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CHAPTER 98
Langdon and Sophie moved slowly down the north aisle, keeping to the shadows behind the ample
pillars that separated it from the open nave. Despite having traveled more than halfway down the
nave, they still had no clear view of Newton's tomb. The sarcophagus was recessed in a niche,
obscured from this oblique angle.
"At least there's nobody over there," Sophie whispered.
Langdon nodded, relieved. The entire section of the nave near Newton's tomb was deserted. "I'll go
over," he whispered. "You should stay hidden just in case someone—"
Sophie had already stepped from the shadows and was headed across the open floor.
"—is watching," Langdon sighed, hurrying to join her.
Crossing the massive nave on a diagonal, Langdon and Sophie remained silent as the elaborate
sepulchre revealed itself in tantalizing increments... a black-marble sarcophagus... a reclining statue
of Newton... two winged boys... a huge pyramid... and... an enormous orb.
"Did you know about that?" Sophie said, sounding startled.
Langdon shook his head, also surprised.
"Those look like constellations carved on it," Sophie said.
As they approached the niche, Langdon felt a slow sinking sensation. Newton's tomb was covered
with orbs—stars, comets, planets. You seek the orb that ought be on his tomb? It could turn out to
be like trying to find a missing blade of grass on a golf course.
"Astronomical bodies," Sophie said, looking concerned. "And a lot of them."
Langdon frowned. The only link between the planets and the Grail that Langdon could imagine
was the pentacle of Venus, and he had already tried the password "Venus" en route to the Temple
Church.
Sophie moved directly to the sarcophagus, but Langdon hung back a few feet, keeping an eye on
the abbey around them.
"Divinity," Sophie said, tilting her head and reading the titles of the books on which Newton was
leaning. "Chronology. Opticks. Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica?" She turned to
him. "Ring any bells?"
Langdon stepped closer, considering it. "Principia Mathematica, as I remember, has something to
do with the gravitation pull of planets... which admittedly are orbs, but it seems a little far-fetched."
"How about the signs of the zodiac?" Sophie asked, pointing to the constellations on the orb. "You
were talking about Pisces and Aquarius earlier, weren't you?"
The End of Days, Langdon thought. "The end of Pisces and the beginning of Aquarius was
allegedly the historical marker at which the Priory planned to release the Sangreal documents to the
world." But the millennium came and went without incident, leaving historians uncertain when the
truth was coming.
"It seems possible," Sophie said, "that the Priory's plans to reveal the truth might be related to the
last line of the poem."
It speaks of Rosy flesh and seeded womb. Langdon felt a shiver of potential. He had not considered
the line that way before.
"You told me earlier," she said, "that the timing of the Priory's plans to unveil the truth about 'the
Rose' and her fertile womb was linked directly to the position of planets—orbs."
Langdon nodded, feeling the first faint wisps of possibility materializing. Even so, his intuition told
him astronomy was not the key. The Grand Master's previous solutions had all possessed an
eloquent, symbolic significance—the Mona Lisa, Madonna of the Rocks, SOFIA. This eloquence
was definitely lacking in the concept of planetary orbs and the zodiac. Thus far, Jacques Saunière
had proven himself a meticulous code writer, and Langdon had to believe that his final
password—those five letters that unlocked the Priory's ultimate secret—would prove to be not only
symbolically fitting but also crystal clear. If this solution were anything like the others, it would be
painfully obvious once it dawned.
"Look!" Sophie gasped, jarring his thoughts as she grabbed his arm. From the fear in her touch
Langdon sensed someone must be approaching, but when he turned to her, she was staring aghast
at the top of the black marble sarcophagus. "Someone was here," she whispered, pointing to a spot
on the sarcophagus near Newton's outstretched right foot.
Langdon did not understand her concern. A careless tourist had left a charcoal, grave-rubbing
pencil on the sarcophagus lid near Newton's foot. It's nothing. Langdon reached out to pick it up,
but as he leaned toward the sarcophagus, the light shifted on the polished black-marble slab, and
Langdon froze. Suddenly, he saw why Sophie was afraid.
Scrawled on the sarcophagus lid, at Newton's feet, shimmered a barely visible charcoal-pencil
message:
I have Teabing.
Go through Chapter House,
out south exit, to public garden.
Langdon read the words twice, his heart pounding wildly.
Sophie turned and scanned the nave.
Despite the pall of trepidation that settled over him upon seeing the words, Langdon told himself
this was good news. Leigh is still alive. There was another implication here too. "They don't know
the password either," he whispered.
Sophie nodded. Otherwise why make their presence known?
"They may want to trade Leigh for the password."
"Or it's a trap."
Langdon shook his head. "I don't think so. The garden is outside the abbey walls. A very public
place." Langdon had once visited the abbey's famous College Garden—a small fruit orchard and
herb garden—left over from the days when monks grew natural pharmacological remedies here.
Boasting the oldest living fruit trees in Great Britain, College Garden was a popular spot for
tourists to visit without having to enter the abbey. "I think sending us outside is a show of faith. So
we feel safe."
Sophie looked dubious. "You mean outside, where there are no metal detectors?"
Langdon scowled. She had a point.
Gazing back at the orb-filled tomb, Langdon wished he had some idea about the cryptex
password... something with which to negotiate. I got Leigh involved in this, and I'll do whatever it
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