The Cup of Christ and the Forgotten Disciple
Release Date: November 2, 2020
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“What is truly the Cup of Christ? Is it a spiritual experience, a religious rite, or a relic?
No, much more. For it is a quest of our own to seek out the hidden spiritual understanding inside us. Thus, releasing our heart’s love and kindness throughout the word.”
–Lord Robert de Borron
1190: At the close of the 12th-century, the known world will see two epic changes that will challenge the foundation of humanity. Tens of thousands of men of two different faiths will clash in a remote area of the Middle East.
One man, in particular, will find his own faith shaken to its core. Lord Robert de Borron, a man of many talents, will find his life taking a direction he never anticipated.
On the way to visit his sister in Vézelay, France, Lord Robert discovers an unsigned letter on the body of a murdered warrior-monk. The letter, addressed to him, demands he come at once to a fortress at Montpellier or risk the safety of his family.
Is this a trap? Does he dare put his family in peril by ignoring the summons? How will Lord Robert handle the dilemma he faces? What role will a long forgotten 1st-century disciple play in the spiritual quest undertaken by Lord Robert de Borron?
THE CUP OF CHRIST and the FORGOTTEN DISCIPLE
Anno Domini 1190
The instant I saw the holly bush shake, my anxious steed reared, and it took all my strength to steady him. Fearing a large wild beast, I cautiously dismounted with my sword drawn. Using my free hand, I tied my horse’s reins to the lower branch of a chestnut tree and crept toward the still rustling sound of leaves. Suddenly, from out of the dark forest came a hissing sound and I felt a rush of air as a crossbow quarrel struck a limb next to my head.
“Mère de Dieu!” I shouted, as three human-shaped shadows sprang from the bushes and ran into a tangled grove of high thorn shrubs. I cautiously took a step toward where they disappeared when unexpectedly three horses carrying the men galloped out of the woods and down a trail.
Did these men try to warn or kill me and why leave in such a hurry? Indeed, my one sword didn’t outnumber them.
Creeping through the holly bushes to investigate, I stumbled over something and fell forward catching myself with some branches. There below me, in the underbrush, a man lay face down in the dirt. His back had numerous bloody puncture wounds seeping with fluid. I turned him over to see if he was still alive. He wasn’t, but fresh pools of oozing blood made one thing clear: he died just before I arrived. Maybe those men were robbers? But why didn’t they strike me down?