The Mahdi smiled. “On the contrary young Ali, the more people that I heal, the more energy I have. Allah replenishes and adds extra for each good deed done. It is the same throughout life.”
Ali thought for a moment. “But Master, I know of people who do good things and have very bad things happen to them.”
“Yes, this is true, but the bad things are an external force. The good deed is rewarded with the internal energy to combat these misfortunes. Sometimes the kindest people are subjected to the harshest situations, but this is just Allah’s test of worthiness. The closer to him you get, the more difficult your tasks become. You have been tested all your young life, but you have persevered in the face of hardship, and you have been rewarded with a place at Allah’s side.”
“But I haven’t really done anything,” said Ali.
“Have you not? Perhaps it feels as if you have not, but in the eyes of Allah and of other people you are an example to behold. You were born with a great disability, and yet you have never complained or bemoaned your lot in life. Every trial and tribulation has been met with resolution, determination, and most importantly – a kind word for all. Nobody else has suffered your turmoil, only you. You are an example of all that is good in Allah’s world.”
Ali felt himself blush. The Master’s words were almost too much for him to take in.
“Do not be embarrassed by my words,” said the Mahdi. “You should hold your head high.” He laughed kindly. “But of course, you are too modest for that – and that is what makes you so special in the eyes of Allah.” He leant over and placed his hand on Ali’s head. “Bless you Ali, child of Allah.”
Ali felt a pulse of light flow through his body. And it truly was as if Allah himself had come down and touched him. He opened his eyes and felt like he was seeing the world for the first time.
The Mahdi smiled broadly. “You are now a part of Allah,” he said. “You are an extension of his will. Your touch will help to heal the world.”
Ali felt a tingling in his hands. He placed his palms together and found that they were burning with heat. As they connected he shuddered with power. His eyes welled with tears.
“Do not be afraid,” said the Mahdi. “You may feel overwhelmed, but you have not been given more than you can cope with. Take a few slow, deep breaths and ground yourself.”
Ali did as he was told, inhaling deeply from the pit of his stomach and concentrating his mind. After a few minutes the confusion disappeared.
“How do you feel now?” asked the Mahdi.
Ali broke into a grin that he thought would never end. “I feel light, like I could float away at any moment. But everything is clear, so very clear. I don’t know, it feels like I’ve been dreaming and just woken up. It’s beautiful.”
“Yes it is beautiful. This whole world is filled with beauty, you only have to open your eyes to see it. I hope that one day the whole world will be able to see as you do. That is Allah’s intention.”
“But can you not just touch people as you did to me, then they would be able to see wouldn’t they?”
“You have earned the right to see, Ali. It is not as simple as just touching somebody and making it happen. If I had done the same thing to somebody else it may well have destroyed them inside. You accepted the power because you are pure of heart and soul. A person must be ready to accept the light before he or she can receive it. It takes years of discipline and searching of the soul to arrive at the correct point. Every piece of debris must be cleared. For most the journey is too hard. But the way is open to everyone who seeks it.”
“But I have done none of the things you say,” said Ali.
“Have you not?” said the Mahdi. “I disagree. You may not have known it, but you have been on the path all your life. You have resisted bitterness and self-pity and chosen the way of the wise, letting love and laughter into your life. It may seem like nothing to you, but it is far more difficult than you think. If you can bear extreme misfortune and still allow kindness to flow, then you are truly blessed.” He paused to think. “Imagine your soul to be like a tube that streams light. Hatred and fear, and jealousy and greed and laziness, are all potential blockages. They float around in the tube distorting the light outwards and causing it to damage the lining. Only when this emotional waste is cleared can the light take its true path. Imagine what the blast of pure light that I gave to you would have done to someone with any of these obstructions. It would have obliterated the tube and taken them apart completely.”
Ali fell silent, taking in all that the Master had said. Once it had settled in his mind he continued to question his teacher. “You say that my touch can help heal the world. Have I got the same abilities as you now?”
“No, not yet. You still have a lifetime of learning ahead of you. You will not be able to heal as I do, but your touch will soothe and help repair the injured and broken. As your understanding of Allah grows, so will your power. But that is in the future, you must concentrate on what is happening now. We have a whole world to change.”
“What about this Messiah from the West?” Ali asked. “What are we to do about him?”
The Mahdi looked at him curiously. “We do not have to do anything, Ali. He is obviously a work of propaganda. The Catholic Church must have heard of my coming and made an attempt to deflect the world’s attention. You must understand how this will affect them. Their way is not the way of Allah. Now that Allah has sent me they are scared. They know that it is only a matter of time before their false religion crumbles beneath them. Do not worry, Ali, once this Messiah fails to prove his divinity their two millennia of lies will be exposed. It is not up to us to hasten his downfall. All you need to know is that I am real, and you do know that – do you not?”
“Yes, of course, Master.”
“Good. Never forget that you are one of Allah’s chosen few.” He looked at the clock. “I think I shall retire to my room for the evening. I have much to think about, and there is much for Allah to tell me.” He rose from his seat. “Goodnight, Ali.”
Ali bade him a goodnight and sat for a while in quiet and blissful contemplation. The divine power was still coursing through him, making him lighter and happier than he ever thought possible. The revelation of this previously hidden world was almost too much to bear. The excitement inside mounted until he could no longer keep still. Without thinking, he sprang from his chair and decided to go for a walk.
The guards outside the door took little notice of him as he left the suite and wandered off along the vast corridor. He glided to the end and then floated down two flights of stairs to the ground floor. Once there he made his way to a side exit and out into the open. He breathed in the air and laughed. From around the corner he heard the sound of cheering and went to investigate.
The street outside the main entrance to the palace was packed with people. The road was blocked with bodies, and traffic was at a standstill. Ali made his way to the back of the multitude to find out what was happening. Before long it became apparent that the crowd was shouting for the Mahdi to make an appearance. They chanted his name in unison, raising their hands to punctuate each repetition. Palace security was out in force, holding the masses back with a mixture of yelling and strategically aimed machine-guns.
Ali looked on in awe, almost swept away by the sheer magnitude of the crowd’s energy. He knew that the Mahdi would not be coming out again that evening, and wondered how long it would take for the people to disperse. From their fervour he guessed that it wouldn’t be any time soon. Perhaps they would stay all through the night in the hope of glimpsing the Master in the morning. It suddenly hit him how much his coming meant. People the world over were lost and confused and needed something to bind them. There were so many different sects and sub-sects to all religions that it was becoming difficult to know what was right or wrong any more. The Qur’an was open to so many diverse interpretations that it was almost impossible for anyone to give a definitive answer. It was time to put a stop to the uncertainty
and unite the people as one.
Ali closed his eyes and a vision came to him. A picture of a world in harmony. An image of man helping man regardless of race or colour or religion. It seemed so close and real that he could almost touch it. The Mahdi had arrived to make it happen. He was here to lead the peoples of the world out of the spiritual wasteland.
Ali looked to the skies and spread his arms wide, offering himself to Allah and the universe. The crowd’s cheers rushed through him. For a brief moment the whole meaning of existence became clear.
Chapter 43
It was night-time in Rome. Christiano looked out on the sea of candles in St Peter’s square and wondered if he should make one last appearance. The resolute crowd was showing no sign of dissipating, and he felt that it was his duty not to let them down. They had stopped calling for him a few hours back, but he knew that they were hoping for another blessing. They had been there for over thirty-six hours now, keeping a constant vigil just to catch even the occasional glimpse of their saviour.
Since his unveiling he had been kept busy with a constant stream of the sick, disabled, and terminally ill. First it had been the Romans, then the rest of the country, and by the time he was into the second day people were flying in from as far as America and Australia. They had all come wanting a miracle. They had not been disappointed. It amazed Christiano that he was able to keep going through it all. He’d expected to be tired, but the more people he treated the more energized he became. Now that the queue had gone and there were no genuine cases left to help, he felt a little empty and deflated.
“Are you okay, Christiano?” asked Vittori from his desk across the room.
“Yes, I am fine. I was just wondering whether I should go to the balcony again. The people are waiting.”
“Let them wait,” said Vittori. “It is nearly midnight. They cannot expect you to be on call twenty-four hours a day.”
“Why not?” said Christiano. “God never sleeps does he?”
“Perhaps not. But you will have to. You cannot continue to heal people if you are too tired to do so. You may not think it at the moment, but if you do not get some rest then you will hit a wall.”
Christiano sighed. “You may be right, but I just want to go and do something. I’m not sure I can sleep knowing that all these people are out there waiting for me.”
“Come and sit down,” Vittori said, gesturing to a seat. “Have some water with me. Or have a goblet of wine – it might help you to relax.”
Christiano sat down opposite the cardinal and poured himself a glass of water. “I don’t think wine would be a good idea,” he said. “I want to keep myself clear.”
“Your choice,” said Vittori. “I just want you to calm down a bit that’s all. We have a long road ahead of us and you need to keep yourself fresh. We must travel the world if we are to prove your existence to everyone. In a few days we leave for America.”
“America?”
“Yes.”
“But this is the home of our faith, why do we have to leave?”
“Because we cannot expect everybody in the world to come here. You must be seen to travel everywhere. I have arranged a tour. We go to America first because it is the most influential country in the world.”
Christiano slumped in his chair. He had been expecting to leave Rome at some point, but not quite so soon.
“Do you have a problem with America?” asked Vittori, sensing his apprehension.
“No, of course not. I just like it here, that’s all. This is my home. This is where I feel I belong. There’s so many people in the city that still need my help. There’s so many people in Italy that still need my help.”
“Of course there are,” said Vittori. “And you will be back here to help all of them. But there are over seven billion people out there who need your help as well. The Messiah doesn’t solely belong to Rome or Italy, he belongs to all the people of the earth. You may think of yourself as a local boy, but you are not, you are a symbol of worldwide unity. The vast majority of the world’s population cannot afford to fly to Rome, are you suggesting they should be denied seeing you because they are poor?”
“No, Your Eminence. I just wanted to stay a bit longer to build up my confidence. But if you think it is best to leave then I will of course do as you say.” He bowed his head.
Vittori sipped at his wine and studied his young charge. The last two days had been hard on the boy. He might not have felt tired, but the signs were beginning to show. His eyes were red and underlined with tiny bags, his shoulders were starting to sag, and his voice was becoming husky and cracked. Another thing that Vittori had noticed was a lack of respect creeping into Christiano’s manner. His previous deference to the cardinal had been replaced by an uncomfortable familiarity. He could sense the sprouting of the seeds of revolt. Whether this was down to tiredness he did not know, but he did know that it needed to be quashed before it got out of hand.
“I think you are quite ready for a journey Christiano. If you were not I would not ask you to go. I think the problem lies in the fact that you have never really been away from Rome. Perhaps you are worried about becoming homesick? It would be only natural. I cannot see why you would need to build up any more confidence – think of all the people you have already cured.”
Christiano nodded. “Yes, you are right. And perhaps I am slightly scared of travelling. I have never left Italy before.”
“Think of it as an adventure. You will see so much more of the world.”
“Yes, of course,” said Christiano. “But do you think I could perhaps take someone with me?”
“Who?” asked Vittori. “Your mother?”
“Er, no,” mumbled Christiano. “It is a friend of mine.”
Vittori sensed a hidden agenda. “What sort of friend?”
“I thought perhaps Sophia could join us, Your Eminence. You know – Sophia Zola?”
Vittori sighed. “Yes, I know Sophia Zola. I had no idea you two were friends though. You only met her a few days ago.”
“Yes, but we have been communicating online, and she has come to see me a couple of times.”
Vittori clenched his fists under the desk. He had given Christiano far too much leeway. He should have been locked away and guarded 24/7. But he had trusted the boy, and had not thought to question all his movements. “I didn’t realize you had been socializing when you should have been resting,” he said. “I allowed you that computer because I thought you were using it to relax in between studying.”
“I was,” said Christiano. “Chatting to Sophia relaxes me.”
“Maybe,” said Vittori. “But I did not give you permission to have guests in your room.”
“You didn’t say I couldn’t.”
Vittori made an effort to calm down. “No, Christiano, I did not say you could not have guests. But I thought that you would have had enough sense to know that your position is not conducive to fraternizing with the general public. You are supposed to be the Messiah.”
“Even Jesus was allowed friends. And besides, what’s wrong with Sophia – I thought you were a family friend.”
“I am, and there is nothing wrong with Sophia. She is a charming young lady who has been through a lot. I am just uncomfortable with your interest in her. She is a distraction that you could do without. I do not want your mind straying from the job in hand. And remember, you are supposed to be pure – we do not want the media speculating on whether or not you are romantically linked with somebody. That will not do at all.”
Christiano crossed his arms sulkily. “Look,” he said. “We are just friends. I don’t see why she can’t come with us as part of the entourage. Nobody’s going to say anything if she’s hidden amongst another hundred or so people. I’m not sure I want to go anywhere without her.”
Vittori boiled inside. The boy was getting way above his station. The problem was he needed him, and Christiano knew it. One of the reasons Vittori had been happy to choose Christiano for the role of Messiah was his
lack of female attachment. He was the perfect option: a devout young man who lived with his mother. But now Sophia Zola had appeared on the scene things were different. She was an unforeseen complication that needed dealing with immediately.
“Listen, Christiano,” Vittori said kindly. “I appreciate that you have obviously struck up a rapport with Sophia, but for the time being I really need you to concentrate on what you are doing. There will be plenty of time to see her once we come back to Rome. And you can still contact her via email while you are away. I am sure she will understand the situation.”
“Will she?”
“Yes, of course she will. Please, Christiano, it is important that you listen to me on this matter.” He looked his young charge in the eye. “What would your grandmother have said?” Vittori knew it was a low blow, but he was at his wit’s end and needed some leverage.
At the mention of his grandmother Christiano flinched. He saw the stern look in Vittori’s eye and decided that he may have taken his plight too far. “I am sorry, Your Eminence,” he said lowering his gaze. “Perhaps I am tired after all.”
“Yes, I think you are,” said Vittori. “And so am I. It is not a good time to discuss such things. We will talk again tomorrow when we are both more refreshed.”
Christiano yawned and stretched his arms. “I think I shall go to bed now. But perhaps I should go out and make another appearance first. Maybe just for a couple of minutes.”
Vittori slammed his palm on the desk causing Christiano to shrink in his chair. “No!” he commanded. “I told you – they can wait until morning.” He softened his tone. “Look, Christiano, I know your intentions are good, but you must let me make the decisions. If you keep going out there then your appearances will lose their effect. The less they see you, the more they will want to see you. I have arranged a schedule and I expect you to stick to it. Now, do you think you can accept that?”
A Sacred Storm Page 18
