The Isaac Question: Templars and the Secret of the Old Testament (Templars in America Series Book 5) Read online

  The Isaac Question

  Templars and the Secret of the Old Testament

  Copyright © 2015 by David S. Brody

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, scanning or by any other information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author: [email protected]

  Eyes That See Publishing

  Westford, Massachusetts

  ISBN 978-0-9907413-1-2

  1st edition

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Except as otherwise noted in the Author’s Note, any resemblance to actual events or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Art by Kimberly Scott

  Printed in USA

  Praise for David S. Brody’s Books

  “Brody does a terrific job of wrapping his research in a fast-paced thrill ride that will feel far more like an action film than an academic paper.”

  —PUBLISHERS WEEKLY (Cabal of the Westford Knight)

  “Strongly recommended for all collections.”

  —LIBRARY JOURNAL (The Wrong Abraham)

  “Will keep you up even after you’ve put it down.”

  —Hallie Ephron, BOSTON GLOBE (Blood of the Tribe)

  “A riveting, fascinating read.”

  —MIDWEST BOOK REVIEW (The Wrong Abraham)

  “Best of the Coming Season.”

  —BOSTON MAGAZINE (Unlawful Deeds)

  “A compelling suspense story and a searing murder mystery.”

  —THE BOSTON PHOENIX (Blood of the Tribe)

  “A comparison to The Da Vinci Code and National Treasure is inevitable….The story rips the reader into a fast-paced adventure.”

  —FRESH FICTION (Cabal of the Westford Knight)

  “An excellent historical conspiracy thriller. It builds on its most famous predecessor, The Da Vinci Code, and takes it one step farther—and across the Atlantic.”

  —MYSTERY BOOK NEWS (Cabal of the Westford Knight)

  “The action and danger are non-stop, leaving you breathless. It is one hell of a read.”

  —ABOUT.COM Book Reviews (Unlawful Deeds)

  “The year is early, but this book will be hard to beat; it’s already on my ‘Best of 2009’ list.”

  —BARYON REVIEW (Cabal of the Westford Knight)

  “An enormously fun read, exceedingly hard to put down.”

  —The BOOKBROWSER (Unlawful Deeds)

  “Fantastic book. I can’t wait until the next book is released.”

  —GOODREADS (Thief on the Cross)

  “A feast.”

  —ARTS AROUND BOSTON (Unlawful Deeds)

  About the Author

  David S. Brody is a Boston Globe bestselling fiction writer named Boston’s “Best Local Author” by the Boston Phoenix newspaper. A graduate of Tufts University and Georgetown Law School, he is a former Director of the New England Antiquities Research Association (NEARA) and is a dedicated researcher in the field of pre-Columbian exploration of America.

  He has appeared as a guest expert on documentaries airing on History Channel, Travel Channel, PBS, and Discovery Channel.

  The four previous novels in his “Templars in America Series” have all been Amazon Kindle Top 10 Bestsellers.

  The Isaac Question is his eighth novel.

  For more information, please visit

  DavidBrodyBooks.com

  Also by the Author

  Unlawful Deeds

  Blood of the Tribe

  The Wrong Abraham

  The “Templars in America” Series:

  Cabal of the Westford Knight:

  Templars at the Newport Tower (Book 1)

  Thief on the Cross:

  Templar Secrets in America (Book 2)

  Powdered Gold:

  Templars and the American Ark of the Covenant (Book 3)

  The Oath of Nimrod:

  Giants, MK-Ultra and the Smithsonian Coverup (Book 4)

  Preface

  In this novel I return to the Templar-based themes I first explored in Cabal of the Westford Knight. Specifically, I focus on the Knights Templar as one link in a chain of secret societies that stretches back to include first the ancient Egyptians and later the mysterious Druids, and then moves forward to include the Freemasons as the modern-day successors to the Templars. Anyone who doubts these connections should simply wander into a Masonic lodge and observe for themselves the abundance of Egyptian and Templar-related symbolism in the lodge architecture and décor. More subtle are the connections to the Druids—but these are there as well, for those who look carefully.

  As I tracked my way to the intersection point of these four groups—Egyptian, Druid, Templar, and Masonic—I found myself again standing in the shadow of Scotland’s iconic Rosslyn Chapel. The Chapel’s architecture and decorations featured not only Druidic, Templar, and Masonic symbolism as befitting Scotland’s long history with each of these groups, but Egyptian motif as well. What, I wondered, was the historical tie between Scotland and ancient Egypt?

  The answer, I soon learned, lay hidden in the mystery of Princess Scota.

  Scota, in turn, led me back to ancient Egypt and caused me to take a fresh look at the Book of Exodus. What I found, frankly, shocked me. I will not reveal those findings here, but suffice it to say the findings led me to a clearer understanding of many of the events recounted in the Old Testament, events that frankly had never made much sense to me.

  As in my previous novels, I use artifacts and historical sites as evidence for the “secret” history my story tells. In this book, I focus on the dozens of mysterious stone chambers that dot the landscape of New England and eastern New York. Who built these chambers, and why? And do these chambers have anything to do with the mysterious Baphomet skull worshiped by the Templars? More importantly, do these chambers help us better understand the truth behind the Book of Exodus stories?

  Readers of the first four books in the series will recognize the protagonists, Cameron and Amanda, and also young Astarte. However, this novel is not a sequel to the prior four and readers who have not read the earlier novels should feel free to jump right in.

  As in the previous stories in the series, if an artifact or object of art is pictured in the book, it exists in the real world. (See the Author’s Note at the end of this book for a more detailed discussion covering the issue of artifact authenticity.) To me, in the end, it is the artifacts that are the true stars of these novels.

  I remain fascinated by the hidden history of North America and the very real possibility that waves of European explorers visited our shores long before Columbus. I also, in researching this novel, have become fascinated by the hidden truths within the Old Testament stories. It is my hope that readers share these fascinations.

  David S. Brody, August, 2015

  Westford, Massachusetts

  Note to New Readers

  Though this is the fifth book in the series, it is a stand-alone story. Readers who have not read the first four should feel free to jump right in. The below provides some basic background for new readers.

  Cameron Thorne is a forty-year-old attorney whose passion is researching sites and artifacts that indicate the presence in America of European explorers prior to Columbus. His fiancée, Amanda Spencer-Gunn, is a British museum curator who moved to the
U.S. from London while in her mid-twenties and shares his research passion; she has a particular expertise in the history of the medieval Knights Templar. They reside in Westford, Massachusetts, a suburb northwest of Boston. They are in the process of adopting a ten-year-old orphan, Astarte, whom they met while investigating artifacts in New York’s Catskill Mountains with her uncle, who later died. Cam and Amanda are part of a growing community of researchers investigating early exploration of North America.

  To my daughters, Allie and Renee

  Anyone who has ever loved a child as I have loved both of you understands the absurdity of God’s demand upon Abraham

  The Book of Genesis, Chapter 12

  Verses 11-19 describe how the patriarch Abraham allowed the Pharaoh to take Abraham’s wife Sarah into his harem, and how the Pharaoh paid Abraham a bride price for the privilege:

  11 As he was approaching the border of Egypt, Abraham said to his wife, Sarah, “Look, you are a very beautiful woman.

  12 When the Egyptians see you, they will say, ‘This is his wife. Let’s kill him; then we can have her!’

  13 So please tell them you are my sister. Then they will spare my life and treat me well because of their interest in you.”

  14 And sure enough, when Abraham arrived in Egypt, everyone noticed Sarah’s beauty.

  15 When the palace officials saw her, they sang her praises to Pharaoh, their king, and Sarah was taken into his palace.

  16 Then Pharaoh gave Abraham many gifts because of her—sheep, goats, cattle, male and female donkeys, male and female servants, and camels.

  17 But the Lord sent terrible plagues upon Pharaoh and his household because of Sarah, Abraham’s wife.

  18 So Pharaoh summoned Abraham and accused him sharply. “What have you done to me?” he demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me she was your wife?

  19 Why did you say, ‘She is my sister,’ and allow me to take her as my wife? Now then, here is your wife. Take her and get out of here!”

  [New Living Translation version]

  Traditional Depiction of Abraham’s Family Tree

  Warning

  If you believe that the Old Testament is the literal word of God, you are likely to be offended by some of the themes and revelations contained in this novel.

  Prologue

  May, AD 515

  World’s End, Southwest Coast of Ireland

  Brendan stumbled, startled. A tall, gnarled Druid stood in his path, as if one of the majestic oaks had magically transformed itself into a human and lumbered out of the grove to block his way. That human’s name, Brendan knew, was Omarlin. His apparition was not magic, but merely another of the old man’s countless tricks. But it was unwelcome nonetheless.

  Omarlin raised his knobby walking stick at Brendan and smiled, the old man’s white teeth radiating from within the dirt-covered, wrinkled leather of his face. “Greetings, young Brendan.” He stood erect on bare feet, the gold thread of his long green robe sparkling in the morning sun. The smell of earth wafted off the Druid.

  Brendan stepped back, preferring the briny scent of the ocean wafting up from the cliffs beneath them. He had thought himself alone, here at the westernmost tip of the known world, a place others called World’s End. It had been three years since the old Druid, who was known to wander as far as Gaul, had been to these lands. And there was no reason for him to be here now.

  “We agreed you would stay away. You are not welcome here.”

  Omarlin’s smile widened into a menace. He pointed his walking stick at Brendan like a wand. “Careful lest I turn you into a sheep and let the farm boys have a go with you.”

  “You know I put no stock in your magic, Omarlin.” Even so, he shifted so the old man’s wand aimed not at his chest. “Only Jesus can work his magic here.”

  Omarlin’s green eyes narrowed. “Ah, yes, that new god of yours.” He waved his hand dismissively. “You and the other simpletons may worship whatever gods you please.” He leaned forward. “But must you steal our holidays? There are hundreds of days in the year; why must your Christian holy days always coincide with our festivals?”

  The old man had a point. It was easier to get the villagers to come to church on the days they already considered to be sacred. Brendan merely shrugged. “I don’t suppose you came all this way to discuss the calendar.”

  But the wizard would not let it go. “A few days ago, on Beltane no less, I entered a village only to have my ears battered by the sounds of Christian prayer. Are you claiming this is mere happenstance?”

  Brendan held the old man’s gaze. “Forty days following Easter we celebrate the blessed Ascension. That is the day our Lord Jesus finally ascended to heaven, after comforting his followers.” He shrugged again. “It just so happens to coincide with Beltane.”

  Omarlin laughed and grabbed his crotch. “The Ascension. Yes, that is a proper name for it. On Beltane every cock in the village ascends like a maypole and finds a bit of heaven inside some young maiden.” He cackled again. “Ascension.”

  Brendan crossed himself. But the Druid was correct: After the villagers attended church this past Sunday to celebrate the Ascension, the sounds of singing and dancing and grunting continued deep into the night, making sleep—and even prayer—impossible.

  Omarlin continued. “Speaking of which, how is your mother?” He paused and raised an eyebrow. “She was a beauty, she was, and an enthusiastic celebrant of Beltane.” He spread his arms and leered. “It is possible, in fact, that your father I be.”

  Brendan took a deep breath; he would not let the wizard bait him. “She is well, thank you. And I was born midsummer so you cannot be my father, thanks to God.”

  “Well, perhaps then you were a product of immaculate conception, like that Christ of yours.” He winked. “Not a bad consolation prize, if you cannot be of my seed.”

  Brendan balled his fist. “Enough, Omarlin. Enough of your blasphemy.”

  The Druid raised his chin and laughed. “Calm yourself, young Brendan. I reckon even this Jesus of yours must have a sense of humor.” He furrowed his brow as he studied his one-time protégé. “He must have one, in fact—why else would he insist you shave the top of your head like that? You look like a monkey some Saxon I once knew kept as a pet.”

  Brendan’s face reddened. “We monks wear our hair in this style because Christ was forced to wear a crown of thorns.”

  “So you’ve been ordained then, have you?”

  Brendan straightened himself. “I have.”

  “And does that mean you have taken a vow of celibacy?” Omarlin practically spit out this last word.

  “It does. I have.”

  The Druid sighed. “Well, at least you won’t be populating Ireland with more of your kind. There’s something for that.”

  Brendan folded his arms across his chest. Last he heard, Omarlin had been in Glastonbury, across the eastern sea, no doubt causing trouble. Now the trouble had come to Brendan. “What is your business here, Omarlin? I have work to do.”

  “Yes. Saving souls, no doubt. Spreading your precious gospel.”

  “Aye. As you no doubt already know, we sail tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow already?” Omarlin looked deep into the woods, as if seeing the future and weighing whether to alter it. His voice dropped. “Brendan the Navigator, they will call you.” Then he nodded, as if what he saw had decided things. “That be why I am here.”

  “To undermine me while I am at sea? I warn you, the villagers will not return to the old ways in my absence.” Brendan had worked tirelessly to Christianize the area; he would not allow the pagan ways to return.

  The Druid waved the comment away. “I care nothing for your fishermen and farmers. But your voyage—that intrigues me. I have long fancied sailing to the ends of the ocean. There are tales of lands far to the west.” He smiled. “I will join you. And two of my novices as well.”

  So that’s what this was about. “That you’ll not. I have a loyal crew of fourteen. All Christians.”


  “Yes. And one with a gambling problem.” Omarlin flicked his wrist and a diamond-shaped clear stone filled his bony hand. “Recognize this?”

  Brendan reached for it without thinking, only to have Omarlin snatch it away. “The sunstone,” Brendan stammered. “My sunstone.”

  “No longer, I fear. The dice be not kind to your first mate.”

  Brendan’s jaw tightened. It would be suicide to sail without a good sunstone—the stone made the sun visible through clouds and even fog. And without knowing where the sun was, it was impossible to navigate. Brendan forced a smile. “God will be my sunstone then. I will trust him to guide me.” He turned to leave.

  Omarlin laughed. “That may be well and good for you, Brendan. But I wonder how many of your crew will agree.”

  Brendan exhaled. Omarlin had a point. Their belief in God was not as strong as Brendan’s. And perhaps God was sending a message through the dice. Brendan turned back. “Away for many years we will be.” At least if the old Druid were with him, he could not stir up trouble here at home. And fourteen monks should be able to control three heathens. “There is no surety we will even survive the voyage.”

  Omarlin smiled again and shrugged. “Such is life. Never have I begun a journey certain that I would return from it.”

  Brendan eyed him. There was something the sneaky Druid was not telling him. “Truly, why do you want to come?”

  Omarlin held his eyes. “I am an old man, and I have seen all there is to see between here and Rome. I wish now to cross the great ocean.” He removed an ornately carved limestone box, half a cubit square, from within the folds of his robe. He held the box reverently and lowered his voice. “And like many old men, I have a final task I must complete before my death.”

  Chapter 1

  1,500 Years Later

  Boston, Massachusetts

  The real estate closing had taken longer than it should have, which meant Cameron Thorne’s parking meter was set to expire. Wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase, he pushed through the door of the Registry of Deeds building and jogged, angling toward North Station. The subway usually didn’t run on time, and the streets sometimes didn’t get plowed, but Boston never missed a chance to issue a parking ticket.