by Athanasios
In June, Cardinal Giovanni Battista Montini succeeded Blessed John XXIII and became Paul VI, the 262nd head of the Romans. He succeeded in the middle of the Second Vatican Council, going into its second year of debates on canon laws. Kosta wondered if something had come up during the debates that warranted change in policy, or if the old Blessed John simply departed of his own accord. In any case, it wasn’t important enough to warrant further attention.
In August, Adam looked for Kingsmen’s Louie, Louie on the radio, but it wasn’t easy to find, once labeled obscene. This prompted the purchase of a record player, and in every town at which they stopped; he hunted for the latest .45’s. They begain their new life on Digby Island and watched Martin Luther King’s speech at the Lincoln Memorial on the news, which spanned an entire half hour, instead of the previous 15 minutes. CBS and NBC had started this trend; ABC quickly followed suit.
Once they settled into their secluded shack, Kosta set about procuring the biggest antenna he could find, allowing Adam to completely surrender to entertainment. Most parents would have been horrified if their children watched television and did nothing else, but Kosta sat with Adam and talked about most everything they watched. Whenever there was nothing worthy of their attention, they turned to Adam’s studies. Long before, Kosta decided that he would teach him all he learned from his travels and investigations. First, he taught Adam the basics he would need to survive in society. He taught him to read, how to write, arithmetic, basic social graces, civility and constructive thinking.
Kosta had long since ceased to be surprised by anything Adam did. He also ceased to remind himself that the boy was just over a year and a half old. He walked and conducted himself like a perfect little ten-year-old gentleman. Once they were in one place, Adam even developed friendships with some of the native Tsimshian children on Digby. Kosta never told him they were different and Adam never noticed.
Kosta looked around himself, the way Adam was focused on the television and breathed an uneasy sigh of relief. He was sure that he had been careful about covering his tracks. He was also sure the preemptive strike he dealt the Luciferians was the best thing he could’ve done, though the audacity of the act was troubling. Soon, he would make preparations for the remote possibility that he would have to defend his home against many who wanted to take, or to harm, Adam.
- Sangrael Gospel - Depth of Correction VI: Wounded Rib II -
TIME: MARCH 17TH, 1211 AD. BETHLEHEM CAVE OF ST. BARTHALEMY, ORNOLAC, FRANCE
The Cathari Bishop sat in the cave of Bethlehem and despaired. His church was under assault and was literally being invaded. Father Guzman failed in belligerent attempts to convert Credentes in Languedoc. He believed no argument was able to stand against his Catholic intellect but discovered otherwise.
For years the Cathari complied with their demands, but this proved to be wasted effort. All of the Perfecti, their priests, believed they would see reason, but Father Guzman’s Catholics wanted obedience and any deviation from their dogma was no different than open opposition. Guzman publicly stated the Perfecti disagreement secured every Credente’s slavery and death, for he would return with Papal admonition and the wrath of God. In 1208, Innocent declared the only crusade ever leveled at Christians, with Simon de Montfort as its spearhead.
Absolutely no quarter was given and almost two years after their invasion, the Cathari Bishop, Pierre du Sans Savoir, saw the end of all their beliefs, and world was in sight. A year earlier, Beziers was taken and over twenty thousand souls were put to death. No one was spared; the city razed to the ground. There were Catholics who also lived among the Cathars in Beziers, and they appealed for mercy. Their peaceful coexistence with the Cathari won them no favors and the crusaders replied, “Kill them all. Let God sort it out.” The king of France did nothing to oppose the crusade. Even though Phillip II was fighting the English to the north, he sent some men to join the crusaders, in an attempt to win land and favor from the pope. This was license for the crusaders to do whatever they wished. Rape, pillage and wholesale slaughter were normal occurrences.
With the Bishop Sans Savoir came William de Chartres, Templar Grand Master and his most trusted Seneschals, lieutenants. One of William’s Seneschals, Pedro de Montaigne, drew his sword in response to a sound coming from the path of the cave chapel. William put up his hand to quiet him when out of the dark emerged Natalie de Merovingian, a Perfecti, revered by the Templars. Only when he became Grand Master had William learned Natalie was of the Sangrael. He maintained his predecessors’ reverence for the woman and bowed to his knees, as he had for the bishop. He knew, without question his two Seneschals would follow. Pedro sheathed his sword, and with a tinkling of their chainmail, he and Armond de Peigord emulated their Grand Master’s humble bow.
“Please, good knights, let us not stand on formality. It is I who should thank you for all the aid you have given our order during this terrible time. Please, rise. I am but a humble bonnefemme; do not abase yourselves. My blood is no more easily spilled than your own.” Natalie had long before stopped being tired of the respect that the Templars showed her. Behind her, Simon soundlessly entered, and as usual, spoke without anyone having noticed his presence. The bishop learned to be more at ease but still felt unnerved, like a lamb with a sentinel wolf, which could turn from guardian to ravager.
“So, all are here to take stock of our dire situation.” The voice came from the darkness and seemed to be no more than a few feet away, just beyond the reach of the torchlight. It startled most, and put the knights on the defense. The bishop felt a foreboding, akin to that which he had only experienced when wresting unfortunates from possession. Only Natalie had little reaction beyond acknowledgement. “However, the unfortunate thing is that we never had any chance for a peaceful settlement.” Natalie never sounded so fatalistic.
“We spoke openly and exchanged ideas and gave into every request the Catholics made. We can do nothing more,” Bishop Sans Savoir stated, voicing what everyone thought.
“Yes, your eminence, but the Catholics never wanted discourse. They talked to you, hoping to salvage as much of your holdings as they could. Now, they have run out of patience.” When William realized the voice did not bother Natalie all that much he relaxed.
“The Grand Master is right,” the voice agreed. “They — Innocent and the pontiffs before him —never bargained with anyone. It was always a tactic to save as much as they were able.”
“They can have it all, for we don’t care enough to keep it. At least not at the cost of lives wasted in this invasion.” After hearing that most of the inhabitants of Bezier were slaughtered like sheep, the bishop felt numb.
“They want more than your lands,” the voice seemed to mock. “They also want the hearts and the souls of Toulouse, Albi and Carcassonne. The Cathari proved better stewards of the people than the Catholics, and they do not accept defeat.”
“They won’t even acknowledge any wrongs,” Simon continued. “On the road to find God we are on an equal path, but the Catholics demand that there is only one path — theirs.”
“It is not a road,” Natalie continued, “It is a long field, on which anyone can trace their own path to their destination.”
“This discussion does nothing for our plight,” the voice interjected. “We must salvage what we can from this flowering among the Languedocs.” He went on in a longing voice; “Minstrels and troubadours will sing songs of us, as we now throw alms so they stop their chatter.”
Despite herself, Natalie chuckled. “You mean that all our efforts and thoughts will become the prattle of entertainers? Indeed, that would be funny. We will become the subject of legends, myths, songs and poems.” She shook her head in amused disbelief.
“This is not funny,” the bishop replied as he cradled his head in his hands. He gripped tightly, hoping it would check the rising panic in his heart. “Are you telling us our lives, as well as the lives and the souls of our Credentes, are forfeit?”
“Yes. Alas, Bisho
p Sans Savoir, that is inevitable. No one can stand against the Catholic Church,” Simon continued what had already begun with Natalie and her initiate.
“Why not join us, Bishop? Our order would welcome you into our ranks and Innocent could do nothing to stop it. We are not relegated to a region; we are everywhere. We have chapter houses throughout Christendom. They cannot mount a crusade against crusaders. We will give asylum to any and all of your Perfecti,” the Grand Master stated, offering an intriguing escape for the bishop.
“We are not warriors, Sir William, but some of us will accept your offer, so that what we have taught is not destroyed.” The bishop looked crestfallen, but after a moment, he smiled weakly and laid his hand on Natalie’s shoulder for support. “Yes, we will bring over our relics, holiest of holies, so they won’t become tools for Rome’s insistence their word is the only word of God.”
“Not all of our brothers are men at arms, Bishop. We have many who administer to our holdings and our organization. We will not force anyone to do anything beyond their abilities.” William said.
“At least the Arc of the Covenant, and the head of the Baptist, will have company now,” the voice added. “I do not begrudge you, Master de Chartres, the artifacts you will take into holding. The thing you may not see you invite ruin on your order. The mandilyon and the rest of the treasures of faith we hold, will attract others who wish to claim them.”
“The Knights Templar answer to no man, sir, and I have trouble talking to voices in the dark. Show yourself.” William was unnerved by the even tone with which the voice continued.
“Everyone answers to somebody. It is true you answer to no man, but you do answer to God on earth, and he holds supreme authority over you. It was he who decided to invade the Cathari lands. Be careful, Master de Chartres. You and everyone in your order must become a smaller target. You are calling too much attention to yourselves. If anything, take what is happening to us as an example. The Cathari grew too powerful, too wealthy. The Vatican does not, will not, suffer competition.”
“There is no king or nobleman who would stand against us,” William stated. “Even if we cannot openly oppose them, we would ruin them financially. Since the second Crusade, we have been moving money for most of Christendom’s nobility.”
Alumnos added, “Now, the Pope has a force thirty thousand strong, and composed of troops from every country under the Catholic cross. There is very little you can do, or are doing. We are all grateful for the help.”
“Sir, this child’s play of hiding is tiresome. Come forward,” William interjected.
“No, I will not show myself, sir. I do not want to be seen, and that should be sufficient. That you wish to see to whom you’re speaking is tiny, compared to my need to remain hidden.” The voice went on, “Bonnefemme Natalie, we will go with the Bishop of Muriet and begin moving our relics. Is Peter of Aragon still holding Muriet’s walls?”
“Master de Chartres, please don’t trouble yourself with Alumnos. He is our truest friend. He has done more for our cause than you can believe and has been my brother since we were young. I know him better than I know myself, as does he.” Natalie’s face showed warmth, which none questioned and all understood. “I, alone, will go with the Bishop. My friend, you will have to go with Simon to Mont Seguire and take care of the relics there.”
“I will not leave your side, Natalie. Don’t ask this of me, for it is too dangerous.” Alumnos was pained to hear the plans.
“This is how it has to be, Initiate,” the bishop admonished. “Our Templar fellows will be with us. Don’t worry; we will all meet at Montsegur.”
Heavy footfalls came from the darkness and a blue robed figure stopped just out of the firelight.
“Please, Bishop. I beg you, Natalie, don’t leave. I fear the worst.” The robed legs, though barely visible, indicated a man of giant proportions. Natalie walked to him, and together, they disappeared into the darkness.
“This has to be, Alumnos. Even if I don’t make it you know this is not the final incarnation. If all goes well in the next life we will finally be one. Don’t despair. Whatever happens, we will meet again,” Natalie soothed.
“I don’t want this, Natalie. Your promises are all weak. How do you know for a certainty we’ll be together again? I’m not so sure now.” His voice quivered at the point of tears.
“My best friend, my brother, you know we will. We have the proof within ourselves. Have you forgotten Thermopylae, Golgotha, the arena, the killing on the plains of Byzantium? Each taught us we have to be strong and vigilant in order to return at our most powerful.” Her words and argument weren’t contrived, but natural. Their emotion and depth touched everyone in the cave. Simon listened, his own feelings entwining with the longing he heard. The bishop felt a deeper peace because of it. The three knights were more resolute in their loyalty for each other, their Order. It was doubly reinforced, because it came from one of the blood of the rose.
When Natalie returned, Alumnos followed and everyone gasped. As she continued forward, a wall of blue cloth followed her. Once within the cave, Natalie coaxed Alumnos forward until he was fully revealed. Unconsciously, Armond reached for the hilt of his sword but without a sound his Master stayed his hand. William shook his head at his attendant.
Alumnos stood uncomfortably as everyone scrutinized his massive height and breadth. He was a full two feet taller than anyone else present, and his shoulders and deep chest were half as large as even the stoutest Templar. The hood of the dark blue Cathari cloak was drawn down covering most of his face and leaving the rest in shadow. What could be seen was a square jaw, scarred from the whip.
“Now you understand why I dislike being seen, Sir William.” The spaces between the words were overstuffed with the mixed revulsion, fear and pity he hated. “It doesn’t matter any longer. We are all doomed in this life. Nothing matters, aside from what we can salvage of our beliefs.” His voice was resolute, in acceptance of the fate, which they all came to accept.
Simon went forward and stood beside him, close enough to see under the hood. Alumnos did not look away, but sighed, ready for anything. Simon nodded, adding, “There is much more to you than is visible, my friend. You did not need to hide. This revelation changes absolutely nothing for me.”
Alumnos’ jaw dropped in shock. Only Natalie had accepted him without question or reproof. Not even his mother and father had wanted him, but were terrified of him. Some of the scars on his face were from the one who gave him life.
He closed his jaw and it quivered with emotion. He said nothing, not trusting his tears wouldn’t overtake him. Simon recognized a silent gratitude, as towering as his proportions, and answered it with an accepting smile.
“To Montsegur, my friend. But first, we must secure what was brought to the cave churches in Ornolac.” Simon placed a hand on his shoulder. “Fear not for your elder Perfectais, Alumnos. She will join you as she promised, either in this life or the next. Godspeed, everyone.”
Simon turned and walked into the darkness, without need of a torch, and the voice followed him.
- Dark Revelation -
TIME: NOVEMBER 12TH, 1963. SECRET ARCHIVES, VATICAN
Father Martin looked up from his reading to see one of the Secret Archive guards stride up and take a seat in front of him. Hours earlier, the man formally ushered him in; so the father was puzzled he now sat down, wordlessly.
He looked at him with an icy detachment. “The Roman Ritual won’t work with me, Father.” Neither the guard’s face nor eyes reacted to Martin’s controlled shock. Father Martin lost count of how many exorcisms he had performed. At all there had been outward signs of the demon’s presence, yet there was none here. The air did not become cold, nor did it turn foul with a corrupt presence, but once the words had left the guard’s mouth the breath carrying them shook the air.
In return, Martin looked at him more closely. He was accustomed to slavering and cursing demons, but with this new example, he proceeded carefully. “Who ar
e you?” His question carried none of the terror he felt. The guard took a long time to respond.
“I have come to find a codex. I did not know there would be anyone else here. The Templar left hours ago.” He continued to scan the shelves. “Where are the Book of Magus and Sangrael Gospel?” The question was not asked in a demanding tone, but it certainly wasn’t rhetorical.
“Who are you? I am Father Lancaster Martin and I work for Cardinal Bae, who is under orders from Pope Paul. You have chosen badly to come here. I have no intention of helping you find those books, but I may let you leave unmolested if you tell me your name.” At the mention of his bad judgment, Father Martin saw that the guard’s eyes registered outrage.
“We know who you are, and who your superiors are, but they are trivial.” The guard continued, “Get the codexes and I’ll let you live.”
“Get them yourself.” Martin was not shaken by the threat. His life was constantly in danger; this was simply an one. “If you want them, why not just hire someone to take them? I’m sure you could find someone who would do it, or you could have someone hire them.” Martin added, “The codexes are important enough you could not take a chance on anyone else retrieving them, so you came yourself.”
Finally, the eyes began to take an active notice of Martin.
“What do you want, Father? Is there anything a pious man, such as yourself, would like, which is forbidden to have? Men, such as your superiors — this Cardinal Bae and Pope Paul — have allowed us to take care of many of their needs. Boys, girls, women, money, at times, animals; we are not judges, whatever you desire, we will give.” The eyes watched for a reaction to any of the proffered forbidden pleasures. “Simply name the desire.”
“Who are you and who are your superiors? Who are the ‘we,’ or the ‘us,’ to whom you refer?” Martin asked.
“Superiors, I have no superiors, Father. I know the codexes are here and I know you have seen them. Even as we speak, you understand their significance. Now, go and find them and then name your price, or whatever gifts you want — anything. Fail and I’ll kill you, horribly and slowly.” He finished with the same tone that he would use to describe dissecting an insect.
