Written by Guy, Fri Sep 4 9:23:38 US/Pacific 1998
Chapter 1
The Monastery of Quirnheim, Bavaria, February 11, 1998, the night.
It was the middle of the night. The old monastery in Quirnheim appeared to be peaceful and calm, as if the angels were protecting it from the dark forces.
The first thing that told Father Helmut something was wrong was the silence. He was used to hearing the wind blows and the voices of the other monks, praying or merely wandering around the monastery. The silence worried him and he woke up. The monk turned on the lights and got off the bed. Since 1995, the monastery had adopted electricity, and now, with all the silence around, Father Helmut was happy about that decision. He looked around him but everything seemed normal: his brown tunic rested on the chair the same way he had placed it earlier and the window's curtains were shut down as usual. What had woken him then?
"I should go outside and investigate", the monk thought, "but I am too tired and wish to have some rest. Probably all the others sleep as well and that's why I don't hear any suspicious noise."
Relaxed, he truned off the lights and went back to his bed. Father Helmut closed his eyes and was about to fall asleep once again. It was then he realised what was wrong. The restroom's door was closed. Ordinary, there was a faint noise from the restroom's plumbing. Someone was there and he hadn't thought about inspecting it.
Things happened very quickly after that. The room flooded with light and two men were standing just in front of the monk's bed, holding shotguns. He wanted to scream, but one of the men put a strong hand on his mouth.
-"Don't even think about it, Father", the man said, "do you understand me?"
The monk shut his mouth at once and nodded.
-"Take a deep breath", the man continued, "and tell me where is the diary?"
Father Helmut took some time to examine his aggressors. Both wore black clothes and masks, looking quite frightening. While the man who talked to him was tall and impressively built, the other one looked rather small and fat.
-"I don't know what you are talking about? What diary?"
-"Don't you lie to me. We know you went downstairs to the catacombs. We know you found the diary in there. Where is it now?"
-"I am telling you the truth", the monk mumbled, "I don't know anything about it".
The tall man looked at his friend, waiting for his decision. It appeared quite clearly that the fat man headed the operation.
-"Go on, but don't kill him yet", he finally said, "we need to know where the diary is."
The tall man nodded approvingly. He grabbed Father Helmut's arm and broke it with a strong, brutal movement. Despite the pain, the monk was too afraid to scream.
-"Do you want me to break the other one as well?"
-"Please don't", Father Helmut cried, "I will tell you everything I know."
-"Very good then", the tall man replied, petting the monk's head. "Now tell us where is the diary."
-"Father Karel has it. He left Quirnheim earlier today. I swear I don't have it anymore."
-"And where is Father Karel now?"
-"I only know he went to Chartres. Father Karel told me he had always wanted to see the famous cathedral."
-"Chartres", the tall man slowly pronounced the name. After a while, he smiled viciously.
-"Of course, the Gothic Cathedral. Your friend is smarter than we thought."
-"I don't understand", the monk said.
-"Sure you don't", this time it was the fat man who spoke. "Did Father Karel tell you anything else? Did he wish to go somewhere else after Chartres?"
-"No, he simply said he was going to Chartres. That's all I know, I swear."
-"I believe you", the fat man replied, "and we wish to thank you for your sincere assistance. You have been most cooperative." Saying that, he put his right hand on his companion's shoulder. "Let's go over with it, shall we?"
-"I am begging you", Father Helmut wept, "I won't tell anyone about our encounter."
-"No, you won't", the tall man smiled. He then took the pillow and put it on the monk's head.
-"Sweet dreams Father, see you in hell."
Chartres, France-February 12, 1998- the early morning
The train stopped at the station of Chartres, a lovely old town in the "departement of Eure-et-Loire" that is famous for its Gothic cathedral- a cathedral dedicated to Saint Marie, the Mother of Christ.
The monk, whose name was Father Karel, got off the train. He was a tall, thin old gentleman with a sharp face and a noble white bear. He wore an ordinary religious tunic. As soon as he exited the station, he called on a cab.
-"Take me to the cathedral", the monk asked the driver.
Settled in the taxi's back seat, Father Karel took the opportunity to peruse his guidebook.
-"Is it your first time in Chartres?" The driver asked.
-"Yes", the monk smiled, "I am afraid so. I was supposed to come here years ago, but somehow I had to cancel it. I don't remember why."
-"It's a very old town. I like living here", the driver remarked. "By the way, my name is Paul."
-"Father Karel, nice to meet you."
-"Where do you come from?"
-"From a small Bavarian town called Quirnheim. It is not far away from Munich."
-"I see", the driver replied. Obviously he'd never heard about the place.
-"From long time experience", the monk said, closing his guidebook, "I've noticed that one can learn much more from the local inhabitants than from any guidebook."
-"You're absolutely right. How can I help you?"
-"What can you tell me about Chartres?"
-"Well", the driver answered after a while, "I know that Chartres has been an important Christian site since the sixth century AD and a focal point for the cult of the Madona since the ninth century when Charles the Bald, grandson of the famous Charlemagne, presented the town with its most precious religious relic- a veil said to have been worn by Mary when she gave birth to Jesus."
-"How interesting", the monk exclaimed, "pray, go on."
-"In the eleventh century the church built by Charles the Bald was burnt down and a new, much enlarged, cathedral was erected on its foundations. The high north tower of Chartres Cathedral, completed in the year 1134, is thought to be the world's earliest example of Gothic architecture. The south tower was added over the next two decades, as were further features such as the west facing Royal Portal."
-"So the cathedral was completed by 1154?" The monk asked.
-"Not at all. In a concentrated burst of building between 1194 and 1225, most of the rest of the superb Gothic exterior was put in place- remaining intact and virtually unaltered ever since."
-"Ha!" Father Karel ejaculated. "That is precisely the period that interests me. Your knowledge of the cathedral's history is very impressive. You are as good as any guide."
-"Thank you Father", the driver replied happily. "History has always been a passion of mine. By the way, your French is quite good."
-"Hardly", the monk laughed, "I learnt it years ago."
-"Don't be so modest Father, you speak good."
Saying that, he stopped the car near the cathedral's entrance.
-"Here we are", the driver proudly announced, "our well-known cathedral!"
The monk paid him extra, congratulating him.
-"It was very informative, my son. Thank you very much and keep on the good job."
Both men shook hands and Father Karel got off the cab.
He spent the rest of the day exploring the cathedral, gradually imbibing its powerful and numinous atmosphere, such as the remarkable stained glass windows telling the biblical stories and illuminating the inner gloom with strange pattern of light. He was fascinated by the enigmatic labyrinth mapped out with paving stones in the center of the nave. The whole structure gave him an overwhelming sensation of harmony and proportion conveyed by the grace of agility and architecture. Unfortunately, Father Karel couldn't find what he was looking for- the only reason he had come to Chartres in the first place. Then something unexpected happened. Tired, the old monk stopped for a snack in a cafe called "Les Templiers", located just opposite the cathedral's south porch. When he was about to pay, Father Karel asked one of the waiters why the name "The Templars" had been chosen.
-"Because there are some sculptures of templars in the porch over there", he explained.
The monk's curiosity aroused, he crossed the road and climbed the seventeen steps to an ornate porch. There, on almost every available square inch of masonry, were hundreds of hundreds of statuettes and many full-size statues. Father Karel checked in the guidebook he had with him where he could read the following passage:
"The inner archivolt of the outer arch has twenty-eight statuettes of kings and queens of the Old Testament: we recognise David with his harp and Salomon with his sceptre. At the top, the four Major Prophets, bearded, talk with the four Minor Prophets who are clean-shaven. The left bottom of the porch has five statuettes of Great Masters of the order of the Templars and of the order of the Shadow Knights: Hugh dePayens (1118-1136), Everard des Barres (1146-1149), Bertrand de Blanchefort (1156-1169), Ulrich Wilhelm Von Quirnheim (1191-?) and Charles de Rochefort (1191-?)."
The book also informed the Father that the whole of the south porch had been built in the first quarter of the thirteenth century.
Trembling, the old man examined the left bottom of the porch. Although the statuette wasn't in a very good shape, he could still recognise the handsome face and the nose like an eagle's beak.
-"Ulrich", Father Karel murmured. "The legend is true, you took part in the construction of the cathderal."
The old man raised his eyes to the immense Gothic building that stood not far away from the porch.
-"It must be there, hidden somewhere as the diary and the old parchment say."
Father Karel fell on his knees, badly agitated.
-"God help me!" He hurled. "God help us all."
-"Are you all right Father?" A gentle voice came from behind.
All frightened, the old monk turned around. He was relieved to see an innocent Japanese tourist, looking puzzled at him.
-"Yes my son", he said, "it's just that I am so happy to be here at last. I've longed to see this holy place all my life."
-"I understand", the tourist nodded, "it's a very unordinary place."
-"You can feel the presence of God, walking around the cathedral", Father Karel explained.
-"I suppose so", the tourist simply replied. He wasn't Christian, but didn't want to argue with the old man.
After the tourist had departed, Father Karel examined the statuette once more. Then he walked down the stairs. "I have to go back to Bavaria. The Schattenjager is the only one who can help me. They've always fought them. I must go to Rittersberg."
Somehow relieved, Father Karel called on a cab.
-"To the railway station please", he said to the driver.
Comfortably seated in the back seat, the monk retrieved from one of his pockets a black leather diary. Gently, he caressed the old book.
-"I hope it's not too late", he whispered.
-"Did you say something?" The driver asked.
This time, Father Karel didn't answer, lost in some dark thoughts.
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