ET IN ARCADIA EGO

Like the Assassination of President Kennedy, or the Attack on Pearl Harbor, who can forget where you were when you learned the true break in SANGRAAL? I can’t. Seriously. It was about fifteen years ago. My blood non-royal ran cold. I smacked my forehead, indignantly acknowledging eight hundred years of blind stupidity. Along with every other reader of “Holy Blood, Holy Grail” I now limped out of the mineshaft of hidden history into the fierce noonday sun of revelation. Of course, I wasn’t in a mineshaft. (It was the Rutgers Tunnel.)

Or out in the noonday sun. (But the sign for the F train is in an orange circle.)

And Sang Raal isn’t the true syllabic break. It’s still San Graal.
Now I don't hold any of this against Dan Brown, or Messrs. Lincoln, Baigent or Leigh.

Since I have to direct this anger at someone or something, I'll be miffed at the History and Discovery Channels and the people - yes you too Edward Herrmann if that's really your name - making a living, it seems, by deflating every conspiracy theory I hold dear.

And of course, I’m upset with myself. The plagiarism trial – that shoulda been me. ME.

After I read “Holy Blood” I came up with an idea for a novel entitled…Here are some of my notes.

The unseen writer writes. “June thirteenth, A.D. nineteen ninety six.” leaves a space, moves the pen down the page and writes more. “If I’m writing this then the world didn’t end today. And you only have Sister Mary Magdalen to thank.”

This is the Convent of the Sisters of the Order of His Most Precious Blood. It looks like a citadel, which convents of course actually are. After all, as our Founding Father Ben Franklin once mused, “Neither a fortress nor a maidenhead will hold out after the parley begins.” Shhh, Mass is being said…

“Like Simon knew Our Saviour in the Temple, so too shall they know you.”

They visit the new Camelot casino in Atlantic City. In a display case near the entrance is a replica of the Holy Grail (“Naaaah…can’t be,” she thinks.) Upstairs is an antique car collection that includes Hitler’s own VW Beetle and his golf clubs.

“I had a vision the other night. Our Lord Jesus Christ, bow your head with me Sister when I say the Most Holy Name of Our Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ appeared to me. He was like an older man, in his sixties and very gray, but I knew who He was. He said to me, never identifying himself, ‘Sister Teresa D’Avila, see that I too am old. But I remember the promise made unto you that you would see the flower of your line before I take you to My Kingdom where you shall receive your life’s reward.’”
Long before “The DaVinci Code” –
Long before “Holy Blood, Holy Grail” –
Even before Kazantzakis’ “The Last Temptation” –
There was “King Jesus”. From the mind of Robert Graves there takes form the truest picture of the life of said Messiah. Graves is unable to reconcile his completely human character – an Herodian fitzroy with a legitimate claim – and the source of his Divinity – the mystical healer anticipated by Jews and Gentiles alike. Nevertheless, I have no doubt when Graves arrived in Heaven, Jesus paid him the highest compliment, “Robin, you nailed it.” Thanks to former EvenTime workmate Jim Parsons who made me read it.