Prophecies of the Grand Master of the Templars

By EDGARS AUZIŅŠ

The Knights Templar are a western order of knights. They were monks and warriors, but then they became financiers, bankers and safely made their way behind the scenes. Templars and Freemasons. Are they related or not?
The Templars were the ones who set up the world banking system. Even the English monarch's crown was in their coffers. Whole countries like Portugal were ruled by Templar kings. Why did Philip the Beautiful manage to defeat this order? Perhaps it was all pre-planned? And the untold treasure of the knights flowed through the king's fingers like sand. Where were the treasure ships that had been transported from Paris to La Rochelle earlier? It is said that it was almost to America, and some believe that this country was Scotland, the birthplace of Freemasonry and the birthplace of the Enlightenment.

• Language: English
• Publisher: EDGARS AUZINS
• Release date: Apr 26, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224954421

EDGARS AUZIŅŠ

Dzimis 1989. gada 22. decembrī. Absolvējis Rīgas Juridisko koledžu. Profesijā nav strādājis, bet apguvis programmēšanas prasmes un pašlaik ar to nodarbojas. Kopš 2022. gada ir personīgā uzņēmuma vadītājs, kas nodarbojas ar transporta pārvadājumiem, kā arī programmēšanu. Dzīvnieku, īpaši suņu, mīļotājs. Born 22 December 1989. Graduated from Riga College of Law. Has not worked in the profession, but has acquired programming skills and is currently working in it. Since 2022 he has been the CEO of his own company, which deals with transport transport as well as programming. Lover of animals, especially dogs.

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Prophecies of the Grand Master of the Templars

I. Prologue

Yes! There are places, there are places on earth that attract you, plunging the soul into a lethargic sleep. It seems that here and only here the Higher powers communicate directly with a person. Every country has such places. In Germany, this is Mount Hartz, where Goethe, together with Mephistopheles, staged Walpurgis Night for his Faust; in France, the southern provinces of Languedoc, the place of life and death of the famous Cathars; in England, Stonehenge and the lakes of Scotland.

Where does the power of these places come from? Probably, in such corners of the earth, Beauty itself drives crazy everyone who, at least for a moment, wanted to turn from a respectable gentleman into a contemplator, and therefore into a pagan who idolizes the forests, fields, rivers or lakes of Scotland that unexpectedly stretch out before him.

But we won’t be talking about Scotland now. We will come to this point later in our story. The story begins in France, where the Grand Master of the Templar Order, Jacques de Molay, warrior, mystic, and prophet, was born.

When you wander through the cemetery, you constantly come across the dates of life and death of those who now lie under these slabs. How many faces! Another moment will pass, and they will all disappear from memory: unnecessary faces, forever dissolved in the earthly womb. They will never appear again from this clay, from which the great Sculptor sculpts noses, chins, eyebrows, they will never regain their former familiar features.

Another thing is the life of a prophet. At the beginning of the 14th century, portraits were not painted, and we do not know what de Molay looked like, but his immortal shadow does not need it. Ashes to ashes, as they say, and the eternal abides in the eternal. If we compare the beginning of the 14th and the end of the 19th centuries, then this will be an eternity, and this burden turned out to be on the shoulder of the old Master, exhausted by torture. And if so, then our story should begin by describing how a village priest, already at the end of the 19th century, finding himself in one of the enchanted places we mentioned, which could be found in the south of France, began excavations and, in his vain curiosity, disturbed A secret.

And it all started like this.

On June 1, 1885, a new, thirty-three-year-old parish priest named Bérenger Saunière appeared in the village of Rennes-le-Château. He was tall, stooped, with black curly hair and deep-set brown eyes. When Saunière listened to someone, his thin lips, like two strings, constantly stretched into a frozen half-smile. The village numbered only two hundred souls and was located directly on the Pyrenees, not far from Carcassonne. A real hole where Saunière, despite the intelligence and talents that he showed in the theological seminary, was exiled for his impudent disposition and disobedience. In the minds of local peasants, all the efforts of religion boiled down to filling the heavenly coffers, forcing parishioners to fork out money, and siphoning money out of their pockets. Religion reminded local farmers of a huge trading house, where the priests were clerks, cunning, sneaky, resourceful, and managed the affairs of the Lord God at the expense of ordinary people. For a young man with ambitions to be so far from civilization meant only certain spiritual death. Bérenger had an excellent prospect of dissolving in these places, perishing in obscurity, fortunately the vineyards were excellent, and the mild, warm climate and rich, fertile soil, which in the spring gave off the intoxicating smell of herbs and in which strawberries were already ripening in April, were conducive to idleness and danger for life. young inquisitive mind complacency. Saunière was saved by the fact that he himself was from here and had been accustomed to such temptations since childhood. In these places he hunted and fished from a young age and knew everything about the languor that stupefies the soul. Saunière made it a rule to spend every Sunday on the river, and every Sunday dedicated to fishing, the young priest met in the same place another fisherman, the abbot from the neighboring parish Henri Boudet, a small, thin, agile and always unshaven old man. They often spent half a day sitting next to them with a fishing rod in their hand, their legs dangling over the water, and soon a close friendship arose between them.

There were days when they didn't talk at all. Sometimes they talked, but they could miraculously understand each other without words, since they had common tastes and similar experiences.

In the spring, in the mornings, at about ten o'clock, when the rejuvenated sun raised a light steam over the river, carried away along with the water, and nicely warmed our backs, Saunière would sometimes say to his neighbor:

- A? How warm is it?

To which Bude replied:

- And don’t talk. It warms the soul nicely.

And these two phrases were quite enough for them to understand and begin to respect each other.

In the autumn, towards the end of the day, when the sky, bloodied by the setting sun, reflected the outlines of purple clouds in the water, filled the entire river with crimson, ignited the horizon, illuminated both friends with red light, giving their faces a special expression, Saunière, looking at Boudet and not recognizing him, said:

- What is it like, huh?

And the little, unshaven priest, also marveling in his soul at the transformation of his friend, only nodded his head in agreement and barely audibly asked:

– What’s the matter with you, dear Saunière?

- And with you? - he answered him.

Crimson and gold on such days were reminiscent of the colors of the old masters. It seemed that a little more, and the air would smell of drying oil, and the gilded leaves would emit the characteristic rustle of the real metal of greedy alchemists. It seemed as if the whole world was now miraculously located in the occultist’s crucible, and the autumn sun, which had so transformed everything around, was the flame of a burner...

Friends knew that the land of Carcassonne was fraught with a dangerous temptation for the soul: somewhere in the neighborhood, in the region of the same Pyrenees, just at that time a loud trial took place in which the highest church authorities convicted three priest brothers. Under the influence of their native place, called Inspirational Hill, they fell into heresy and began to seduce the flock entrusted to them from the true path. The Bayar brothers taught to pray to a certain black Virgin, the goddess of the ancient Visigoths, whose temple was located in their native places. Bérenger Saunière learned about the ill-fated brothers from conversations with his friend the abbot. It was he who told Saunière not only about the Bayard brothers, but also about many other things. Henri could rightfully be considered an old-timer. Over the many years spent near Carcassonne, the old priest studied almost the entire history of the region. Sitting with a fishing rod on the river, he often saw how not only the purple-red autumn clouds were reflected in its water surface, but also the silhouette of the tower of the Templar castle, which rose on a nearby hill and seemed matte black in the bright rays of the setting sun.

And so it happened that the old priest, as if forgetting himself, in short and laconic conversations during fishing trips, told the young brother in faith about the Cathars who once lived in these places, about the Blanchefort castle, founded in the 12th century and which became the residence of the fourth Grand Master order, also told that it was along this valley that once passed the path of pilgrims who walked from Northern Europe through the Pyrenees to Spain, to the holy city of Santiago de Compostela. The friends understood that they needed to tell each other something very important. They were overwhelmed with the desire to talk frankly. They were priests, and confession was considered part of their profession, so the ripe grape of the desire to pour out their souls at any cost, protected by the still thin skin of decency and church prohibitions, was about to burst under the onslaught of the impressions that overwhelmed their souls. And now the hour has struck!

On that June day in 1891, Boudet invited Saunière to his place and deliberately detained his young friend under various pretexts.

It all happened in the evening, after an unexpected thunderstorm. Just before sunset it became clear. The rays penetrated the room through the window and filled it with their unusual light, touched two glasses that remained unfinished standing on the dining table, and turned them amber. The world outside the window, which had fallen silent during the thunderstorm, was again filled with sounds, and the air became fresh and cool, as if from a crypt. Meanwhile, an awkward silence reigned at the table. They should either disperse or continue the obviously protracted conversation.

Let’s speak frankly, the abbot began.

Frankly, Saunière agreed and felt a shiver of impatience run through his entire body.

– You yourself have probably already felt that our places are not quite similar to everything that we can find everywhere in dear, kind France?

– I just felt it, dear Bude.

– Remember, I just recently told you about the unfortunate Bayar brothers.

- I remember very well. They prayed to the black Maiden on their Inspired Hill.

- Absolutely right. Where do you think the idea of ​​the Mother of God comes from?

– The first known in Europe was the black Celtic Virgin Mary.

- You're right. When in his youth Saint Bernard prayed before the black Virgin, then, unlike the Bayard brothers, no one anathematized him. The saint prayed to the Celtic goddess in the church of Saint-Voirle, and she squeezed three drops of milk from her chest, which rolled down onto the lips of the future founder of the Templar order. And note, it is Bernard that the great Dante places in the Divine Comedy in paradise, in the center of the Rose. And at the same time, heresy is present in the very foundation of our Catholic Church, in its entire history, and this heresy comes from these places.

I fear for your soul, dear Bude. Are you too carried away by such reasoning?

– Who do you want to deceive, dear Saunière? I feel that these thoughts visited you too. We learned to understand each other very well during our river masses. How many church services have we missed?

– Yes, but you yourself know, dear Bude, that peasants are bad parishioners. Shouldn’t we really serve in an empty church when there is such grace on the street?

I don’t think the bishop would like such speeches.

The topic raised by Boudet was clearly not a pleasant one. Each of the friends knew that by choosing fishing over work, he was breaking the accepted rules, but he didn’t really want to talk about it. After an awkward pause, Boudet continued:

However, I don’t see anything wrong here, dear Saunière. Has it ever occurred to you that this is not fishing at all, but a ritual that we perform against our will? Remember the legend of the fisherman king?

– This is something related to the search for the Holy Grail, right?

I knew that you were knowledgeable in such matters and had read Parsifal" by Wolfram von Eischenbach. Maybe let's not play the Holy Inquisition in front of each other, but let's get straight to the point? – concluded the little abbot and winked mischievously at his interlocutor.

– What do you mean, dear Bude?

– The same as you, dear Saunière. You and I are well aware that this place was the residence of the Cathars and Templars.

- Yes, you already told me about this on the river.

We are initiates, Saunière, we have torn off the veil of Isis. It's better to be a tooth than a blade of grass. That's my motto.

These words in the mouth of the little curé sounded dissonant with his entire appearance, and Saunière could not help but smile. Bude noticed the reaction to his words, but was not at all embarrassed:

- I suggest falling into the abyss. I propose to surrender to what has long attracted us to itself. Look, just look at this tower!

By this time, a huge moon had appeared in the sky and illuminated the entire surrounding area. In the silver light, the gloomy silhouettes of Blanchefort Castle seemed to acquire even more mystery.

– This is where one of the Masters lived. Just dig, and you will find in these lands not Christian shrines, but monuments of the Visigoths and God knows what else.

Could you, dear Boudet, tell me more about these Templars? – Saunière said in a conciliatory tone, unable to take his eyes off the mysterious silhouette of the tower that rose on the neighboring hill.

- Willingly. The beginning of the story is known to absolutely everyone. There was the First Crusade. Baldwin became the first king of Jerusalem. And so, in 1118, nine people arrived here under the leadership of a certain Hugo de Paen and formed the core of the new order of the Poor Knights of Christ; a monastic order, but with a sword and armor. They have three main monastic commandments: non-covetousness, chastity and obedience, to which was added the protection of pilgrims.

– But who is this Hugo de Paen? Saunière intervened.

– A timely question, my friend. You could say Hugo was from around here.

- Really?

– Yes, he comes from Champagne. After returning from Jerusalem, the crusader comes into contact with the Abbot of Citeaux and helps him in the monastery to begin reading and translating some Hebrew texts. Just think, the rabbis from Haute-Bourgogne were invited to Citeaux by white Benedictine monks, and by whom? Saint Bernard himself, to study the texts that Hugo found in Palestine. You see how everything is intertwined in our history. It has no clear boundaries. However, we observe the same thing in nature. You sit with a fishing rod, catch fish for your pleasure, but in fact in your heart you betray our mother, the Roman Catholic Church.

– You yourself said that the Templars were a monastic order. Bernard patronized them. After all, they went to fight the Holy Sepulcher.

- That's right, but these monks behaved rather strangely. It is known that when the envoy of the Damascus emir visited Jerusalem, the Templars provided him with a small Muslim mosque, converted into a Christian church, for prayers. One day a Frank came in. Outraged by the presence of a Muslim in the holy place, he began to insult him. However, the Templars drove out their brother in faith, who showed such intolerance, and apologized to the Muslim. This loyalty to the enemy ultimately served them badly, as they were later accused, among other things, of having connections with secret sects of Muslims.

– There is probably some truth to this. The Templars did not have the opportunity to receive a thorough monastic education, Saunière decided to express his guess.

- Absolutely right. I'm glad you understand me. The minds of the Templar warrior-monks could not grasp some of the theological subtleties of Lawrence of Arabia, and soon the knights even began to wear the light silk clothes of the sheikhs. However, tracing their activities during this period is quite difficult, since Christian historiographers such as Guillaume de Tyre missed no opportunity to denigrate them. One thing is clear, the Templars, in their search for truth, deviated from dogma and entered the very dangerous soil of mysticism. Let's take, for example, the same black Virgin Mary. The great Fulcanelli decided to read the icons in the cathedrals belonging to the order in a special way, and came to an amazing conclusion: the connection between the Celtic Mother of God and alchemical research became completely obvious to him. The Black Virgin Mary symbolizes the beginning, the search for which those who searched for the philosopher's stone worked on...

After a conversation with Boudet, Saunière decided to look for himself at the famous black Virgin Mary, about whom the abbot spoke so much. Having waited for the right moment, he boarded the train and went to Inspirational Hill. Saunière was absent for about a month. Upon returning home, he changed a lot: he became gloomy and stopped even going fishing, but he was often seen in the forest and in other remote places of Rennes-le-Chateau. The peasants said that their curate could stand for a long time at some stone, on which a half-erased inscription was still visible. The priest made acquaintances with old farmers and fell in love with asking them about the distant past. Saunière began to carry a book with him to write down the legends he heard. He still visited his friend the abbot. The friends were reading old, half-decayed manuscripts and heatedly arguing about something.

But no matter what Saunière did, no matter how far he went from his home in search of the unknown, he could see the bell tower of his Church of Mary Magdalene almost everywhere. And in fact: every part of the parish church that opened up to the observant eye was different from any other building in Rennes-le-Chateau, including the majestic Blanchefort Castle. Looking at the bell tower, Saunière and Boudet in the old days, sitting with fishing rods on the shore at sunset, mentally merged with the spire and smiled in bliss at the old cracked stones. They knew that next time a miracle awaited them. And the miracle invariably happened, but during another fishing trip, when the bite occurred at dawn. The fishermen were looking forward to this moment and took their places on the river bank in advance, as if in the stalls of a theater, not even paying attention to the grass wet from the morning dew. It seemed that the two friends were only pretending to fish, but in fact they were trying to deceive an unknown deity with their feigned indifference. At such moments, they did not pay attention to the floats, and crucian carp, pike, and burbot could calmly snack on them with fat worms making hilarious figures in the water, reminiscent of the discordant and very nervous sounds of an orchestra with their movements before the conductor waves his baton. So they did not fish, but sat and waited. We waited for the sun to begin to gild the very spire of the bell tower. And it was like the first timid note. She had not yet foreshadowed anything unusual, as if the string of an old viol had been touched with a bow - and nothing more. But the worm froze on the hook,