The First Face of Janus

by Valentine, Phil

  “ In the century of four,” Crow began translating from his notation pad.

  “No need, my boy. I speak five languages and French is my favorite.”

  Crow looked down and cleared his throat.

  Grumbling read over the verses, chuckled slightly to himself, then handed the paper back to Crow. “Very clever.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “Well, that’s just it. It could mean a number of things. It’s without question the work of the society.”

  “The society?”

  Grumbling looked a bit perturbed as he puffed his pipe. “Yes, of course. Are you not familiar with the secret society of Nostradamus?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not a Nostradamus expert.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “I was just given this book and the paper yesterday.” He held up the red velvet sleeve. “Dr. Rosenfeld tells me it’s from 1634. It’s an early French edition.”

  “I can tell you the book is inconsequential,” Grumbling stated emphatically. “It’s the verses they wrote that are important.”

  “They?”

  “Yes, they.”

  “This secret society?”

  “Yes, of course.” He took another swallow of his drink. “The First Face of Janus.”

  “The First Face of Janus?”

  “It’s been around since the time of Nostradamus and few people know of its existence.”

  Crow wrote the name down on his pad.

  “It started as a handful of his students,” Grumbling continued, “but it’s grown to something much bigger. They make sure the master’s predictions come to fruition.”

  “Wait a minute. You want me to believe there’s some secret society running around out there that does nothing but make Nostradamus look good?”

  “It’s not a matter of belief, my boy. The First Face of Janus is very real. They’ve had a hand in every Nostradamus prediction that’s come true thus far.”

  “Did they purposely go find a guy named Hitler and groom him to wage war on the world?”

  “Of course not. What they did was take note of someone who appeared to be fulfilling the prophecies, and they simply helped him along.”

  Crow looked puzzled. “When you say ‘helped him along,’ what do you mean?”

  “I mean they provided him with the necessary tools—money, intelligence, personnel—to be successful.”

  “Then why didn’t he triumph?” Crow asked with a tinge of dubiety in his voice. “Why was he defeated by the Allies?”

  Grumbling smiled. “Because it was in the quatrains, my boy. Hitler recognized the power of Nostradamus. He even tasked Goebbels with making propaganda out of the prophecies. Had he only taken them seriously, he would’ve realized his own demise. You see, Nostradamus made mention of the Suevi. The Suevi were Germanic people who once lived in an area called Gaul. Have you any idea where Gaul is?”

  Crow gave him a blank stare.

  “Of course not,” Grumbling said. “Gaul is modern-day France. Nostradamus wrote, ‘Through the Suevi and neighboring places / They will be at war over the clouds,’” he said dramatically. “That’s an obvious reference to France and surrounding areas and airplanes fighting in the skies, you see. He goes on to write, ‘Swarm of marine locusts and gnats / The faults of Geneva will be laid quite bare.’ The ‘marine locusts’ passage clearly refers to the D-Day invasion at Normandy. ‘The faults of Geneva’ undoubtedly means the Geneva Conventions begun in 1864 which established the humanitarian standards of international law in a time of war. Hitler mocked the prophecies by trying to exploit them for political gain, but they were ultimately his undoing.”

  Crow looked skeptical. “So they just help things along, this society you’re talking about.”

  Dr. Grumbling took a taste of his drink. “You’re sure you won’t join me?”

  Crow waved a polite but dismissive hand.

  “It really depends on how much the prophecies need helping,” Grumbling explained. “You see, it’s much like a jigsaw puzzle. A couple of pieces become an eye, then two eyes begin a face, and pretty soon you’ve got the whole picture. Once the First Face of Janus understands what has to be done, they’ll stop at nothing to see that the prophecy is fulfilled.” He took another nip from his drink then continued. “Remember when Lee Harvey Oswald called himself a patsy?”

  “Of course.”

  “That’s because he was. Once Kennedy came into office, it became clear that he was the one Nostradamus said must be killed and killed he was. ‘And from the roof evil ruin will fall on the great man,’ the quatrain says. ‘They will accuse an innocent, being dead, of the deed.’ Oswald, obviously. ‘The guilty one is hidden in the misty copse.’”

  “Copse?” Crow asked.

  “It’s a thicket of bushes.”

  “The grassy knoll,” Crow said to himself, writing on his pad.

  Grumbling looked at him and toked on a dry pipe. He relit it with a match and puffed.

  “Was Oswald a member of this First Face of Janus group?” Crow asked.

  “Hmm?” Grumbling shook the match in the air until nothing but smoke trailed from its head, puffed, then removed the pipe from his teeth. “Oh, no. Heavens no. That’s strictly forbidden. A First Facer cannot take it upon him or herself to make the prophecy come true. They can only arrange things so the prophecy happens without interference.”

  Crow looked up from his writing. “I’m sorry, but that’s just too incredible to believe. You’re saying that in order to fulfill the prophecy they had to find just the right place, just the right time, the perfect scenario that would bring all the elements together? I mean, they had to arrange Oswald, Dallas, the school book depository, everything. Sounds like pajama party gossip to me.”

  “Pajama party gossip indeed,” Grumbling said with an edge of agitation. “I’m saying a trip to Dallas presents itself. There are those who want Kennedy dead. There’s a man, Oswald, who’s not too keen on the country. These men need a lightning rod. Oswald is only too willing to play the part because of his hatred of America. All he’s got to do is stick a rifle out of a warehouse window and fire. They promise him he’ll never go to prison for the deed. Jack Ruby is already in Dallas. He already knows he’s dying of cancer. There are people in Dallas who need Oswald disposed of after the fact. The First Facers merely facilitate a meeting and Ruby’s tapped for the job. They simply help align the players and the prophecy is fulfilled. And Ruby keeps the promise. Oswald never serves a day in prison.”

  “Not sure that’s what he had in mind.”

  “Well, a promise is a promise,” Grumbling said with a playful grin.

  “This sounds too fantastic,” Crow insisted. “All that’s impossible.”

  “Nothing is impossible for them, my boy. They have unlimited resources. Nearly unlimited manpower. They do it because it must be done and they cannot fail. The very future of humanity itself depends on their success.”

  “Ah, but you said they couldn’t make the prediction come true. How about Jack Ruby?”

  “They didn’t force Ruby to kill Oswald. They only made him available. Ruby had his own motivation. He was a Kennedy fan. He was acting chivalrously on behalf of JFK’s grieving widow, saving her from the spectacle of a long drawn-out trial.”

  “Okay, well, let’s assume this is all possible. How do we know which event is going to be manipulated by these people?”

  “We have no way of knowing,” Grumbling said, “not without le Manuscrit Non Rédigé, the Unriddled Manuscript. They don’t even know until the prophecies reveal themselves.”

  Crow jotted the name down on his pad. “What’s this Unriddled Manuscript?”

  “It’s the prophecies of Nostradamus decoded.”

  “Where did it come from?”

  “From Nostradamus himself,” Grumbling said. “He worked several years to compile the prophecies in plain language so his closest associates could better understand what was to transpire. This way they could mak
e sure nothing or no one stood in the way of his predictions.”

  Crow rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t get it. How does this society make sure the prophecies come true?”

  “Look at it this way. The prophecies of the Old Testament said Jesus would be born to a virgin in Bethlehem. They said he would be of the lineage of David. These are all things that are impossible to arrange. However once Jesus was born and began his ministry, it became obvious to those who had been waiting for the messiah that he was it. Now then, the prophet said the messiah would enter Jerusalem riding on a donkey. This is something Jesus had full control over. Once you’ve found the messiah, then knowing the prophecies makes that prediction considerably easier. Do you see? Much like many Shia Muslims believe in the coming of the Twelfth Imam riding on a white horse. There are several things that need to happen before his return—chaos, a world filled with violence, and such things—and there are many who are feverishly trying to make that prophecy a reality. This is how the Shia Muslims plan to hasten the coming of the Twelfth Imam.”

  “This current prophecy they—the First Face of Janus—seem to want to see fulfilled. How do we find out what it is?”

  “Careful, my boy. It’s not the prophecy they choose to fulfill. It’s the prophecy that reveals itself to them. They don’t go searching the quatrains for prophecies. They wait until circumstances reveal themselves so that consulting the writings of Nostradamus seems obvious. In the immediate aftermath of 9/11 the single most searched name was not bin Laden or Bush. It was Nostradamus. The difference is the First Facers see the prophecy taking shape long before it happens. Of course, they’re at a distinct advantage having the Unriddled Manuscript. Only they know how much it reveals. The quatrains on that sheet of paper certainly appear to be consistent with the First Facers.”

  “Why are they called that, by the way?”

  “The First Face of Janus? One can only assume it was formed by Nostradamus’ secretary, Jean de Chavigny. There was a book written by an author calling himself Jean-Aimé de Chavigny. Aimé means adored, so he could have added that himself. Same person? Well, there’s some dispute about that. What’s not in dispute is that the book was published in 1594, almost 30 years after Nostradamus’ death, and it interpreted his prophecies. It was titled The First Face of the French Janus. Janus was the ancient Roman god of beginnings and transitions and was depicted as having two faces, the second face looking into the past, the first face of Janus looking into the future.”

  “Interesting.” Crow continued to take notes. “Seems his secretary used symbolism like his boss.”

  “Yes, Nostradamus and the people he surrounded himself with were rich with imagery and coded meaning,” Grumbling continued. “Many say it was to hide their true meaning from the Church. The Inquisition was a nasty piece of business and seers like Nostradamus were thought to be of the devil. Although the days of executing heretics had all but passed, the Congregation of the Holy Office of the Inquisition established by Pope Paul III in 1542 meant that people like Michel de Nostradamus could be completely stripped of their worldly possessions, which would put an end to his writing. He was wise enough to ingratiate himself with the royal family of France and thus insulate himself, but he was ever cognizant of the fact that they could turn on him at any moment. Therefore, he shrouded his public predictions in language he hoped would be deciphered centuries later. Of course, his disciples are no safer now than they were at the time of his death.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What I mean is the Church. Since the days of Nostradamus, the Custos Verbi has tried to stop the prophecies. Custos Verbi is Latin for ‘Keeper of the Word.’ A secret well-armed force that has disposed of people like Nostradamus and any other perceived threats to the Church for centuries.”

  “Custos Verbi, you said?”

  “Yes.”

  “Spell that.”

  Grumbling spelled it out for him as he wrote.

  “When you say they’ve ‘disposed of people like Nostradamus,’ are you suggesting they killed him?”

  “Most certainly.”

  “I thought he died of old age.”

  “Edema was the official cause of death, but many believe he was poisoned.”

  “But he was sixty-two when he died. That’s pretty old for the sixteenth century.”

  “Ordinarily, yes, but Nostradamus was quite hardy. He had survived the plague that killed his entire family. It was not unusual for his contemporaries in the upper class to live long lives into their 80s. Edema is the accumulation of fluid beneath the skin and in the cavities of the body. It was not that common in his day. It’s interesting that arsenic can cause edema. Many believe he was murdered by the Church. They had been suspicious of Nostradamus for a long time, but he was under the protection of the crown. However, word leaked that Nostradamus had been compiling the Unriddled Manuscript. The Church took his predictions very seriously. Legend has it they sent out two agents to intercept the Unriddled Manuscript the night Nostradamus died. They were ambushed by two members of the First Face of Janus, and they’ve been trying to get their hands on that book ever since.”

  Crow pointed to the paper he’d been given. “Any idea what these verses mean?” Crow asked.

  Grumbling read them over again. “Well, they seem to point to the seventy-first quatrain in the fourth century.” He pulled himself from the chair and fetched a newer English-language version of Nostradamus’ prophecies from the tall book shelf. He licked a finger and thumbed through the pages until he found the quatrain he was looking for. “That quatrain says, ‘In place of the bride the daughters slaughtered / Murder with great error no survivor be / Within the well vestals inundated / The bride extinguished by a drink of Aconite.’”

  Crow wrote then looked up from his pad. “These girls are going to be murdered.”

  “One would surmise from the quatrain,” Grumbling said.

  “But where?”

  Grumbling shrugged.

  “A wedding, maybe?” Crow said. “It mentions a bride twice.”

  Grumbling returned the book to the shelf, took a puff from his pipe, and sat back down in the chair. “Perhaps, but remember, Nostradamus often wrote in allegorical terms. He did, however, speak directly as well. The quatrains written on that paper mention the clock striking twelve. We would presume it’s noon if we’re talking about a wedding. Not many people get married at midnight,” he chuckled. “You can rest assured that the verses point to some prediction in the prophecies. It’s a matter of finding an event that fits and, unfortunately, that usually happens after the deed is done.”

  “Well, we know that whatever it is, it’s happening soon.”

  “And how do we know this?” Grumbling asked.

  “That’s what the man in Montreal told me. I won’t insult you by assuming you don’t know about him.”

  “The man on the bridge, you mean,” Grumbling said.

  “How does he fit in?”

  “You want my opinion? Because that’s all I have to offer.”

  “I do,” Crow said.

  “I suspect he was Custos Verbi. He found out what the First Facer’s next prophecy was and tried to blow the whistle on them. It got him killed.”

  “Why would he choose me?”

  “I haven’t a clue.”

  “You’re sure he wasn’t part of this First Face of Janus?” Crow asked.

  “Why would they need to tell you about their next prophecy?”

  “I see what you mean.” Crow contemplated the situation for a moment. “This guy was trying to warn me so I could stop the murders of these daughters. I have to find out what that next prophecy is, and I have to do it fast. The old man in Montreal said whatever is going to happen will happen before the sun rises on Sunday.”

  “Well, you can drive yourself mad by trying to figure out the unknowable, or you can just go home and forget the whole affair,” Grumbling said.

  “Are you kidding me? I can’t just forget about it.
I’m a writer. I’ve been waiting for something like this all my life.”

  “Oh, I see.” Grumbling’s tone turned disappointed, almost as if he’d been wasting his time. “This is that next big book, is it? So, you write a book about it and you have no proof. You’re labeled a kook. No one will ever take you seriously again. Is that what you want?”

  “These people need to be stopped.”

  “Listen to me and listen to me good. These people are everywhere, in places you can’t even imagine.” He leaned forward in his seat and lowered his voice to a reverent tone. “They permeate all levels of nearly every society on earth. Don’t give a thought to involving the authorities. You have no idea who might be one of them. Your only choice is to stand aside. The fact that the quatrains have been passed to you means the next prophecy is in motion. Walk away from this now. Once the killing starts, it will not stop until the prophecy is fulfilled.”

  “Then somebody has to stop the prophecy,” Crow said.

  Grumbling’s eyes narrowed. “Listen to me, my boy. These prophecies have been coming true for centuries and there’s absolutely nothing anyone can do about it.”

  “If it means they’re going to murder innocent children, I can stop it,” Crow insisted.

  Grumbling let out a huge laugh. “You? With your vestigial knowledge of the subject? Don’t be ridiculous. You could no more stop the next prophecy than you could stop the sun from rising on Sunday morning.”

  The shattering of the window made no more than a hiss. It was the thud of the bullet entering Dr. Grumbling’s back that lodged itself in Crow’s memory. And the guttural moan as the last breath of air left his lungs. Crow plastered himself to the back of the sofa before his senses had a chance to process what was happening. Grumbling’s eyes looked at him for a scant second, but Crow could see there was no awareness in them. The pipe fell from his mouth. His drink dropped to his side and spilled with an awkward splash on the floor. Gravity took over and Grumbling’s lifeless form slumped forward. His knees hit first, then the rest of him tumbled face down. Crow sat petrified at the image of the still-smoldering hole in the chair. He cast his eyes down on the horrific scene of the ever-expanding stain of blood on Grumbling’s back, and a wave of terror swept over him.