriam Dei
(13)
,” I quickly replied, turning around to look at this unknown person whom I had been waiting for since we left Avignon.

Half hidden in the shadows and wrapped in a long dark coat, a disturbing-looking individual of great stature and girth stood watching us. We stared at each other sullenly for a few seconds, until the man took a step into the light and I could see him more clearly. I signaled to Jonas to stay where he was and I slowly moved towards him, without taking my eyes off his which were a very clear shade of blue. He had short hair and a long beard, both of an intense blond color, in deep contrast to his clothing. His complexion was formidable; he had a very prominent jaw and a huge, bulging forehead. He must have been very important within the ranks of the Holy Father’s guard.

“Sire Galceran of Born,” he said when he was closer, “I am Count Joffroi of Le Mans, your shadow.”

He couldn’t have made it any clearer.

“Count Joffroi of Le Mans, I am frere Galceran, knight of the Hospital of St. John of Jerusalem, doctor and your charge.”

He seemed surprised by my response, probably because he was more accustomed to causing fear and consternation than indifference.

“These are my orders,” he continued, as if he hadn’t heard me, or as if anything that didn’t have to do with what he had to say wasn’t of importance. “To follow you day and night until you find the Templar treasure, to help you with my weapons and the weapons of the five men who accompany me in the event that you need help, to kill you and your apprentice if you try to deceive the Holy Mother Church.”

I could feel my indignation growing inside me as that damn count continued to speak. There we were, my son and I, searching for a treasure that we cared nothing about, carrying out an ambitious mission that, if we were successful, would only serve to further enrich those who were already rich, suffering hardship on a pilgrimage that we didn’t want to do, and to top it all off, here was this idiot threatening us with death.

“Your orders are of no interest to me, Count,” I replied irritably. “It’s as if you don’t exist to me, given that you are only my shadow. I have a mission to fulfill and I shall fulfill it.”

“For reasons of the state, His Holiness John XXII would like you to do your job as quickly as possible.”