Night had fallen over Rosslyn.

　　Robert Langdon stood alone on the porch of the fieldstone house enjoying the sounds of laughterand reunion drifting through the screened door behind him. The mug of potent Brazilian coffee inhis hand had granted him a hazy reprieve from his mounting exhaustion, and yet he sensed thereprieve would be fleeting. The fatigue in his body went to the core.

　　"You slipped out quietly," a voice behind him said.

　　He turned. Sophie's grandmother emerged, her silver hair shimmering in the night. Her name, forthe last twenty-eight years at least, was Marie Chauvel.

　　Langdon gave a tired smile. "I thought I'd give your family some time together." Through thewindow, he could see Sophie talking with her brother.

　　Marie came over and stood beside him. "Mr. Langdon, when I first heard of Jacques's murder, Iwas terrified for Sophie's safety. Seeing her standing in my doorway tonight was the greatest reliefof my life. I cannot thank you enough."Langdon had no idea how to respond. Although he had offered to give Sophie and her grandmothertime to talk in private, Marie had asked him to stay and listen. My husband obviously trusted you,Mr. Langdon, so I do as well.

　　And so Langdon had remained, standing beside Sophie and listening in mute astonishment whileMarie told the story of Sophie's late parents. Incredibly, both had been from Merovingianfamilies—direct descendants of Mary Magdalene and Jesus Christ. Sophie's parents and ancestors,for protection, had changed their family names of Plantard and Saint-Clair. Their childrenrepresented the most direct surviving royal bloodline and therefore were carefully guarded by thePriory. When Sophie's parents were killed in a car accident whose cause could not be determined,the Priory feared the identity of the royal line had been discovered.

　　"Your grandfather and I," Marie had explained in a voice choked with pain, "had to make a gravedecision the instant we received the phone call. Your parents' car had just been found in the river."She dabbed at the tears in her eyes. "All six of us—including you two grandchildren—weresupposed to be traveling together in that car that very night. Fortunately we changed our plans atthe last moment, and your parents were alone. Hearing of the accident, Jacques and I had no way toknow what had really happened... or if this was truly an accident." Marie looked at Sophie. "Weknew we had to protect our grandchildren, and we did what we thought was best. Jacques reportedto the police that your brother and I had been in the car... our two bodies apparently washed off inthe current. Then your brother and I went underground with the Priory. Jacques, being a man ofprominence, did not have the luxury of disappearing. It only made sense that Sophie, being theeldest, would stay in Paris to be taught and raised by Jacques, close to the heart and protection ofthe Priory." Her voice fell to a whisper. "Separating the family was the hardest thing we ever had todo. Jacques and I saw each other only very infrequently, and always in the most secret of settings...

　　under the protection of the Priory. There are certain ceremonies to which the brotherhood alwaysstays faithful."Langdon had sensed the story went far deeper, but he also sensed it was not for him to hear. So hehad stepped outside. Now, gazing up at the spires of Rosslyn, Langdon could not escape the hollowgnaw of Rosslyn's unsolved mystery. Is the Grail really here at Rosslyn? And if so, where are theblade and chalice that Saunière mentioned in his poem?

　　"I'll take that," Marie said, motioning to Langdon's hand.

　　"Oh, thank you." Langdon held out his empty coffee cup.

　　She stared at him. "I was referring to your other hand, Mr. Langdon."Langdon looked down and realized he was holding Saunière's papyrus. He had taken it from thecryptex once again in hopes of seeing something he had missed earlier. "Of course, I'm sorry."Marie looked amused as she took the paper. "I know of a man at a bank in Paris who is probablyvery eager to see the return of this rosewood box. André Vernet was a dear friend of Jacques, andJacques trusted him explicitly. André would have done anything to honor Jacques's requests for thecare of this box."Including shooting me, Langdon recalled, deciding not to mention that he had probably broken thepoor man's nose. Thinking of Paris, Langdon flashed on the three sénéchaux who had been killedthe night before. "And the Priory? What happens now?""The wheels are already in motion, Mr. Langdon. The brotherhood has endured for centuries, and itwill 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 ofthe Priory. After all, the Priory had always had women members. Four Grand Masters had beenwomen. The sénéchaux were traditionally men—the guardians—and yet women held far morehonored 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 theChurch 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 Priorydoctrine that identifies a date at which the Grail should be unveiled. In fact the Priory has alwaysmaintained 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 Graillies in her ethereal nature." Marie Chauvel gazed up at Rosslyn now. "For some, the Grail is achalice that will bring them everlasting life. For others, it is the quest for lost documents and secrethistory. And for most, I suspect the Holy Grail is simply a grand idea... a glorious unattainabletreasure 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. Thependulum is swinging. We are starting to sense the dangers of our history... and of our destructivepaths. We are beginning to sense the need to restore the sacred feminine." She paused. "Youmentioned 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 newmoon was rising above the tree line.

　　Turning his eyes toward Rosslyn, Langdon felt a boyish craving to know her secrets. Don't ask, hetold himself. This is not the moment. He glanced at the papyrus in Marie's hand, and then back atRosslyn.

　　"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?" Shelaughed, obviously enjoying herself. "Why do you think it's here?"Langdon motioned to the papyrus in her hand. "Your husband's poem speaks specifically ofRosslyn, except it also mentions a blade and chalice watching over the Grail. I didn't see anysymbols 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 ismasculine. I believe it is drawn like this, no?" Using her index finger, she traced a shape on herpalm.

　　triangle"Yes," Langdon said. Marie had drawn the less common "closed" form of the blade, althoughLangdon had seen the symbol portrayed both ways.

　　"And the inverse," she said, drawing again on her palm, "is the chalice, which represents thefeminine."reverse triangle"Correct," Langdon said.

　　"And you are saying that in all the hundreds of symbols we have here in Rosslyn Chapel, these twoshapes 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 towardthe chapel. Langdon hurried after her. Entering the ancient building, Marie turned on the lights andpointed 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 pathLangdon had seen the visitors walking earlier this evening. As his eyes adjusted to see the giantsymbol, he still felt lost. "But that's the Star of Dav—"Langdon stopped short, mute with amazement as it dawned on him.

　　Star of DavidThe blade and chalice.

　　Fused as one.

　　The Star of David... the perfect union of male and female... Solomon's Seal... marking the Holy ofHolies, where the male and female deities—Yahweh and Shekinah—were thought to dwell.

　　Langdon needed a minute to find his words. "The verse does point here to Rosslyn. Completely.

　　Perfectly."Marie smiled. "Apparently."The implications chilled him. "So the Holy Grail is in the vault beneath us?"She laughed. "Only in spirit. One of the Priory's most ancient charges was one day to return theGrail to her homeland of France where she could rest for eternity. For centuries, she was draggedacross the countryside to keep her safe. Most undignified. Jacques's charge when he became GrandMaster was to restore her honor by returning her to France and building her a resting place fit for aqueen.""And he succeeded?"Now her face grew serious. "Mr. Langdon, considering what you've done for me tonight, and ascurator of the Rosslyn Trust, I can tell you for certain that the Grail is no longer here."Langdon decided to press. "But the keystone is supposed to point to the place where the Holy Grailis hidden now. Why does it point to Rosslyn?""Maybe you're misreading its meaning. Remember, the Grail can be deceptive. As could my latehusband.""But how much clearer could he be?" he asked. "We are standing over an underground vaultmarked by the blade and chalice, underneath a ceiling of stars, surrounded by the art of MasterMasons. Everything speaks of Rosslyn.""Very well, let me see this mysterious verse." She unrolled the papyrus and read the poem aloud ina deliberate tone.

　　The Holy Grail 'neath ancient Roslin waits.

　　The blade and chalice guarding o'er Her gates.

　　Adorned in masters' loving art, She lies.

　　She rests at last beneath the starry skies.

　　When she finished, she was still for several seconds, until a knowing smile crossed her lips. "Aah,Jacques."Langdon watched her expectantly. "You understand this?""As you have witnessed on the chapel floor, Mr. Langdon, there are many ways to see simplethings."Langdon strained to understand. Everything about Jacques Saunière seemed to have doublemeanings, and yet Langdon could see no further.

　　Marie gave a tired yawn. "Mr. Langdon, I will make a confession to you. I have never officiallybeen privy to the present location of the Grail. But, of course, I was married to a person ofenormous influence... and my women's intuition is strong." Langdon started to speak but Mariecontinued. "I a............