Mad Gods - Predatory Ethics: Book I

by Athanasios

  Constantine’s bullies, Tertullian and Irenaeus, pushed this Christian façade; anyone who did not listen was put to the sword or the pyre. With each new pontiff, the church became more like the empire they supplanted. Popes wore the cross as much as the Caesars wore the eagle.

  Seimon’s words, the heretical gospels and the Gnosis of God, traveled around the known world and found fertile ground in the regions of Languedoc and Albigense, France. In time they did not congregate in order to revere their savior. They did so in their daily lives as Credentes. They had families and worshiped at whatever level they wished. There were others who wanted a closer relationship with God and lived in the wilds around the caves of St. Barthalemy. Those who spent their lives contemplating God lived among the Credentes, helping wherever they were able and moving on to aid others.

  When Innocent II recognized the Knights Templar in Jerusalem, the Perfecti of Languedoc established their own Order with one of the Sangrael, even becoming one of their priests: a Perfecti.

  Natalie became one of the most respected Perfecti in the Cathari. In 1205 six popes passed and another Innocent sat on the throne of St. Peter. This pope enforced the rule of the church. He saw the Cathari held too much power in the affluent regions of Albi and Languedoc; the nobility giving them land and wealth. The Cathari espoused poverty and humility, but were second only to the Catholics in land holdings in Toulouse and Aragon. That, coupled with loss of revenues, forced Innocent to go beyond preliminary negotiations. His emissary, Domingo de Guzman, began at the Cistercian monastery of Fontfroide. He tried to curb church corruption and immorality, noting that many who turned to the Cathari did so because their Catholic priests lechery and debauchery put nobles to shame.

  However, more than all of this, Innocent did not want the church to lose its position as the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth. In his opinion, he was the supreme temporal ruler, above all kings, to whom God had granted a position.

  Innocent took a cue from his namesake and proclaimed a crusade against the Cathari. He gave indulgences to anyone who warred on the Cathari heretics. Any sin, committed against them, would be pardoned. He even offered the ownership of any lands, captured from the heretics, to whoever won them, in the defense of the Catholic Church. In 1208, he named Simon de Montfort his chief inquisitor, and by 1218, all the Cathari had been routed out, like weeds.

  The Templars kept a careful eye on the Cathari, but were mindful of Innocent’s animosity. The Cathari and Templars shared their reverence for the Grael, as well as the line that sprung from it. The knights were sworn to protect it, while the Cathari nursed one of the line as a respected Perfecti.

  Innocent saw that the knights were sympathetic to the heretics, and in a Papal edict, reminded them of their place as poor knights of the temple, who enjoyed whatever position they had because of Papal indulgence. This preferential treatment could be easily revoked. They were viewed as arrogant, but were still used as elite fighters and as impeccable money handlers. They amassed vast holdings, unimpeded by borders and squabbles of hierarchy.

  With all this threatening their lives, Natalie sat in Bethlehem, speaking to Simon about the church’s entreaties to merge with the Cathari. “Why do they wish to speak to me? I’m no Bishop, merely a Perfecti. I wear a simple robe and do what good I can. I’m not the person with whom to consult or to listen.”

  Simon answered, “You are being naive Natalie. If we are not careful, the Romans may remove us entirely from the face of the earth. We must be careful. Innocent is losing a lot of ground to us and he will not tolerate it for much longer.”

  From the darkness of the cave, and from further down the Path of Initiation, came a voice that was heavy with bitterness and accusation. “Then why doesn’t Caesar clean his own house? It is because the comparison to the clean and austere Cathari reveals the obvious grime and filth.” Though Simon could not see who spoke, the words continued. “Before he comes against us, tell Innocent to enforce his laws with his clergy. Tell him to give up his mistresses and renounce his bastards and have his priests do the same. Everyone has seen the lechery and the fornication they openly commit within their flock. They are no better than rutting goats. Animals, clothed in priests’ robes.”

  “Who speaks and why do you hide? Show yourself.” Simon got up and walked to the opening of the cave, trying to locate the source of the voice.

  Natalie’s voice calmly enveloped him. “It is only a friend. I have known him longer than my life. He is part of the darkness and has come to show us what we should do.”

  “Papal indulgences, and payment for penitence, to keep someone out of purgatory, or worse yet, hell. Why pay the Catholics? Pay me. Innocent speaks for God, but God hasn’t seen any of the gold the Romans have taken to keep the multitudes out of our grasp. Neither have I.”

  “Your grasp? Who are you to claim the church’s indulgences? Besides God or the devil, who could claim these fees?” As Simon spoke, a dim figure began to take shape in the depths of the cavernous Path of Initiations.

  “The devil, you say? Those are your words,” he answered, softly.

  “Why do you stay in the shadows? Why not show yourself? I can barely see you.” Simon took a few steps forward; the shape retreated accordingly.

  “No further, Simon. I know who you are, but you don’t need to know me. Because I am repulsive to the eye, I wish to remain in the shadows; I don’t wish to be judged, based upon my appearance. Natalie has been kind enough to look after me. She has always been a good friend.”

  Simon looked at Natalie and asked, “Why have you never spoken of this man? It seems odd that you have not mentioned him.”

  Natalie replied, “Long ago, we both decided not to reveal him to anyone. He is also of a Sangrael, but the opposite of mine, and with his appearance, it seemed best that he remain a secret. He has never wanted to be known; his only desire is to be left in peace.”

  “The opposite? Then why do you speak to him? Don’t you see that he is lying to you?” Simon was becoming angry at Natalie’s naïveté.

  “About what have I lied, Simon?” the voice asked, evenly. “You jump to unwarranted conclusions about me, automatically assuming I’m lying to Natalie. This is simply unfair. Defend your position, rather than merely throwing accusations into the wind. The Romans don’t deserve what they have. They don’t deserve to be exulted above all kings. They have squandered what the Nazarene bestowed upon them.” The stranger spat out his words, each of them dripping with venom.

  “Well, at least that’s something about which we can agree. The church does not represent the words of Jesus.”

  “Semantics, Simon. Have you lived this long, only to be capable of constructing such a weak argument against their forced words?” The contempt, emanating from the dark, was palpable.

  “What else would you do? Even though we have mere words, does the church see us as a serious threat?” Simon countered.

  “Yes, you’re right. You have been a victim of your own success and now they are coming against you. What will you do?” The contempt vanished replaced by genuine gravity.

  “I honestly don’t know. Innocent will stop at nothing to gain back these lands. Maybe we can come to an agreement with their envoy at Fontfroide,” Simon said, offhandedly.

  “Yes, Father Domingo seemed a just man. We should continue the negotiations, and perhaps, we can come to an agreement.” Natalie’s voice almost startled Simon, who had been facing the mouth of the cave for some time.

  “An agreement with the Romans? You are very optimistic, Natalie. They have no reason to agree about anything. They will not suffer another version of their lord. Absolutely none, no matter how similar to their own.” By now, the dark voice conveyed pity and compassion.

  “I have seen many things in my lifetime, therefore, I will not judge you. Don’t be frightened to reveal yourself.” Simon wanted to see this man, who spoke with such knowledge about Catholic ways.

  “Oh, I’m not afraid. I said that I wanted my words to
be heard. Very few people hear only with their ears. Most people fill the emptiness between the words with what they see. Your desire to see me is nothing compared to my desire not to be seen. Just listen to what I have to say,” the voice responded.

  “What is your name?” Though Simon did not press, he still wanted something identifiable, which he could connect to the words.

  “My name is not important, but if you want to call me something, call me Alumnos. Don’t be concerned for Natalie, for I am her initiate. I have been with her for several years now.” Though the words were matter of fact, they momentarily struck Simon silent.

  “Initiate? Natalie, you never told me that you had taken an initiate.” Simon was surprised by this development.

  “I didn’t think I had to. I took on Alumnos because I knew no one else would, and despite his outbursts, his heart is, indeed, with the Cathari. He does believe our words and he even remembers other lives — turbulent and bloody existences, which have left their mark on his soul.” Natalie had gotten up and stood beside Simon, looking into the dark, from where the voice answered.

  “Those are past, Natalie. Now, my life is here, not on the battlefields in Greece, the northern steppes or in front of Roman crowds. Now that we come to such a sublime, peaceful, earthly place, to which we are entitled, how can we stand by and let it slip through our fingers to the Romans?” As the voice continued, weariness faded to outrage. “Won’t you go to the nobles whom you have aided in the past — the count of Toulouse, King of Aragon — and ask them to protect you? To protect the faith, which as Credentes, they also follow. You have administered the Endura on many family deathbeds. Have the bishop and the Collegium go to them for their succor.”

  “He speaks wisely, this Alumnos, even for an initiate.” Natalie smiled. “Very well then, we will go to the Collegium and ask them to speak to these nobles, who were grateful enough for our help to give us lands and wealth that made us Innocent’s target. We’ll return and see what we are to do.”

  TIME: MARCH 15TH, 1963. SECRET ARCHIVES, VATICAN

  Quentin was familiar with many of the volumes he faced. The Albigense Crusade was one of the bloodiest in recorded history. No matter the historical interpretation, the same facts were consistent — by the final surrender at Montsegur, in 1244, millions were killed in the name of God. The part that stayed with him was that they all went willingly into the flames rather than speak against their faith.

  He had a personal connection to such repression. Volumes were written about the dark days of 1312, and how the Templars, though revered, were still completely wiped out. Yet somehow they survived. Why couldn’t the Cathars? He would have to explore this further.

  Now, what concerned him were references to Alumnos, who spoke from the shadows. He had an authority and knowledge about the church, which, in those times, meant he was a clergyman or even a Templar. Not even their nobles could read or were so widely versed. Though Alumnos was merely an initiate to the Perfecti Natalie, he spoke like a cleric, always ready with information to reinforce his arguments.

  “Father Quentin, are you here?” A familiar voice came from among the volumes, in which Quentin had immersed himself.

  “Father Martin? I’m over here, just follow my voice.” Quentin waited a few moments for the Jesuit father to come smiling into view.

  “I’m always awed by the immensity of the Secret Archives. It must have no equal on earth.” The father gazed about him with a devout wonder found only in the unabashed scholar when confronted with a rare discovery. To Quentin, these texts were merely uncovered information, but to Martin, they were history and wonders rediscovered.

  “Yes, Father Martin. I did not know you had permission to enter the Archives, though you seem to know your way around. What news do you have from Cardinal Bae? Has he spoken to the Signatura and Penitentiary? What has Cardinal Ciriaci said about our efforts?”

  “I’m glad I’ve found you. I was just speaking to Sister LaParee and I am disturbed by what she told me. I’m specifically disturbed by the findings of the Apostolic Testis, but also by others.” Martin sat opposite Quentin, folding his thin hands before him and looking intently at the quizzical Templar.

  “Well, what has happened since I last saw her, Father? I am glad to see you come into this. It means the Jesuits and their considerable influence will be brought to bear.” Quentin was glad to see Martin. Not only for his connection to the top Jesuit, but also for the man’s abilities. He always valued Father Martin as a plain speaker, wily enough to have survived decades in the service of the Vatican. His other abilities, including being highly trusted by two different Jesuit masters, as well as being the head exorcist within the church, made him a welcome addition to the equation.

  “Whittier Mansion was attacked. People were killed, but on the whole, only higher-ranking apostates, including McGrath, himself. Did you have anything to do with this? Certainly, the Cardinal and I would have nothing bad to say about it, but we have to know the truth, in case there is more to our own investigation, past which we must see.” Martin was being uncharacteristically vague. “Please do not misunderstand our ambiguous request. Soon, I’ll clarify.” Martin ended abruptly, waiting for a response. Caught off guard, Quentin answered rapidly.

  “No, Father, I have no knowledge of any Templar involvement in this attack. In fact, it comes as a complete, if not unpleasant, shock. I would love to say that the Lord moves in mysterious ways, but indeed, He has in this matter. That is most welcome news, but please, what other investigations are you conducting? Should I, or may I, offer Templar help?” Quentin was adamant, both about his desire to know everything Martin could reveal, as well as his willingness to help.

  “Yes, mysterious ways, indeed, but not only He, Father Quentin, not only He.” As Martin collected his thoughts, Quentin kept silent, waiting for him to continue. “Earlier this year, an anticipated birth was to occur, somewhere in the Middle East. As far as anyone knows, it did not, in fact, happen. Some may claim this as proof that this prophecy is mere fable — the calculated ramblings of history. Some of us, in the Holy See, do not. I think you do not. I am also certain that our enemies, in San Francisco, do not either. In fact, they have been scouring more than their world, in an attempt to try to find this lost prophecy.” Martin no longer wanted to hear what Quentin could add.

  “From my own research in the Archives and the Apostolic Testis, I have not seen where his birth was to be. I am also certain that this was intentional — the prophecy was not a myth. Something changed the location of the prophesized birth. Though I don’t exactly know why, I’m trying to find some clue in these volumes.” As he spoke, Quentin indicated the four vellum-paged codexes in front of him.

  “My own investigations have been much more field-based,” Martin added. “Within the first week of June, there were two possessions in the Middle East, one in Jerusalem, the other in Cairo, which showed me what you have gathered through your own work.

  “In Jerusalem, there was a small girl who was being violated by a demon — a demon whose name I will not utter. This fiend boasted once they found their chosen one, they would be feasting on our entrails. This showed me they did not know where he was. This particular demon had been sent to complete the child, who was to have come. With nowhere else to go, he attacked a child, barely eight years old. As this foul thing told me that it waited for its destined Grael, the poor girl was convulsing in most horrific ways.” Martin went on, “It knew it could do nothing, and this added to its frustration, causing it to torture the girl even more.” Martin restrained his obvious empathy for the child. “It continued to spew its venom as I went through the Ritual Romana. Over the course of the recitation, it said that someone in the New World had the child, and that anybody who aided him would die a million deaths.

  “He said that he would resurrect him like our own Weakling, only to kill him again and again, each time more horrible than the last. It would not be in three days, but whenever he chose — minutes, hours, second
s — it would be his choice, for he was his own self-important name, which I won’t repeat.” Now, a determination, Quentin had seen in a host of icons, took hold of Martin’s face. “He finally, and mercifully, left the little one after days of exorcism. As he left, he bellowed like a felled ox.”

  Though Quentin’s eyes widened as he listened to what Martin said, he did not press him with any questions. Quentin was not unused to dealing with evil, but Martin’s experiences were legend, and his recounting of this incident, because of his practical tone, was all the more chilling.

  “In Cairo, it was a small boy, but older than the child in Jerusalem. It is odd they were both children, and so close together. This one was twelve and wasn’t even a Christian child, but Muslim. I was called because his parents were diplomats, and one of their employees was a devout Catholic.” Martin apologetically held out his hands. “I’m sorry. I’ll stick to telling what the bugger, who took the boy hostage, hurled at me during the Romana. I only mention the oddities; because they may, or may not, have relevance. At any rate, thankfully this exorcism was short, lasting barely a day. The boy did not suffer as much as the girl; thank God for small favors. This demon was quite confused, having very little to add to the other’s profanity. He did scream that those, here temporally, would take over the throne of Peter and would make the church theirs. That soon, he would be our master and would inflict great torment.”

  Martin concluded, “This confirms what we suspected. The birth did, indeed, take place, but now we know it happened somewhere in the Americas; coincidentally, San Francisco seems most notable.”

  “Father Martin, we have a string of clues, starting with Cardinal Colletti’s death in Argentina, and a line of demon remnants, leading to San Francisco. Those, combined with the Testis’ discoveries, have given us enough reason to send a team, if not a single cleric, to look further.” Though Quentin was relieved he had gone to Father Martin, one theory still remained. “Father, you spoke of your own investigations. Of what other investigations do you speak? Does it have something to do with the second possession of which you spoke?”