TWELVE

Tess hesitated. In the study in the Victorian mansion near Georgetown, a memory nagged at her subconsciousness. In a flash, it surfaced. 'But what about the treasure?'

Priscilla frowned, puzzled by Tess's abrupt change of topic.

'Before I used the phone, you mentioned a mysterious treasure,' Tess said. 'In southwestern France, in the thirteenth century.'

'Ah.' Priscilla nodded. 'Yes. When the Catholic crusaders killed tens of thousands of heretics to eradicate a new version of Mithraism."

'You called it Albigensianism,' Tess said. The last stronghold of the heretics was a mountain fortress.'

'Montsegur.' Priscilla squinted.

'And you said that the night before the final massacre' – Tess trembled – 'a small group of heretics used ropes to descend from the mountain, taking with them a mysterious treasure.'

'A rumor. A persistent legend, although as I mentioned, it could have some basis in fact. Since Mithraism survives in India, it might have survived in Europe as well. A small group conducting its rites in secret. To avoid the Inquisition.'

'If so' - Tess raised her voice in frustration – 'what would the treasure have been?'

Priscilla shrugged. 'The obvious answer is wealth of some sort. Gold. Precious gems. Indeed, as recently as the Second World War, the Nazis believed that such a treasure existed and was hidden in the area near Montsegur. Hitler sent an archaeologist, a team of engineers, and an SS unit to search for it in the numerous caves in the region. Evidence of their excavations can still be found. However, the treasure was not. At least, no one ever indicated that a treasure had been discovered, and surely, given something so dramatic, word would have spread. Then, too, another theory is that the treasure was the Holy Grail, the chalice from Christ's Last Supper. And still another theory claims that the treasure was a person, that Christ – contrary to tradition – married and had a son, a descendant of whom was the leader of the Albigensians. Those latter theories were made popular in a book called Holy Blood, Holy Grail. But those latter theories are nonsense, of course. Because the Albigensians had only a superficial resemblance to Catholics. They descended from a tradition much older than Christianity, one that happened to use rituals similar to those of Christianity, but that in fact was based on the theology – opposing good and evil gods – of Mithraism. The heretics would have had no respect for the so-called Holy Grail, and they wouldn't have cared if Christ had a son who established a bloodline. No,' Priscilla said, 'whatever the treasure, assuming it even existed, it more than likely was the obvious: wealth.'

Tess breathed with excitement, although her excitement was tinged with fear. 'I disagree.'

Priscilla adjusted her glasses, confused. 'Oh?'

'I think there was a treasure. Not wealth. At least not in the ordinary sense, although it definitely was mysterious.'

Professor Harding leaned forward, propping his hands on his cane. 'I confess you've made me curious. What are you suggesting?'

Tess rubbed her forehead. 'If the heretics feared that their religion was about to be destroyed, if a small group managed to escape' – she darted her eyes toward Priscilla, then Professor Harding – 'what's the one thing those heretics would have considered so important that they wouldn't have dared to leave without it?'

Professor Harding frowned. 'I still don't follow.'

Priscilla's eyes, however, gleamed with fascination.

'The treasure without which the heretics had no meaning,' Tess said. 'Something so valuable that they couldn't allow it to be destroyed and, equally important, desecrated. Something mysterious in the deepest sense of the word. Something so…'

'Sacred,' Priscilla blurted. 'Absolutely.'

'You understand?'

'Yes!' Priscilla gestured emphatically toward the photograph. 'The image of Mithras that stood on their altar! When Constantine converted to Christianity, the Christians destroyed the Mithraic chapels. For all the heretics at Montsegur knew, the scuplture they possessed might have been the only one in existence. If they left it behind, when the crusaders found it…'

Tess anticipated, The crusaders would have smashed it to pieces. The heretics had to protect the statue in order to protect their religion.' In imitation of Priscilla's earlier gesture, Tess jabbed a finger at the photograph. That statue. There's no weathering on its marble. No cracks. It's in perfect condition. A pristine replication of an ancient model. To borrow your words, someone went to a great deal of trouble and expense to reproduce that statue. Why? It makes no sense unless… I think I know the answer. It terrifies me. God, I think that statue's a copy of the one from Montsegur, but I don't think it's the only copy, and I don't think…' Tess stared at Priscilla. 'We've been talking around this possibility all afternoon, so why don't I say it outright? My friend believed in Mithraism. There are others who believe as he did. They're the ones who killed my mother, who killed Brian Hamilton, and who tried to kill me. To stop anyone from knowing about their existence.'

'Fire,' Priscilla interrupted.

'What about it? Tess struggled to control her shaking.

'You said your friend was killed with fire.'

'And then his apartment was set on fire, and my mother's house was set on fire, and Brian Hamilton died in flames in a freeway accident. Why is fire so-?'

'It purifies. It symbolizes divine energy. Out of the ashes comes life. Rebirth. Fire was sacred to Mithraism. The sun god. When the torch is held upward, it signifies good.'

'But how can all of this killing be good?'

Priscilla suddenly looked aged again. 'I'm afraid there are two things I haven't told you about Mithraism.'

Apprehensive, Tess waited, trembling.

'First,' Priscilla said, 'followers of Mithras, particularly those in the Albigensian sect, the ones at Montsegur, believed in reincarnation. To them, death was not an ultimate end but merely a beginning of another life, until finally – after many lives – their being was perfected and they went to heaven. In that respect, they believed in the theories of Plato.'

Tess remembered that The Collected Dialogues of Plato was one of the books in Joseph's bedroom. 'Keep going.'

'The point is,' Priscilla said, 'a follower of Mithras was able to kill without guilt because he believed that he wasn't ending someone's life but merely transforming it.'

Tess was appalled. 'You said there were two things. What's the…?'

'Second, followers of Mithras were used to killing. They were trained to kill. Don't forget the statue. The knife. The blood. Roman soldiers converted en masse. Mithraism was a warrior cult. By definition. In their souls, they believed that they were engaged in a cosmic struggle of good against evil.'

'The bastards,' Tess said. 'To defeat what they thought was evil, they'd do anything!'

'I'm afraid that's true.'

'They'd kill anyone, including my mother!' Tess raged. 'The sons of…! When I get the chance – and I'm sure I will because I'm sure they'll come for me again – they'll learn the hard way about the difference between good and evil!'