Shrouded Destiny

by Richard William Bates

  "Yes, of course. Young man, please do join us. Have a seat. I'm afraid our meals are rather simple, but there is plenty to eat."

  "Thank you. You both are very kind."

  Angelino produced a plate of fried fish.

  Jesus said, “Fish? People around here eat a lot of fish."

  Angelino laughed. “There isn't much else around these parts."

  Susan said, “I'm afraid living out here in the mountains has made me forget my manners. My name is Susan Morgan. This is Father Angelino."

  "I am happy to know you,” Jesus said.

  "And you are...?” Susan asked.

  Angelino jumped in. “Susan, do you mean to tell me you do not recognize our guest here?"

  She peered at the young man and said, “No, Father Angelino, I don't. Should I?"

  "This is our friend from the Shroud."

  "You mean...?"

  "Yes. Susan Morgan, meet Jesus."

  Jesus said, “You know who I am?"

  "But of course, my friend. It is I who am responsible for you being here with us in the flesh now."

  "I do not understand. Steven told me that I was ... what was the word he used?"

  "Cloned?” Angelino offered.

  "Yes ... cloned from my own blood. He said it was blood that stained the cloth I was buried in."

  "Indeed, Jesus, that is all true. It was I who obtained the burial cloth for him."

  "You?"

  Angelino nodded.

  Susan was staring at Jesus with her mouth hanging open. Angelino looked at her and said, “Close your mouth, dear. We have bugs out here."

  She finally regained her power of speech. “What are you doing way out here?"

  "I am living in a cabin here in these mountains with Steven, John and Armand,” he responded.

  "Armand?” Susan asked. “Armand Mathias?"

  "Yes. He is my friend."

  Susan shook her head and said, “God help us.” She turned to Angelino and said, “Did you know about this?"

  "No, my dear. I sensed he was close, though, which was why I counseled you to be patient and bide your time."

  "How in the world did Armand Mathias get involved in this?” she said.

  She noticed Jesus was studying Angelino closely. She saw wariness in his eyes that vaguely troubled her. He said to Angelino, “You are a holy man, yes?"

  "Very good,” Angelino said brightly. “It seems Steven Hamilton has been quite successful with you. You have learned our language very well ... and very quickly, too. Who taught you?"

  "Armand,” he answered.

  Angelino nodded in understanding.

  The three of them sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes. Susan wondered what sort of dinner conversation was appropriate for the present company.

  Angelino broke the impasse by grabbing a piece of fish and chewing on it. “Please, everyone. Eat it while it's hot."

  Susan could not understand why Jesus would be wary of Angelino. Why should this be? What did Jesus see which she did not? She felt torn between two loyalties, one pulling her toward the man who had performed the miracle of returning her from the dead, the other pulling her toward an innate confidence in the divine wisdom of Jesus. The more she contemplated the conflict, the more distressing it became to her. If there were a fundamental conflict between Jesus and Angelino, wouldn't it mean Timothy and the rest of the church had been right about Angelino all along?

  Then it hit her like a truck. What if Angelino was everything they said he was? Surely Jesus, with his divine powers, would be able to clearly see into the hearts of men. What did he see in Angelino that she had missed? She felt weak. Have I been taken in by some hidden force of evil and have I, in my innocent ignorance, taken in Ray Cutler, too? Her hands began to tremble and she thought she might be sick. She excused herself hastily, and ran outside into the cool, fresh air.

  Jesus and Angelino were taken by surprise by this sudden change in Susan's demeanor. Angelino followed her outside, clearly concerned.

  "Susan, what's wrong?” he asked gently. He walked over to put his hands on her shoulders to comfort her. She pulled away.

  "It ... it's nothing, Father Angelino. I just got a little nauseated that's all. I think maybe I got too much sun today,” she lied.

  Angelino seemed to sense the lie, but to her relief did not press her. He said, “Susan, have I not told you countless times that things are often not as they appear to be? Hold that thought close to you. It will serve you well."

  "Yes, Father Angelino,” she kept her back to him. She feared he would catch the suspicion in her voice. “I'll be back inside in a moment."

  Susan felt trapped and frightened. If Angelino were unbalanced, he certainly was insane in a very subtle way. But weren't some of the most dangerous men in history so deadly because their insanity was not easily detected? She remembered the stories of the serial killer, Ted Bundy. How he was so mild-mannered and seemingly kindly. It was those very qualities that had lured so many innocent young women to their brutal deaths.

  Her mind raced furiously, but her thoughts seemed to ricochet within her skull. How would she ever be able to safely extricate herself from Angelino? What might he do if she suddenly withdrew her loyalty from him, a loyalty not officially declared, but nevertheless given without question?

  * * * *

  Angelino returned to the cabin and took his seat opposite Jesus at the table.

  "So, Jesus,” he said. “How do you find the twentieth century?"

  "I have not seen much of it yet. I have been in these woods since I was reawakened. My friends have this wonderful magic box they call a television, which they let me look at from time to time. The drawings that move make me laugh."

  Angelino laughed loudly. “It is clear they are pretty undecided on what to do with you.” Then more seriously, “Jesus, have you been able to remember who you are yet?"

  "Yes. But I have much in my head which confuses me, too. The people in this time place me above themselves. I do not remember ever feeling that way.” He looked at Angelino hopefully. “Can you help me remember? You are a holy man. I see it in your eyes."

  Angelino shook his head. “I don't think I can help you. Memories can be tricky things. If I or anyone else tell you what your memories should be, it cannot be certain those memories will really be yours or just the ideas we placed in your mind. You will do better to allow those memories to return on their own."

  Jesus considered this for a moment. “Father Angelino, what troubles me is that I seem to remember the events of my past ... where I went, what I did, who I knew ... but I feel nothing inside me. I am like an empty shell."

  "You mean you don't have an emotional connection to your past?” Angelino asked.

  Jesus nodded. “Yes, I believe that is the word I am trying to use. I still have some trouble with your language."

  "Not at all. You have picked it up very quickly, actually."

  "There are many words like the words the Romans used."

  "Yes, much of our language comes from the language of Latin."

  Jesus appeared to be lost in thought for a time before finally speaking again. “You said it was you who had Steven bring me back."

  Angelino nodded.

  "Why?” Jesus asked. It seemed a reasonable and expected question.

  "Jesus, you know the ancient traditions, do you not? The tradition that says that an avatar... a Messiah, appears every two thousand years."

  Jesus appeared to be searching for the memory. “I am sorry, Father Angelino. That memory does not seem to be in my mind."

  Angelino was unconcerned with this gap in Jesus’ memory. “Jesus, we are nearing the year that marks the two thousandth year after your birth, in our tradition. Just as there were those who helped bring about the events that created your messiah-ship, there are those of us working to assist the advent of the avatar of our own era.

  "Over the years, the human race slowly forgets the lessons taught to it by the avatar of the p
receding era. The truth of his message grows faint as his words and lessons get passed along from generation to generation. Therefore, the message has to be repeated every two thousand years or so. There are those who are charged with maintaining the purity of the message of the avatar down through the centuries. I am one of that number."

  "I still do not understand,” Jesus said.

  "It is the time for the second coming of the Christ, Jesus. You were brought back as part of that design. I have merely started events in motion. If it had not been me, it would have been someone else. Your twelve disciples ... those who studied at your feet ... have each passed a portion of the Christ teaching down through the ages to disciples who exist for no other reason than to preserve the portion of Truth they each possess. Until recently, their existence was a complete secret. My efforts now must focus on reassembling them.

  "And there is one more element in the chain of events I must tell you of. There exists a secret organization of men and women whose entire purpose for being is to thwart the Christ teachings. They are The Council of Most Highs, although they have been known by many other names throughout the centuries. They have infiltrated the most important bases of power throughout the world. They work for the forces of evil, although their message is the seductive lie of worldly power.

  "I can tell you no more than that. Events must now unfold of their own accord."

  Angelino looked into Jesus’ eyes. There was deep intelligence there ... and something else, which caused Angelino to feel all was proceeding as it should. Jesus lowered his eyes and said, “I must ask you something."

  Angelino nodded in consent.

  "I ... I had a wife ... and a son. Do you know what became of them?"

  If this was a surprise to Angelino, he did not betray it. He considered the question for a moment and then answered carefully. “So you remember them, I see."

  Jesus nodded. “Yes, I do."

  "They survived. It is believed, but not known, that your son took a wife. After that, we lost track of him, although it is said he lived a long life."

  "I see,” Jesus said. “Thank you."

  * * * *

  Susan had regained her composure a bit and was feeling silly and a little ashamed of herself. Surely she was mistaken about Father Angelino. Hadn't he demonstrated his holiness to her over and over again? He had treated her with nothing but kindness. He had brought her back from the dead. She couldn't say many people had done that for her, she mused. Something indefinable had triggered a deep visceral reaction in her, though. She could not ignore it.

  All she could do for now was to push it aside, hoping in time, she would understand it.

  * * * *

  IF THE BANQUET for the de Charnys was elegant, the ball was nothing short of exquisite. Julian Michaels had been to many gala events in Washington, including three presidential inaugural balls, but had never seen anything like this. The ballroom was the most beautiful he had ever seen. The walls were a rich mahogany, with inlays of what seemed to be pure gold in subtle abstract patterns. A huge ornate crystal chandelier hung conspicuously above the center of the room. A large stage housed a full orchestra, whose members were dressed in formal attire. Royalty would have been comfortable in this element. But then again, if the de Charnys were not strictly royalty, they would do until the real thing returned to France.

  A throng of people had converged upon the de Charnys. Gerrard seemed to be the de Charny who carried the family influence, based on the deference paid to him by those who pressed around the family. Julian mused that the scene reminded him of the deference paid to Don Corleone in The Godfather. Perhaps the analogy was more apt than he realized.

  He maneuvered his way toward de Charny and hovered just outside the tight circle, which surrounded him.

  "He is a powerful man, Monsieur,” he heard a female voice say behind him. He turned to see Nicole Chambleau standing directly behind him.

  "Oui, Mademoiselle,” he smiled at her. “He certainly appears to be."

  "Would you like me to introduce you to him?” she asked sweetly.

  Julian studied her for some sign that she might be playing with him, and once satisfied she was serious, replied, “Yes, Mademoiselle, I would like that very much."

  "Come with me.” She took his arm and gently pushed her way through the throng. She caught de Charny's eye, and he immediately lit up at the sight of her. “Nicole, how good it is to see you here. I was so hoping you and your family would be able to make it."

  "Monsieur, how could we not?” Nicole chirped, and smiled happily at him. De Charny grinned back. Ignoring the others gathered around him, he headed toward them.

  He hugged Nicole in a fatherly fashion. Smiling down at her, he asked, “How do you manage it?"

  "What do you mean, Monsieur de Charny?” she said, demurely.

  "How do you manage to grow even more beautiful each time I see you?"

  "Oh, Monsieur,” she blushed. She was good, Julian observed. She obviously was a delight to de Charny. He could easily understand why. She was quite charming, he had to admit.

  "Monsieur de Charny, I fear I have been rude to my friend.” She gestured toward Julian. “Monsieur de Charny, may I introduce my new friend, Monsieur Frederick Valjean. He was seated with us tonight during the banquet."

  De Charny studied Julian for a moment, then smiled at him graciously and extended his hand in friendship. “Monsieur Valjean, pleased to meet you. I am delighted to meet any friend of Mademoiselle Chambleau's.” He bowed slightly in a courtly manner.

  Julian shook his hand briskly and returned the bow. “I am very honored to make the acquaintance of a man of such stature,” he said, with just the proper shade of deference.

  "You flatter me, Monsieur,” de Charny smiled.

  "Not at all. I share the respect everyone present shares toward you. I bow to the family which was the guardian of the Holy Shroud for so many years."

  De Charny stiffened and a frown crossed his face. Julian had thrown that reference to the Shroud out in the most offhanded way. It had hit the mark. Gerrard eyed Julian suspiciously.

  "Have I said something wrong, Monsieur de Charny? I have offended you."

  "Not at all,” de Charny said icily. “May I ask what your interest in the Shroud is?"

  "Oh, no interest, really. I heard the little speech of that priest ... oh, what was his name again...?"

  "Angelino,” Nicole said brightly. “His name was Father Angelino."

  "Ah, yes. Angelino. He stole the shroud from Turin, did he not?"

  "Why, yes he did, Monsieur,” Nicole said lightly. “But nobody knows why."

  "Indeed, Mademoiselle,” Julian said. “But then there was all that talk about some deep, dark secret organization that controls the whole world,” he added with mock horror, to indicate he didn't take such claims seriously.

  De Charny said coldly, “Monsieur Valjean, you seem to take this priest, Angelino, quite lightly. I wonder if that is wise."

  "Surely, Monsieur de Charny, you do not take such stories seriously?"

  "It is not a matter of taking them seriously. We often reveal more of ourselves by what we choose not to believe than by what we do believe. It is as reckless to disbelieve too easily as it is to believe too quickly."

  What was he trying to say without saying it? Julian wondered. He noticed Nicole studying them both with intense interest and understood enough to realize that when a beautiful woman studies two men engaged in subtle word play, a pissing contest was in the making. He decided it was time to play his hand.

  "I noticed that nobody included your family's association with the Shroud tonight in the list of your accomplishments. I find that curious. To have had the privilege of having such an historic relic entrusted to your care seems to me to be a high honor indeed."

  That statement clearly triggered an adverse reaction in de Charny. His face clouded for a short moment before quickly recovering its staid demeanor. “The de Charny family has not served France for t
he honor, but for the privilege of so doing,” he said strongly.

  His response seemed oddly defensive and evasive to Julian. What part of his statement had triggered such a response? Was it the mention of the Shroud, or the mention of honor and privilege? Or had the shroud been a reminder of some dark, hidden family skeleton? He pressed de Charny further.

  "Whatever happened to the Shroud, Monsieur de Charny? How did it happen to pass from your family's keeping?” Then to blunt the impudence of his interrogation he added lightly, “I am sure if the shroud were still in your family's care we would not be talking about its theft by some silly old priest today."

  Nicole and the others standing around them murmured their agreement. De Charny, however, remained on guard. Julian had been a prosecutor and investigator long enough to read Gerrard's body language. He was certain the Frenchman was hiding something.

  De Charny finally responded. “There are certain gaps in our family's history, Monsieur Valjean. How the Shroud happened to pass out of our hands is unknown to us.” Julian could detect that this, too, was not entirely honest. De Charny continued with a smile, “However, you are correct, Monsieur. If my family was still in possession of the shroud, it would not be missing today."

  Julian lifted his glass to de Charny, who returned the gesture. Gerrard exchanged a glance with Nicole.

  "Monsieur Valjean, you seem like a man who appreciates traditions,” de Charny said. Julian nodded. “Perhaps you would accept an invitation to join me at my estate for dinner tomorrow evening? I have many items of historic interest you might enjoy seeing.” Then, turning to Nicole, he added, “Of course, you are welcome to accompany Monsieur Valjean. You know how you brighten up an evening.” She laughed and said, “I would be delighted, if Monsieur Valjean does not mind the intrusion."

  Julian bowed toward her slightly and said, “Any man who would refuse your company is not a man whose judgment I could trust.” She smiled at the compliment.

  Gerrard clapped his hands and proclaimed, “Good. Then it is arranged. I will see you both tomorrow evening, say, at eight o'clock?"