Chapter Nine

For their deceit is falsehood.

Psalm 119:118

Sennett was silent for a moment, then said, "I would tell you that just because a group of people have gathered together in modern times and called themselves the Priory of Sion does not mean they have any connection to any real historical group by the same name. It also does not mean that they understand or know the secrets of that original, historical organization if it did exist. As for the supposed descendent of Christ you met, how do you know His blood runs in his or her veins? How could it ever be proved without DNA evidence?" Sennett asked.

"That's what I was charged to destroy," Silas said heavily, "I had to destroy the DNA, so it could never be proved."

Sennett sat very still as she processed their conversation. "Silas, what was your purpose at Opus Dei?" she finally asked bluntly.

"To destroy the Priory and the bloodline and the DNA evidence," he replied, his long fingers moving restlessly on the table and his shoulders hunched.

"Opus Dei actually believed this rubbish?" Sennett said incredulously, watching his restless beautiful hands.

Silas nodded despondently.

"Do you?" Sennett breathed.

"I did," he admitted wretchedly, "Now I don't know. It absorbed so many years of my life. It's hard to comprehend that no-one outside Opus Dei takes it seriously."

"How were you going to destroy the bloodline and DNA evidence?" Sennett asked.

"By killing the only living descendent and destroying Mary Magdalene's tomb," Silas replied ashamedly.

"What if we could prove that Mary Magdalene and this descendent are not related by blood even distantly? Would you believe the historians and not Opus Dei then?" Sennett asked.

Silas stared at her dumbly. Could it still be done? He knew he could find Sophie Neveu again and get a sample of her hair or something without being noticed but could Sennett help him find the tomb?

"How would we find the tomb?" Silas asked huskily.

"I already know where it is," Sennett said bluntly.

Silas felt the shock like a physical sensation. His skin turned cold and his pale hair stood up at the back of his neck. Surely Sennett wasn't serious? How could she know something like that? It was the original Holy Grail itself, according to the Priory.

"How?" he asked hoarsely.

"Robert Langdon told me just this week," Sennett said, "Of course, he wants to keep it a secret for now until he's finished writing some new book or another. He wanted my help with the research…."

Her speech trailed off when she saw Silas' face. His eyes burned with blue fire in a way that unnerved Sennett. She had seen him in a passion before (that was the cilice episode) but she found that wild stare disturbing.

"You know Robert Langdon?" Silas whispered.

"He works in a related field to me in the States, so we have crossed each others paths a few times," Sennett replied, "You know him too obviously."

Silas sneered. He did not like Langdon. Langdon had thwarted him too many times and Silas did not take kindly to it. "I know him," Silas said bitterly.

"Well, you'd better steer clear of him in that case," Sennett said frankly, "There is no need to involve him anyway. I can get access to where the tomb is. I have connections at the Louvre in the Religious Art Department."

Silas looked at her quizzically, "Mary Magdalene's tomb is at the Louvre?" he repeated in confusion.

"Yes, they moved it there from Rosslyn Chapel, Robert told me," Sennett replied

"Rosslyn Chapel – the Rose Line – Sang Real," Silas mouthed to himself. Parts of the mystery were coming together finally. The Guardians had well and truly duped him into believing it was in Saint-Sulpice.

"Why would they die to protect a lie?" Silas muttered to himself.

"Who?" Sennett asked.

"The Guardians; why would they die to protect a bloodline that wasn't real?" he asked. He had seen the light fade from each of their faces. Every time, they had lied with their last breath to protect this Sang Real – this bloodline.

"They obviously believed it but just because they believed it, does not make it true," Sennett said with a shrug, "Perhaps they needed to believe it. Perhaps by believing it, it made God somehow more human and less divine; more accessible to them and less beyond the reach of their understanding. Perhaps they had a deep need to bring God down to human level because they could not bear to worship or even acknowledge anything so much greater than themselves," Sennett postulated, "People have been trying limit God to our own human understanding since time began."

Silas pondered this thought. Again, he felt hope spring to life under his ribs. If they would prove that Sophie Neveu and Mary Magdalene were not related then he could be set free from the tormenting thought that the Church was trying to cover up something that was true. Bishop Aringarosa and the Teacher had told him that what the Priory was protecting was important to destroy for the future security of the Church. What if they had been wrong? What if they had only been trying to protect the Church from what was actually a lie that could be easily disproved?

"I want to know," Silas said in a low voice, his pale brows drawn together in a frown.

"Could you get a sample of hair from this descendent without being seen?" Sennett asked.

Silas smiled an odd smile. There was nothing he was better at than accomplishing missions like that without being seen. It was his specialty. He could travel and take the sample during the night hours and hide away without being seen all day if necessary. If the tomb had lain at Rosslyn Chapel all this time then that must be where the Priory would still gather now. They could not gather at the Louvre, it was too public, so the Chapel was the only other logical place.

"Yes, I can be there and back in 48 hours," he said simply.

"I can do my work at the Louvre in the same time. The other question is, are you going to be able to travel with those wounds? Diggory is stitching them up tonight but they will still take some time to heal," Sennett said practically.

"Today is Thursday. I think by Saturday night, I will be fit enough to accomplish this small task," he said.

Sennett nodded, "Then I will arrange a flight for myself to Paris for Saturday. How do you want to travel? Do you need me to make any arrangements?" she asked.

"No, I don't have to go too far," he said. Roslin was only in Scotland. He had no doubt Sophie Neveu would still be there. She had just found her family, after all. "I will need some kind of over-the-counter sleeping drug and some dark glasses," he added. He didn't want Sophie waking up when he pulled a few hairs out of her head. He didn't trust using hair from a hairbrush. He wanted to be absolutely certain that the DNA he got was Sophie's and no-one else's.

"I can pick up that," Sennett said, "And I'll arrange enough cash for your trip too."

Silas was used to other people making these arrangements for him. Opus Dei used to organize the details of his past missions. He was also aware this was Sennett's personal funds and not those of the Church.

Silas frowned, "I feel like I've already cost you so much…" he began diffidently.

"Silas, one thing I don't have to worry about is money," she said flatly, her dark eyes gleaming with amusement, "You can trust me on that count."

Silas could see she was telling the truth. She had the air of someone who had never been poor and knew she never would be. She came from a class in society with money; that was obvious. It was just another reason Silas envied her. Although, it didn't sound as though money had made her family any more stable or happy than his own had been.

"Besides, I'm interested now. I'd love to see a modern myth exploded. Mind you, I don't think anyone believes it anyway," Sennett added dismissively but with a gleam of excitement in her dark eyes. "Who doesn't love a Grail quest, even if the quest is to debunk a false Grail?"

It still felt odd to Silas to realize that he was one of the few people in the world who did or ever had taken the Priory of Sion seriously. If Sennett was proved right (and he had a feeling she would be) then both he and Bishop Aringarosa were victims of the Teacher's lies. Again, his world felt tilted on its head; black was white and white was black.

Diggory came around again later that evening to sew up the wounds.

"At least they won't bleed now if you move around," he told Silas cheerfully as he injected anesthetic near the wounds so the stitching wouldn't be too painful, "How are you feeling anyway?"

There was someone asking him how he was again, Silas thought with bewilderment. How did he feel? He had no idea. He was not used to asking himself these questions.

"I feel alright," Silas finally said guardedly.

"You have to be careful with these kinds of wounds. A person will always experience shock to some degree and you lost a lot of blood too. I can see Sennett has been doing the right thing and giving you plenty of red meat to eat and fluids to drink. You look quite well. A normal after effect of shock is depression. If you start to feel a bit low, let me know. There is medication you can take to get you through that period," Diggory said kindly.

Silas contemplated all the years of his life when he had 'felt a bit low'. No-one had offered him any help to get through it. No-one had even seemed to notice. Even the Bishop… but he didn't want to think about Bishop Aringarosa.

Before retiring, Silas found Sennett on the lounge watching some current affairs show.

"I would like to see your Russian Orthodox friend, the Bishop," he said diffidently.

Sennett looked up at her strange houseguest in the half light of the TV. It was odd having another person around again, she thought to herself. She had gotten too used to living on her own. Silas was the least bother it was possible to be as a guest, however. He certainly added interest to her life, particularly now with a quest to go on.

"Of course, I'll see if he can pop by sometime tomorrow. He works in a small library during the week. There aren't enough Russian Orthodox parishes in London for him to have one of his own. I know he misses pastoring to his own flock, so he would probably love to come around," Sennett said.

Silas said thank you and then went back to his room. The drugs were making him feel sleepy, Diggory said they might. As he drifted off to sleep, he pondered on what a waste it was that a Bishop did not have a flock to tend; particularly a Bishop with a heart for it. There were so many Catholic parishes with an inadequate number of priests these days. Society had changed. Few wanted a celibate life of service. Now here was a more than adequately qualified Bishop without his own flock to serve. It was terrible.

With that, he fell asleep.