Ancient Knights Templar name used in modern criminal crusades

A bright red cross marked the cover of a manifesto purportedly written by the suspect in last week's terror attacks in Norway.

Nearly 6,000 miles away, Mexican police seized white robes emblazoned with the same symbol in a series of raids aimed at cracking down on one of the country's newest drug cartels.

The Knights Templar -- warriors during the medieval holy wars known as the Crusades -- wore the cross insignia as they went into battle. Its red color represented the blood of Christian martyrs.

The recent modern-day interpretations of the crusaders' ancient cause wouldn't sit well with the original Knights Templar, according to British historian and novelist Piers Paul Read.

"They'd have been horrified. ... They were very devout people," said Read, who detailed the knights' history in his book "The Templars."

The knights began in the 12th century as a religious order fighting Muslims and protecting Christian pilgrims to the Holy Land.

They mostly came from Western Europe and took strict vows of poverty, Read said. But over time, their organization amassed significant wealth and property, drawing ire from citizens and royalty alike.

Amid accusations of heresy and devil-worship from France's king, the pope dissolved the order in 1312, Read said. The group's last leader was burned at the stake, but the story of the Knights Templar lives on, portrayed in films and popular fiction such as "The Da Vinci Code."

Now authorities are investigating Norway attack suspect Anders Behring Breivik's purported manifesto, which claims that another group using the Knights Templar name intends to carry out "shock attacks" across Europe in a campaign to fight Islam and "cultural Marxism."

Authorities accuse Breivik of killing at least 76 people when he set off a car bomb outside government buildings in Oslo last Friday, then ambushed an island political youth retreat. Breivik's lawyer told reporters that his client was "a little bit surprised" that he was able to pull off the bombing and shooting rampage, for which authorities say he has claimed responsibility.

Separately, Mexican officials blame members of a new criminal organization that use the Knights Templar name for extorting business owners, decapitating and dismembering kidnapping victims and setting vehicles ablaze to block roads during shootouts with police.

The original Templars' noble ideals and dramatic demise give them "an aura of glamour and mystery," said Paul Crawford, an associate professor of ancient and medieval history at California University of Pennsylvania.

Crawford and other historians argue that most fictional accounts of the group focus on unsubstantiated myths and conspiracy theories and that recent reappearances of the Knights Templar name in Norway and Mexico are just the latest attempts to manipulate their legacy.

"The drug gang and the murderer are trying to cloak the horror of their acts with the glamour and ideals of this religious order," Crawford said.

Striving to be 'the perfect knight'

The rambling, 1,500-page account that constitutes Breivik's purported manifesto includes excerpts from a Wikipedia entry about the Knights Templar and pictures of sword-wielding medieval knights wearing cloaks and armor.

CNN has not independently confirmed that Breivik is the author of the manifesto, which bears his name and says it is intended to be circulated among sympathizers. The writer rails against Muslims and their growing presence in Europe, and calls for a European civil war to overthrow governments, end multiculturalism and execute "cultural Marxists."

The author also makes numerous references to what he describes as a new incarnation of the Knights 

Templar, which he says was "re-founded as a pan-European nationalist military order" during an April 2002 meeting in London. The manifesto details necessary steps to become a "Justiciar Knight," including pledging a Knights Templar oath.

"Any candidate prepared to walk this road must be willing to forfeit his materialistic ambitions and embrace voluntary poverty and martyrdom," Breivik writes.

"You are operating as a jury, judge and executioner on behalf of all free Europeans. ... There are situations in which cruelty is necessary, and refusing to apply necessary cruelty is a betrayal of the people whom you wish to protect," he continues.

In a diary-like log of events leading up to last week's attacks, the manifesto's author says he is trying to set an example.

"I am one of many destroyers of cultural Marxism and as such; a hero of Europe, a savior of our people and of European Christendom -- by default. ... The Perfect Knight I have always strived to be," he writes.

Crawford, the historian at California University of Pennsylvania, said such assertions show a clear misunderstanding of the Knights Templar.

"They were soldiers. They confronted Islam on the battlefield and Islam returned the favor. They did not, to the best of my knowledge, ever engage in massacres of unarmed combatants," he said. "They were not terrorists and wouldn't have approved of it."

'They want to demonstrate that they're courageous'

The new Mexican cartel known as the Knights Templar announced its presence earlier this year. Banners hung in prominent locations -- and photographed by local media -- vowed to protect residents of the Mexican state of Michoacan.

"Our commitment to society will be to preserve order and prevent robbery, kidnapping and extortion, and protect the state from interventions by rival organizations," the signs said.

For months, authorities and analysts said they suspected the Knights Templar had split from one of the nation's most notorious criminal organizations, La Familia Michoacana -- a cartel known for its mix of ruthless violence and religious ideology.

Mexico's government said La Familia's founder, Nazario Moreno Gonzalez, was killed in clashes with authorities last year. In a dossier released as they announced his death in December, officials described Moreno as a "spiritual leader" who used religion to strengthen his stronghold. The government file said Moreno dubbed himself the "savior of the people" and outlined the cartel's philosophy in a "bible" provided to new recruits.

The discovery earlier this month of the white robes with red crosses and handbooks outlining a code for the Knights Templar showed further evidence of a connection with La Familia, authorities said.

"Presumably they were indoctrinating their members," Mexican federal police spokesman Juan Carlos Buenrostro told CNNMexico.com.

For the splinter group, choosing the Knights Templar name was no accident, said George W. Grayson, a professor of government at the College of William & Mary.

"They want to demonstrate that they're courageous and valiant, but at the same time they are generous," said Grayson, who studies Mexico's organized crime syndicates.

He said the alleged leader of the Knights Templar, a former lieutenant of La Familia known as "La Tuta" -- the teacher -- "has the same kind of religious inspiration" as Moreno.

While some of the cartels' leaders may believe in its ideology, Grayson says others have a more pragmatic approach, using religion as a "recruiting device."

"Now you're at one with the Lord, even as you decapitate people and carve (messages) into the bodies of your opponents," he said.

Promoting peace, fighting a 'social cancer'

Another group that uses the Knights Templar name has been waging its own campaign to distance itself from the Mexican drug gang and the Norway attacks.

The international Christian nonprofit known as Knights Templar International issued a statement saying their group is not and has never been affiliated in any way with Breivik.

"Christ's message is one of love, understanding and tolerance of all peoples of the world," the organization said in a statement. "How Anders Behring Breivik so misunderstood and corrupted Christ's message is beyond reason or belief."

The organization's Mexico chapter also issued a statement saying it has no connection to the drug gang, which it referred to as a "social cancer." The statement lambasted the criminal group for committing acts that are "full of shame, dishonor and totally contrary to the principles of the order."

Robert C.G. Disney, the grand commander of Knights Templar International, said the organization's more than 6,000 members around the world regularly support charitable projects, such as helping fund reconstruction of a Muslim mosque and a Christian church in Pakistan following mudslides there.

"Obviously it's very distressing for me and for all of our members to see our name bandied about by the drug cartel and this deranged person in Norway," he said. "Unfortunately, we do not have exclusive rights to the words 'Knights Templar.' Those words have been in the public domain for almost 1,000 years."

Members can join Knights Templar International only by invitation, Disney said, but the organization has no particular church affiliation, and provides humanitarian aid to anyone in need, regardless of race or creed.

"We have no political or religious agenda," he said. "Our agenda is basically all about bringing about peace, reconciliation and understanding."

Hertford, home of the Holy Grail

An ancient secret society; a demand for a papal apology; and a network of hidden tunnels. Strange things have been stirring in Hertfordshire recently. Oliver Burkeman goes in search of the Knights Templar and, perhaps, the cup of Christ.

One of the problems with secret societies - especially the kind whose members exert a shadowy influence on the course of world events - is that they can be a bit difficult to track down. Never was this more true than of the Knights Templar, the ancient Catholic order rumoured, among other things, to know the whereabouts of the Holy Grail. Officially, the Templars don't exist, having been driven underground by the pope more than 600 years ago; in The Da Vinci Code, they are described as inhabiting "a precarious world where fact, lore and misinformation had become so intertwined that extracting a pristine truth was almost impossible". Nobody even seems to agree on what the Holy Grail is: some say it is the cup used by Jesus at the Last Supper; others that it was used to collect his blood at the crucifixion. Needless to say, the Templars haven't been too eager to clarify any of this publicly. 

Then, late last year, the group apparently made an unprecedented communication with the outside world. It emerged that the Templars were demanding an official apology from the Vatican, for having persecuted them in the 14th century - and that the Vatican was giving "serious consideration" to the matter. The demand came in a letter, signed on behalf of the grand master of the Templars. And for the conspiracy theorists who have pursued the knights for centuries, it was accompanied by a tantalising clue: an address. In Hertford.

If there is something implausible in the idea that huge stretches of world history have been secretly coordinated from a market town just north of the M25 - well, maybe that's what they want you to think. The local newspaper, the Hertfordshire Mercury, certainly seems convinced: over the past few months it has published several intriguing stories quoting local Templars, who told its reporter of a secret network of tunnels under the town that was still in use by the order. "It reaches beyond well known central Hertford locations," one Templar said, "including the tourist office, the castle, Monsoon, Threshers, the post office, Bayley Hall, and the council offices." Treasures of "immense importance" were hidden there, it was claimed. Was the quest for the Holy Grail finally about to come to an end? More surprisingly still, was it about to come to an end underneath Monsoon on Market Place? 

The man who has persuaded the Vatican to consider apologising, Tim Acheson, meets the Guardian in icy morning fog in Hertford, wearing smart pinstriped trousers and a thick winter overcoat. His midnight-blue sports car is parked nearby. "As you might expect," he says, setting the tone for the day, "there are going to be some things that I'm not able to discuss." 

Acheson claims to trace his ancestry to a renowned Scottish Templar family of the same name, though he won't confirm his own role in the group. Might he just be a practical joker who managed to fool the Vatican? "That could well be, couldn't it?" he says, as we order coffee in a Hertford establishment closely modelled on All Bar One. "I can't tell you anything to prove that I'm not. I think that would be a perfectly reasonable theory." 

There is, however, sound historical footing for the idea that a Vatican apology might be warranted. The Templars were victims of their own success: they had been granted the right to operate, during the era of the Crusades, with unprecedented freedom, levying taxes and growing rich by establishing some of Europe's first banks. (According to legend, they also invented the biscuit.) Envy and hostility ran high, until, on Friday, October 13 1307 - the original unlucky Friday the 13th - hundreds of Templars were arrested in France. They stood accused of homosexuality, of devil worship, of crimes "horrible to contemplate, terrible to hear of", in the words of King Philip of France, who ordered the arrests. They were tortured, by the Inquisition, into admitting heresy, including their scandalous belief that Jesus had had children with Mary Magdalene. Their grand master, Jacques de Molay, was burned at the stake a few years later, and the Templars were officially disbanded by the Pope.

But only officially. "The vast majority of Templars either escaped, or didn't escape, but survived," Acheson says. So how did they end up in Hertford? History records that a number of them were imprisoned in Hertford Castle, but how did Hertford become a centre of operations? "I can't really tell you that. All I can tell you - it's going to be quite vague - is that they flourished in western Europe." He explains that there is a stained-glass window in St Andrew's Church, just down the street, that contains a clear metaphorical allusion to the Holy Grail, and a cryptic hint that it might be hidden in Hertford. In the picture, Acheson adds, Jesus and Mary Magdalene are looking at each other "in a very meaningful way". (Later, I find the window, interrupting local parishioners who are decorating the church for Christmas. I think I can see what Acheson means about Jesus's expression, although mainly he just looks a bit depressed.) 

Among the many things that don't quite add up about the Templars' request for an apology is: why now? Why break the silence, drawing all manner of unwanted curiosity from Grail hunters and Da Vinci Code tourists? Public accountability is a laudable goal, but it's hardly something you expect from the secret rulers of the universe. Indeed, when a group of amateur archaeologists recently announced their intention to investigate Hertford's tunnel network, someone posted a message on a local website warning that anyone who tried would be "dealt with". The message read: "Anybody intending to find out more, let alone discover hidden areas of the labyrinth, should check their life insurance policy very carefully indeed." 

Acheson simply says he thinks it would be fitting for the Vatican to issue their apology in time for 2007, the 700th anniversary of the start of the Templar suppression. "Among my peers, there are people like me who believe that these issues deserve further attention ... There's a new generation coming through that strongly believes it's time to be a bit more open. I'm part of that generation." Besides, he says ominously, "Things are about to happen that will deserve attention." 

The notion that "things are about to happen" recurs throughout the Templar conspiracy theories that clog up the internet. Seemingly, 2000 had been awaited as a watershed, the moment the Templars' secret knowledge would cascade into the public domain. It didn't happen, of course.

So what sort of "things" is Acheson talking about?

"I can't tell you." 

OK. But could you maybe give me a rough idea of the timescale? Are these things going to happen this year? This decade? Next century? "I honestly can't tell you. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I can't tell you."

Acheson takes me on a walking tour of Hertford, and proves a knowledgeable guide, but a frustratingly cryptic one, too. So I decide to take matters into my own hands and head for Monsoon. Gemma, the manager, responds far more patiently to Grail-related inquiries than might arguably be her prerogative. There's no tunnel beneath the shop, she insists, "just the store room" - but it's "definitely haunted. When we have sales meetings there you can hear someone walking over our heads, or doing the vacuuming. But upstairs, the shop's closed and empty." 

Has she ever found anything unexpected down there? Like maybe a cup, or something? "No," she says. "But there is ... the Accessorize cupboard." She leads the way through the store to the adjoining branch of Accessorize, pushing past a display stand of silky hats towards a corner cupboard. Opening it, she points to a square piece of metal resembling a manhole cover, sunk into the floor. "We don't know what's under there. But there's a strange smell." She enlists a colleague, Jo, who has worked there longer. "Have they ever looked underneath there?" Gemma asks. 

"Yes," Jo replies. It would be atmospheric to be able to report, at this point, that her eyes open wide with terror, that she starts to tremble. But she doesn't. "It smelt a lot," is all she can remember.

Generally, in fact, the people of Hertford seem rather reticent on the subject of the Grail. Do they know something they're not telling? Eventually there seems nothing for it but to abandon any attempt at subtlety and ask Acheson directly. 

"Tim," I say, as we walk through the fog back to his car, "do you know where the Holy Grail is?"

We stop at the kerbside to let an articulated lorry pull out. Then we cross the road, past a Mazda dealership, towards the car park.

"No," Acheson says after a while, with a thoughtful expression. "No, I'm afraid I don't."