Templars Revenge--Chapter 7

Chapter 7



         The cathedral had already been open for over 90 minutes and was filled with visitors from around the globe.  Small tours in French, English, and Spanish were wandering around the superstructure marveling at the details.  As Owen passed by an English tour on the right side of the nave, he heard the docent, a slim man with white hair in a beige cardigan, explain that this nave is the widest in all of France and stands 121 feet high.  He then began discussing the stained glass windows which are nearly all original dating to the 12th century.  Although Owen had visited Notre Dame in Paris the previous week, he was still in awe of the immensity of these structures and the detailed stonework that were built without the use of modern tools or machines.  He had spent about an hour on Google Earth the prior night looking at the 3D building layers, at hundreds of the posted photos, and flying through the edifice, however, looking at a screen can never compare to being there.

         Sensing it was about time for his appointment—Owen slipped his iPhone out of his pocket and saw it was 10:23.  He quickly walked 100 meters back to the visitor’s desk and told the elderly woman working there that he had an appointment with the bishop, and asked where he could find him.  She told him that the bishop’s office was near the treasury, very close to where he had walked over from.  He hurriedly walked back and saw a security guard.  “I have a 10:30 A.M. appointment with the bishop, can you point me to his office?”

         “Parlez-vous Français, Je ne parle pas anglais,” said the thin, middle aged man in a blue uniform.

         He thought for a moment and finally said in a low voice, “Un peu.”  He pulled out his iPad and tapped the translation app icon.

         Owen typed in a few words and out from the iPad came, “Désolé, je parle un peu anglais. J'ai un rendez-vous avec l'Evêque, pouvez-vous me faire savoir où se situe son bureau?” in a robot-like voice.

         The guard looked puzzled, so Owen hit the speak button again and the iPad repeated the French.  Owen also turned around the iPad and pointed at the translation so the guard could read it.

         The guard smiled and said, “Très bien, l'évêque est de cette manière.”  Motioning with his hand to follow him, the guard turned, and started walking towards a doorway.

         Owen realized the problem using the iPad translation app was that although the guard could understand what the iPad was saying, Owen had no idea how the guard was responding back.  Fortunately he was pretty sure that the guard was going to lead him to the bishop; it was that, or he was taking him to the exit.  Owen was now hoping the bishop spoke English.

         The guard opened a large door cut from the sandstone interior of Chartres Cathedral and the two men walked down a narrow hallway to a staircase, taking it to the second floor.  They continued down a hallway with doors on the left side, after three doors they came to an open area with a couch, two chairs, and where a priest was sitting behind a large, mahogany desk.  The guard and the priest exchanged a few words in French that Owen didn’t understand, and the guard walked the way he came in.

The priest stood up and extended his right hand forward, “Hello Owen, I’m Father Stephen, Bishop Benoit LaPorte’s assistant.”

Owen thought that Stephen’s handshake was odd, yet familiar as Stephen’s forefinger pushed into Owen’s wrist, and Stephen squeezed hard two times.  Owen reciprocated the odd handshake not even realizing what he had done. 

“Bishop LaPorte just took a call but should be off in a minute.  Can I get you some coffee or tea?”

         “No, thank you, I’m good,” Owen said as he looked past the priest at the shelves of books.

         Stephen noticed Owen staring and offered, “Please take a closer look, this is just part of the books and manuscripts that we have here.  Most of these are from the last century; however, we have many from the past 1000 years.”

         Owen was impressed, although as he scanned the shelves he didn’t see anything in English.  Stephen said, “I have to take care of some things down in the Chapel of Saint Piat, feel free to look through any of these volumes while you wait for the bishop.”  Stephen then walked out the same way as the guard had done a moment before.

         He pulled from the shelves a well-worn book with Cathédrale de Chartres in the title, and sat down.  Paging through the book, he instantly realized the book was in French.  The book contained many drawings, photos, and timelines within—unfortunately he couldn’t easily read it.  He pulled his iPhone out and photographed a dozen pages that he thought may have some relevant information.  He intended to convert the photos into text and run them through a translation app as he had done at the Bibliotheque Nationale de France.

         Owen returned the Chartres book and took out a second with a splayed red cross on the cover, a sign used by the Templars.  He was pretty sure this was a history book on the Knights Templar in France.  As with the previous book, he photographed a number of pages returning it to its original spot, he did this with two more books before realizing it was nearly 11 A.M.

         Since Father Stephen didn’t tell the bishop that he was here, Owen thought that perhaps he wasn’t aware of his presence, and maybe he should knock on his office door.  He walked over to the door listening for the bishop, as he got closer he could hear the voice of a man in a heated argument.  Owen couldn’t tell what language they were speaking, but it wasn’t English.  He decided not to interrupt, went back to looking through another book, photographing it.

         Just after 11, Bishop Benoit LaPorte barged out of his office with a big smile on his face.  “Owen Thorne I presume,” he said while extending his hand out as Owen stood up from the couch.  “I am so sorry for your wait, I will make it up to you by telling you everything you want to know and to treating you to a lunch you will never forget.”  The bishop’s enthusiasm was infectious.  “Come into my office and tell me about your project and I will answer all of your questions.”

         “Not a problem, I was admiring these great old books,” as they walked into LaPorte’s office.

         With only two small windows, the room was dark inside on this overcast day.  The walls were covered with book shelves filled to capacity.  One spot on the wall that didn’t have shelves had an oil painting of the Virgin Mary with child.  Owen wasn’t an art expert, but he surmised this was likely painted by a famous painter.

         LaPorte motioned Owen to sit down on a couch as his five foot seven inch frame sat down in a leather armchair and leaned forward, “Don is a good friend of mine—he didn’t tell me much except that you are doing some research on our beautiful cathedral here, so what kind of project are you working on?”

         “I really appreciate your time, and I am amazed by this gorgeous building.  I’ve actually just started researching a book on the Knights Templar in France and was aware there was a lot of Templar activity in this area and with the construction of the cathedral.”

         “That’s right Owen, back in the 12th and 13th centuries this area was dominated by the Templars.  Since they were in a way endorsed by the pope, they had free reign here and through much of Europe at the time.  Of course, you know the Templars and the stone masons were tied together, so they were involved in the design and reconstruction of this cathedral back then.  During that time the Templars travelled around all of Europe and the middle east and had technology and knowledge that no one else had.  For instance, Chartres Cathedral was the first in the world where buttresses were used to establish the external appearance building and to support the lateral forces pushing a wall outwards, this allowed the architects to increase the window size significantly, adding more light and the gorgeous stained glass windows that we still have today.”

         “As you could see walking through this cathedral today, Chartres is enormous, just think of what the people that lived in the dark ages must have thought about this building and all the light that flowed in through the brilliant windows.  The flying buttresses and construction techniques all came from the Templars and their masons.  Think about it, they started construction in 1194, and it’s still standing.”  Everything the bishop had said validated what Owen had read, but as he sat there he focused on the bishop’s flawless English and lack of any audible accent.

         “Owen, how long will you be here?”

         “At least a couple of days,” he responded as he hoped it would be shorter so that he could return to Paris for his date with Andrea.

         “Great, why don’t I give you a quick tour to show you where everything is, introduce you to all that work here, then let’s go to lunch…when we come back you can start your research.  There are hundreds of books that I think will help you out.”

         “Sounds good.”

         As they walked through the mammoth nave, the bishop pointed to the stained glass windows that had survived the fire of 1195, reflected on the size of the structure made possible by the new technology flying buttresses, and mused about faithful pilgrims tracing the labyrinth on their knees.  LaPorte pointed out where everything was and introduced him to docents and guards.  He suggested that Father Stephen could give him the real tour and explain all the nuances and history of Chartres.  The two walked out the huge doors of the North Transept, completed in 1230, with illustrations of the Old Testament and the Virgin Mary’s preparation above them.  They turned left and two blocks down to Brasserie du Chatelet, which the bishop said was a genuine French bistro.

         The bishop held the door open for Owen, and the bishop was immediately greeted by the Maître De, two waitresses, and many of the patrons as he walked to a table in the back corner.  It was apparent that LaPorte has spent some time here, and this was reinforced when a waitress with a huge smile brought out a bottle of red wine and two glasses to the table.  “Merci. Comment allez-vous aujourd'hui? ” said the bishop in a loudly.

         “Grande, et vous?” said the waitress as she bent over and they kissed on each cheek.

         “ Toujours bon quand je suis avec mes amis,” replied the bishop as Owen watched on.

         Owen enjoyed the lunch and conversation with Bishop LaPorte even though they were interrupted a half dozen times by friends coming over to chat with the bishop, it seemed that everyone in town was his friend and came over to give him a hug or kiss.

         LaPorte asked Owen how he had become interested in writing a book on the Knights Templar, this had caught him off guard, he told the bishop that he had been familiar with the Templars since his teens.  In his hometown he had been a member of a boys club called DeMolay.  This club, named after the last Grand Master of the Knights Templar followed many of the positive aspects of the order including courtesy, comradeship, fidelity, and reverence for sacred things.

         For a second, Owen thought about his time as a DeMolay and his friends that were there for him after his father had passed away.  He remembered the softball championship game they forfeited since half the team went to the wrong field, going through the local haunted house at Halloween with 30 of his best friends, and ending up at one of their houses to play video games until midnight.

In his senior year of high school, Owen served as the Master Councilor of Thomas Jones Chapter, Order of DeMolay, in Cleveland and even received a partial scholarship from the fraternal organization.  Ever since he moved back to the Midwest, Owen regretted that he had not reconnected with any of his DeMolay brethren.  He had thought that his time with them, whether in meetings, playing softball, bowling, or even when he went to a rifle shooting tournament without ever having fired one before, was the best time of his life.  That was a lifetime ago.

         After a great lunch, the bishop and Owen walked back to the cathedral.  They stopped for a moment at the bishop’s office where LaPorte showed off a vast collection of rare books and scrolls.

         “Since Chartres wasn’t looted during the Revolution, this is one of the finest cadres of historical documents in France.  You are welcome to look through and enjoy any of them.  These in my office are amongst the rarest of our collection, and need to stay in the cathedral, but the others you may take to your hotel overnight if you wish.  Unfortunately, most are in Greek, French, Italian or Latin, but Father Stephen is an excellent and willing translator.”

         “I will surely take you up on your offer.  I would love the opportunity to explore these many volumes.  As you’ve probably guessed, I am monolingual and only speak English; however, I have been using several translation apps on my iPad and have managed fairly well.  But perhaps Father Stephen could help me with some of the nuisances that the apps can’t.”

         “Fair enough, Owen.  And feel free to use my office; I’m generally only here in the late mornings until noon and in the evenings.  Now let me show you why pilgrims have been coming to Chartres for over a thousand years,” LaPorte said as he led Owen down another stone lined hallway, through a staircase that opened up into the cavernous nave.

         “Owen, since 876 the tunic of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Sancta Camisa has been in Chartres.  It has survived for hundreds of years, a fire that burnt down most of the town, and been viewed by millions of pilgrims.  It is what Mary was wearing when she gave birth to Jesus Christ.”

         Owen knew this but was only recently made aware of the significance of relics.  He had seen a few at Notre Dame in Paris, including bones of Saint Louis—to him displaying any body part was a little barbaric.  However, in Catholicism and many other religions, a relic is a part of a saint or venerated person and is honored.  During the Middle Ages relics were a huge business and spurred the travel industry and economic growth for towns like Chartres all over Europe and the Middle East.  If not for the Sancta Camisa, which was a present to Chartres from Emperor Charlemagne, the Cathedral Notre Dame de Chartres may not have been built.

         “I’ll take you over to the reliquary in a minute, and you can see the Sancta Camisa for yourself, but as you look around the cathedral you can see there is a lot going on in here.  It’s well known that most of the stained glass is original; prior to World War II all the stained glass was removed and put into storage to protect it.  Like Notre Dame de Paris, this was built in the Gothic style that was fashionable then.”  The two men wandered about the grand building as the bishop talked.  “The current cathedral was built by Bishop Geoffroy de Lèves, a friend of Bernard of Clairvaux, after a fire in 1134.  I’m sure you are aware that Clairvaux was the nephew of Andre de Montbard, one of the original nine Templars sent to the Holy Land to protect pilgrims.”

         “Yes I am,” responded Owen.  “Did the Templars have any part in building Chartres?”

         “There aren’t any real records of who built the cathedral beyond who was the bishop at the time.  It’s been long rumored that Chartres, like many other cathedrals and churches throughout Western Europe was built by the Knights Templar.  During that time the Templar were a huge force and they were closely associated with masons, so even though there isn’t a written record of their involvement I think the Templars built Chartres Cathedral.”

         “Also, the dimensions of the building are the same as the sacred geometry of Solomon’s Temple many believe that was introduced into Europe by the Templars.  Regardless, it makes great fodder for all and we get asked daily about the correlation by tourists.  So are you ready to see the Sancta Camisa?”

         Owen’s head was nearly bursting with ideas of how he could include the Templar legends of Chartres Cathedral into his game and almost missed Bishop LaPorte’s question.  After a moment, he answered, “Definitely, I would love to see it, but after 2000 years, how do you know it’s real?”

         “Faith my son, Faith.”