The Parchment (22 page)

Just after midnight, Gerard slipped out of the Templar barracks. A curfew had been imposed in the city, leaving the streets deserted. Keeping in the shadows, Gerard carefully made his way to the western wall near the Jaffa gate. Two sentries stood talking on the battlements. Since the day Hassan's army began moving toward Jerusalem, lookouts had been posted at frequent intervals along the
city's fortifications. Gerard waited impatiently for the lookouts to move on. When they did, he scaled the inside wall and fastened a rope around a stone parapet in the battlements. Tying the other end of the rope around his waist, he let himself down the outside of the wall. Once on the ground, he found his way back to the place where he had tethered his horse. He put the parchment in one of his saddlebags and rode off toward Jaffa.

Gerard avoided the main road to the seacoast, choosing instead a dry riverbed that lay about a half a league to the north. Gerard hoped that Saracen patrols would not be familiar with it. After riding for about an hour in the riverbed, Gerard's horse suddenly stumbled, throwing him over the front of the saddle. When he regained consciousness, he saw his horse grazing a few yards away. Thankfully uninjured by the fall, Gerard stood up slowly. He was bruised in several places but nothing seemed to be broken. When he walked over to his horse, Gerard saw that he was not alone. Saracen horsemen stood watching him from the edge of the riverbed. His first instinct was to draw his sword and fight, but quickly thought better of it — particularly when he saw a Saracen arrow aimed directly at his heart.

The commander of the Saracen patrol rode forward. He studied the red cross on Gerard's mantle. “Are you a Knight of the Temple?” the commander asked in broken French.

Gerard nodded.

The Saracen signaled one of his men to take Gerard's sword and dagger. “Mount your horse, Templar, and come with us.”

Gerard did not disobey. When he had mounted, a Saracen tied Gerard's hands behind his back and took the reins of his horse. At a signal from their commander, the patrol rode off to the north with their prisoner.

The commander of the patrol knelt before the Sultan. “We captured a Templar riding toward Jaffa, Great One. He had this parchment scroll in his saddlebag.”

Sultan Hassan — the Light of the World and King of Egypt and Syria — looked at the parchment and saw that it was written
in Hebrew. “Captain, bring this Templar back in the morning. Feed him and do him no harm.”

After Gerard was led away, Hassan stood for a few moments looking at the Hebrew lettering on the scroll. Why would a Christian Knight be in possession of such a document, he wondered.

Hassan rang a bell, summoning one of his servants. “Tell Samuel ben Eleazar that I wish to see him.”

A few moments later ben Eleazar entered the Sultan's tent. Although a Jew, ben Eleazar had gradually risen to become the Sultan's most valued counselor and confidante. Some even said that the two had developed a strong bond of friendship.

Hassan handed the scroll to ben Eleazar. “This parchment was taken from a young Templar knight. It is written in Hebrew. Translate it for me, Samuel.”

Ben Eleazar bowed to the Sultan. “Of course, Great One.”

Ben Eleazar studied the scroll carefully with the exacting eyes of a scholar.

“It is an ancient Jewish census record — nothing more There are many like this in Palestine, Sultan.”

“Why would a Templar be carrying such a thing, Samuel? There must be a reason.”

Ben Eleazar shrugged. “I do not know. Perhaps it is written in code. Let me look at it again.”

After a few minutes, ben Eleazar put the document down and smiled. “Now I understand. There is no code here, Master. It is a census record from the Jewish year 3791. The writing is actually quite straightforward—too straightforward for some I imagine.”

“What do you mean, Samuel?”

Ben Eleazar pointed to several lines of text near the bottom of the piece of parchment. “The document says that a man called Yeshua of Nazareth and a woman named Mary of Magdala were married during the Jewish year 3791 and gave birth to a boy and a girl. The boy, named David, was born in 3792. Tamar, the girl, was born the next year.”

Hassan stared impatiently at ben Eleazar. “But you still have not answered my question. Why would this Templar be carrying this piece of parchment?”

“Great One, Christians believe that their Messiah, this Jesus, or Yeshua, as he is called in the manuscript, remained celibate all his life. If this census record is accurate, it could fracture Christendom, setting brother against brother.”

“Fracture Christendom! What do you mean?”

“If Jesus had children, some would question the authority of the pope and look for descendants of Jesus' children to lead Christianity.”

Hassan was silent for a moment. “Samuel, where do you think this Templar was taking the parchment? He was riding toward Jaffa.”

“Most likely to Cyprus. The grand master of the Templars is reportedly there gathering an army to help defend Jerusalem.”

“Given what is written here, Samuel, I think I should send this Templar on his way. If the manuscript causes a rift in Christendom, Muslim lives may be saved.”

Ben Eleazar looked at the Sultan. “And Christian lives lost.”

“Who lives or dies is for Allah to decide, not me. He is the one who balances the scales of life. If it is Allah's will that this Templar reach Europe with the parchment, it will happen regardless of what I do. If it is Allah's will that the parchment be destroyed, it will be destroyed. Samuel, have the Templar brought here.”

Samuel bowed and left the tent. Several minutes later, Gerard de Montelambert was led before Hassan. As he entered the tent, Gerard was pushed to his knees before the Sultan. Defiantly, Gerard struggled to stand up. “I kneel only before God and his vicar on Earth, the Bishop of Rome.”

The Sultan smiled at Gerard. “I could have your head cut off in an instant for such insolence. But I applaud your courage, my young Templar—it is uncommon among Christians. Our religion teaches that even the courage of an unbeliever must be rewarded. I give you your freedom. Let it be a testament to the goodness of Allah and the generosity of Sultan Hassan.”

Hassan spoke to one of his soldiers. “Give the Templar a fast horse and put him back on the road to Jaffa.”

As Gerard was led out of the tent, Hassan turned to Samuel. “Stay for a moment, my friend.”

“Yes, Excellency.”

Hassan sat at a table and poured a glass of water. “I do not understand these Christians. Their Jesus must be an evil and a vengeful God.”

Samuel ben Eleazar shook his head. “No. The Christian Scriptures say Jesus is a God of love, not of vengeance.”

“If that is what their Scriptures say, then their Scriptures must lie.” Hassan pounded his hand on the table spilling the glass of water. “Look at what the Christians do in the name of their God. When they captured Jerusalem, they rampaged through the city, killing everyone — Muslim, Jew, even their fellow Christians. No one was spared.”

“It is true, Excellency. When the Christians breached the walls, every Jew fled to the main synagogue.”

“What happened?”

The Jew struggled with his emotions. “The Christians set fire to the building. Anyone who was not burned to death was butchered as they tried to escape.”

“Muslims were treated no better, Samuel. The Christians promised refuge in Al-Aqsa Mosque. Once the faithful had crowded into the mosque, the Christians broke in and slaughtered every one of them. Then they proceeded to cut open their bellies.”

“Why?”

“There was a rumor that Muslims had swallowed gold coins to hide them from the Christians.”

“Hassan, in battle, men do terrible things.”

“Who knows that better than I, Samuel?”

Ben Eleazar was concerned that he had offended his friend. “Great One, I meant no offense.”

“I am not offended. When you lead men into battle, you kill because you must. But you kill soldiers. In Jerusalem the Christians
killed defenseless women and children. For them it was a holy war — a jihad against the enemies of their God.”

“You speak truly, Hassan. When the butchery and mutilation had ended in Jerusalem, their priests gave thanks to their Lord for their victory. They even quoted from the Torah: ‘This is the day the Lord has made. Rejoice and be glad.”’

“Are these Christians human or are they wild beasts without compassion for others?”

“Hassan, your armies are only a day's march from Jerusalem.”

“My soldiers will not repeat what the Christians did there, if that is what you are suggesting. Christian, Jew, or Muslim—we are all people of the book. If they surrender, I will not lift my sword against them.”

Gerard reached Jaffa safely and took passage on an English ship, the
Brigantine
, which was scheduled to stop in Cyprus. Fortunately for Gerard, the captain of the ship, a heavyset Yorkshire man, was also a confrater of the Order of the Temple. He had made a vow to assist the work of the order and provided Gerard with ample food and money for the journey.

A severe winter storm in the Mediterranean, however, forced the
Brigantine
to take shelter in the port of Tripoli. While there, word came that Jerusalem had fallen to the Saracens. As people heard the news, panic spread throughout Tripoli. Wealthy merchants paced up and down the harbor front, begging for passage to Cyprus or Italy for themselves and their families. As the days passed, the merchants became more insistent; what had begun as entreaties gradually became threats. The captain of the
Brigantine
worried that a group of desperate merchants might commandeer the ship for their own purposes. Being a prudent man, the captain caught the high tide and sailed out of the Tripoli harbor during the night. He later explained to Gerard, “I'd rather face a Mediterranean storm than a pack of armed and desperate merchants.”

When the
Brigantine
arrived in Cyprus, Gerard wasted no time before seeking an audience with Jacques de Molay.

T
HE GRAND MASTER
brightened as the young Montelambert entered the room. “Gerard! I've thought of you many times during these last months. Hassan surrounded Jerusalem before I could get back to the city.”

“When I returned to Jerusalem, Grand Master, I learned what had happened.”

“These are dark days. The loss of Jerusalem has been a terrible blow for Christendom. The seneschal and over sixty members of our order were killed during the siege. Many were friends.” The grand master fought back his tears.

“And the women and children—did Hassan slaughter them?”

“They were spared. But enough talk of Jerusalem! What did you find in the cave?”

“More than I expected.”

“‘More than you expected!’ What do you mean?”

Gerard laid the parchment scroll in front of de Molay. “Grand Master, I discovered this Hebrew census record buried in the cave. I have translated it into French.”

“Let me see it.” Gerard handed de Molay the translation. After he finished reading it, de Molay threw the document on the table in front of him. “Gerard, this is a crude joke.”

“I wish it were.”

“Then your translation must be wrong.”

“No, Grand Master. I compared my translation with the Hebrew text several times. There is no mistake.”

“Then this parchment is a blasphemy against God and his holy Church. The rule given to us by St. Bernard counsels ‘if any brother
does not take the vow of chastity he cannot come to eternal rest nor see God.’ If this is true, how is it possible that Jesus... ?”

“Grand Master, I cannot answer your question.”

Gerard was suddenly drawn back to the night of his initiation. He remembered the litany spoken in the chapel. “I am not who I appear to be. When you come, then will you understand who I am.” Could these words be a clue to understanding the parchment?

“Listen to me carefully, Gerard. As a Templar, you vowed obedience to me as grand master of the order. Under pain of damnation, never divulge the contents of this document to anyone.”

“Yes, Grand Master.”

“With Jerusalem lost, this parchment could lead to chaos in the Church. It could convince Christians that we were fighting in Palestine for a false God — that all the Church has taught us about Jesus is wrong.”

“I understand.”

“Many months ago, you told me about the symbolism of the Cross, how it has two bars. I have thought often about what you said. Today we must attend to the horizontal bar in order to protect God's holy Church from division and scandal. Leave the parchment with me.”

“As you wish, Grand Master.”

Gerard handed the parchment to de Molay, bowed, and left the room.

The grand master bent over and looked carefully at the census record. If Gerard's translation is accurate, this piece of parchment puts into question thirteen hundred years of belief about the man Jesus was. The parchment also questions the legitimacy of the apostolic succession of the papacy—that Jesus left the Church to be governed by the successors of the Apostle Peter. But if Jesus had children of his own, perhaps he would have wanted their descendants to govern the Church, not the elected bishops of Rome.

De Molay walked to a casement window and looked out to the sea. He knew that there was something else at stake here — the very survival of the Order of the Temple. The Italian city-states were arguing that the Templars should be disbanded, now that
Jerusalem and the Holy Land had been reconquered by the Saracens. Used strategically, this manuscript could protect the Order of the Temple from any such fate. As he stared again at the parchment, de Molay remembered the Latin motto of the order.
Non Nobis, Domine, Non Nobis Sed Tuo Nomini Da Gloriam
— “Lord, give the glory not to us, not to us, but to your name.”

Jacques de Molay left Famagusta, Cyprus, on a Templar galley bound for France. As befitting his station, a large retinue accompanied him — Gerard de Montelambert included. When they reached Marseilles, the Templars boarded flat-bottomed barges for the trip up the Rhone to Avignon where Pope Clement had taken up residence. De Molay politely refused the pope's invitation to accept lodging in the Palais des Papes.