Tudor Moisa
When Kim Bolton and I first met in London, our conversation quickly turned from architecture to history — and then to the deeper questions hidden within them. We spoke about Jerusalem, the Crusades, and the enduring fascination of the Knights Templar. There was an instant sense of shared values: curiosity, reverence for heritage, and a desire to understand the past not as a closed chapter, but as a living story.
It was Kim who first suggested I attend the Saunière Society’s Scottish Meeting — a gathering of researchers, travellers, and seekers united by that same fascination with hidden histories. “You’ll meet people to answer a few of your questions,” he promised. Among them, he mentioned Hamilton White the mysterious artefact hunter whose on-screen exploits in Sky History’s Lost Treasures of the Knights Templar have led many to compare him to a contemporary Indiana Jones.
Arrival in Scotland
I flew from London to Edinburgh on Thursday, 6 November, nursing a mild flu and a restless sense of anticipation. By the time the taxi reached the Melville Inn by Innkeeper’s Collection in Dalkeith, the light was fading. I checked in around half-past six, dropped my bags, and joined the others in the restaurant just before seven.
The air inside was warm with conversation. I was introduced to a circle of Society friends and members — among them Joy Millar, whose
gentle smile and effortless hospitality made everyone feel immediately at home, and Darren Keohane who leads historical tours in Tomar, Portugal, focused on the Templars. Between bites and sips of ale, we swapped ideas, stories, and theories. By ten the talk had turned to symbols, legends, and the mysteries awaiting us in the Scottish landscape. We parted reluctantly, each promising to rest before the adventure of the next day.
Friday: Temples, Chapels and Echoes of the Past
After breakfast, the cold air outside cleared my head. Kim gathered a small group, and we set off for Temple Old Kirk, a ruin that still holds a certain quiet majesty. Though time and neglect have taken their toll, its stones seem alive with memory. We walked through the churchyard, pausing at the southwest corner to study the gravestones marked with unusual carvings — crosses, compasses, even faint Templar symbols.
By midday we reached Roslin, where the Original Hotel Rosslyn offered a welcome lunch and still more conversation. New faces joined the table, each with a personal link to the quest for history. One introduction remains vivid in my memory: Chevalier Ronald S. Sinclair JP KGCTJ FSAScot, Grand Prior of the OSMTH Scottish Knights Templar. He took me, quite literally, “by the hand” and led me through the gates of Rosslyn Chapel.
Inside, beneath the vaulted ceiling, he shared a few thoughts on symbolism and faith — insights I treasure too much to repeat. The guide’s official tour added another layer of history: tales of masons, saints, and centuries of speculation. Yet nothing matched the experience of standing in that cool, sculpted silence, where every pattern seemed charged with meaning.
Later, we walked the paths towards Rosslyn Castle, or what remains of it — walls softened by moss, stones brightened by rain. The energy of the place was palpable. By the time we returned to the Melville Inn, I was exhausted, my mind overflowing with impressions. A brief rest revived me enough for dinner at seven, when conversation resumed with the same enthusiasm as the night before. Ideas, discoveries, and theories mingled late into the evening.
Saturday: A Gathering of Minds
The next morning dawned cold and clear. After a quick coffee I joined the others heading to Rosslyn Masonic Lodge, where the Society’s symposium was held. The room buzzed with anticipation; books, maps, and notes were spread across tables, and the walls seemed to hum with centuries of accumulated curiosity.
Solving the Mystery of Deuchar Arch at Temple
Dr Brenda Franey opened the proceedings. Though I hadn’t seen her paper in advance, the title alone captured the spirit of the weekend — a mystery carved in Scottish stone and intertwined with the enduring story of the Templars that runs through this part of the country.
While I didn’t fully agree with all of her interpretations, I appreciated the depth of her preparation and the challenge of condensing her research to make room for other speakers. She spoke with quiet intensity, using images of a weathered arch and intricate carvings from Temple Village to illustrate her ideas. Even without taking detailed notes, I remember the sense of fascination that filled the room — history emerging not from textbooks, but from the patient reading of stone and symbol.
The Infinite Game of Mystery and Meaning
Lynn Bright spoke of Rennes-le-Château, that small French village whose legend of hidden treasure has inspired over six hundred books. She proposed that the mystery was not meant to be solved but played — an “infinite game,” borrowing from James Carse’s notion that some pursuits have no final resolution, only continual discovery.
Her slides showed paintings — The Shepherds of Arcadia, The Temptation of Saint Anthony, The Coronation of Pope Celestine V — each treated not as mere art, but as portals into allegory. I scribbled notes about symbols: crowns, flowers, devils, the balance of good and evil. The talk flowed effortlessly between scholarship and wonder, urging us to see art not as a riddle to be cracked, but as a living conversation between time and imagination.
I found myself thinking how this described the Society itself — a circle of minds playing the infinite game of curiosity, never satisfied, always seeking.
A Walk Through Lithuania’s Spirit
The next speaker, Morelle Smith took us far from Scotland, into the pine forests and shifting borders of Lithuania. Her talk, Walk in Lithuania, Brothers and Writers, was a tapestry of travelogue and cultural meditation. She spoke of Biruti, the queen whose story embodies the nation’s pagan heart; of Thomas Mann’s house by the dunes of Nida; of songs, wood carvings, and legends that survive occupation and exile.
Her reflections on Lithuania’s late conversion to Christianity and its enduring reverence for nature struck a chord. “You can’t fully understand a people,” she said softly, “until you walk their forests.” I thought of our own walk through Roslin Glen the previous day — how nature, myth, and memory intertwine wherever people search for meaning.
A Community Remembered
Before lunch, Jayne Bellenie, a long-standing member, stood to review the Society’s recent Portugal trip. Her tone was warm, filled with laughter and gratitude. Photos flickered across the projector: castles, coastlines, familiar faces. She thanked the organisers and Darren, the indefatigable guide who managed meals, transport, and good humour in equal measure.
The meeting drifted easily between memories and plans. Another group trip was already forming for next July, she announced, and a cheerful murmur filled the room. After so much history and symbolism, it was grounding to be reminded that the Society is, above all, a fellowship — sustained by shared journeys and friendship as much as by inquiry.
The Persecution of an Angel and a Witch
With Mary Craig speaking the afternoon turned sombre with a historical study of Agnes Finney, a 17th-century Edinburgh woman condemned as a witch. The account was harrowing yet necessary — a mirror held up to a past where fear and prejudice masqueraded as faith.
The speaker’s meticulous detail brought home how fragile justice once was, and how easily power can turn against the vulnerable.
Tales of Piracy and Forgotten Histories
The day’s final session broke the tension with energy and adventure. The speaker, Hamilton White, strode to the front — a collector, historian, and storyteller whose life has been shaped by his pursuit of lost artefacts. His talk, Tales of Piracy, Treasure Hunting, and Forgotten Histories, carried us across oceans: from the Seychelles to the Bahamas, from the legend of the pirate La Buse to the creation of the Heritage Museum of the Bahamas.
He described codebreakers deciphering pirate cyphers, skeletons unearthed beneath tropical soil, and coins etched with secret maps. Yet beneath the tales of adventure lay frustration — the neglect of history, the corruption that hinders preservation, and the indifference of those who prefer myth to truth.
When he spoke of his prized artefacts — a heart-shaped piece of eight, a carved coconut from the 1790s, and a knife engraved with a skeleton and hourglass — the room was silent. It wasn’t the romance of treasure that held us, but his quiet conviction that history is worth rescuing, even when no one seems to care.
Evening Conversations and Farewell
That night, back at the Melville Inn, conversation once again filled the restaurant. My flu had subsided, replaced by a lightness born of shared discovery. Over food and whisky, we revisited the day’s talks — the witch trials, the arches at Temple, the pirate treasures — threads of history woven into one long conversation.
Outside, the Scottish night was calm and dark. I remember standing beneath the stars, thinking how the Society’s gatherings are themselves a kind of pilgrimage — not to a single truth, but to the joy of seeking.
Departure and Reflection
Sunday came too soon. I was awake before dawn, my suitcase ready by half-past four. The taxi’s headlights cut through the drizzle as we drove towards Edinburgh Airport. I regretted having to leave before the chapel’s Remembrance Service and the visit to Dalhousie Castle, but duty — and an early flight — called me back to London.
At the terminal I leafed through my notes: sketches of arches, fragments of conversation, names of places and people. Each page recalled a moment of learning or connection. I realised that the true treasure of the weekend lay not in the stones or symbols, but in the fellowship of those who seek meaning within them.
Epilogue: The Infinite Game
Back home, the memories still shimmered like candlelight through mist. Rosslyn’s carvings, Temple’s gravestones, Hamilton’s relics — all spoke of humanity’s enduring need to interpret, to connect, to continue the dialogue between past and present.
The Saunière Society may travel from Scotland to Portugal to Lithuania, but its essence is constant: a fellowship of seekers playing the infinite game of discovery.
For my part, I remain grateful — to Kim Bolton DipPFS for the invitation, to Joy Millar for her kindness, and to every voice that contributed to that extraordinary weekend. Even as the memory fades into ordinary days, the echo of Rosslyn lingers — reminding me that curiosity itself is sacred.
“Stay part of the infinite game.”
