—William Blake, Irish Poet
Shane stood on the spiral of life and looked up at the stars. Tears of grief and joy had sprung into his eyes. Jennifer joined him on the stone and took his hand. They both looked up at the sky. Near them, children were dancing around the fire, his son Jarod among them. He was happy to see Jennifer and Victoria talking with each other. A little bit later they came up and sat down with him on the stone.
Shane let the memory of the last few weeks wash over him. Someone had spoken of success, even of victory. He couldn’t even begin to think of using terms like that. He hadn’t been the one to make the Church collapse, nor had it been the group of people with whom he’d spent the last few weeks. And so many of the Druids’ secrets remained hidden to them and would probably never see the light of day.
But humanity had a chance. Perhaps we can finally accept the possibility that there is no divine plan and that we are alone with that which we have, he thought. And perhaps we can finally value what we have.
No, he didn’t feel any sense of triumph. The Druids, like the Roman and Greek philosophers, had been concerned with rational knowledge. In the interest of power, other influential thinkers had allied themselves with the political leaders of their time and given people what they longed for, in their fear and helplessness: the concept of a single God. Just as the Christian tracts and the practice of the Catholic Church had very little in common with Jesus Christ, the countless brotherhoods and lodges who were bidding farewell to Thomas Ryan this evening had no clear idea of the original Druidism.
It just wasn’t enough to make a Druid robe and to insist on the legitimacy of any kind of ritual. Still, there was the possibility of searching for the spiritual and ethical principles that lay behind these legends and songs and hero’s tales. There was the possibility of remembering, as the Christians had just remembered the true message of Jesus Christ in St. Peter’s Square and throughout the world. Shane was sure that the respect for different faiths, for different perceptions of reality, was as much a part of this as the respect for the earth.
For a moment he felt an enormous responsibility resting on his shoulders. But then his gaze passed over the clearing, the people, the happy children, and finally rested on Jennifer’s face, and the love that radiated from her eyes.
I would like to thank my publisher, Christian Strasser, who not only had his heart in the right place, but also recognized the signs of the times, a time in which a new consciousness is searching for historical truths. In particular, I am grateful to my editor, Ulrike Strerath-Bolz, for all the inspiration and a fantastic working relationship. And my thanks as well to Wolfgang Ziegert, who has been a true teacher, friend, and discussion partner for a long time.
Thanks as well to Naomi L. Kucharsky, who so successfully championed this novel. I am especially grateful to my partner, Verena Strobl, an uncompromising reader and visionary who coached and inspired me, and I must also thank my parents, who have supported me in everything I do.
Further thanks are due to the numerous experts in ancient history and jurisprudence for their generous advice, and to the numerous critics of the Church, from whose experience and writings I was able to learn so much.
Photograph © Mathias Lenz, Wien
THORE D. HANSEN was born in Northern Germany in 1969. Since completing his studies in political science and sociology, he has worked as a journalist and communications consultant in Germany and Austria. In 1994, he did research at MIT in Boston on US-foreign affairs. A relative of Nobel Peace Prize winner and North Pole explorer Fridtjof Nansen, Mr. Hansen has become an avid student of his Scandinavian heritage. His passion for the cultural historical backdrop and consequences of monotheistic religions as well as the pagans of antiquity brought him to his first novel, The Celtic Conspiracy.
The Celtic Conspiracy Page 33