Night had fallen over Rosslyn.
Robert Langdon stood alone on the porch of the fieldstone house enjoying the sounds of laughterand reunion drifting through the screened door behind him. The mug of potent Brazilian coffee inhis hand had granted him a hazy reprieve from his mounting exhaustion, and yet he sensed thereprieve would be fleeting. The fatigue in his body went to the core.
You slipped out quietly," a voice behind him said.
He turned. Sophie's grandmother emerged, her silver hair shimmering in the night. Her name, forthe last twenty-eight years at least, was Marie Chauvel.
Langdon gave a tired smile. "I thought I'd give your family some time together." Through thewindow, he could see Sophie talking with her brother.
Marie came over and stood beside him. "Mr. Langdon, when I first heard of Jacques's murder, Iwas terrified for Sophie's safety. Seeing her standing in my doorway tonight was the greatest reliefof my life. I cannot thank you enough."Langdon had no idea how to respond. Although he had offered to give Sophie and her grandmothertime to talk in private, Marie had asked him to stay and listen. My husband obviously trusted you,Mr. Langdon, so I do as well.
And so Langdon had remained, standing beside Sophie and listening in mute astonishment whileMarie told the story of Sophie's late parents. Incredibly, both had been from Merovingianfamilies—direct descendants of Mary Magdalene and Jesus Christ. Sophie's parents and ancestors,for protection, had changed their family names of Plantard and Saint-Clair. Their childrenrepresented the most direct surviving royal bloodline and therefore were carefully guarded by thePriory. When Sophie's parents were killed in a car accident whose cause could not be determined,the Priory feared the identity of the royal line had been discovered.
Your grandfather and I," Marie had explained in a voice choked with pain, "had to make a gravedecision the instant we received the phone call. Your parents' car had just been found in the river."She dabbed at the tears in her eyes. "All six of us—including you two grandchildren—weresupposed to be traveling together in that car that very night. Fortunately we changed our plans atthe last moment, and your parents were alone. Hearing of the accident, Jacques and I had no way toknow what had really happened... or if this was truly an accident." Marie looked at Sophie. "Weknew we had to protect our grandchildren, and we did what we thought was best. Jacques reportedto the police that your brother and I had been in the car... our two bodies apparently washed off inthe current. Then your brother and I went underground with the Priory. Jacques, being a man ofprominence, did not have the luxury of disappearing. It only made sense that Sophie, being theeldest, would stay in Paris to be taught and raised by Jacques, close to the heart and protection ofthe Priory." Her voice fell to a whisper. "Separating the family was the hardest thing we ever had todo. Jacques and I saw each other only very infrequently, and always in the most secret of settings...
under the protection of the Priory. There are certain ceremonies to which the brotherhood alwaysstays faithful."Langdon had sensed the story went far deeper, but he also sensed it was not for him to hear. So hehad stepped outside. Now, gazing up at the spires of Rosslyn, Langdon could not escape the hollowgnaw of Rosslyn's unsolved mystery. Is the Grail really here at Rosslyn? And if so, where are theblade and chalice that Saunière mentioned in his poem
I'll take that," Marie said, motioning to Langdon's hand.
Oh, thank you." Langdon held out his empty coffee cup.
She stared at him. "I was referring to your other hand, Mr. Langdon."Langdon looked down and realized he was holding Saunière's papyrus. He had taken it from thecryptex once again in hopes of seeing something he had missed earlier. "Of course, I'm sorry."Marie looked amused as she took the paper. "I know of a man at a bank in Paris who is probablyvery eager to see the return of this rosewood box. André Vernet was a dear friend of Jacques, andJacques trusted him explicitly. André would have done anything to honor Jacques's requests for thecare of this box."Including shooting me, Langdon recalled, deciding not to mention that he had probably broken thepoor man's nose. Thinking of Paris, Langdon flashed on the three sénéchaux who had been killedthe night before. "And the Priory? What happens now?""The wheels are already in motion, Mr. Langdon. The brotherhood has endured for centuries, and itwill endure this. There are always those waiting to move up and rebuild."All evening Langdon had suspected that Sophie's grandmother was closely tied to the operations ofthe Priory. After all, the Priory had always had women members. Four Grand Masters had beenwomen. The sénéchaux were traditionally men—the guardians—and yet women held far morehonored status within the Priory and could ascend to the highest post from virtually any rank.
Langdon thought of Leigh Teabing and Westminster Abbey. It seemed a lifetime ago. "Was theChurch pressuring your husband not to release the Sangreal documents at the End of Days?""Heavens no. The End of Days is a legend of paranoid minds. There is nothing in the Priorydoctrine that identifies a date at which the Grail should be unveiled. In fact the Priory has alwaysmaintained that the Grail should never be unveiled.""Never?" Langdon was stunned.
It is the mystery and wonderment that serve our souls, not the Grail itself. The beauty of the Graillies in her ethereal nature." Marie Chauvel gazed up at Rosslyn now. "For some, the Grail is achalice that will bring them everlasting life. For others, it is the quest for lost documents and secrethistory. And for most, I suspect the Holy Grail is simply a grand idea... a glorious unattainabletreasure that somehow, even in today's world of chaos, inspires us.""But if the Sangreal documents remain hidden, the story of Mary Magdalene will be lost forever,"Langdon said.
Will it? Look around you. Her story is being told in art, music, and books. More so every day. Thependulum is swinging. We are starting to sense the dangers of our history... and of our destructivepaths. We are beginning to sense the need to restore the sacred feminine." She paused. "Youmentioned you are writing a manuscript about the symbols of the sacred feminine, are you not?""I am."She smiled. "Finish it, Mr. Langdon. Sing her song. The world needs modern troubadours."Langdon fell silent, feeling the weight of her message upon him. Across the open spaces, a newmoon was rising above the tree line.
Turning his eyes toward Rosslyn, Langdon felt a boyish craving to know her secrets. Don't ask, hetold himself. This is not the moment. He glanced at the papyrus in Marie's hand, and then back atRosslyn.
Ask the question, Mr. Langdon," Marie said, looking amused. "You have earned the right."Langdon felt himself flush.
You want to know if the Grail is here at Rosslyn.""Can you tell me?"She sighed in mock exasperation. "Why is it that men simply cannot let the Grail rest?" Shelaughed, obviously enjoying herself. "Why do you think it's here?"Langdon motioned to the papyrus in her hand. "Your husband's poem speaks specifically ofRosslyn, except it also mentions a blade and chalice watching over the Grail. I didn't see anysymbols of the blade and chalice up there.""The blade and chalice?" Marie asked. "What exactly do they look like?"Langdon sensed she was toying with him, but he played along, quickly describing the symbols.
A look of vague recollection crossed her face. "Ah, yes, of course. The blade represents all that ismasculine. I believe it is drawn like this, no?" Using her index finger, she traced a shape on herpalm.
triangle"Yes," Langdon said. Marie had drawn the less common "closed" form of the blade, althoughLangdon had seen the symbol portrayed both ways.
And the inverse," she said, drawing again on her palm, "is the chalice, which represents thefeminine."reverse triangle"Correct," Langdon said.
And you are saying that in all the hundreds of symbols we have here in Rosslyn Chapel, these twoshapes appear nowhere?""I didn't see them.""And if I show them to you, will you get some sleep?"Before Langdon could answer, Marie Chauvel had stepped off the porch and was heading towardthe chapel. Langdon hurried after her. Entering the ancient building, Marie turned on the lights andpointed to the center of the sanctuary floor. "There you are, Mr. Langdon. The blade and chalice."Langdon stared at the scuffed stone floor. It was blank. "There's nothing here...."Marie sighed and began to walk along the famous path worn into the chapel floor, the same pathLangdon had seen the visitors walking earlier this evening. As his eyes adjusted to see the giantsymbol, he still felt lost. "But that's the Star of Dav—"Langdon stopped short, mute with amazement as it dawned on him.
Star of DavidThe blade and chalice.
Fused as one.
The Star of David... the perfect union of male and female... Solomon's Seal... marking the Holy ofHolies, where the male and female deities—Yahweh and Shekinah—were thought to dwell.
Langdon needed a minute to find his words. "The verse does point here to Rosslyn. Completely.
Perfectly."Marie smiled. "Apparently."The implications chilled him. "So the Holy Grail is in the vault beneath us?"She laughed. "Only in spirit. One of the Priory's most ancient charges was one day to return theGrail to her homeland of France where she could rest for eternity. For centuries, she was draggedacross the countryside to keep her safe. Most undignified. Jacques's charge when he became GrandMaster was to restore her honor by returning her to France and building her a resting place fit for aqueen.""And he succeeded?"Now her face grew serious. "Mr. Langdon, considering what you've done for me tonight, and ascurator of the Rosslyn Trust, I can tell you for certain that the Grail is no longer here."Langdon decided to press. "But the keystone is supposed to point to the place where the Holy Grailis hidden now. Why does it point to Rosslyn?""Maybe you're misreading its meaning. Remember, the Grail can be deceptive. As could my latehusband.""But how much clearer could he be?" he asked. "We are standing over an underground vaultmarked by the blade and chalice, underneath a ceiling of stars, surrounded by the art of MasterMasons. Everything speaks of Rosslyn.""Very well, let me see this mysterious verse." She unrolled the papyrus and read the poem aloud ina deliberate tone.
The Holy Grail 'neath ancient Roslin waits.
The blade and chalice guarding o'er Her gates.
Adorned in masters' loving art, She lies.
She rests at last beneath the starry skies.
When she finished, she was still for several seconds, until a knowing smile crossed her lips. "Aah,Jacques."Langdon watched her expectantly. "You understand this?""As you have witnessed on the chapel floor, Mr. Langdon, there are many ways to see simplethings."Langdon strained to understand. Everything about Jacques Saunière seemed to have doublemeanings, and yet Langdon could see no further.
Marie gave a tired yawn. "Mr. Langdon, I will make a confession to you. I have never officiallybeen privy to the present location of the Grail. But, of course, I was married to a person ofenormous influence... and my women's intuition is strong." Langdon started to speak but Mariecontinued. "I am sorry that after all your hard work, you will be leaving Rosslyn without any realanswers. And yet, something tells me you will eventually find what you seek. One day it will dawnon you." She smiled. "And when it does, I trust that you, of all people, can keep a secret."There was a sound of someone arriving in the doorway. "Both of you disappeared," Sophie said,entering.
I was just leaving," her grandmother replied, walking over to Sophie at the door. "Good night,princess." She kissed Sophie's forehead. "Don't keep Mr. Langdon out too late."Langdon and Sophie watched her grandmother walk back toward the fieldstone house. WhenSophie turned to him, her eyes were awash in deep emotion. "Not exactly the ending I expected."That makes two of us, he thought. Langdon could see she was overwhelmed. The news she hadreceived tonight had changed everything in her life. "Are you okay? It's a lot to take in."She smiled quietly. "I have a family. That's where I'm going to start. Who we are and where wecame from will take some time."Langdon remained silent.
Beyond tonight, will you stay with us?" Sophie asked. "At least for a few days?"Langdon sighed, wanting nothing more. "You need some time here with your family, Sophie. I'mgoing back to Paris in the morning."She looked disappointed but seemed to know it was the right thing to do. Neither of them spoke fora long time. Finally Sophie reached over and, taking his hand, led him out of the chapel. Theywalked to a small rise on the bluff. From here, the Scottish countryside spread out before them,suffused in a pale moonlight that sifted through the departing clouds. They stood in silence,holding hands, both of them fighting the descending shroud of exhaustion.
The stars were just now appearing, but to the east, a single point of light glowed brighter than anyother. Langdon smiled when he saw it. It was Venus. The ancient Goddess shining down with hersteady and patient light.
The night was growing cooler, a crisp breeze rolling up from the lowlands. After a while, Langdonlooked over at Sophie. Her eyes were closed, her lips relaxed in a contented smile. Langdon couldfeel his own eyes growing heavy. Reluctantly, he squeezed her hand. "Sophie?"Slowly, she opened her eyes and turned to him. Her face was beautiful in the moonlight. She gavehim a sleepy smile. "Hi."Langdon felt an unexpected sadness to realize he would be returning to Paris without her. "I maybe gone before you wake up." He paused, a knot growing in his throat. "I'm sorry, I'm not verygood at—"Sophie reached out and placed her soft hand on the side of his face. Then, leaning forward, shekissed him tenderly on the cheek. "When can I see you again?"Langdon reeled momentarily, lost in her eyes. "When?" He paused, curious if she had any ideahow much he had been wondering the same thing. "Well, actually, next month I'm lecturing at aconference in Florence. I'll be there a week without much to do.""Is that an invitation?""We'd be living in luxury. They're giving me a room at the Brunelleschi."Sophie smiled playfully. "You presume a lot, Mr. Langdon."He cringed at how it had sounded. "What I meant—""I would love nothing more than to meet you in Florence, Robert. But on one condition." Her toneturned serious. "No museums, no churches, no tombs, no art, no relics.""In Florence? For a week? There's nothing else to do."Sophie leaned forward and kissed him again, now on the lips. Their bodies came together, softly atfirst, and then completely. When she pulled away, her eyes were full of promise.
Right," Langdon managed. "It's a date."EpilogueRobert Langdon awoke with a start. He had been dreaming. The bathrobe beside his bed bore themonogram HOTEL RITZ PARIS. He saw a dim light filtering through the blinds. Is it dusk ordawn? he wondered.
Langdon's body felt warm and deeply contented. He had slept the better part of the last two days.
Sitting up slowly in bed, he now realized what had awoken him... the strangest thought. For dayshe had been trying to sort through a barrage of information, but now Langdon found himself fixedon something he'd not considered before.
Could it be
He remained motionless a long moment.
Getting out of bed, he walked to the marble shower. Stepping inside, he let the powerful jetsmessage his shoulders. Still, the thought enthralled him.
Impossible.
Twenty minutes later, Langdon stepped out of the Hotel Ritz into Place Vend.me. Night wasfalling. The days of sleep had left him disoriented... and yet his mind felt oddly lucid. He hadpromised himself he would stop in the hotel lobby for a cafe au lait to clear his thoughts, butinstead his legs carried him directly out the front door into the gathering Paris night.
Walking east on Rue des Petits Champs, Langdon felt a growing excitement. He turned south ontoRue Richelieu, where the air grew sweet with the scent of blossoming jasmine from the statelygardens of the Palais Royal.
He continued south until he saw what he was looking for—the famous royal arcade—a glisteningexpanse of polished black marble. Moving onto it, Langdon scanned the surface beneath his feet.
Within seconds, he found what he knew was there—several bronze medallions embedded in theground in a perfectly straight line. Each disk was five inches in diameter and embossed with theletters N and S.
Nord. Sud.
He turned due south, letting his eye trace the extended line formed by the medallions. He beganmoving again, following the trail, watching the pavement as he walked. As he cut across the cornerof the Comédie-Fran.aise, another bronze medallion passed beneath his feet. Yes
The streets of Paris, Langdon had learned years ago, were adorned with 135 of these bronzemarkers, embedded in sidewalks, courtyards, and streets, on a north-south axis across the city. Hehad once followed the line from Sacré-Coeur, north across the Seine, and finally to the ancientParis Observatory. There he discovered the significance of the sacred path it traced.
The earth's original prime meridian.
The first zero longitude of the world.
Paris's ancient Rose Line.
Now, as Langdon hurried across Rue de Rivoli, he could feel his destination within reach. Lessthan a block away.
The Holy Grail 'neath ancient Roslin waits.
The revelations were coming now in waves. Saunière's ancient spelling of Roslin... the blade andchalice... the tomb adorned with masters' art.
Is that why Saunière needed to talk with me? Had I unknowingly guessed the truth
He broke into a jog, feeling the Rose Line beneath his feet, guiding him, pulling him toward hisdestination. As he entered the long tunnel of Passage Richelieu, the hairs on his neck began tobristle with anticipation. He knew that at the end of this tunnel stood the most mysterious ofParisian monuments—conceived and commissioned in the 1980s by the Sphinx himself, Fran.oisMitterrand, a man rumored to move in secret circles, a man whose final legacy to Paris was a placeLangdon had visited only days before.
Another lifetime.
With a final surge of energy, Langdon burst from the passageway into the familiar courtyard andcame to a stop. Breathless, he raised his eyes, slowly, disbelieving, to the glistening structure infront of him.
The Louvre Pyramid.
Gleaming in the darkness.
He admired it only a moment. He was more interested in what lay to his right. Turning, he felt hisfeet again tracing the invisible path of the ancient Rose Line, carrying him across the courtyard tothe Carrousel du Louvre—the enormous circle of grass surrounded by a perimeter of neatlytrimmed hedges—once the site of Paris's primeval nature-worshipping festivals... joyous rites tocelebrate fertility and the Goddess.
Langdon felt as if he were crossing into another world as he stepped over the bushes to the grassyarea within. This hallowed ground was now marked by one of the city's most unusual monuments.
There in the center, plunging into the earth like a crystal chasm, gaped the giant inverted pyramidof glass that he had seen a few nights ago when he entered the Louvre's subterranean entresol.
La Pyramide Inversée.
Tremulous, Langdon walked to the edge and peered down into the Louvre's sprawling undergroundcomplex, aglow with amber light. His eye was trained not just on the massive inverted pyramid,but on what lay directly beneath it. There, on the floor of the chamber below, stood the tiniest ofstructures... a structure Langdon had mentioned in his manuscript.
Langdon felt himself awaken fully now to the thrill of unthinkable possibility. Raising his eyesagain to the Louvre, he sensed the huge wings of the museum enveloping him... hallways thatburgeoned with the world's finest art.
Da Vinci... Botticelli...
Adorned in masters' loving art, She lies.
Alive with wonder, he stared once again downward through the glass at the tiny structure below.
I must go down there
Stepping out of the circle, he hurried across the courtyard back toward the towering pyramidentrance of the Louvre. The day's last visitors were trickling out of the museum.
Pushing through the revolving door, Langdon descended the curved staircase into the pyramid. Hecould feel the air grow cooler. When he reached the bottom, he entered the long tunnel thatstretched beneath the Louvre's courtyard, back toward La Pyramide Inversée.
At the end of the tunnel, he emerged into a large chamber. Directly before him, hanging down fromabove, gleamed the inverted pyramid—a breathtaking V-shaped contour of glass.
The Chalice.
Langdon's eyes traced its narrowing form downward to its tip, suspended only six feet above thefloor. There, directly beneath it, stood the tiny structure.
A miniature pyramid. Only three feet tall. The only structure in this colossal complex that had beenbuilt on a small scale.
Langdon's manuscript, while discussing the Louvre's elaborate collection of goddess art, had madepassing note of this modest pyramid. "The miniature structure itself protrudes up through the flooras though it were the tip of an iceberg—the apex, of an enormous, pyramidical vault, submergedbelow like a hidden chamber."Illuminated in the soft lights of the deserted entresol, the two pyramids pointed at one another, theirbodies perfectly aligned, their tips almost touching.
The Chalice above. The Blade below.
The blade and chalice guarding o'er Her gates.
Langdon heard Marie Chauvel's words. One day it will dawn on you.
He was standing beneath the ancient Rose Line, surrounded by the work of masters. What betterplace for Saunière to keep watch? Now at last, he sensed he understood the true meaning of theGrand Master's verse. Raising his eyes to heaven, he gazed upward through the glass to a glorious,star-filled night.
She rests at last beneath the starry skies.
Like the murmurs of spirits in the darkness, forgotten words echoed. The quest for the Holy Grailis the quest to kneel before the bones of Mary Magdalene. A journey to pray at the feet of theoutcast one.
With a sudden upwelling of reverence, Robert Langdon fell to his knees.
For a moment, he thought he heard a woman's voice... the wisdom of the ages... whispering upfrom the chasms of the earth.
Roslin
V
