by Stan Mason
She moved towards him and took hold of his hand. ‘You have healing hands. Why don’t you use them for that purpose? You could get as much attention from your healing powers, especially if you cure people who have been failed by the medical profession.’
He stared down at his hands dolefully. ‘Can I do that? I’ve only cured people with minor ailments before.’
‘With my help I’m certain you’ll succeed.’
Warrior moved his head from side to side as though making a decision. ‘I’ll set up a surgery in the morning and contact the local newspaper. It’s bound to attract people.’
‘And there’s another thing you can do,’ she advised him. ‘Go to churches on Sundays. Tackle the priests in their own lairs. Challenge them for their single belief. Beard them in their own dens!’
He moved his hands to hold them up in defence. Hold on! I’d be lynched if I did that. The congregation would tear me to pieces!’
She laughed lightly. ‘I’d be there to protect you.’ She moved away to go to the foot of the bed again. ‘I must go!’ she said as a token of farewell.
He turned his head to look at her but she had vanished. The situation was almost unreal. He stared at Rebecca who was still snoring lightly and shrugged his shoulders. All th sexual desire which had built up inside him was gone but he still couldn’t get Xantha Vesta’s face out of his mind. He was totally obsessed by the Goddess of Love, hounding him like a popular tune which kept repeating itself inside his head. But what of his relationship with Rebecca from the moment on? There was a distinct difference between the two women. Rebecca was real whereas Xantha Vesta was not. It was a case of being forced to accept reality!
***
The news of the scant attendance at the messenger’s meeting delighted the members of the Christian Action Group as they gathered once again at David Hamilton’s house. The same five people sat around the table to offer their opinions about Warrior’s progress.
‘I’m glad to say the man’s last meeting was a total disaster,’ he began in a victorious tone. ‘Our decision to desist in any action was absolutely correct.
‘And we should continue to do the same thing,’ suggested Reilly curtly.
‘I don’t agree,’ countered Toomey, continuing his vendetta against the messenger. ‘It was a blip. A big blip! He’ll make an impact if we do nothing... as sure as eggs is eggs.’
‘Eggs are eggs!’ corrected Dobson to receiver a glowering response from the other man.
‘We did nothing,’ commented Brown, ‘and look what happened. More of the same thing, I say!’
‘Unfortunately things have taken a turn for the worse,’ related the Chairman dismally. ‘I’ve learned that he’s going to broadcast on television in a programme called ‘Hot Shot’.
‘Television!’ gasped Dobson in shock.
‘I know that programme,’ submitted Reilly. ‘It’s a contentious one which ploughs the dregs of society to shock viewers.’
‘Do people actually watch such rubbish?’ enquired Brown tentatively.
‘Like bees to a honey pot,’ stated Reilly bluntly. ‘Give them the dirt and the undesirables involved and the public will watch it.’
‘Well let him go on damned television!’ snapped Dobson irately. ‘He’ll be regarded as a fool and a bigot. He’ll die a death on it.’
‘It’s all wrong,’ complained Toomey bitterly. ‘His message will go out to millions of people! In no time, we’ll have lots of messenger claiming the same thing all over the world.’
‘It’s true,’ corroborated Brown. ‘There’ll be lots of them all over the world.’
‘How do we stop him?’ asked the Chairman feebly. ‘The programme hosts, scientists, priests, doctors, psychiatrists, and experts in every field. It rarely has a counterbalance for truth or reason.’
‘We were all at sea at the last meeting,’ continued Toomey tiredly. ‘Nothing’s changed as far as I can see. It’s got worse with our decision of passive resistance. Are we going to wallow in self-pity while he makes fools of all of us? I mean has this committee got teeth or not?’
‘What you suggested last time was illegal. We can’t go against Christian provincials and break the law. That goes without saying!’
‘Then what’s the point of meeting if we can’t do anything more than passive resistance?’ moaned Toomey. He was becoming tired of the sterile arguments presented by the other members of the committee. We could go on like this ‘til doomsday! Physical violence is the only way. Legal or illegal, it doesn’t matter.’
‘And put our heads on the block,’ spluttered Dobson. ‘I don’t think so! If you want to do something like that, it’s entirely up to you. This committee can’t possibly endorse such action!’
‘I still say we ought to dig up the dirt on his character,’ insisted Brown. ‘Look into his past and find the skeletons there.’
‘And what if we didn’t find anything?’ demanded Reilly sharply.
‘There’s always something to find,’ persisted Brown enthusiastically hoping to drum up some support for the idea.
‘Trouble is it’ll take time,’ submitted Dobson slowly. ‘And that’s something we haven’t got if the man’s going on television shortly.’
‘Everyone’s something to hide,’ continued Brown unabated. ‘This man’s no exception to the rule.’
‘What does the committee think about that suggestion,’ advanced the Chairman pleased that the edge had been taken off the subject of physical violence. Silence reigned in the room. ‘May I have someone to second the motion?’
‘I will,’ cut in Reilly.
‘Can we have a show of hands?’ Brown, Dobson and Reilly raised their hands which meant that the Chairman was able to pass the motion, ‘Very well, Mr, Brown, we’ll leave it up to your to start the ball rolling. Are you willing to do that?’
‘Of course,’ came the reply, although he had no idea how to set about the investigation. He had dug a pit for himself and would have to find a way out of it.
‘What are we going to do in the meantime?’ asked Toomey angrily.
‘Perhaps the television programme will be his undoing,’ stated Hamilton easily. ‘They don’t take prisoner’s on it. I know, I’ve watched it. On the other hand, let’s hop they don’t make him a martyr.‘
’A martyr!’ echoed Dobson in surprise. ‘Do you mean like Jesus Christ?’
‘Steady on!’ intervened the Chairman curtly. ‘Remember we’re all Christians here!’
Toomey stood up and placed his chair against the table neatly. ‘If that’s all there is to say, there’s no point in me staying,’ he told the committee point-blank. I can’t see any other means of stopping him than by breaking his legs. Illegal it may be... ,,unchristian that too. When the committee comes round to my way of thinking I’ll return. Until then, I’m going to use my time more profitably.’ He turned on his heel and opened the door only to be halted by the words of the Chairman.
‘Why don’t you sit down and discuss the matter more fully,’ suggested Hamilton.
‘What’s the point?’ retorted the Committee member. ‘You won’t take the bull by the horns!’ With that comment, he departed, closing the door firmly behind him.
The Chairman exhaled loudly and raised his hands before him. ‘Are there any more comments or ideas?’
They droned on for another fifteen minutes without coming to any further conclusions. After they had gone, Hamilton sat at the table with his head in his hands. The committee was not working well. No good ideas were coming forth yet something had to be done. Suddenly, there was a rapping on the front door and he answered the call to face Gabby Saunders.
‘I saw the others leave,’ he began with a broad grin on his face. ‘I wanted to talk to you because I’ve worked out a plan.’
‘Come in,’ invited the
Chairman reluctantly because Saunders was not the kind of person he liked to have in his home. ‘Do sit down!’
Saunders sat in one of the chairs and leaned forward, the arms of his dirty shirt resting on the table. ‘I’ve been thinking about this bloke, Warrior. Thinking hard,’ he went on. ‘I’ve come up with the idea to take him out.’
‘Take him out where?’
‘No... no! I mean break his arms and legs. It’s no problem for me. We can sort out the payment afterwards. What do you say?’
Hamilton sat back in his seat and clenched his hands in front of him. ‘Now Mr Saunders. You know it’s illegal. And very unchristian. We can’t break people’s arms and legs just because we don’t agree with them.’
‘Illegal or not,’ spluttered Saunders with dribble appearing at the corners of his ugly mouth. ‘It’ll solve your problem, once and for all.’
‘I can’t allow it to happen. It’s most unchristian!’
‘What if I did it off my own bat?’
The Chairman paused for a very long time allowing the idea to filter through his mind. Clearly someone had to sacrifice their principles to prevent disruption to the Christian faith. If he turned a blind eye now, confusion could reign amongst many people causing consternation and division. For example, if someone had assassinated Hitler in the 1936 Olympic games in Berlin, the Second World War would not have started and millions of people who were killed would still be alive. The whole pattern of history would have been changed. Such was the issue that faced him today. With that in mind, he discarded his religious principles in favour of logic and gave full accord to the ostensible demise of the messenger.
‘Very well,’ he told Saunders. ‘I’ll leave it up to you how you want to deal with him.’
Saunders grinned evilly tensing his muscles to prove his might. ‘Okay... you leave it to me!’ he grunted winking acutely to the other man. ‘No problem!’
‘But this has nothing to do with myself or the committee, is that understood?’ continued Hamilton with an element of fear in his voice. ‘It’s your idea... your responsibility!’
‘Clear enough,’ retorted the bully, pushing out his jaw which made him look even more ugly.
‘And you’re never to boast about the incident, whatever you intend to do. If so, you’ll be in for the high jump.’
‘Don’t you worry about me!’ boasted the bully acting macho again. ‘You won’t hear a sound.’ He sat back and burst into laughter. ‘Not a sound!’
After he had gone, Hamilton went into the lounge and sat down in an armchair reflecting on whether he had done the right thing. He had grave doubts about Gabby Saunders. The man was a braggart, a drunk, a bully and an oaf. What did the man have in mind... to put Warrior out of action temporarily or permanently? The issue began to weigh heavily on Hamilton’s conscience. And there was always the danger that Saunders would boast about his conquest after he had carried it out. The man’s mouth simply ran away with him... especially after a few glasses of beer. However it was too late to stop him now. With the accord from the Chairman and the bit between his teeth, he was hell-bent to harm the messenger... perhaps fatally!
Chapter Six
Brendan Moses met Warrior in the make-up room of the television studio. He reacted with horror at the clothes worn by the messenger which consisted of a T-Shirt and a pair of baggy trousers. The T-shirt bore the words ‘Hubba,-Hubba!’ printed across the front and he asked the reason for the strange rig.
‘I bought it in a charity shop,’ explained Warrior calmly. ‘It looked clean,.’
‘It looked clean!’ echoed the tracer in contempt. ‘And I supposed you bought those baggy trousers in the same shop! You can’t go on live television looking like that! You need a plain yellow shirt and a jacket. Maybe even a tie or a dog-collar like a priest! What effect do you think you’ll have as a yobo? Look at you hair! It’s awful!’
‘He wouldn’t let me touch his hair,’ claimed the make-up artist.
Moses glanced at his wristwatch, grimaced and then shrugged his shoulders. ‘Well it’s too late to start rummaging through the wardrobe now. You’ve got to be on stage in a few minutes.’
The second make up artist pulled the cloth away from the neck of the television presenter, John Trevor-Edwards. who preened himself in the mirror before standing up.
‘Eight minutes to go,’ uttered the tracer with an urgent tone in his voice. He opened the door ready to usher both men into the corridor.
‘No need to panic,’ calmed the presenter smoothly. ‘There’s plenty of time.’
They went into the corridor led by Moses who filtered his way through the people hurrying to and fro. When they arrived at the edge of the set, Trevor-Edwards stared at the messenger to give him some instructions.
‘There are five seats on the stage,’ he told him. ‘You take the second one on the left. I’ll introduce the programme and you wait until I call out your name. There’ll be about a hundred-and twenty- people in the audience. Ignore them. The programme’s being broadcast to millions of viewers. Keep your eyes on me all the time... don’t look at the cameras. Pretend they aren’t there. Have you got that?’
Warrior nodded slowly hoping that he could remember all the instructions. Suddenly he felt extremely nervous at having to walk on to the set and talk to millions of people. As far as the network was concerned, the messenger was a real catch. Over the past three weeks they had televised a drug addict who finally kicked the habit, a married couple of mixed races, and a woman who claimed she had been discriminated all her life for being female. However, Warrior with his new views on religion was a welcome relief for the programme’s sponsors. One thing was certain, religious confrontation was bound to create an inflammatory episode for many viewers which was exactly what was wanted by the network.
Eventually, the lights dimmed as Trevor-Edwards moved towards his position on the stage holding a sheaf of notes in his hand. He waited for a few moments until the red light indicator came on one of the cameras and then broke into his dialogue.
‘Good evening to all our viewers,’ he began in a calm moderate tone. ‘Welcome once again to ‘Hot Spot!’ the programme which exploit’s the most contentious views relating to people within our society. I can assure you that tonight will be no exception. Religion can be a very emotive subject. Over the past millennium, there have been few changes. Christians follow Christianity, Muslims follow Islam, while Hindus, Sikhs and Buddhists have their own credos. But tonight we have a man who’s quest is to change all our religious beliefs by reaching back into the past. How can he do that? Well he claims to have received visions from the Gods and Goddesses in the celestial kingdom who insist that we pray to them and not to one single God. So let me introduce you to the man who wants to change the religious concepts of practically everyone in the world... Mr. Stephen Warrior.!’
The messenger hesitated for a few moments only to receive a solid push in the back from Brendan Moses which served to accelerate him on to the stage. Trevor-Edwards indicated to a seat on his left-hand side and Warrior sat down with his heart thumping loudly in his ears. ed for and they were delighted at the lack of public interest.
‘You claim to have seen visions of Gods and Goddesses in the celestial kingdom which is the equivalent of Heaven, I presume. Is that correct?’
‘That’s correct,’ uttered the messenger solemnly.
‘You say there a re many of them. That they want us to pray to them instead of to a single God. ‘
‘That’s the message they gave to me. They appointed me as their messenger on Earth.’
‘Can anyone else corroborate the events that took place.’
‘No... I see the visions in my dreams.’ Warrior felt a lump in his throat as he tried to keep his eyes away from the cameras, to keep staring at Trevor-Edwards all the time. He swallowed hard before continuing. ‘As I said, the
y come to me in my dreams. They want us all to recognise them and to pray to them.’
’Are you actually saying that Jesus Christ was wrong to influence people to pray to one God?’
‘That’s exactly what the Gods are saying. There is no one God!’
‘Don’t you think that the visions you see in your dreams are the figment of your imagination?’ He had heard that the presenter took no survivors in his programme. Warrior realised that he was trying to hang him up to dry although Trevor-Edwards intended to lead his guest at the early stages rather than to provoke him.
‘The visions that come to me happen every night. Not just once. Why shouldn’t the people on Earth believe that there are hundreds of Gods and Goddesses... ’.one for each purpose of our lives. It even exists in our society today.’
‘What exists in our society?’ The presenter began to look a little puzzled.
‘Doctors, for example. They have to swear the Hippocratic Oath. They have to swear it before they can practise medicine.’
‘What are you actually saying?’ asked the presenter, prepared to give Warrior enough rope to hang himself.
‘The Hippocratic Oath,’ continued the messenger. ‘It includes the sentence... ’By all the Gods and Goddesses making them witnesses in that I carry out to my best ability and judgement this oath and this indenture’ By all the Gods and Goddesses. Doesn’t that tell you anything?’
‘But surely the Oath’s purely symbolic. A relic from the past.
‘Then why do doctors have to swear it especially if they believe in only one God!
’That’s quite a point, Mr. Warrior,’ reflected Trevor-Edwards making a mental note to use the theme later on. ’I’ll take that up with the medical profession at some future date. Moving on, is there any physical evidence you can provide to support your claim?’
’Did Jesus Christ need proof when he professed there was only one God in his teachings? No... he was a man of his time.’
’What do you mean by that?’