The Dawn of Grace :: A Mystery and Suspense Christian Historical Fiction Comprising of Enduring Love and Glory (Revelation Book 1)

by Christian Hunt

  Startled, David looked up. “Oh, John,” he said, recognizing the priest from the church. “I’m sorry, I didn't expect to see you again tonight . . . here.”

  “I understand,” John said, his hands tucked inside his pockets.

  As if that would keep them warm out here, David thought. He couldn't help but notice that John seemed—comfortable, not cold in the least.

  “But you did not answer my question. Why would you be here so late?”

  “To tell you the truth, I’ve come to Prague from the U.S. to discover something.”

  “That looks familiar,” John said, pointing to the book held protectively in David’s arm. “May I see it?”

  Anxiety surged through David’s chest at the thought of letting someone else read, or even touch the book, but John had been so trustworthy up to that point, he couldn’t think of any reason not to believe him. Still, with reluctant hands David held the book out for John to see, thinking through his next move should the man, say, decide to turn and run? John took the book in his hands and began looking through it.

  “I see. There can be no question.”

  “No question of what?” David asked, wondering what John had seen in the book.

  “You are the Chosen One.”

  “I’m the what?”

  “Very few have been able to be the guardian of this book. I know the history of this book as I’ve always been here.”

  Finally, some answers. David leaned in closer as John handed the book back to him. “Please, you have to tell me what you know about this book.”

  John folded his hands in front of him as he gazed at David. Then he said, “The book you hold is known as the Wenzel Bible, which was created between the years of 1385 and 1400 by King Wenceslas IV. The illuminations were created by at least nine illuminati who repeatedly used the king’s own emblems in the manuscript which are symbols of his personal ideals.”

  “This Bible includes in its current state of six volumes more than one thousand sheets of the finest parchment. King Wenceslas had made one specifically for his wife, Sophia—that had the entire Old Testament, along with empty pages—where she could journal events in her life. The king was then imprisoned from 1402 to 1403 but later freed. Afterward, he came back into power, and King Wenceslas was gifted with an astronomical clock by its creator. The clock was completed in the year 1410. The king then gave this clock to his wife, Queen Sophia of Bavaria. Queen Sophia after becoming a dowager queen went through many difficulties that changed her life forever.”

  “To ensure that her future generations learned from certain tragic events surrounding her life, she decided to bring the book to the forefront. She had treasured it and placed it in the Strahov monastery. But due to all the unrest and the king’s imprisonment, she had felt the Wenzel Bible was safer in the monastery than in the castle in Prague. She used to write in the book from time to time. The monastery remained occupied until the Hussite movement in 1420 when it was attacked and plundered by the citizens of Prague. These crimes against the clergy made Queen Sophia decide to move the book back to her castle.”

  “Whoa,” David said, holding onto the balustrade for stability. “I had no idea.”

  John nodded gravely. “I’m sure your family will be fortunate to treasure and guard this book, and you will also experience similar life-changing events.”

  “Wait, what?” David, caught up in the drama of John's historical account of King Wenceslas and Queen Sophia, while ecstatic about finally receiving some answers, found the last revelation disturbing. “What’s the message for me here, then? I have no idea what’s next.”

  John smiled and said, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.” He paused a moment as if studying David's reaction. Then, “All is not as simple as you think. I bear a mystery and know more about the book than you do.” Pausing another moment that seemed to stretch on forever, John finally tilted his head and asked, “How did you come to find it?”

  David then proceeded to recount quickly the details of how Christophe and his friend discovered the book, and how he cracked the puzzle.

  “Intriguing,” John said, stroking his beard. “Very interesting. It sounds—like a search for treasure.”

  Another frigid wind blew across them then and the lamps—although David knew they were now electric—seemed to dim. Some primal instinct inside him seemed to claw at his soul, screaming to leave it alone, to just go, but he couldn’t. He needed to know more.

  “What's in this for me? Why here, why now?”

  “This book has brought you here to answer two of the most important questions in your life: what you need to know, and how to find your treasure. I will tell you some more stories, and they will answer almost everything.”

  Start a revolution. Love thy neighbor.

  Chapter Seven

  The Angel

  David’s head was still spinning as he turned back toward the hotel to rejoin his sleeping family. The tower clock had just struck 1 a.m. David couldn't believe it. Where had the time gone? If everything John had said was true, the answers he had been given only opened more questions. David wondered which parts of the story he could tell Amy without sounding like a lunatic. As he stepped off Charles Bridge, he paused beside a bench before sitting down to ponder things.

  If he was the guardian or keeper, as John had said, then there was so much more that he had to learn. God had chosen him for a purpose: a higher one. David’s heart tugged inside his chest as he considered those words. Who was he to be chosen for something as miraculous as being the keeper of this Wenzel Bible? Shouldn’t that go to someone who was purer of heart? Sure, David believed he was a decent human being, but that didn’t mean he felt worthy of fulfilling a holy calling or purpose.

  David leaned his head back against the bench and closed his eyes. A memory flitted through his mind, and he sat up suddenly. He wasn’t sure how he remembered or even knew about the story, but he did, a story about his grandfather . . . and a man named Andel. Wasn’t that angel in the Czech language? David’s brow furrowed, and he clenched his eyes shut as he tried to remember, but the memory faded into a dream that seemed to unfold in a direction of its own.

  As David sank into sleep, a story unfolded about a man who called himself Grandfather and his friend, Andel, who came to the United States at the same time, sailing together from Hamburg to New York on the Adler line in 1872. During the forty-two-days voyage, the two young men were inseparable. The only item that drove a wedge between their friendship was their divergent goals and dreams. Though they had been friends since childhood, the two had never seen eye to eye on how to live their lives. Andel conducted his daily affairs by consulting his Wenzel Bible, which he read every day at sea. Grandfather quickly recognized the book's monetary value, and told Andel what he thought he could fetch for it, should he run up against hard times. Andel was aghast. He cherished the book and guarded it with his life. Grandfather's disregard for something so spiritually tantamount in Andel's life made the rift that eventually drove them apart. Andel also had been a man of love and compassion, intending to devote his life to the service and care of others, while Grandfather had . . . other goals. He had been blinded by the lure of money, of American streets flowing with milk and honey, and of the promise of being able to rise to the heights of luxury. But he also had to be willing to pull himself up by the bootstraps, and hard work was something Grandfather factored into living the American Dream.

  Grandfather, by all outward appearances, had become successful by the time Andel came to him for a loan. He chided Andel for his silly bleeding heart and beliefs about giving his wages to the needy. In Grandfather's mind, no one in this new and enterprising American society had to be poor; everyone had a fair chance, he thought. But he also realized there was money to be made loaning money, and Andel was his friend.

  “You’ll never be able to pay me back, Andel,” he told him, replacing the pen in the inkwell on the top of his desk.


  “I will,” Andel said. “Have you ever known me to lie?”

  Grandfather steepled his fingers and gazed at his friend with a hard look. “You continue to insist on giving your wages to the needy. That’s what this loan is for, isn’t it?”

  Andel looked him straight in the eye, his knobby fingers gripping the desk. “I need the money to help someone in need, yes. You will get your money back with whatever stipulations you require.”

  Despite the hold that money had over him, Andel was his friend, and Grandfather still had a soft spot in his heart for him. “I must have some collateral then,” he said, “before I can lend you the money.”

  “Collateral?” Andel asked, looking perplexed. “You know that I own nothing of value.”

  “What of that Bible you have?” He swiveled his chair toward the window in his office, feigning disinterest.

  “The Wenzel Bible?” Andel asked, the shock in his voice reverberating off the walls.

  “Only as collateral, my friend,” Grandfather said. “When you repay your debt, you will get the Bible back.” He waited while Andel decided whether to accept the terms of the loan, knowing that the Wenzel Bible was worth a vast amount of money, more than even Andel, its faithful guardian, could comprehend. In reality, the book was priceless; Grandfather knew several museum curators and art collectors already who would bid the item into millions. He had been admiring it for as long as he could remember, yearning to possess the beautiful historical artifact.

  Andel nodded slowly. “I don’t see that I have a choice. My mother is very ill, and I must return to Prague to care for her. The money will help me with my voyage. When I get to Prague, I will look for work, and begin to send you repayments.”

  For a moment, Grandfather hesitated. He remembered Andel’s mother and her wonderful baked Lebkuchen that he helped decorate every Christmas. Could he be so callous to take this precious object from a man whose mother was dying? Had the wealth he gained while living in America really hardened his heart that much? Greed, however, shoved out any remaining sympathy he felt for Andel. If Andel failed to repay the loan, he forfeited the Wenzel Bible. A dark and covetous part of his soul was counting on it, and that thought appealed to him so much, he pulled out the lockbox where he kept his cash.

  Once Andel had returned to Prague, Grandfather had waited. No money came. When an opportunity arose for him to go to Prague for business in the summer of 1890, he decided that he was going to drop in on Andel. He also left the Wenzel Bible in America, a loan shark's tactic he'd recently adopted—knowing that the absence, but promise of the return of such precious collateral might be his best chance to keep the book and get back his money at the same time.

  Walking the streets where he used to play street hockey made Grandfather nostalgic. He glanced at the date window on his J. H. Allison pocket watch, noting it was already September 1. He had been traveling far longer than he’d anticipated, but now that he was here, he was going to take care of his business and go home.

  When he arrived at Andel’s residence, he knocked on the door. At first, there was no answer, so he pounded again.

  “What’s going on out there?” An old woman with her hair up in a kerchief appeared at the upstairs window of the house next door.

  “I’m looking for Andel,” he shouted back.

  The woman glowered at him. “He’s not here.”

  “Well, is his mother here? Perhaps I could talk to her,” he said.

  “Poor woman passed a month ago, God rest her soul,” the old woman said, making the sign of the cross.

  Grandfather felt a brief flash of sadness, followed by a rush of anger. He was sure that Andel had disappeared with his money, never once intending to repay the loan. Rage rushed over him, and he turned toward the street, unsure what he was going to do next. When he found Andel, he was going to recoup his money, maybe pressure him to sell his late mother's property. After all, Andel was such a good guy; he would certainly acquiesce.

  “He goes to the Charles Bridge to sketch people,” the old woman called after him. “Usually early in the morning. That’s the best time to catch him.” Grandfather spun around toward the house again, but she'd disappeared before he could ask anything else.

  Grandfather pondered this information, staring for a long moment at the empty window. Finally, he turned and walked back to the room he had rented. He decided that he would go in two days’ time to catch Andel. If the old woman told Andel that some infuriated American was looking for him, all the better. He wanted him to worry, and he banked on the likelihood that Andel had no place else to go.

  The morning of September third, the day he had chosen, Grandfather left Old Town Square at four a.m., walking toward the Charles Bridge. Darkness still shrouded the river, and he knew that he had the advantage of surprise over Andel. All was silent on the bridge for a while, but just before sunrise, he noticed someone coming. His heart began to beat faster as he recognized Andel.

  Andel stopped and stood near the middle of the bridge, looking down at the churning water. A light drizzle had begun, but Andel did not produce a sketchpad, umbrella, or make any attempt to leave. Grandfather stood frozen as the city suddenly seemed to come alive. The rain fell harder. People began to emerge from the darkness, running in different directions. The sound of cannon fire could be heard in the distance, and Grandfather grew alarmed when he recalled that the cannon was used to alert Prague's citizens about flash floods—therefore the need to clear the bridge. He would have to finish his business with Andel quickly, he decided.

  As he approached, he could not help but notice the expression on Andel’s face. His old friend was staring down at the roiling water with a repose that made Grandfather shiver despite himself. Andel’s countenance was flat and without emotion—and yet, even that wasn't an accurate description. He stared into the water as if nothing in the world mattered to him, just a dead calm, and an expressionless serenity which only served to increase Grandfather’s agitation.

  Shoving down all other emotions, including his rage, Grandfather felt a rush of grim pleasure sweep over him. He smiled, for he had found his prey. With a wicked smile, he approached Andel. “I knew how to hunt you,” he said.

  Standing under the statue of St. Francis Xavier and staring placidly at the rough, rising river, Andel said, “What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for you. I have nowhere to go. I knew you would come for me.”

  Grandfather frowned. How could Andel have been so certain about that? Still, he asked, “How did you know I would come?”

  Andel looked at him with a beatific smile that sent another chill through Grandfather’s blood. His old friend looked so . . . calm, and there seemed to be a faint ethereal glow around his entire body. “Dear friend,” he said. “We've known each other our entire lives. God has enriched all my days with His tender mercies; how could I not share the same clemency with my brethren? He molds each of us like clay, my friend—and you, too, will soon observe Him sifting and shaping the fronds of your heart. God always has a better plan, and it just so happens that your heart sings most joyfully when you love and forgive others.”

  Grandfather cackled. “How can you melt a heart of stone? You have no idea who you're dealing with. Love? Forgiveness? Those aren’t words in my vocabulary. Life is about benefiting and enriching one's existence. These are the things that make me happy. I will never be a fool like you, who wasted your life on others, giving it all away and having nothing to show for who you are.”

  Andel looked back at the river. “'Brother, do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. The time has come,” he said. “You will see a new life this very day.” He turned to his childhood chum with a smile. “Look, my friend, see what’s coming for us.”

  Grandfather turned, fear sweeping through him as he saw the floodwaters rushing toward them. Instinctively he lunged towa
rd Andel; he needed to save the other man, or else he would never get his money. But Andel held fast to the statue.

  The water had risen quickly, and the bridge rumbled under their feet. The roar of the river filled their ears, and Grandfather knew that he had to make a decision now. A blinding deluge of rain thrashed down upon them, and he could barely see his old friend standing merely a few feet in front of him. If he left the bridge immediately, he might be able to save himself, but Andel would surely be lost. Fear gripped his heart but propelled his feet forward.

  Before Grandfather could take two paces into the driving rain, water slammed into the balustrades and rushed over the top of the bridge. The swift current wrenched Andel away from the statue, Grandfather grabbing for him. In the corner of his vision, he saw a log break through the balustrade, heading straight for them. In a matter of seconds, the log crashed into them, sweeping the two men off their feet into the raging current. Carried by the water's force, he and Andel fell into the river, submerged and pinned against a pier beneath the bridge.

  The rushing water roared over them. The two men surfaced, gasping for air as the water continued surging into their faces, pulling them under again.

  “We need to swim to the riverbank!” Grandfather shouted above the roar of the water. He clung desperately to the pier with one hand and tread with the other, trying to keep his mouth above water.

  Andel, his arms pinned by the log that held them, looked at him with serenity. “The truth is,” he yelled, “that only one of us can survive. If we push the log together, one of us can make it out. And that is going to be you. This is where it will end. Goodbye, my friend. You will not have to fight or carry on alone. That I promise you. Have faith. Believe in the goodness of Our Lord, and you will have someone with you to pull you to the end of the bridge. This truly is how I must end and how you must be saved.”

  Suddenly Andel was gone, submerged by the water, and Grandfather cried out. He struggled to free himself from the log, kicking with all his might. “Andel!” he screamed. He implored fate, Mother Nature, and the heavens for help. Was Andel now free, and he was not? He searched the murky water for some sign of his friend, alternately submerging and fighting to resurface for air. An overwhelming sense of relief swept through his burning lungs when Andel reappeared, coughing and gasping for breath. Andel turned to him, the same eerie sense of calm belying any fear that should have otherwise overtaken him. “I've always believed compassion is within you,” he shouted. “And that you will save others. Now, let us push together.”