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Including shooting me, Langdon recalled, deciding not to mention that he had probably broken the
poor man's nose. Thinking of Paris, Langdon flashed on the three sénéchaux who had been killed
the night before. "And the Priory? What happens now?"
"The wheels are already in motion, Mr. Langdon. The brotherhood has endured for centuries, and it
will endure this. There are always those waiting to move up and rebuild."
All evening Langdon had suspected that Sophie's grandmother was closely tied to the operations of
the Priory. After all, the Priory had always had women members. Four Grand Masters had been
women. The sénéchaux were traditionally men—the guardians—and yet women held far more
honored status within the Priory and could ascend to the highest post from virtually any rank.
Langdon thought of Leigh Teabing and Westminster Abbey. It seemed a lifetime ago. "Was the
Church pressuring your husband not to release the Sangreal documents at the End of Days?"
"Heavens no. The End of Days is a legend of paranoid minds. There is nothing in the Priory
doctrine that identifies a date at which the Grail should be unveiled. In fact the Priory has always
maintained that the Grail should never be unveiled."
"Never?" Langdon was stunned.
"It is the mystery and wonderment that serve our souls, not the Grail itself. The beauty of the Grail
lies in her ethereal nature." Marie Chauvel gazed up at Rosslyn now. "For some, the Grail is a
chalice that will bring them everlasting life. For others, it is the quest for lost documents and secret
history. And for most, I suspect the Holy Grail is simply a grand idea... a glorious unattainable
treasure that somehow, even in today's world of chaos, inspires us."
"But if the Sangreal documents remain hidden, the story of Mary Magdalene will be lost forever,"
Langdon said.
"Will it? Look around you. Her story is being told in art, music, and books. More so every day. The
pendulum is swinging. We are starting to sense the dangers of our history... and of our destructive
paths. We are beginning to sense the need to restore the sacred feminine." She paused. "You
mentioned you are writing a manuscript about the symbols of the sacred feminine, are you not?"
"I am."
She smiled. "Finish it, Mr. Langdon. Sing her song. The world needs modern troubadours."
Langdon fell silent, feeling the weight of her message upon him. Across the open spaces, a new
moon was rising above the tree line.
Turning his eyes toward Rosslyn, Langdon felt a boyish craving to know her secrets. Don't ask, he
told himself. This is not the moment. He glanced at the papyrus in Marie's hand, and then back at
Rosslyn.
"Ask the question, Mr. Langdon," Marie said, looking amused. "You have earned the right."
Langdon felt himself flush.
"You want to know if the Grail is here at Rosslyn."
"Can you tell me?"
She sighed in mock exasperation. "Why is it that men simply cannot let the Grail rest?" She
laughed, obviously enjoying herself. "Why do you think it's here?"
Langdon motioned to the papyrus in her hand. "Your husband's poem speaks specifically of
Rosslyn, except it also mentions a blade and chalice watching over the Grail. I didn't see any
symbols of the blade and chalice up there."
"The blade and chalice?" Marie asked. "What exactly do they look like?"
Langdon sensed she was toying with him, but he played along, quickly describing the symbols.
A look of vague recollection crossed her face. "Ah, yes, of course. The blade represents all that is
masculine. I believe it is drawn like this, no?" Using her index finger, she traced a shape on her
palm.
"Yes," Langdon said. Marie had drawn the less common "closed" form of the blade, although
Langdon had seen the symbol portrayed both ways.
"And the inverse," she said, drawing again on her palm, "is the chalice, which represents the
feminine."
"Correct," Langdon said.
"And you are saying that in all the hundreds of symbols we have here in Rosslyn Chapel, these two
shapes appear nowhere?"
"I didn't see them."
"And if I show them to you, will you get some sleep?"
Before Langdon could answer, Marie Chauvel had stepped off the porch and was heading toward
the chapel. Langdon hurried after her. Entering the ancient building, Marie turned on the lights and
pointed to the center of the sanctuary floor. "There you are, Mr. Langdon. The blade and chalice."
Langdon stared at the scuffed stone floor. It was blank. "There's nothing here...."
Marie sighed and began to walk along the famous path worn into the chapel floor, the same path
Langdon had seen the visitors walking earlier this evening. As his eyes adjusted to see the giant
symbol, he still felt lost. "But that's the Star of Dav—"
Langdon stopped short, mute with amazement as it dawned on him.
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