The fond memory caused Sophie a pang of sadness as the harsh reality of
the murder gripped her again. Grand-pure is gone. She pictured the cryptex
under the divan and wondered if Leigh Teabing would have any idea how to
open it. Or if we even should ask him. Sophie's grandfather's final words
had instructed her to find Robert Langdon. He had said nothing about
involving anyone else. We needed somewhere to hide, Sophie said, deciding to
trust Robert's judgment.
"Sir Robert!" a voice bellowed somewhere behind them. "I see you travel
with a maiden."
Langdon stood up. Sophie jumped to her feet as well. The voice had come
from the top of a curled staircase that snaked up to the shadows of the
second floor. At the top of the stairs, a form moved in the shadows, only
his silhouette visible.
"Good evening," Langdon called up. "Sir Leigh, may I present Sophie
Neveu."
"An honor." Teabing moved into the light.
"Thank you for having us," Sophie said, now seeing the man wore metal
leg braces and used crutches. He was coming down one stair at a time. "I
realize it's quite late."
"It is so late, my dear, it's early." He laughed. "Vous n'utes pas
Amuricaine?"
Sophie shook her head. "Parisienne."
"Your English is superb."
"Thank you. I studied at the Royal Holloway."
"So then, that explains it." Teabing hobbled lower through the shadows.
"Perhaps Robert told you I schooled just down the road at Oxford." Teabing
fixed Langdon with a devilish smile. "Of course, I also applied to Harvard
as my safety school."
Their host arrived at the bottom of the stairs, appearing to Sophie no
more like a knight than Sir Elton John. Portly and ruby-faced, Sir Leigh
Teabing had bushy red hair and jovial hazel eyes that seemed to twinkle as
he spoke. He wore pleated pants and a roomy silk shirt under a paisley vest.
Despite the aluminum braces on his legs, he carried himself with a
resilient, vertical dignity that seemed more a by-product of noble ancestry
than any kind of conscious effort.
Teabing arrived and extended a hand to Langdon. "Robert, you've lost
weight."
Langdon grinned. "And you've found some."
Teabing laughed heartily, patting his rotund belly. "Touchu. My only
carnal pleasures these days seem to be culinary." Turning now to Sophie, he
gently took her hand, bowing his head slightly, breathing lightly on her
fingers, and diverting his eyes. "M'lady."
Sophie glanced at Langdon, uncertain whether she'd stepped back in time
or into a nuthouse.
The butler who had answered the door now entered carrying a tea
service, which he arranged on a table in front of the fireplace.
"This is Rumy Legaludec," Teabing said, "my manservant."
The slender butler gave a stiff nod and disappeared yet again.
"Rumy is Lyonais," Teabing whispered, as if it were an unfortunate
disease. "But he does sauces quite nicely."
Langdon looked amused. "I would have thought you'd import an English
staff?"
"Good heavens, no! I would not wish a British chef on anyone except the
French tax collectors." He glanced over at Sophie. "Pardonnez-moi,
Mademoiselle Neveu. Please be assured that my distaste for the French
extends only to politics and the soccer pitch. Your government steals my
money, and your football squad recently humiliated us."
Sophie offered an easy smile.
Teabing eyed her a moment and then looked at Langdon. "Something has
happened. You both look shaken."
Langdon nodded. "We've had an interesting night, Leigh."
"No doubt. You arrive on my doorstep unannounced in the middle of the
night speaking of the Grail. Tell me, is this indeed about the Grail, or did
you simply say that because you know it is the lone topic for which I would
rouse myself in the middle of the night?"
A little of both, Sophie thought, picturing the cryptex hidden beneath
the couch.
"Leigh," Langdon said, "we'd like to talk to you about the Priory of
Sion."
Teabing's bushy eyebrows arched with intrigue. "The keepers. So this is
indeed about the Grail. You say you come with information? Something new,
Robert?"
"Perhaps. We're not quite sure. We might have a better idea if we could
get some information from you first."
Teabing wagged his finger. "Ever the wily American. A game of quid pro
quo. Very well. I am at your service. What is it I can tell you?"
Langdon sighed. "I was hoping you would be kind enough to explain to
Ms. Neveu the true nature of the Holy Grail."
Teabing looked stunned. "She doesn't know?"
Langdon shook his head.
The smile that grew on Teabing's face was almost obscene. "Robert,
you've brought me a virgin?"
Langdon winced, glancing at Sophie. "Virgin is the term Grail
enthusiasts use to describe anyone who has never heard the true Grail
story."
Teabing turned eagerly to Sophie. "How much do you know, my dear?"
Sophie quickly outlined what Langdon had explained earlier--the Priory
of Sion, the Knights Templar, the Sangreal documents, and the Holy Grail,
which many claimed was not a cup... but rather something far more powerful.
"That's all?" Teabing fired Langdon a scandalous look. "Robert, I
thought you were a gentleman. You've robbed her of the climax!"
"I know, I thought perhaps you and I could..." Langdon apparently
decided the unseemly metaphor had gone far enough.
Teabing already had Sophie locked in his twinkling gaze. "You are a
Grail virgin, my dear. And trust me, you will never forget your first time."
CHAPTER 55
Seated on the divan beside Langdon, Sophie drank her tea and ate a
scone, feeling the welcome effects of caffeine and food. Sir Leigh Teabing
was beaming as he awkwardly paced before the open fire, his leg braces
clicking on the stone hearth.
"The Holy Grail," Teabing said, his voice sermonic. "Most people ask me
only where it is. I fear that is a question I may never answer." He turned
and looked directly at Sophie. "However... the far more relevant question is
this: What is the Holy Grail?"
Sophie sensed a rising air of academic anticipation now in both of her
male companions.
"To fully understand the Grail," Teabing continued, "we must first
understand the Bible. How well do you know the New Testament?"
Sophie shrugged. "Not at all, really. I was raised by a man who
worshipped Leonardo da Vinci."
Teabing looked both startled and pleased. "An enlightened soul. Superb!
Then you must be aware that Leonardo was one of the keepers of the secret of
the Holy Grail. And he hid clues in his art."
"Robert told me as much, yes."
"And Da Vinci's views on the New Testament?"
"I have no idea."
Teabing's eyes turned mirthful as he motioned to the bookshelf across
the room. "Robert, would you mind? On the bottom shelf. La Storia di
Leonardo."
Langdon went across the room, found a large art book, and brought it
back, setting it down on the table between them. Twisting the book to face
Sophie, Teabing flipped open the heavy cover and pointed inside the rear
cover to a series of quotations. "From Da Vinci's notebook on polemics and
speculation," Teabing said, indicating one quote in particular. "I think
you'll find this relevant to our discussion."
Sophie read the words.
Many have made a trade of delusions
and false miracles, deceiving the stupid multitude.
--LEONARDO DA VINCI
"Here's another," Teabing said, pointing to a different quote.
Blinding ignorance does mislead us.
O! Wretched mortals, open your eyes!
--LEONARDO DA VINCI
Sophie felt a little chill. "Da Vinci is talking about the Bible?"
Teabing nodded. "Leonardo's feelings about the Bible relate directly to
the Holy Grail. In fact, Da Vinci painted the true Grail, which I will show
you momentarily, but first we must speak of the Bible." Teabing smiled. "And
everything you need to know about the Bible can be summed up by the great
canon doctor Martyn Percy." Teabing cleared his throat and declared, "The
Bible did not arrive by fax from heaven."
"I beg your pardon?"
"The Bible is a product of man, my dear. Not of God. The Bible did not
fall magically from the clouds. Man created it as a historical record of
tumultuous times, and it has evolved through countless translations,
additions, and revisions. History has never had a definitive version of the
book."
"Okay."
"Jesus Christ was a historical figure of staggering influence, perhaps
the most enigmatic and inspirational leader the world has ever seen. As the
prophesied Messiah, Jesus toppled kings, inspired millions, and founded new
philosophies. As a descendant of the lines of King Solomon and King David,
Jesus possessed a rightful claim to the throne of the King of the Jews.
Understandably, His life was recorded by thousands of followers across the
land." Teabing paused to sip his tea and then placed the cup back on the
mantel. "More than eighty gospels were considered for the New Testament, and
yet only a relative few were chosen for inclusion--Matthew, Mark, Luke, and
John among them.
"Who chose which gospels to include?" Sophie asked.
"Aha!" Teabing burst in with enthusiasm. "The fundamental irony of
Christianity! The Bible, as we know it today, was collated by the pagan
Roman emperor Constantine the Great."
"I thought Constantine was a Christian," Sophie said.
"Hardly," Teabing scoffed. "He was a lifelong pagan who was baptized on
his deathbed, too weak to protest. In Constantine's day, Rome's official
religion was sun worship--the cult of Sol Invictus, or the Invincible
Sun--and Constantine was its head priest. Unfortunately for him, a growing
religious turmoil was gripping Rome. Three centuries after the crucifixion
of Jesus Christ, Christ's followers had multiplied exponentially. Christians
and pagans began warring, and the conflict grew to such proportions that it
threatened to rend Rome in two. Constantine decided something had to be
done. In 325 A.D., he decided to unify Rome under a single religion.
Christianity."
Sophie was surprised. "Why would a pagan emperor choose Christianity as
the official religion?"
Teabing chuckled. "Constantine was a very good businessman. He could
see that Christianity was on the rise, and he simply backed the winning
horse. Historians still marvel at the brilliance with which Constantine
converted the sun-worshipping pagans to Christianity. By fusing pagan
symbols, dates, and rituals into the growing Christian tradition, he created
a kind of hybrid religion that was acceptable to both parties."
"Transmogrification," Langdon said. "The vestiges of pagan religion in
Christian symbology are undeniable. Egyptian sun disks became the halos of
Catholic saints. Pictograms of Isis nursing her miraculously conceived son
Horus became the blueprint for our modern images of the Virgin Mary nursing
Baby Jesus. And virtually all the elements of the Catholic ritual--the
miter, the altar, the doxology, and communion, the act of "God-eating"--were
taken directly from earlier pagan mystery religions."
Teabing groaned. "Don't get a symbologist started on Christian icons.
Nothing in Christianity is original. The pre-Christian God Mithras--called
the Son of God and the Light of the World--was born on December 25, died,
was buried in a rock tomb, and then resurrected in three days. By the way,
December 25 is also the birthday of Osiris, Adonis, and Dionysus. The
newborn Krishna was presented with gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Even
Christianity's weekly holy day was stolen from the pagans."
"What do you mean?"
"Originally," Langdon said, "Christianity honored the Jewish Sabbath of
Saturday, but Constantine shifted it to coincide with the pagan's veneration
day of the sun." He paused, grinning. "To this day, most churchgoers attend
services on Sunday morning with no idea that they are there on account of
the pagan sun god's weekly tribute--Sunday."
Sophie's head was spinning. "And all of this relates to the Grail?"
"Indeed," Teabing said. "Stay with me. During this fusion of religions,
Constantine needed to strengthen the new Christian tradition, and held a
famous ecumenical gathering known as the Council of Nicaea."
Sophie had heard of it only insofar as its being the birthplace of the
Nicene Creed.
"At this gathering," Teabing said, "many aspects of Christianity were
debated and voted upon--the date of Easter, the role of the bishops, the
administration of sacraments, and, of course, the divinity of Jesus."
"I don't follow. His divinity?"
"My dear," Teabing declared, "until that moment in history, Jesus was
viewed by His followers as a mortal prophet... a great and powerful man, but
a man nonetheless. A mortal."
"Not the Son of God?"
"Right," Teabing said. "Jesus' establishment as 'the Son of God' was
officially proposed and voted on by the Council of Nicaea."
"Hold on. You're saying Jesus' divinity was the result of a vote?"
"A relatively close vote at that," Teabing added. "Nonetheless,
establishing Christ's divinity was critical to the further unification of
the Roman empire and to the new Vatican power base. By officially endorsing
Jesus as the Son of God, Constantine turned Jesus into a deity who existed
beyond the scope of the human world, an entity whose power was
unchallengeable. This not only precluded further pagan challenges to
Christianity, but now the followers of Christ were able to redeem themselves
only via the established sacred channel--the Roman Catholic Church."
Sophie glanced at Langdon, and he gave her a soft nod of concurrence.
"It was all about power," Teabing continued. "Christ as Messiah was
critical to the functioning of Church and state. Many scholars claim that
the early Church literally stole Jesus from His original followers,
hijacking His human message, shrouding it in an impenetrable cloak of
divinity, and using it to expand their own power. I've written several books
on the topic."
"And I assume devout Christians send you hate mail on a daily basis?"
"Why would they?" Teabing countered. "The vast majority of educated
Christians know the history of their faith. Jesus was indeed a great and
powerful man. Constantine's underhanded political maneuvers don't diminish
the majesty of Christ's life. Nobody is saying Christ was a fraud, or
denying that He walked the earth and inspired millions to better lives. All
we are saying is that Constantine took advantage of Christ's substantial
influence and importance. And in doing so, he shaped the face of
Christianity as we know it today."
Sophie glanced at the art book before her, eager to move on and see the
Da Vinci painting of the Holy Grail.
"The twist is this," Teabing said, talking faster now. "Because
Constantine upgraded Jesus' status almost four centuries after Jesus' death,
thousands of documents already existed chronicling His life as a mortal man.
To rewrite the history books, Constantine knew he would need a bold stroke.
From this sprang the most profound moment in Christian history." Teabing
paused, eyeing Sophie. "Constantine commissioned and financed a new Bible,
which omitted those gospels that spoke of Christ's human traits and
embellished those gospels that made Him godlike. The earlier gospels were
outlawed, gathered up, and burned."
"An interesting note," Langdon added. "Anyone who chose the forbidden
gospels over Constantine's version was deemed a heretic. The word heretic
derives from that moment in history. The Latin word haereticus means
'choice.' Those who 'chose' the original history of Christ were the world's
first heretics."
"Fortunately for historians," Teabing said, "some of the gospels that
Constantine attempted to eradicate managed to survive. The Dead Sea Scrolls
were found in the 1950s hidden in a cave near Qumran in the Judean desert.
And, of course, the Coptic Scrolls in 1945 at Nag Hammadi. In addition to
telling the true Grail story, these documents speak of Christ's ministry in
very human terms. Of course, the Vatican, in keeping with their tradition of
misinformation, tried very hard to suppress the release of these scrolls.
And why wouldn't they? The scrolls highlight glaring historical
discrepancies and fabrications, clearly confirming that the modern Bible was
compiled and edited by men who possessed a political agenda--to promote the
divinity of the man Jesus Christ and use His influence to solidify their own
power base."
"And yet," Langdon countered, "it's important to remember that the
modern Church's desire to suppress these documents comes from a sincere
belief in their established view of Christ. The Vatican is made up of deeply
pious men who truly believe these contrary documents could only be false
testimony."
Teabing chuckled as he eased himself into a chair opposite Sophie. "As
you can see, our professor has a far softer heart for Rome than I do.
Nonetheless, he is correct about the modern clergy believing these opposing
documents are false testimony. That's understandable. Constantine's Bible
has been their truth for ages. Nobody is more indoctrinated than the
indoctrinator."
"What he means," Langdon said, "is that we worship the gods of our
fathers."
"What I mean," Teabing countered, "is that almost everything our
fathers taught us about Christ is false. As are the stories about the Holy
Grail."
Sophie looked again at the Da Vinci quote before her. Blinding
ignorance does mislead us. O! Wretched mortals, open your eyes!
Teabing reached for the book and flipped toward the center. "And
finally, before I show you Da Vinci's paintings of the Holy Grail, I'd like
you to take a quick look at this." He opened the book to a colorful graphic
that spanned both full pages. "I assume you recognize this fresco?"
He's kidding, right? Sophie was staring at the most famous fresco of
all time--The Last Supper--Da Vinci's legendary painting from the wall of
Santa Maria delle Grazie near Milan. The decaying fresco portrayed Jesus and
His disciples at the moment that Jesus announced one of them would betray
Him. "I know the fresco, yes."
"Then perhaps you would indulge me this little game? Close your eyes if
you would."
Uncertain, Sophie closed her eyes.
"Where is Jesus sitting?" Teabing asked.
"In the center."
"Good. And what food are He and His disciples breaking and eating?"
"Bread." Obviously.
"Superb. And what drink?"
"Wine. They drank wine."
"Great. And one final question. How many wineglasses are on the table?"
Sophie paused, realizing it was the trick question. And after dinner,
Jesus took the cup of wine, sharing it with His disciples. "One cup," she
said. "The chalice." The Cup of Christ. The Holy Grail. "Jesus passed a
single chalice of wine, just as modern Christians do at communion."
Teabing sighed. "Open your eyes."
She did. Teabing was grinning smugly. Sophie looked down at the
painting, seeing to her astonishment that everyone at the table had a glass
of wine, including Christ. Thirteen cups. Moreover, the cups were tiny,
stemless, and made of glass. There was no chalice in the painting. No Holy
Grail.
Teabing's eyes twinkled. "A bit strange, don't you think, considering
that both the Bible and our standard Grail legend celebrate this moment as
the definitive arrival of the Holy Grail. Oddly, Da Vinci appears to have
forgotten to paint the Cup of Christ."
"Surely art scholars must have noted that."
"You will be shocked to learn what anomalies Da Vinci included here
that most scholars either do not see or simply choose to ignore. This
fresco, in fact, is the entire key to the Holy Grail mystery. Da Vinci lays
it all out in the open in The Last Supper"
Sophie scanned the work eagerly. "Does this fresco tell us what the
Grail really is?"
"Not what it is," Teabing whispered. "But rather who it is. The Holy
Grail is not a thing. It is, in fact... a person"
CHAPTER 56
Sophie stared at Teabing a long moment and then turned to Langdon. "The
Holy Grail is a person?"
Langdon nodded. "A woman, in fact." From the blank look on Sophie's
face, Langdon could tell they had already lost her. He recalled having a
similar reaction the first time he heard the statement. It was not until he
understood the symbology behind the Grail that the feminine connection
became clear.
Teabing apparently had a similar thought. "Robert, perhaps this is the
moment for the symbologist to clarify?" He went to a nearby end table, found
a piece of paper, and laid it in front of Langdon.
Langdon pulled a pen from his pocket. "Sophie, are you familiar with
the modern icons for male and female?" He drew the common male symbol 
and female symbol
.
"Of course," she said.
"These," he said quietly, "are not the original symbols for male and
female. Many people incorrectly assume the male symbol is derived from a
shield and spear, while the female symbol represents a mirror reflecting
beauty. In fact, the symbols originated as ancient astronomical symbols for
the planet-god Mars and planet-goddess Venus. The original symbols are far
simpler." Langdon drew another icon on the paper.
"This symbol is the original icon for male," he told her. "A
rudimentary phallus."
"Quite to the point," Sophie said.
"As it were," Teabing added.
Langdon went on. "This icon is formally known as the blade, and it
represents aggression and manhood. In fact, this exact phallus symbol is
still used today on modern military uniforms to denote rank."
"Indeed." Teabing grinned. "The more penises you have, the higher your
rank. Boys will be boys."
Langdon winced. "Moving on, the female symbol, as you might imagine, is
the exact opposite." He drew another symbol on the page. "This is called the
chalice."
Sophie glanced up, looking surprised.
Langdon could see she had made the connection. "The chalice," he said,
"resembles a cup or vessel, and more important, it resembles the shape of a
woman's womb. This symbol communicates femininity, womanhood, and
fertility." Langdon looked directly at her now. "Sophie, legend tells us the
Holy Grail is a chalice--a cup. But the Grail's description as a chalice is
actually an allegory to protect the true nature of the Holy Grail. That is
to say, the legend uses the chalice as a metaphor for something far more
important."
"A woman," Sophie said.
"Exactly." Langdon smiled. "The Grail is literally the ancient symbol
for womanhood, and the Holy Grail represents the sacred feminine and the
goddess, which of course has now been lost, virtually eliminated by the
Church. The power of the female and her ability to produce life was once
very sacred, but it posed a threat to the rise of the predominantly male
Church, and so the sacred feminine was demonized and called unclean. It was
man, not God, who created the concept of 'original sin,' whereby Eve tasted
of the apple and caused the downfall of the human race. Woman, once the
sacred giver of life, was now the enemy."
"I should add," Teabing chimed, "that this concept of woman as
life-bringer was the foundation of ancient religion. Childbirth was mystical
and powerful. Sadly, Christian philosophy decided to embezzle the female's
creative power by ignoring biological truth and making man the Creator.
Genesis tells us that Eve was created from Adam's rib. Woman became an
offshoot of man. And a sinful one at that. Genesis was the beginning of the
end for the goddess."
"The Grail," Langdon said, "is symbolic of the lost goddess. When
Christianity came along, the old pagan religions did not die easily. Legends
of chivalric quests for the lost Grail were in fact stories of forbidden
quests to find the lost sacred feminine. Knights who claimed to be
"searching for the chalice" were speaking in code as a way to protect
themselves from a Church that had subjugated women, banished the Goddess,
burned nonbelievers, and forbidden the pagan reverence for the sacred
feminine."
Sophie shook her head. "I'm sorry, when you said the Holy Grail was a
person, I thought you meant it was an actual person."
"It is," Langdon said.
"And not just any person," Teabing blurted, clambering excitedly to his
feet. "A woman who carried with her a secret so powerful that, if revealed,
it threatened to devastate the very foundation of Christianity!"
Sophie looked overwhelmed. "Is this woman well known in history?"
"Quite." Teabing collected his crutches and motioned down the hall.
"And if we adjourn to the study, my friends, it would be my honor to show
you Da Vinci's painting of her."
Two rooms away, in the kitchen, manservant Rumy Legaludec stood in
silence before a television. The news station was broadcasting photos of a
man and woman... the same two individuals to whom Rumy had just served tea.
CHAPTER 57
Standing at the roadblock outside the Depository Bank of Zurich,
Lieutenant Collet wondered what was taking Fache so long to come up with the
search warrant. The bankers were obviously hiding something. They claimed
Langdon and Neveu had arrived earlier and were turned away from the bank
because they did not have proper account identification.
So why won't they let us inside for a look?
Finally, Collet's cellular phone rang. It was the command post at the
Louvre. "Do we have a search warrant yet?" Collet demanded.
"Forget about the bank, Lieutenant," the agent told him. "We just got a
tip. We have the exact location where Langdon and Neveu are hiding."
Collet sat down hard on the hood of his car. "You're kidding."
"I have an address in the suburbs. Somewhere near Versailles."
"Does Captain Fache know?"
"Not yet. He's busy on an important call."
"I'm on my way. Have him call as soon as he's free." Collet took down
the address and jumped in his car. As he peeled away from the bank, Collet
realized he had forgotten to ask who had tipped DCPJ off to Langdon's
location. Not that it mattered. Collet had been blessed with a chance to
redeem his skepticism and earlier blunders. He was about to make the most
high-profile arrest of his career.
Collet radioed the five cars accompanying him. "No sirens, men. Langdon
can't know we're coming."
Forty kilometers away, a black Audi pulled off a rural road and parked
in the shadows on the edge of a field. Silas got out and peered through the
rungs of the wrought-iron fence that encircled the vast compound before him.
He gazed up the long moonlit slope to the chuteau in the distance.
The downstairs lights were all ablaze. Odd for this hour, Silas
thought, smiling. The information the Teacher had given him was obviously
accurate. I will not leave this house without the keystone, he vowed. I will
not fail the bishop and the Teacher.
Checking the thirteen-round clip in his Heckler Koch, Silas pushed it
through the bars and let it fall onto the mossy ground inside the compound.
Then, gripping the top of the fence, he heaved himself up and over, dropping
to the ground on the other side. Ignoring the slash of pain from his cilice,
Silas retrieved his gun and began the long trek up the grassy slope.
CHAPTER 58
Teabing's "study" was like no study Sophie had ever seen. Six or seven
times larger than even the most luxurious of office spaces, the knight's
cabinet de travail resembled an ungainly hybrid of science laboratory,
archival library, and indoor flea market. Lit by three overhead chandeliers,
the boundless tile floor was dotted with clustered islands of worktables
buried beneath books, artwork, artifacts, and a surprising amount of
electronic gear--computers, projectors, microscopes, copy machines, and
flatbed scanners.
"I converted the ballroom," Teabing said, looking sheepish as he
shuffled into the room. "I have little occasion to dance."
Sophie felt as if the entire night had become some kind of twilight
zone where nothing was as she expected. "This is all for your work?"
"Learning the truth has become my life's love," Teabing said. "And the
Sangreal is my favorite mistress."
The Holy Grail is a woman, Sophie thought, her mind a collage of
interrelated ideas that seemed to make no sense. "You said you have a
picture of this woman who you claim is the Holy Grail."
"Yes, but it is not I who claim she is the Grail. Christ Himself made
that claim."
"Which one is the painting?" Sophie asked, scanning the walls.
"Hmmm..." Teabing made a show of seeming to have forgotten. "The Holy
Grail. The Sangreal. The Chalice." He wheeled suddenly and pointed to the
far wall. On it hung an eight-foot-long print of The Last Supper, the same
exact image Sophie had just been looking at. "There she is!"
Sophie was certain she had missed something. "That's the same painting
you just showed me."
He winked. "I know, but the enlargement is so much more exciting. Don't
you think?"
Sophie turned to Langdon for help. "I'm lost."
Langdon smiled. "As it turns out, the Holy Grail does indeed make an
appearance in The Last Supper. Leonardo included her prominently."
"Hold on," Sophie said. "You told me the Holy Grail is a woman. The
Last Supper is a painting of thirteen men."
"Is it?" Teabing arched his eyebrows. "Take a closer look."
Uncertain, Sophie made her way closer to the painting, scanning the
thirteen figures--Jesus Christ in the middle, six disciples on His left, and
six on His right. "They're all men," she confirmed.
"Oh?" Teabing said. "How about the one seated in the place of honor, at
the right hand of the Lord?"
Sophie examined the figure to Jesus' immediate right, focusing in. As
she studied the person's face and body, a wave of astonishment rose within
her. The individual had flowing red hair, delicate folded hands, and the
hint of a bosom. It was, without a doubt... female.
"That's a woman!" Sophie exclaimed.
Teabing was laughing. "Surprise, surprise. Believe me, it's no mistake.
Leonardo was skilled at painting the difference between the sexes."
Sophie could not take her eyes from the woman beside Christ. The Last
Supper is supposed to be thirteen men. Who is this woman? Although Sophie
had seen this classic image many times, she had not once noticed this
glaring discrepancy.
"Everyone misses it," Teabing said. "Our preconceived notions of this
scene are so powerful that our mind blocks out the incongruity and overrides
our eyes."
"It's known as skitoma," Langdon added. "The brain does it sometimes
with powerful symbols."
"Another reason you might have missed the woman," Teabing said, "is
that many of the photographs in art books were taken before 1954, when the
details were still hidden beneath layers of grime and several restorative
repaintings done by clumsy hands in the eighteenth century. Now, at last,
the fresco has been cleaned down to Da Vinci's original layer of paint." He
motioned to the photograph. "Et voilu!"
Sophie moved closer to the image. The woman to Jesus' right was young
and pious-looking, with a demure face, beautiful red hair, and hands folded
quietly. This is the woman who singlehandedly could crumble the Church?
"Who is she?" Sophie asked.
"That, my dear," Teabing replied, "is Mary Magdalene."
Sophie turned. "The prostitute?"
Teabing drew a short breath, as if the word had injured him personally.
"Magdalene was no such thing. That unfortunate misconception is the legacy
of a smear campaign launched by the early Church. The Church needed to
defame Mary Magdalene in order to cover up her dangerous secret--her role as
the Holy Grail."
"Her role?"
"As I mentioned," Teabing clarified, "the early Church needed to
convince the world that the mortal prophet Jesus was a divine being.
Therefore, any gospels that described earthly aspects of Jesus' life had to
be omitted from the Bible. Unfortunately for the early editors, one
particularly troubling earthly theme kept recurring in the gospels. Mary
Magdalene." He paused. "More specifically, her marriage to Jesus Christ."
"I beg your pardon?" Sophie's eyes moved to Langdon and then back to
Teabing.
"It's a matter of historical record," Teabing said, "and Da Vinci was
certainly aware of that fact. The Last Supper practically shouts at the
viewer that Jesus and Magdalene were a pair."
Sophie glanced back to the fresco.
"Notice that Jesus and Magdalene are clothed as mirror images of one
another." Teabing pointed to the two individuals in the center of the
fresco.
Sophie was mesmerized. Sure enough, their clothes were inverse colors.
Jesus wore a red robe and blue cloak; Mary Magdalene wore a blue robe and
red cloak. Yin and yang.
"Venturing into the more bizarre," Teabing said, "note that Jesus and
His bride appear to be joined at the hip and are leaning away from one
another as if to create this clearly delineated negative space between
them."
Even before Teabing traced the contour for her, Sophie saw it--the
indisputable V shape at the focal point of the painting. It was the same
symbol Langdon had drawn earlier for the Grail, the chalice, and the female
womb.
"Finally," Teabing said, "if you view Jesus and Magdalene as
compositional elements rather than as people, you will see another obvious
shape leap out at you." He paused. "A letter of the alphabet."
Sophie saw it at once. To say the letter leapt out at her was an
understatement. The letter was suddenly all Sophie could see. Glaring in the
center of the painting was the unquestionable outline of an enormous,
flawlessly formed letter M.
"A bit too perfect for coincidence, wouldn't you say?" Teabing asked.
Sophie was amazed. "Why is it there?"
Teabing shrugged. "Conspiracy theorists will tell you it stands for
Matrimonio or Mary Magdalene. To be honest, nobody is certain. The only
certainty is that the hidden M is no mistake. Countless Grail-related works
contain the hidden letter M--whether as watermarks, underpaintings, or
compositional allusions. The most blatant M, of course, is emblazoned on the
altar at Our Lady of Paris in London, which was designed by a former Grand
Master of the Priory of Sion, Jean Cocteau."
Sophie weighed the information. "I'll admit, the hidden M's are
intriguing, although I assume nobody is claiming they are proof of Jesus'
marriage to Magdalene."
"No, no," Teabing said, going to a nearby table of books. "As I said
earlier, the marriage of Jesus and Mary Magdalene is part of the historical
record." He began pawing through his book collection. "Moreover, Jesus as a
married man makes infinitely more sense than our standard biblical view of
Jesus as a bachelor."
"Why?" Sophie asked.
"Because Jesus was a Jew," Langdon said, taking over while Teabing
searched for his book, "and the social decorum during that time virtually
forbid a Jewish man to be unmarried. According to Jewish custom, celibacy
was condemned, and the obligation for a Jewish father was to find a suitable
wife for his son. If Jesus were not married, at least one of the Bible's
gospels would have mentioned it and offered some explanation for His
unnatural state of bachelorhood."
Teabing located a huge book and pulled it toward him across the table.
The leather-bound edition was poster-sized, like a huge atlas. The cover
read: The Gnostic Gospels. Teabing heaved it open, and Langdon and Sophie
joined him. Sophie could see it contained photographs of what appeared to be
magnified passages of ancient documents--tattered papyrus with handwritten
text. She did not recognize the ancient language, but the facing pages bore
typed translations.
"These are photocopies of the Nag Hammadi and Dead Sea scrolls, which I
mentioned earlier," Teabing said. "The earliest Christian records.
Troublingly, they do not match up with the gospels in the Bible." Flipping
toward the middle of the book, Teabing pointed to a passage. "The Gospel of
Philip is always a good place to start." Sophie read the passage:
And the companion of the Saviour is Mary Magdalene. Christ loved her
more than all the disciples and used to kiss her often on her mouth. The
rest of the disciples were offended by it and expressed disapproval. They
said to him, "Why do you love her more than all of us?"
The words surprised Sophie, and yet they hardly seemed conclusive. "It
says nothing of marriage."
"Au contraire." Teabing smiled, pointing to the first line. "As any
Aramaic scholar will tell you, the word companion, in those days, literally
meant spouse."
Langdon concurred with a nod.
Sophie read the first line again. And the companion of the Saviour is
Mary Magdalene.
Teabing flipped through the book and pointed out several other passages
that, to Sophie's surprise, clearly suggested Magdalene and Jesus had a
romantic relationship. As she read the passages, Sophie recalled an angry
priest who had banged on her grandfather's door when she was a schoolgirl.
"Is this the home of Jacques Sauniure?" the priest had demanded,
glaring down at young Sophie when she pulled open the door. "I want to talk
to him about this editorial he wrote." The priest held up a newspaper.
Sophie summoned her grandfather, and the two men disappeared into his
study and closed the door. My grandfather wrote something in the paper?
Sophie immediately ran to the kitchen and flipped through that morning's
paper. She found her grandfather's name on an article on the second page.
She read it. Sophie didn't understand all of what was said, but it sounded
like the French government, under pressure from priests, had agreed to ban
an American movie called The Last Temptation of Christ, which was about
Jesus having sex with a lady called Mary Magdalene. Her grandfather's
article said the Church was arrogant and wrong to ban it.
No wonder the priest is mad, Sophie thought.
"It's pornography! Sacrilege!" the priest yelled, emerging from the
study and storming to the front door. "How can you possibly endorse that!
This American Martin Scorsese is a blasphemer, and the Church will permit
him no pulpit in France!" The priest slammed the door on his way out.
When her grandfather came into the kitchen, he saw Sophie with the
paper and frowned. "You're quick."
Sophie said, "You think Jesus Christ had a girlfriend?"
"No, dear, I said the Church should n