The Secret of Sion

The Secret if Sion

“Sister Simone, bring Antoinette Saint Clair to me immediately!” The urgency in the prioress’s request sent her scurrying. The prioress held the ancient cross of Saint Clair in her hand. She had no idea who the messenger was or where he came from. Who was Antoinette Saint Clair? Why was she brought here to the priory for protection? These thoughts raced through the prioress’ mind. Sister Simone hurried Antoinette along: “Please hurry; the prioress is most distressed. Antoinette had no idea why the prioress wanted to talk to her. She knocked on the thick oak door: “Enter, my child.” Antoinette entered; she was a true beauty under the dark brown habit she wore. Her eyes were sea green, her skin was white alabaster, and her hair was dark red. She entered as bidden: “Antoinette, please sit down. I have something I have been meaning to give to you.” The prioress handed her the cross of Saint Clair: “This was left for you by your father. Does it mean anything to you?” “Do you know who your father was, my child?” Antoinette began: “I know little of my father and mother. I know I was born in Scotland; my name is Antoinette Saint Clair. I was brought to the priory by my father; ‘a need to protect me’ is what I was told. I have no idea why.” The prioress began gently: “You are the granddaughter of Jamie ‘the red’ Sinclair. Your bloodline goes back to the time of Jesus Christ. That may not mean a great deal to you now, but it will in the days to come.” Antoinette was astonished as the prioress continued: “A messenger brought this for you; perhaps, child, it is time for you to return to Scotland. I will arrange safe passage for you.” Antoinette knew she could not endanger the priory if her presence here subjected anyone to danger: “I can be ready to leave tomorrow morning. I don’t wish to endanger anyone here.” “I will arrange for two brothers to take you to Sinclair Castle, where you will be safe.” Antoinette bowed her head to receive a blessing. She had no belongings other than the habit she wore and now the cross of St. Clair. She tossed and turned all night, wondering why and where she was going. Dawn was damp with dew as Antoinette began her journey to Scotland. She kept the cross of St. Clair hidden beneath the brown and white habit she wore. Her dark red hair hung loosely, framing her face. Brother Thomas rode next to her while Brother Andrew scouted ahead. The castle Sinclair was completely stone and mortar. Antoinette thought it a singularly cold place, with a feeling of foreboding. She dismounted, strode across the cobble street to the castle. She was quickly yanked in the door: “You are Antoinette Sinclair; I am your father, Alexander Sinclair. Come here, child.” He showed her to his study, then began: “I have sent for you because of our bloodline. I don’t know what the prioress told you, but allow me to explain the entire situation. Do ye recall Saint Mary Magdalene from your studies?” Antoinette raised her face: “Yes, I remember, Father.” Alexander Sinclair paced his study as he related: “Then you know that Mary Magdalene is a relative of ours. Aye, ye heard me right, but lass, there is more to the story. Jesus married Mary at twenty-nine. Mary became pregnant with a child, a female child. When the Romans crucified Jesus, Mary was smuggled out of Jerusalem as quickly as possible, lass, to keep her safe from any harm. The Grand Master is expecting ye lass in a week. Once ye get to Paris, there will be someone to greet ye and take ye to Sion Priory. There ye must look for the rose that grows over the bones of Mary Magdalene. Inside the sarcophagus of Mary Magdalene is a tiny vial of blood. Ye are to dab a wee bit o blood over yer heart.” Antoinette had so many questions she wanted to ask, but could not. Her father continued: “Until ye are ready, be very cautious, lass; there are men who would do ye great harm. Now, ye must rest before you leave for France.

Antoinette tossed and turned most of the long night at Castle Sinclair; she could hear her father speaking to someone: “She is only here for a short time; is there any clothing she can wear? That habit does not become her.” The voice answered: “There are a few pieces, sir, that your wife left; some may fit her.” Antoinette wondered what was wrong with her habit; she had worn it for five years: now it would not do for the trip to France.

Morning dawned with a trace of snow covering the highlands. There was a coo mooing to be milked. Antoinette rose and began to wash her face when there was a faint knock at the door: “Come in.” A young woman entered: “I have brought this gown and cloak for ye. These belonged to your ma. Dress quickly so ye make the connections to France easily, and good luck to ye.” An hour later Antoinette strode down the stone stairs and into the dining room. Alexander Sinclair dropped the goblet he held: “Och, ye look so much like your mother. Beautiful lass o’ my heart.” The black enclosed carriage had six white horses and a driver and a wizened-faced old Scot. Her father opened the carriage door, gave her a hand into the carriage and then turned back toward the entrance to the castle. The carriage lurched, and Antoinette began to realize that there was a mystery concerning the Priory of Sion. Suddenly the carriage began moving faster and faster. Pistol shots rang out; just as suddenly the carriage came to an abrupt halt. She heard several voices, none she recognized. The carriage door opened and a hand reached in to grab her, but she was quicker. She pulled her dirk, stabbing the hand. The man let out a shriek and let go of her hands. The carriage driver did not hesitate; the horses were moving at a canter. They crossed the English Channel into France late that night. Paris was still distant. The carriage continued on. Antoinette slept with her head upon her chest. Rufus Delacroix and his men watched and waited; the Comte de Artain was to pay him Five-hundred Francs to kidnap Antoinette St. Clair. Rufus was not thrilled with the thought of murdering her; he thought he could hide her and demand a large ransom from Alexander Sinclair. Suddenly an armed escort appeared; Rufus motioned his men to move out. The escort was sent by the Prior of Sion. For the first time since the journey began, Antoinette felt safe. The escort and carriage arrived at the stone priory. Suddenly, Antoinette saw a beautiful pink rose; was that the rose of Sion? The prior came out of the heavy oaken door with a look of surprise; “Come, child, you must be tired after your long journey.” Antoinette followed the prior as she looked at every nook and cranny. Her mind reeled as she began to realize the burden she carried. How was she ever going to find the Holy Grail and the sarcophagus of Mary Magdalene, and the answers she sought? The prior showed her to an unused cell: “You may sleep here, child.” He closed the heavy oaken door; to her horror, she heard a click, the lock on her door. She looked around the cell; there was only a tall glass-enclosed bookcase. She began attempting to find an escape from the priory. She strode over to the bookcase, opened the door, and began the process of pulling out the books; her only hope was to find a way out and safety. There was a knock on the door, then a key turned in the rusty lock: “Sh...be quiet, I am here to help you. I am Michelle Neuvoe. There is no time to waste; the prior has arranged for your execution. I am a member of the Sion protectorate, charged with keeping you safe. Michelle pulled the oak door open; she stuck her head out to be sure no one was coming. She motioned Antoinette to follow her. They descended the winding stone stairway and down into a cavern. The cavern reminded Antoinette of the catacombs of Rome. She viewed them once when she was a child with her grandmother. They slipped silently into the shadows. Michelle stopped once: “Do you know what you are looking for?” Antoinette nodded her head yes. The cold and damp in several chambers made Antoinette wish she had a warm cloak. Suddenly, they heard a loud clap. Michelle pulled Antoinette into a dark corner of a crypt; together they hid there until the danger passed. When they stood up, there was a pink rose on a sarcophagus. “This is it; I have found the sarcophagus of Mary Magdalene. The pink rose, the rose of Sion. She knelt down and began digging the dirt with her bare hands. She dug frantically, as tears filled her eyes, although she did not understand why. Just a few feet below the surface, she felt a small vial. She brought it up to the light to be sure; she thought to check and be sure it was the small vial. She quickly opened the vial; she put a very small amount of blood over her heart, as per her father’s instructions. Michelle motioned for her to hurry, as they turned into another tunnel as they entered what appeared to be a chapel. The small, wizened-faced Scot that drove the carriage began: “Hello, my lady, I am the Grand Master you seek. I had to be sure ye were worthy of the trust Sion has placed in ye. Surely ye understand why now. Please follow our instructions; ye will remain safe as long as ye do so. Antoinette asked the man: “Where is the Holy Grail?” Both the old Scot and Michelle chuckled: “Mary Magdalene holds the secret of the Holy Grail. Find the Holy Grail, and we may leave.” Antoinette, returned to the sarcophagus of Mary of the side of the sarcophagus: it was a chalice, a plain silver chalice. She knew without asking that she had Magdalene, contemplating where the Holy Grail might be. She stumbled over something sticking out and found the secret of Sion, the missing Holy Grail.