Langdon's Mickey Mouse wristwatch read almost seven-thirty when he emerged from the Jaguarlimousine onto Inner Temple Lane with Sophie and Teabing. The threesome wound through amaze of buildings to a small courtyard outside the Temple Church. The rough-hewn stoneshimmered in the rain, and doves cooed in the architecture overhead.
London's ancient Temple Church was constructed entirely of Caen stone. A dramatic, circularedifice with a daunting facade, a central turret, and a protruding nave off one side, the churchlooked more like a military stronghold than a place of worship. Consecrated on the tenth ofFebruary in 1185 by Heraclius, Patriarch of Jerusalem, the Temple Church survived eight centuriesof political turmoil, the Great Fire of London, and the First World War, only to be heavily damagedby Luftwaffe incendiary bombs in 1940. After the war, it was restored to its original, starkgrandeur.
The simplicity of the circle, Langdon thought, admiring the building for the first time. Thearchitecture was coarse and simple, more reminiscent of Rome's rugged Castel Sant'Angelo thanthe refined Pantheon. The boxy annex jutting out to the right was an unfortunate eyesore, althoughit did little to shroud the original pagan shape of the primary structure.
"It's early on a Saturday," Teabing said, hobbling toward the entrance, "so I'm assuming we won'thave services to deal with."The church's entryway was a recessed stone niche inside which stood a large wooden door. To theleft of the door, looking entirely out of place, hung a bulletin board covered with concert schedulesand religious service announcements.
Teabing frowned as he read the board. "They don't open to sightseers for another couple of hours."He moved to the door and tried it. The door didn't budge. Putting his ear to the wood, he listened.
After a moment, he pulled back, a scheming look on his face as he pointed to the bulletin board.
"Robert, check the service schedule, will you? Who is presiding this week?"Inside the church, an altar boy was almost finished vacuuming the communion kneelers when heheard a knocking on the sanctuary door. He ignored it. Father Harvey Knowles had his own keysand was not due for another couple of hours. The knocking was probably a curious tourist orindigent. The altar boy kept vacuuming, but the knocking continued. Can't you read? The sign onthe door clearly stated that the church did not open until nine-thirty on Saturday. The altar boyremained with his chores.
Suddenly, the knocking turned to a forceful banging, as if someone were hitting the door with ametal rod. The young man switched off his vacuum cleaner and marched angrily toward the door.
Unlatching it from within, he swung it open. Three people stood in the entryway. Tourists, hegrumbled. "We open at nine-thirty."The heavyset man, apparently the leader, stepped forward using metal crutches. "I am Sir LeighTeabing," he said, his accent a highbrow, Saxonesque British. "As you are no doubt aware, I amescorting Mr. and Mrs. Christopher Wren the Fourth." He stepped aside, flourishing his arm towardthe attractive couple behind them. The woman was soft-featured, with lush burgundy hair. The manwas tall, dark-haired, and looked vaguely familiar.
The altar boy had no idea how to respond. Sir Christopher Wren was the Temple Church's mostfamous benefactor. He had made possible all the restorations following damage caused by theGreat Fire. He had also been dead since the early eighteenth century. "Um... an honor to meetyou?"The man on crutches frowned. "Good thing you're not in sales, young man, you're not veryconvincing. Where is Father Knowles?""It's Saturday. He's not due in until later."The crippled man's scowl deepened. "There's gratitude. He assured us he would be here, but itlooks like we'll do it without him. It won't take long."The altar boy remained blocking the doorway. "I'm sorry, what won't take long?"The visitor's eyes sharpened now, and he leaned forward whispering as if to save everyone someembarrassment. "Young man, apparently you are new here. Every year Sir Christopher Wren'sdescendants bring a pinch of the old man's ashes to scatter in the Temple sanctuary. It is part of hislast will and testament. Nobody is particularly happy about making the trip, but what can we do?"The altar boy had been here a couple of years but had never heard of this custom. "It would bebetter if you waited until nine-thirty. The church isn't open yet, and I'm not finished hoovering."The man on crutches glared angrily. "Young man, the only reason there's anything left of thisbuilding for you to hoover is on account of the gentleman in that woman's pocket.""I'm sorry?""Mrs. Wren," the man on crutches said, "would you be so kind as to show this impertinent youngman the reliquary of ashes?"The woman hesitated a moment and then, as if awaking from a trance, reached in her sweaterpocket and pulled out a small cylinder wrapped in protective fabric.
"There, you see?" the man on crutches snapped. "Now, you can either grant his dying wish and letus sprinkle his ashes in the sanctuary, or I tell Father Knowles how we've been treated."The altar boy hesitated, well acquainted with Father Knowles' deep observance of churchtradition... and, more importantly, with his foul temper when anything cast this time-honoredshrine in anything but favorable light. Maybe Father Knowles had simply forgotten these familymembers were coming. If so, then there was far more risk in turning them away than in lettingthem in. After all, they said it would only take a minute. What harm could it do?
When the altar boy stepped aside to let the three people pass, he could have sworn Mr. and Mrs.
Wren looked just as bewildered by all of this as he was. Uncertain, the boy returned to his chores,watching them out of the corner of his eye.
Langdon had to smile as the threesome moved deeper into the church.
"Leigh," he whispered, "you lie entirely too well."Teabing's eyes twinkled. "Oxford Theatre Club. They still talk of my Julius Caesar. I'm certainnobody has ever performed the first scene of Act Three with more dedication."Langdon glanced over. "I thought Caesar was dead in that scene."Teabing smirked. "Yes, but my toga tore open when I fell, and I had to lie on stage for half an hourwith my todger hanging out. Even so, I never moved a muscle. I was brilliant, I tell you."Langdon cringed. Sorry I missed it.
As the group moved through the rectangular annex toward the archway leading into the mainchurch, Langdon was surprised by the barren austerity. Although the altar layout resembled that ofa linear Christian chapel, the furnishings were stark and cold, bearing none of the traditionalornamentation. "Bleak," he whispered.
Teabing chuckled. "Church of England. Anglicans drink their religion straight. Nothing to distractfrom their misery."Sophie motioned through the vast opening that gave way to the circular section of the church. "Itlooks like a fortress in there," she whispered.
Langdon agreed. Even from here, the walls looked unusually robust.
"The Knights Templar were warriors," Teabing reminded, the sound of his aluminum crutchesechoing in this reverberant space. "A religio-military society. Their churches were theirstrongholds and their banks.""Banks?" Sophie asked, glancing at Leigh.
"Heavens, yes. The Templars invented the concept of modern banking. For European nobility,traveling with gold was perilous, so the Templars allowed nobles to deposit gold in their nearestTemple Church and then draw it from any other Temple Church across Europe. All they neededwas proper documentation." He winked. "And a small commission. They were the original ATMs."Teabing pointed toward a stained-glass window where the breaking sun was refracting through awhite-clad knight riding a rose-colored horse. "Alanus Marcel," Teabing said, "Master of theTemple in the early twelve hundreds. He and his successors actually held the Parliamentary chairof Primus Baro Angiae."Langdon was surprised. "First Baron of the Realm?"Teabing nodded. "The Master of the Temple, some claim, held more influence than the kinghimself." As they arrived outside the circular chamber, Teabing shot a glance over his shoulder atthe altar boy, who was vacuuming in the distance. "You know," Teabing whispered to Sophie, "theHoly Grail is said to once have been stored in this church overnight while the Templars moved itfrom one hiding place to another. Can you imagine the four chests of Sangreal documents sittingright here with Mary Magdalene's sarcophagus? It gives me gooseflesh."Langdon was feeling gooseflesh too as they stepped into the circular chamber. His eye traced thecurvature of the chamber's pale stone perimeter, taking in the carvings of gargoyles, demons,monsters, and pained human faces, all staring inward. Beneath the carvings, a single stone pewcurled around the entire circumference of the room.
"Theater in the round," Langdon whispered.
Teabing raised a crutch, pointing toward the far left of the room and then to the far right. Langdonhad already seen them.
Ten stone knights.
Five on the left. Five on the right.
Lying prone on the floor, the carved, life-sized figures rested in peaceful poses. The knights weredepicted wearing full armor, shields, and swords, and the tombs gave Langdon the uneasysensation that someone had snuck in and poured plaster over the knights while they were sleeping.
All of the figures were deeply weathered, and yet each was clearly unique—different armorypieces, distinct leg and arm positions, facial features, and markings on their shields.
In London lies a knight a Pope interred.
Langdon felt shaky as he inched deeper into the circular room.
This had to be the place.
兰登和索菲、提彬三人从"美洲虎"豪华车里钻出来，走到圣殿教堂内通道，他注意到他手腕上的"米奇老鼠"牌手表显示将近七点半了。这三人，犹如在迷宫里行走一般，他们绕过许多建筑物，才来到圣殿教堂外面的小院里。那粗糙的石头，在雨中泛着青光，一群鸽子，在他们头顶的建筑里"咕咕"地歌唱。
伦敦古老的圣殿教堂全部是用法国卡昂地区出产的石头建造的。这是一幢引人注目的圆形建筑，有着撼人心魄的华美外表，中间一座塔楼，塔楼的旁边有个突出来的正殿，教堂看起来不像是供众人崇拜的地方，倒像是一个军事据点。耶路撒冷大主教赫拉克利乌斯曾于1185 年2 月10 日献祭与此，从此，圣殿教堂经历了八百多年政治斗争的风风雨雨，其中历经了伦敦大火灾，第一次世界大战。只是到了1940 年，它才严重被损于德国纳粹空军投放的燃烧弹。战争结束后，它又恢复了原来的模样，重现了昔日的辉煌。
循环往复，如此而已。兰登想，平生第一次对建筑物仰慕起来。这幢建筑显得既粗犷又朴素，更容易使人想起罗马的圣安杰罗城堡，而不是造型精美的希腊帕特农神庙。不过，不幸的是，那矮而窄的、向右面延伸出来的附属建筑物却令人觉得十分别扭，尽管它在企图掩饰其原始建筑的异教建筑风格上并没起到多大的作用。
"今天星期六，我们是来早了点。"提彬摇摇晃晃地走到大门前："所以我想现在什么事情都不用做了。"教堂的入口处是一块凹进去的石头，里面嵌着一扇巨大的木门。在木门的左边，看起来完全不协调地挂着一块公告牌，上面写满了音乐会的日程安排以及宗教仪式的通知。提彬读着公告牌上的告示，眉头紧皱起来："他们要再过两个小时才向游客开放哩。"他走到门前，试着想把它打开，然而那扇门却纹丝不动。于是他把耳朵贴在木板上倾听。过了一会，他抽身走了回来，一脸诡秘的神色，他指着公告牌说："罗伯特，你去查查宗教仪式的日程安排，行么？这个星期由谁来主持仪式的呢？"
在教堂里面，一位祭台助手用吸尘器差不多将所有祭祀用的坐垫上的灰尘吸完，这时他听到有人在敲礼拜堂的门。他充耳不闻，不加理会。哈维。诺尔斯神父自己有钥匙，再说还要等两个小时才能开门呢。敲门的人可能是位好奇的游客，或者是个穷人吧。祭台助手继续用吸尘器吸坐垫里的灰尘，然而敲门声依然不断。难道你不识字？门上不是清清楚楚地写着星期六教堂要到九点半才开门吗？祭台助手依旧忙着干他的事情。
突然，敲门声变成了沉重的撞击声，仿佛有人在用铁棒砸门。这名年轻人关掉吸尘器，怒气冲冲地朝门口奔去。他从里头一把将门"哐"的拉开，看到三人站在门外。是游客吧？他咕哝着说："我们九点半才开门哩。"
那个身材矮胖的男人，很明显是他们里头的领军人物，他拄着拐杖走上前来，说："我是雷。提彬爵士。"听他的口音，倒像是一位颇有身份的正宗英国人。"你肯定知道，我是陪克里斯托夫。雷恩四世及其夫人一道来的。"他走到一边，夸张地朝站在他们背后的那对模样俊秀的夫妇挥了挥手。女人看上去很温和，长着一头茂密的暗红色头发。男人个子挺拔，黑色头发，看上去似乎有点眼熟。
那名祭台助手一时不知如何应付。克里斯托夫。雷恩爵士是圣殿教堂最有名望的赞助者，在圣殿教堂遭受伦敦大火灾的侵袭后，他曾采取了所有的修复措施。不过他早在18世纪初期就已经去世了。"嗯……能有幸认识你吗？"
拄拐杖的男人皱着眉头："还算你识相，不过年轻人，你好像不太相信我们啊。诺尔斯神父呢？"
"今天星期六，他要等会儿才来。"
这位行动有些不便的男人更加不高兴了："就这样向我们表示感谢呐。他向我们保证，说会在这里等我们哩。看来我们只好不管他了。何况我们也不会呆上很久。"
祭台助手仍然将身子堵在门口："对不起，你说什么呆不上多久？"
这位客人的眼神一下子尖锐起来，他俯身向前，低声说着话，似乎是为了避免让大家尴尬。"年轻人，很显然，你是新来的吧？克里斯托夫。雷恩爵士的后代每年都会带一些他老人家的骨灰，撒在圣殿教堂里的内殿里。这是他临终的遗愿。没有谁特别喜欢到这个地方来，但我们又有什么办法呢？"祭台助手在这里呆了数年，但还是第一次听说有这回事。"你们还是等到九点半再说吧。教堂门还没开，再说我还没打扫干净呢。"拄拐杖的人怒视着他："年轻人，要说这房子里还有什么东西用得上你的吸尘器的话，那就是放在这位女土袋子里的他老人家的骨灰了。""难道我应该对你说对不起吗？"
"雷恩夫人。"拄拐杖的人说："你能不能把骨灰盒拿出来，给这位粗鲁的年轻人瞧瞧？"
女人犹豫了一会，然后，似乎是刚从梦里醒来，她把手伸进背心口袋，取出了一个小小的、外面包了一层布的圆柱体。
"喏，你看啊。"拄拐杖的男人喝道："现在，你要么成全他老人家的遗愿，让我们把他的骨灰撒在礼拜堂里，要不然我们就去告诉诺尔斯神父。"祭台助手犹豫起来，他深知诺尔斯神父一向严格要求大家遵守教堂的规矩；而且，更重要的是，他也深知神父的臭脾气。万一怠慢了这座历史悠久的神龛，他可吃罪不起。诺尔斯神父也许只是把这些家族成员要来的事情给忘了。如果是这样，那将他们赶走，肯定要比让他们进来冒的风险还大。不管怎样，他们说不用很长时间。那么让他们进来，又有多大的害处呢？
祭台助手走到一边，让这三人进来时，他敢说雷恩夫妇面对眼前的情景，神情如他一样的茫然。他不安地望着他们走出了他的视线，然后回去继续干他的杂活。
当三人来到教堂深处，兰登勉强地笑了笑。"雷爵士。"他压低嗓门说："你真会撒谎啊。"
提彬双眼闪烁："别忘了我是牛津剧院俱乐部的成员。他们至今还在谈论我扮演的裘利斯。恺撒一角呢。我敢肯定，还没有哪位演员能比我更尽心尽力地表演此剧第三场的第三幕哩。"兰登回头瞥了他一眼："我还以为，恺撒是在那一场就死去了呢。"
提彬得意地笑起来："是的，可我摔倒时长袍被撕开了。这样，我不得不脚尖朝上在台上躺了半小时。但即便如此，我连动也没动一下。我告诉你，我可聪明着呢。""对不起我倒没发现呢。"兰登奉承了一句。
这群人穿过矩形的附属建筑物，朝通往主教堂的拱门走去。兰登对教堂单调而朴素的建筑风格感到十分惊奇。尽管祭坛的构造颇像一座流线型的基督教堂，然而它的外表却显得刻板而冷酷，看不到一丁点传统的装饰。
"太没意思了。"兰登低声地说。
提彬咯咯地笑了。"这就是英国的国教。英国人在此啜饮宗教的琼浆。没有什么能让他们在不幸中迷失方向。"索菲经过宽大的由此可走到教堂圆形区域的入口。
"那边看起来有点像军事要塞哩。"她笑声地说。
兰登对此表示同意。即使从这里看过去，四面的墙壁也显得特别的坚固。
"别忘了，圣殿骑士可是尚武之人。"提彬在一边提醒他们。他那铝制的拐杖，在这方空间里发出清脆的回响。"这是个军事宗教占主导地位的国家，教堂就是他们的军事据点和银行。""银行？"索菲瞥了他一眼，问道。
"天哪，是这样的。圣殿骑士们创造了现代银行的运作理念。对欧洲的达官贵人而言，携带金银出门旅游是非常危险的，因此圣殿骑士允许这些贵族将金子存进离他们最近的圣殿教堂；然后，他们可以从遍布欧洲各地的圣殿教堂里将它们取出来。他们只需要有关的凭证。"他眨了眨眼："并支付一笔佣金就可以了。这些教堂，就是最初的自动取款机。"提彬指着一扇沾满灰尘的玻璃窗，早晨的阳光，正透过窗户，照在一位骑着玫瑰色的骏马、一身白色装束的骑士的塑像上，反射出清凌凌的光。"那是阿拉尼斯。马塞尔，12 纪初这座圣殿教堂的主人。他和他的继承者当时实际上占据了王国第一男爵的席位。"兰登有点吃惊："王国第一男爵？"
提彬点点头："有人说，圣殿教堂的主人，比国王本人的影响还大呢。"他们来到圆形房屋外面，提彬回头看了看远处那位还在摆弄着吸尘器的祭台助手，低声对索菲说："你知道吗？圣殿骑士们四处躲藏时，据说圣杯曾在这教堂里藏了一夜。你能想象到整整放了四抽屉的《圣杯文献》竟然会在这里与抹大拉的玛利亚的尸骨摆在一起吗？一想到此，我就不禁不寒而栗。"等他们走进那个圆形的大厅，兰登也觉得浑身起了鸡皮疙瘩。他的眼睛循着这个大房间用灰白色石头砌成的圆圈看去，顿时被一些雕刻的怪兽、妖魔鬼怪以及因痛苦而扭曲并全朝这里怒目而视的人脸吸引住了。在这些雕刻品的下面，有一张长椅围着整个房间绕了一圈。
"是圆形剧场啊。"兰登轻声地说。
提彬举起一根拐杖，指着房间尽头的左边，接着又指着右边。这时兰登已经看到了它们。
十尊圣殿骑士石像。
左边五尊，右边五尊。
这些真人般大小的雕像，仰卧在地面上，摆出一副祥和的姿态。这些骑士个个披盔戴甲，剑盾在手。兰登有点不快，觉得似乎有人趁骑士们睡着时偷偷溜进来，将石膏泼在他们身上。所有的雕像都严重的风化了，然而每尊雕像看上去却是那么的独特--他们穿着不同的盔甲，腿和胳膊都摆出截然不同的姿势，不同的面部表情，还有他们盾牌的记号也迥然不同。
在伦敦葬了一位教皇为他主持葬礼的骑士。
兰登又向圆形房间里头迈进了几步，身子忍不住发抖。
应该是这个地方了。