The Celtic Conspiracy

by Hansen, Thore D.

  The guard standing next to Shane said, “Now they’ll say he’s insane and shoot him through the head. Then they’ll vote in a new pope.”

  “That will no longer be possible,” the ambassador said, still deeply shaken, as he laid the documents on the table. “Mr. Shane, did the pope give you anything else?”

  Shane grew nervous. Should he tell him? “Yes.” With his uninjured left hand, Shane took the Ring of the Fisherman, the symbol of papal power, out of his pocket and held it out to the ambassador on his outspread palm. “May I now find out what kind of documents I was carrying through the city?”

  The ambassador ignored Shane and quickly took his cell phone out of his jacket. “I need to call the master of ceremonies. He must bring the news to the cardinals before any other needless damage is done.”

  “What are these documents?” Shane asked again. “What kind of news?”

  “These are the termination papers for every cardinal throughout the world. Together with the missing Ring of the Fisherman...” Suddenly the ambassador, who had showed no emotion until now, began to tremble and broke into tears.

  The guard caught on quickly. He looked at Shane half in awe, half amused. “You see, if there are no cardinals in office, there can be no new election for a pope, and at the same time, the cardinals can only be named by the pope. Add to that the fact that you are carrying the unbroken Ring of the Fisherman, and you theoretically hold the highest office in this Church.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Theoretically.”

  Shane was growing uneasy. He wanted to go back to the Vatican. He wanted to protect the man who had just become a hero.

  In the meantime the ambassador had reached Cardinal Pertrose, the master of ceremonies. But as he explained to him what he had in his hand, he heard only a strange sigh and a loud thud.

  “Cardinal? Cardinal? Are you still there, Cardinal?”

  Just as Shane was about to leave the room to return to the Vatican, the door opened and Catamo entered.

  “Oh, thank the Lord, Catamo,” the ambassador said. “I have to talk with you. You need to make this public as quickly as possible. But brace yourself, this will be your last official duty.”

  “I know. The pope took me into his confidence several days ago.”

  “What?”

  Shane looked at Catamo’s face and gave him his uninjured hand before hurrying out of the room and the embassy.

  The guard followed him and hurried to meet him. “I think it would be better if I go with you, Mr. Shane.”

  All over the world, television stations had interrupted their normal programming. The pope was standing in silence at his window and praying. Most of the people had knelt down or were just standing there quietly and praying with him.

  For many, however, this moment wasn’t the end, but a new beginning, and it was such a liberating moment that they fell into each other’s arms in tears. People of all faiths were sitting in front of their television sets, Copts in Egypt, Jews in Jerusalem, Muslims in Tunisia, Buddhists, and many more. They all watched, awestruck by what this man had realized and accomplished. It was the strongest imaginable sign for peace throughout the world, a peace that now seemed possible.

  In her first comment on the events, President Branks hailed this step as a historic moment, the dawn of a new era in which fundamentalism and claims of omnipotence would be replaced by tolerance and freedom. She maintained that it would apply to politics as well, which in the future would be focused on the potential and the value of every living being and not on the greed and excess of a few.

  “The West has knelt long enough before the idol of commercial growth.”

  * * *

  Shane and the guard had the driver get them as close as possible to St. Peter’s Square. When Shane felt the weapon in his back pants pocket, he took it out and gave it back to the guard. “Thanks, though it didn’t really help me much.”

  The car came to a stop.

  “Are you ever going to tell me your name?”

  “Peter.”

  “I’m Adam. I’d love to talk, but I don’t want this man to be killed, like so many before him who wanted to change the world. Least of all him, since what he’s accomplished is really a miracle.”

  Shane opened the car door and got out.

  The Vatican had been taken over by pure panic. As the cardinals found out about their dismissal and the death of the master of ceremonies, some of them sat in the Basilica, stunned. Others were standing together, dumbfounded, in front of the pope’s rooms. All attempts to break through the door had suddenly stopped. At some point, the first of the church dignitaries took off his hat and left with his head bowed. Some of the others followed, while others continued to stand there, unable to move.

  In the rooms of the pope, the guards could breathe a bit easier as the noise abated. The pope had taken a normal priest’s robe out of the cupboard and put it on. Then he had two of the guards open the door, and those standing outside saw something that no one in the world could have imagined possible two hours earlier: the pope was going to leave the Vatican as he was—a simple man, a simple priest.

  When Shane and Peter had fought their way through the crowds to the entrance to St. Peter’s Basilica, the heavy doors suddenly opened. First came two Swiss Guards in traditional dress with their lances outstretched, then several cardinals who had remained true to the pope. As a sign of their solidarity, several of them had also put on simple robes. Then came the man himself, Giuseppe Mardi, who, until a few hours earlier, had been known as John Paul III.

  The last pope went slowly down the steps. When he saw Shane, he waved him over to his side.

  * * *

  In Dublin, everyone was sitting in front of the television set in MacClary’s library.

  MacClary ran his hands over his face. “I’m overwhelmed. Just overwhelmed. God, look at that.”

  “I don’t believe it,” said Jennifer. She saw Adam Shane—her Adam Shane—walking next to the pope through the crowd. The people were making way for them out of respect.

  “He’s wounded,” Jennifer said with a concerned look at Adam’s bandaged hand. What on earth had happened in Rome over the last several hours?

  “What’s going to happen next?” asked Ms. Copendale, who had been watching everything from her chair.

  “He’ll come to Ireland,” Deborah said, never taking her eyes from the screen. “The pope, I mean. The Irish government has agreed to take him. But this picture here...isn’t it incredible? Aregetorix was right after all. The return of the Druids isn’t a literal return. It’s simply the return of consciousness, that the divine expresses itself in an unending variety of ways. Do you realize that we’re watching this happen right now?”

  * * *

  The last pope turned to Shane and whispered, “Have I kept my promise?”

  Tears were streaming down Shane’s face. Suddenly a feeling he had never experienced flooded over him, a mixture of grief and joy, deference and dignity, all at the same time. For a brief moment, the two men stood and looked into each other’s eyes. The crowd around them grew still, as if it could sense that something was happening here, something so intensely overwhelming, the like of which had not been felt here for a long time, if ever.

  “You are a hero, Holy Father.”

  “From now on, please call me Giuseppe, Adam.”

  Slowly they continued on to the waiting limousine, where the driver was already holding the door open.

  “If you want to go to Dublin, my dear Adam, then come with me,” said the former head of the formerly most powerful church in the world.

  * * *

  “I’m slowly starting to believe that this is finally over,” MacClary said to those assembled around him. “This day will never be forgotten, and you have played a huge, painful part in it. I’d love to embrace you all.”

  On the television screen, the limousine was leaving the square.

  And suddenly you know: it’s time to begin something new and have faith in the
magic of a new beginning.

  —Meister Eckhart, Christian Mystic

  GLENDALOUGH, IRELAND – APRIL 8

  The United Nations had recognized the claims of the few direct descendants of the Druids, and after international experts had been allowed to look around the archives, they actually found a few more valuable items: philosophical tracts about the healing arts and architecture, works of art, and many other ideas that finally put to rest the image of the supposedly barbaric Druid tribes. MacClary had the three-ton stone with the spiral of life brought from the Magdalensberg to Glendalough as soon as he could. The transportation had cost a year’s salary, but he didn’t regret a single cent.

  Glendalough, in the middle of the Wicklow nature sanctuary, was one of the most beautiful treasures of Ireland and an important site in Ireland’s church history. From the surrounding hills, there was a breathtakingly beautiful view of two lakes. There were streams, forests, and little waterfalls, a mystical spot for dreaming. In the neighboring forest, the stone now rested in the middle of a circular clearing and gave the spot an almost solemn atmosphere, even if it was only a symbol of a culture long past. Who knew what the new culture would produce connected to remnants of the old?

  Shane had sat down a bit apart from the others. His cell phone had rung, and when he saw the number on the display, he felt hot and cold at the same time.

  “Victoria? I’m...I’m sorry that I haven’t called, but I’m guessing that you’ve got some idea of what’s been going on...”

  “You don’t need to apologize, Adam. But I have someone here who wants to see his father,” Victoria said without the least hint of reproach in her voice. “I hope you’ve finally found what you were searching for.”

  “Yes, Victoria, I think I have. Where is Jarod?”

  “A better question might be, where we both are,” she said with a soft laugh.

  “Why? What do you mean?”

  “We’re in Dublin. I thought it was high time Jarod saw where his grandfather came from.”

  “Victoria, you should come—”

  “I know where you are, and we’ll be on our way within the hour.”

  “There’s something else you should know,” Shane began, but she had already hung up. Shaking his head, he put his cell phone back in his pocket and went deeper into the woods. Jennifer and Deborah should be there somewhere.

  Ryan’s journey here ended at midday. His body had been brought in the cargo hold of an airplane from Washington to Dublin, and then he had been driven here. O’Brian and Sarah had carefully prepared everything that morning and his body had been laid on a pile of kindling at least six feet high.

  On the other side, many Irish people had laid another fire that would offer warmth to the guests in the evening. It would be a long night.

  Jennifer and Deborah watched the setting sun at the edge of the woods.

  “He would have liked this,” Jennifer said, giving Deborah a hug.

  Deborah was slowly recovering by being with her friends and had mustered some courage again. “Yes, he would have. I still can’t quite believe that he’s not here anymore. I keep thinking he’s going to come around the next corner any minute. It’s hard, Jennifer, even though I can sense his spirit here. But somehow things go on, and I am eternally thankful to you all that I can be here with you today. When I’m finally able to start cataloging the parchments, it will be better, though.” She smiled at Jennifer, took off her glasses, and began to clean them carefully.

  Shane came up from behind and sat down with them.

  “So is everything ready?” Jennifer asked.

  “Yes, we’re ready.”

  The paths leading to the clearing followed the four compass points, and several wooden buildings had been constructed in the forest. Here the remains of Celtic culture would finally find a home, in a central spot of the promised land of the Druids.

  “It’s an amazing place,” Shane said, his face beaming.

  “Tell me, how did you convince the pope to take this step?”

  “Me? I didn’t do it at all. He had already made up his mind, but he was waiting for the right moment. The man knew quite well that he was in mortal danger. If the Curia had even the slightest inkling how much he understood...”

  “But you told him something, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, an Irish legend that Thomas told me once.”

  “Do I have to twist your arm or are you going to tell me of your own free will?”

  Shane leaned back and crossed his arms behind his head. “In the tale of the sea journey of Arth, son of Comn, a young hero loses a game of chess and is forced to make a dangerous journey in search of a certain maiden. He has no idea where and how he can find this young woman, but he can’t get out of searching for her, so he travels off, from one dangerous situation to the next. He takes many wrong paths and endures much suffering, but when he finally finds her and returns home years later, the people greet him with jubilation and joy because his success also helps his people. The happiness of one is the happiness of all.”

  “That’s beautiful,” Deborah said, deeply moved.

  “Giuseppe must have understood the message behind it, since the unknown maiden was a metaphor for his search for God and for himself. This alone, apart from any control that could be found through a doctrine of salvation, means happiness for everyone in the end. In this story, the visionary Druids only wanted to express that each individual can achieve a large measure of insight if they develop their potential and remain free of indoctrination.”

  “How did all this get into your head?”

  “I can actually answer that. I learned it in my body, on the stone that is now in the clearing. Thomas had the theory that there is a universal knowledge that is saved for eternity like a memory. That is exactly what I experienced when I was lying on the stone in the cave. My memory. This kind of experience is possible for everyone.”

  Jennifer considered this. “Yes, the last few weeks have probably prepared every one of us for something that will awaken memory and this longing.” She stood up and stretched. “OK, enough philosophy for today. Come, it’s almost dark and nearly everyone is here already.”

  As Jennifer, Shane, and Deborah entered the clearing, they were stunned. People from every direction were streaming into the circle. Many of them were already standing in the middle. Ruth Copendale, Ronald MacClary, and the other Irish families were positioned in the first row around the stone.

  Then Shane saw several figures making their way through the crowd with torches, including a man in simple white clothing.

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “What is it, Adam?” Jennifer tried to get a better view.

  “Don’t you see him?”

  Jennifer’s eyes grew wide as she recognized the approaching figure of the one-time pope. As the old man arrived at the inner circle, the people welcomed him into their midst. Shane went up to the pope and with a smile took the Ring of the Fisherman out of his pants pocket. “A lovely thing, Giuseppe, and it’s a great temptation to keep. But I think it would be better in your possession,” he said as he laid the ring in his hand.

  Deborah stood next to Giuseppe Mardi as everyone in the circle held hands. Now Adam Shane spoke for the first time in front of the last descendants of the Druids. His voice was as fragile as autumn leaves as he looked at the pile of wood with Ryan’s body on it.

  “I am here today because I followed my heart and a vision that brought me to my roots. Our world often seems to be on the edge of a precipice because we are cut off from each other and feel helpless. But we are all bound one with another, even in death. I, you all, everyone here has an unending divine potential. The key to our freedom lies in self-determination and in the rejection of false feelings of guilt. The true miracle is that we are all in control of how we create our lives.”

  Shane gave the pope a penetrating look and then continued.

  “Even the last seventeen centuries were necessary to come to this point of
forgiveness. Today is a good day to invite all cultures to create this planet anew with our perception and our strength. We can do this. In humility and grief, I bow down before you, Thomas Ryan, descendant of Rodanicas, and release you into the autre monde, the other world, where you may find peace and serenity.”

  Together with Deborah, he walked up to the pile of wood and lit it with a torch. All of them stared into the flames that flickered around Ryan and everyone bid farewell to him in their own way.

  Then the long night began. From all four directions, more and more people streamed into the forest. Their faces reflected a mixture of redemption and excitement about what this turning point would bring. Everyone at that place knew that she or he would have a part in it.

  From the United States came a particular request from President Branks. She hadn’t forgotten what Adam Shane had entrusted to her the night before the announcement of her ambitious economic plan, and she invited him to work as an advisor for her.

  Jennifer and Deborah pulled Shane aside. “What do you think? Are you going to accept her invitation?”

  “Well, after this little cultural confusion, I don’t really know where I’m headed, but why not?” Shane said, half in jest.

  “Little?”

  “What are a couple of thousand years, Jennifer? In the last few weeks, I’ve realized that our spirit creates our reality.”

  Together they stared into the flames that were slowly engulfing Ryan’s body, the last Druid. Shane remembered his time with Thomas Ryan and his ability to recognize the whole universe in a leaf.

  I must create a system, or be enslaved by another man’s. I will not reason and compare, my business is to create.