The Expected One (39 page)

Easa the Nazarene, prince of the house of David, intended to change the public perception of the maligned and newly widowed princess. He, more than any other, knew that this good and virtuous woman had suffered terrible injustice. She was no less a daughter of Benjamin now than before. Her blood was still royal, her heart was still pure, and he still loved her.

Lazarus was taken aback when the Son of the Lion appeared at his door, completely alone and without his followers.

“I have come to see Mary and the child,” he said simply.

Stammering, Lazarus called to Martha and invited Easa in. Martha entered the room and made no attempt to disguise either her surprise or her joy. She had long been a Nazarene sympathizer, despite her more conservative family background. She had always loved and revered Easa.

“I’ll bring Mary and the baby,” Martha said, and scurried out of the room.

When they were left alone, Lazarus attempted to speak again. “Yeshua, I have many things to apologize for…”

Easa held up his hand. “Peace, Lazarus. I have never known you to do anything that you did not believe in your heart was right and just. You are true to yourself and true to your Lord. As such, you have no need to apologize to me or to anyone.”

Lazarus was tremendously relieved. He had long held the sadness of breaking the betrothal between Easa and his sister, as well as the guilt of denying the Nazarenes lodging on the night in Bethany that had turned out to be such a calamity for Mary. But he had no time to say so, as little John-Joseph announced his arrival in the room with a hearty cry.

Easa turned to smile at Mary and her infant child. He reached out his arms for the baby, who was red-faced from his vocalizations. “He is as beautiful as his mother and as opinionated as his father,” Easa laughed, taking the child. At the first touch of Easa’s hand, John-Joseph ceased his crying. The infant grew quiet, looking at this new figure with great interest. Little John cooed happily when Easa bounced him gently in his arms.

“He likes you,” Mary said, suddenly shy in the presence of this man who had grown into a legend among the people.

Easa looked at Mary seriously. “I hope so.” He looked at Lazarus. “Lazarus, dear brother, I would speak privately to Mary about a very serious matter. She is a widow and it is appropriate to speak with her directly.”

“Of course,” Lazarus muttered and hurried swiftly out of the room.

Easa, still holding little John, motioned for Mary to sit. They sat together for a quiet, happy moment, as the baby continued to coo at Easa and grab at his long hair, worn in the Nazarene style.

“Mary, I have something to ask you.”

She nodded quietly, not sure what was coming but in absolute bliss to be near him again. Easa’s presence was a balm to her ravaged spirit.

“You have endured much, and done so because of your faith in me and The Way. I would right that wrong for you and for this child. Mary, I would like you to become my wife and give me permission to raise John’s son as my own.”

Mary was immobilized. Had she heard him correctly? Surely, this was impossible.

“Easa, I don’t know what to say.” She paused momentarily, grasping at the thoughts that raced through her surprised mind. “I spent my entire life dreaming of being married to you. And when that was not to be…I never thought of that dream again. But I cannot allow you to do such a thing. I would damage you and your mission. There are too many who blame me for John’s death, men who hate me and call me sinner.”

“That makes no difference to me. Anyone who follows me knows the truth, and we will teach the truth to those who do not yet know it. And the followers of the law cannot oppose it. In fact, it is seemly that I would take you to wife. You are John’s widow and I am his kin. I am the nearest related male to John and as such should raise this child. And I would raise him as a prince of his people, as my chosen heir and the son of a prophet. This is a proper union, for the law and for the people of Israel. I am still the son of David and you are still the daughter of Benjamin.”

Mary was overwhelmed. She had never expected that anything like this could happen. At best, she had hoped for Easa to baptize this child as John had requested. But to adopt little John as his own and take her as his wife? It was more than she could bear. Mary put her head in her hands and began to weep.

“What makes you cry, little dove? We are no less perfect for each other in the eyes of God now than when He first chose us to be joined together.”

Mary wiped the tears from her eyes and looked into the face of the Nazarene, her Easa, whom God had given back to her.

“I never believed I would know what it was to be happy again,” she whispered.

Unlike the elaborate affair at Cana, Easa and Mary were wed in a small private ceremony attended by the Great Mary and surrounded by the most loyal of Nazarenes. The event occurred on the shores of Galilee, in the village of Tabga.

Word of the union spread quickly, and the following day throngs of people began to arrive in Tabga. Some were followers, some merely curious at this idea of the bride and bridegroom of Solomon’s prophecy coming together. Others were not pleased at the idea of their beloved Galilean prophet joining with this woman of tarnished reputation. But Easa was glad for the presence of all of them. He told Mary over and over again that each day brought a new opportunity to show The Way to someone who had never seen it before, a chance to bring eyesight to the blind.

The news of their wedding attracted thousands over the course of two days.

The Great Mary came to Easa at the end of the second day. She reminded him of the first wedding miracle in Cana, when there was not enough wine for the wedding guests. Now the shores of Galilee were overflowing with travelers who had not eaten in several days, and they had very little food left. His mother bade him to consider his own wedding feast on this day.

Easa called his closest followers to him. He asked for an accounting of the total number of guests, to which Philip replied, “There are near to five thousand and we have only two hundred penny-worths.”

Andrew, the brother of Peter, advised, “There is a lad here whom I am acquainted with, a fisherman’s son. He has five barley loaves and two small fish, but that is all. It is nothing compared to the number we face here.”

Easa told them, “Have them sit down in the grass. Bring the loaves and fishes to me.”

This was done by Andrew, who placed the loaves and fishes in a basket at the feet of his master. Easa said a prayer of thanksgiving for abundance over the food, then handed the basket back to Andrew, saying, “Begin with this basket and pass it among the guests. Gather up all the fragments so that nothing is lost. Then place those fragments into new baskets and pass those around as well.”

Andrew followed these directions, aided by Peter and the others. They marveled as baskets that had held but a few crumbs overflowed with loaves of bread. Soon, there were twelve large baskets heaped with food. These were passed to the multitudes until each person in attendance had eaten his fill.

All who feasted on the shores at Tabga that day were convinced beyond any doubt that Easa the Nazarene was truly the messiah of prophecy. His reputation as a great worker of miracles as well as a healer continued to spread, as did his following among the common people. And many more were inclined to accept Mary at this time. Surely if so great a prophet had chosen this woman, she must be worthy.

Mary’s position and stature presented a problem: her name. In a time when women were defined by their male relationships, hers were tricky and politically difficult. It would not be appropriate to refer to her as the widow of John, nor would it be entirely acceptable to call her simply the wife of Easa. She became known at that time by her own name, as a woman of leadership. She would forever after reign as the Daughter of Zion, the Tower of Her Flock — the Migdal-Eder. Hers was the stand-alone name of a queen. The people called her simply:

Mary Magdalene.

It was this period of ministry following the miraculous feeding of the multitude at Tabga that Mary Magdalene referred to as the Great Time. Shortly after the wedding, the Nazarenes, with Mary now in their number, set out for Syria. Easa healed an astonishing number of people during their journey. He spent time teaching in the synagogues and bringing the word of The Way to new ears. But after a number of months the entourage returned to Galilee. Mary Magdalene was pregnant, and Easa wanted their child born where Mary would be most comfortable — in her home.

A perfect, tiny daughter was delivered to Mary and Easa upon their return to Galilee. They gave her the double name of a princess, Sarah-Tamar. The name Sarah invoked a noble Hebrew woman of scripture, the wife of Abraham. Tamar was a Galilean name; it made reference to the abundant date palm trees that grew in the region, and had been used by royal houses for generations as a pet name for their daughters.

The noble family was expanding, their ministry was growing, and the children of Israel were given a sense of hope for the future. It was, indeed, a Great Time.

N
o one spoke immediately after Peter finished reading his translation of the first book. They all sat in silence for a long moment, each absorbing in his or her way the immensity of the information. All of them had cried at varying intervals — the men in a more reserved manner, the women weeping openly at elements of Mary’s story.

Finally, Sinclair broke the silence. “Where do we begin?”

Maureen shook her head. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.” She looked up at Peter to see how he was coping. He looked surprisingly calm, even smiling at her as their eyes met. “Are you okay?” she asked.

He nodded. “Never better. It’s very strange, but I don’t feel shocked or worried or concerned, I just feel…content. I can’t explain it, but that’s how I feel.”

“You look exhausted,” Tammy observed. “But you did an amazing job.”

Sinclair and Roland chimed in their agreement, each thanking Peter for his tireless approach to the translation.

“Why don’t you get some rest and you can start back in on the other books tomorrow,” Maureen suggested gently. “Seriously, Pete, you need to sleep.”

Peter shook his head, adamant. “No way. There are two more books left — there’s the Book of Disciples, and she calls the next one the Book of the Time of Darkness. I think we have to assume that is an eyewitness account of the crucifixion, and I’m not going anywhere until I find out.”

When they realized that Peter wouldn’t budge, Sinclair had a tray of tea brought in for him. The priest still refused any food, believing that he needed to fast during the translations. They left him alone then, and Sinclair, Maureen, and Tammy adjourned to the dining room for a light meal. Roland was invited to join them but refused politely, stating that he had too many things to do. He caught Tammy’s eye across the room, then left.

Dinner was light as none of them had much interest in food. They were still finding it hard to put their reaction to the first book into words. Tammy finally spoke about the John elements.

“After spending the day with Derek, this all makes so much more sense. I now see why the Guild followers of John hate Mary and Salome so much, but it’s all so unjust.”

Maureen was confused. She had not yet been privy to Tammy’s findings. “What do you mean? Are those the people who attacked me?”

Tammy explained all she had learned from Derek on that dreadful visit to Carcassonne. Maureen listened in stunned silence.

“But did you already know that Mary had a son by John the Baptist?” She asked this question to both of them. “Because this is a complete shock to me. I mean, really stunning.”

Sinclair nodded. “It will be a shock to most people. It is a tradition that we know of here, but few people outside of our proudly heretical sect are aware of it. There was a concerted effort to remove those facts from history — on both sides. Ostensibly, the followers of Jesus did not want any information about John to overshadow the story of Jesus, so it was carefully and cleverly told by the authors of the Gospels.”

Tammy interrupted. “The followers of John don’t talk about it because they despise Mary Magdalene. I have started reading through their Guild documents, the so-called
True Book of the Holy Grail.
They call it that because they believe that the only holy blood comes through John and his child. So that makes their bloodline the true Holy Grail, the true vessel of sacred blood. And if they had their way, they would have eliminated all mention of Mary Magdalene not only in scripture but in history. They have a law within the Guild that she is never to be mentioned without the title of whore attached to her name.”

“That makes no sense,” Maureen said. “She was the mother of John’s child, and they acknowledge him as legitimate. Why would they still hate Mary Magdalene so?”

“Because as far as they’re concerned she and Salome plotted John’s death so that she could marry Jesus — Easa — and so that he could take over the position of anointed one. And so that he could usurp the position of father to John’s child and train him in the Nazarene ways. It is actually a part of their ritual to deny Christ by spitting on the cross and calling him the Usurper.”

Maureen looked at both of them. “I’m hesitant to bring this up, but it’s hard for me to believe that Jean-Claude is a part of that.”

“You mean Jean-Baptiste.” Tammy dripped disdain on the name.

“When we were in Montsegur…he knew so much about the Cathars. Not only that, he was so reverent about them, so respectful. Was that all a show?”

Sinclair sighed and ran his hands over his face. “Yes, and it was only a very small part of a very large show, from what I understand. Roland has discovered that Jean-Claude had been groomed since childhood to infiltrate our organization. His family is wealthy and with the resources of the Guild he was able to create this identity. Granted, he added the Paschal element later, which should have made me suspicious, but I had no reason not to believe him. And the fact remains that he is an accomplished scholar and historian, an expert on our history. But in his case it turns out not to be for reverential purposes, but more along the lines of ‘Know thine enemy.’ ”

“How long has this been going on? This rivalry?”

“Two thousand years,” Sinclair responded. “But it’s one-sided. Our people hold no ill will toward John and have always welcomed the Baptist bloodline as our brothers and sisters. After all, we’re all children of Mary Magdalene, right? That’s how we see it here, and always have.”

“It’s their side of the family who are the troublemakers,” Tammy joked.

Sinclair interrupted. “But not all followers of the Baptist are extremists, which is important to remember. These Guild fanatics are a minority. A rabid, frightening group and a surprisingly powerful one, but still a minority. Come outside with me, I’d like to show you something.”

The three of them got up from the table, and Tammy excused herself. She asked Maureen to join her later in the media room. “Now that we’ve come this far, I want to show you a few more things I’ve uncovered in my research.”

Maureen agreed to meet Tammy in an hour, and followed Sinclair outside. The twilight sky was still bright with the remnants of summer sunshine as they strolled toward the entrance gate of the Trinity Gardens.

“Remember the third garden? The one you didn’t get to see the other day? Come, let me show it to you now.”

Sinclair took Maureen’s arm and led her around the Mary Magdalene fountain and through the first archway on the left. A marble path led them into an elaborate garden resembling the grounds of an Italian villa.

“It looks very…Romanesque,” Maureen noted.

“Yes. We know very little about this young man, John-Joseph. As far as I know there is nothing in writing about him — or at least there wasn’t until today. We have only a smattering of local traditions and legends that have been handed down.”

“And what do you know?”

“Just that this child was not the son of Jesus — that he was John’s. We had his name right, John-Joseph, although some legends refer to him as John-Yeshua and even John-Mark. Legend has it that he went to Rome at some stage, and left his mother and siblings behind here in France. Whether or not that was his own doing or part of a master plan is purely speculation. And what his fate is, we don’t know either. There are two schools of thought.”

Sinclair led her to a marble statue of a young man in the Renaissance style. He stood before a large cross, but in one hand he held a skull.

“He was raised by Jesus, so it is possible that he remained part of the burgeoning Christian community in Rome. Yet if he did, it is likely that he met an untimely end as many of the early church leaders were wiped out by Nero. The Roman historian Tacitus said that Nero ‘punished with every kind of cruelty the notoriously depraved group known as Christians,’ and we know that to be true through the accounts of Peter’s death.”

“So you think he was martyred?”

“Very possibly, perhaps even crucified with Peter. It’s hard to imagine that someone of his pedigree would have been anything but a leader. And the leaders were all executed. But then there is the other perspective.”

Sinclair pointed to the skull in the marbleized John-Joseph’s hand. “Here is another possibility. One legend says that the more fanatic followers of John sought out his heir in Rome and convinced him that the Christians had usurped his rightful place. That John was the one true messiah and John-Joseph as his only son was the heir to the throne of the anointed one. Some say that John-Joseph turned on his mother and his family to embrace the teachings of his father’s followers. We don’t know where he ended up, but we do know that there is an intense sect of John worshipers in Iran and Iraq, called the Mandaeans. Peaceful people, but very strict in their laws and in their belief that John was the only true messiah. It is possible that they may be direct descendants, that John-Joseph or his heirs ended up farther east following a schism with the early Christians. And of course you are now aware of the Guild of the Righteous, who claim to be the true bloodline descendants here in the West.”

Maureen looked intently at the skull while listening to Sinclair’s explanation. A thought hit her, and she exclaimed, “It’s John! The skull — it’s in all of Mary Magdalene’s iconography, the paintings. She’s always shown with a skull, and no one has ever been able to give me a good explanation for it. Always a vague reference to penance. The skull represents repentance. But why? Now I see why. Mary was painted with the skull because she was doing penance for John — literally with John’s skull.”

Sinclair nodded. “Yes. And the book, she’s always shown with a book.”

“But that could just be scripture,” Maureen observed.

“It could be, but it’s not. Mary is shown with a book because it is her own book, her message that she has left these for us to find. And I hope it will give us insight into the mystery of her oldest son and his fate, because we just don’t know. I’m hoping that the Magdalene will put that mystery to rest for us herself.”

They walked through the garden in silence for a moment, basking in the twilight sky with its first dusting of stars. Maureen finally spoke. “You said that there were others, followers of John who were not fanatics.”

“Of course. There are millions of them. We call them Christians.”

Maureen gave him a look as he continued. “I’m serious. Look at your own country. How many churches call themselves Baptist churches? These are Christians who have integrated the idea of John as a prophet in his own right. Some call him the Forerunner and see him as the one who announced the coming of Jesus. In Europe, there were some bloodline families who blended together, mixing the blood of the Baptist with the blood of the Nazarene. The most famous of these was the Medici dynasty. They were integrated, celebrants of both John and Jesus. And our boy Sandro Botticelli was one of these as well.”

Maureen was surprised by this. “Botticelli was descended from both bloodlines?”

Sinclair nodded. “When we go back inside, take another look at Sandro’s
Primavera.
On the far left you will see the figure of Hermes, the alchemist, holding his caduceus symbol in the air. His hands make the ‘Remember John’ gesture that Tammy told you about. Sandro is telling us, in this allegory of Mary Magdalene and the power of rebirth, that we must also acknowledge John. That alchemy is a form of integration, and integration leaves no room for bigotry and intolerance.”

Maureen watched him closely, a true admiration blossoming for this man who had started off as such an enigma to her. He was a mystic and a poet in his own right, a seeker of spiritual truths. More than that, he was a good man — warm, caring, and clearly very loyal. She had underestimated him, which became more evident with his final words on the matter.

“It is my opinion that an attitude of forgiveness and tolerance is the cornerstone of true faith. In the last forty-eight hours, I have come to believe that more profoundly than ever.”

Maureen smiled and put her arm in his, and they walked back through the garden. Together.

Vatican City, Rome
June 29, 2005

C
ARDINAL
D
E
C
ARO
was finishing a telephone call in his office when the door burst open. It amazed the high-ranking church official that this Bishop O’Connor had not yet realized how tenuous his footing was here in Rome, but the man appeared to be utterly clueless. DeCaro was still unsure if it was pure ambition or complete lack of perception that afflicted O’Connor. Perhaps it was both.

The Cardinal listened with feigned patience and mock surprise as the man babbled on about the discovery in France. But then O’Connor said something that made DeCaro’s spine stiffen. This was inside information. No one at this level should know about the scrolls yet — and certainly not of their content.

“Who is your informant?” the Cardinal asked, assuming a casual tone.

O’Connor squirmed. He wasn’t yet ready to reveal his source. “He’s very reliable. Very.”

“I’m afraid I cannot take this terribly seriously if you are unwilling or unable to give me further details, Magnus. You must understand how much misinformation comes through here. We cannot investigate all of it.”

Bishop Magnus O’Connor shifted uncomfortably. He dared not reveal his source, not yet — it was his only remaining power play. If he turned over his source, they would no doubt go directly to him, leaving O’Connor with no power or involvement in this most important historical situation. Besides, there were others he would have to answer to besides DeCaro and the Vatican Council.

“I will check with the informant and see if I can reveal him to you,” O’Connor offered.

Cardinal DeCaro shrugged, much to O’Connor’s annoyance. This nonchalant reception of his earth-shattering news was not what he wanted or expected. “Very well. Thank you for the information,” said the elder official dismissively. “You are free to go about your duties.”