The Blood Lance (41 page)
'To follow this vision was to follow the way of the Cathars, to yearn continually after the world of the spirit. When all else was lost at Montségur, the knights surrendered their lives but not the relic that had inspired the divine vision.
That
they would not surrender to the hated priests of Rome.
'Can you imagine over two hundred men, women, and children walking into the Inquisitor's fire on the morning of 16 March in 1244? Can you see them leaving the fortress and walking into the flames without a single voice crying out in terror until the flames actually consumed them?'
Himmler's eyes glittered at the image.
'They did not trust in the mud-stained relic Peter Bartholomew had found. They believed in and followed the divine image of the Blood Lance. They walked into fire, even as Peter Bartholomew had done.'
'But the Lance itself? You think they buried it
in the mountain
, as the legend tells it?'
Rahn shook his head, giving the man a taste of doubt. 'No one knows. I saw the image of the Blood Lance and Chalice in one of the chambers inside the
Grotto de Lombrives.'
'You mentioned that in your book!'
'I showed the painting to Major Bachman soon after we met. You remember seeing it, don't you, Dieter?'
Both men looked at Bachman, who nodded confirmation.
'They might have hidden it there, in the Lombrives, I suppose, or any of the other caves in the region. Mount Tabor is literally honeycombed with caves. Of course it is also possible that the legend is nothing more than pure nonsense - like most of the rest of the stories one encounters. It is entirely possible that nothing at all is waiting to be found - that the vision of the Blood Lance is purely a gift of the spirit that only a True Cathar can attain.'
Himmler considered the matter with a sudden look of
caution. 'You are saying then, that all you really have is the legend an old man told you when you climbed the mountain - and a painting on a cave wall?'
Rahn let one shoulder kick up. 'I told Major Bachman that a couple of weeks ago. It is hardly promising, as I told him, but since our talk I have been thinking about it. . .'
Himmler's head tipped; he was listening.
'Esclarmonde, according to the legend, threw the Grail into
Mount Tabor
.' Himmler waited with a look of uncertainty. 'Mount Tabor is the name of a mountain north of Galilee - where the Transfiguration is thought by some to have occurred - when Christ appeared to three of his disciples as something other than a mortal being. It is exactly the same with the Lance. One looked upon a lump of iron that had been
transfigured
into something divine - the Blood Lance of Eschenbach's Grail legend.
'There is also the rather curious fact that Mount Tabor's peak in the Languedoc is called St. Bartholomew.'
'After Peter Bartholomew, do you think?'
'It could be just another coincidence, except that the caves themselves into which the Grail was thrown, if we can believe the legend, are known as the
Sabarthès
- a simple corruption of Saint Bartholomew.'
Himmler's caution faded. This was the clue that would take them to the Lance! Rahn maintained the thoughtful countenance of a scholar still probing for a working hypothesis.
'Peter Bartholomew's example of courage must have inspired all those who were about to face the flames of the Inquisition - and of course he too was a victim of the clergy and fire. From a simple, humble cleric, his faith had turned him into the first knight of the Blood Lance.'
'But this is incredible!' Himmler cried excitedly. '
The Sabarthès!
The caves hold Peter Bartholomew's relic!'
Rahn smiled sheepishly. 'I had every piece of evidence in front of me for the past five years, but until Major Bachman
pushed me to consider an expedition I just could not see it! Now. . . of course I cannot promise success, but I think there is perhaps. . .
some
small hope. . .'
'What do you need to find it?' Himmler asked. 'Tell me, and it is yours!'
Rahn managed to look surprised, as if hardly expecting Himmler to respond at once, but in truth he was ready. 'I am thinking. . . a dozen to twenty men. They ought to be miners or men used to hard labour underground. If it is anywhere, it is deep inside the mountain, somewhere beyond the reach of smooth-fingered priests.' He turned toward Bachman. 'I will also need a squad to support the expedition: transportation, equipment, and a base of operations. I don't think it would be wise to let on we are going in search of anything. The French might be very reluctant to cooperate. In fact, we might make a show of sending me somewhere else so no one suspects our real intentions. . .'
'That can be arranged easily enough,' Bachman said. He looked at Himmler. 'He might sail to Iceland, looking for evidence of the Hyperboreans.'
'A ship would be good,' Himmler nodded. 'We can make a show of having a double of Dr Rahn entering a ship and then be done with the charade.' He turned to Rahn, 'But tell me, Dr Rahn, how soon can you start such an expedition?'
'I want to see some people in Switzerland who have explored a number of the caves. Then I would like to arrive in advance of the expedition by a few days so that I might establish a protocol for a systematic search. I can start at once. If Major Bachman could be ready in say. . . a month that would be ideal.'
Himmler turned to Bachman. 'That won't be a problem, will it, Major?'
'No problem at all, Reichsführer,' Bachman answered.
'One thing,' Rahn answered, almost hesitating to interrupt.
Himmler looked curious. 'Certainly, what is it?'
'I should like to see the Order of the Cathars established
within the SS - if we are lucky enough to find the Lance - with the Lance of Antioch as their own.'
Himmler smiled with the indulgence of an older and wiser man. 'Let us find your Lance of Antioch first, shall we, Dr Rahn? Then we can worry about its fate!'
Bachman was pleased. He could not understand why Rahn was not. 'You have your expedition! What more do you want?' he asked when they met to work out the details.
'What do we tell Himmler when we have searched the last cave and it does not exist?' Rahn asked him.
Bachman looked stricken. 'But we know where to look!'
'They
buried
it, Dieter, because they did not want anyone to find it! That is,
if
it even existed!'
'But you made it sound like it would be no great problem!'
Rahn looked away angrily. 'Where do we stand when we come home with nothing?'
'But Otto, you said—'
'Where do we stand?'
Bachman reflected. 'It won't be good, of course. . .'
'I am going to need money, Dieter. A great deal of it.'
Bachman raised his eyebrows. 'Certainly, whatever you need.'
Summer 1936.
After several days with an old friend in Geneva, Rahn travelled to Provence and then on to the Languedoc. He settled for a night close to the ruins of Foix, where Esclarmonde had been able to look to the south toward Mt Tabor and the Ariège river valley. On the following morning he hiked one of the most beautiful trails in the south of France, the Way of the Cathars. It was an ancient path that started in the Valley of the Elms under Mount Tabor's eastern skirt, traced the borders of the peak where Montségur defended the holy mountain and ultimately climbed up over St. Bartholomew's summit before tracing its way down to the mountain's western foothills and the Sabarthès caves.
He camped overnight not far from the fortified caves of Bouan and Ornolac: the latter located beyond the baths of Ussat and filled with serpents; the former a virtual castle, complete with keep, stairways, towers and a water tank. He moved on, combing the region's forgotten potholes and establishing a method of search for the expedition. Two weeks later, his programme set, he telephoned Bachman to tell him he was ready.
The miners came into the country as members of the Thule Society. Bachman, the spokesman for the group, represented to French officials that the purpose of their visit was to spend a few weeks exploring the cave system along the Ariège valley. Bachman's support detail of over a dozen SS junior officers
entered the country separately. When they were not stationed at the campsite to work as guards, these men stayed at various hotels in the region like tourists, usually changing their locations every week or so. Ostensibly having nothing to do with the members of the Thule Society, they were in fact responsible for bringing supplies and equipment into the campsite, supervising the work inside the caves, and guarding the camp at night.
There were a few encounters during the expedition with fortune hunters who were working in the same caves, but the mix of cash and intimidation that Bachman offered them inevitably persuaded them to look elsewhere for treasure. In the first weeks of the expedition Rahn and Bachman often left the campsite to have a drink in one or another of the local villages, but one evening a local roughneck who had had too much to drink began complaining about the Germans who were overrunning the area. Hadn't they their own country to pollute? The man's fury was aimed at tourists in general, Bachman and Rahn included, but afterwards Bachman declared that the members of the expedition must take greater care to remain inconspicuous.
The miners, of course, were not a problem in this respect. From the moment they entered the country, they virtually disappeared into the landscape. Even in camp, they kept to themselves and spoke only when asked a direct question. Rahn soon learned that they were all prisoners who had been promised parole at the completion of their journey. As a further incentive for their cooperation, Bachman told him, each man had been assured a substantial financial reward should the expedition be successful. Despite these generous motivations, Bachman trusted none of them. They were escorted into the caves at sunrise, and when they had finished their workday, invariably long after sunset, they were brought back to the campsite under the watchful eyes of Bachman's officers. At night two men stood guard over them. Even deep in the caves, Bachman took no
chances. Someone was always assigned to monitor their activity.
The work was hard and sometimes dangerous. As a matter of routine the men were ordered to descend into narrow defiles and deep crevasses. At times they were asked to force open channels that might once have been accessible but had partially filled up. They sought out collapsed veins and possible false walls. They were seeking, as Rahn had told Bachman on more than one occasion, a small gilded box. He was convinced, he said, that the artifact had been preserved in the reliquary Raymond had constructed for it. It could be anywhere, of course, but he was fairly sure it would be hidden away in a place that would have turned back 'a smooth-fingered medieval priest.'
They did not hurry their search but pushed through the caves systematically. In many they found prehistoric tools and bones, in some they discovered medieval artifacts. In one cave the miners followed a crack in the earth down to a surging underground stream, where they encountered the bones of a nineteenth century explorer. He had apparently fallen to his death. On Bachman's orders they left the skeleton as they had found it.
After a month, Bachman's faith began to waver. Rahn was quick to remind him that he had said this is how it could possibly end. Then he added that there were still caves to explore, and they must not get discouraged. One evening Bachman wondered aloud if the Cathars might not have dropped their treasure in the tarn close to St. Bartholomew's peak. Wasn't there some legend about the waters? Rahn knew the legend, of course. The deep waters were said to hold the accursed treasury of ancient Thebes, but he dismissed Bachman's theory. The Cathars, he said, would not have thrown a sacred relic into unholy waters.
'But it could be anywhere!' Bachman answered. At his whining tone, Rahn lashed out at him in fury.
'You
wanted this expedition, Dieter, and promised Himmler God-knows-what to get it! Well, now you have it. So stop your complaining!'
'But you were so confident, Otto!'
Rahn turned away, his eyes scanning the valley. 'Not until you had pushed us both into a corner with your wild promises to a madman.'
In his dejection, Bachman forgot to defend Himmler's sanity.
There were enough caves to house a city of cave dwellers. Some went on for miles. Others were simple hermitages, offering only a few rooms or simply a bit of shelter from bad weather. Many were nothing more than a deep crack in the earth and a great pit waiting below. Deep inside the caves Rahn sometimes got away from the others and worked an area on his own. He liked the perfect solitude of the work and, as the weeks passed, he went out on his own more frequently. There were days when he lost time. In these moments, he was not sure if he had gone mad or attained perfect sanity.