by Sam Meekings
‘He looked up into my eyes, his sallow cheeks puffed out into an inscrutable mask. For a second I suspected that he might laugh at me, but instead he simply shook his head.
‘“You still do not understand. If you will hear me out, I will tell you something of our history, for the more I learnt about the Book of Crows, the more I realised what sorrow it had wrought.
‘“The Tang Dynasty was perhaps the pinnacle of the achievements of our great Han nation. Thousands of people daily passed through the incomparable capital of Changan in the south, bringing rich goods from distant lands. Music, opera, dance, art, philosophy, poetry; for all of these it was truly a golden age. And when you have all of this – peace, prosperity and harmony – it must seem even more terrible to watch it slipping from your grasp. Emperor Xianzong made a deal with the Devil, as you might say: he gave the eunuchs power so that they would help him overcome the border rebellions that were plaguing his kingdom. He won those battles, but at a great cost. The eunuchs became unstoppable, and when the emperor himself began to challenge them, they smiled demurely and filled his wine glass with poison.
‘“His son, the crown prince, was distraught. As soon as he ascended to become Emperor Muzong, he set about trying to find the Book of Crows, believing it could help him find a way to defeat the eunuchs. Popular history records him as a drunk, a pleasure-seeker, a fool. Yet those are lies that the eunuchs propagated – the lesser-known documents I saw all depict him as driven, calculated, noble, fair. As a young man, he was even briefly taught by the great poet Bai Juyi. However, he spent the taxes of an entire year on excavations that might uncover the book, on employing a secret force of men to hunt it down. While he was thus preoccupied, it was easy for the eunuchs to paint him as a negligent, uncaring ruler, and so, only four years into his reign, he too died in highly suspicious circumstances.
‘“Emperor Muzong had three sons. To these he left nothing but a dying dynasty and the secret knowledge of the book. They took up the quest, each one committed to restoring the kingdom to its former glories. Yet all this time the eunuchs themselves also knew of the book. So what do you think they did?”
‘“No doubt they tried to find the book themselves,” I replied, “that they might harness its powers for their own wicked gains.”
‘“On the contrary, they never had any interest in finding it. Perhaps it is due to their unique physiology, but they are no gamblers. What need did they have of a book that would tell them only what they had already learnt – that men are foolish, gullible, greedy and, more than anything, predictable? They were much too wise to waste their time grabbing at ghosts. Instead, through intermediaries and double agents, they fed false information about it to each emperor in turn. Imaginary leads, wild goose-chases, carefully forged maps, dropped hints and fraudulent documents. And while, one after another, emperors spent their time following the false trails of these precious clues, the eunuchs were able to consolidate their grip upon the country.
‘“As I said, Emperor Muzong had three sons. His eldest became emperor at the age of fifteen, and was murdered inside the palace at the age of eighteen. His brother then ruled for more than ten years, but almost half his reign was spent under house arrest after his plot to round up and slaughter the corrupt eunuchs was uncovered. Naturally, the eunuchs found out what was planned well in advance. He died a broken man. The youngest brother inherited a corrupt kingdom beset by military difficulties; as an emperor, he slipped into a paranoia so deep that he ended up purging all religions, from Buddhism and Taoism to Manichaeism, since he had become convinced that there was only one truth, that of the Book of Crows, and all the other faiths had been created simply to try to confuse him. The country fell into famine, war and poverty – it became broken and divided, and it is only now, enslaved to Mongol masters, that we are united again.
‘“The book teaches us one lesson. Do not give up today for tomorrow. Prize the moments you have, keep them safe, make them last. The crows sent us a warning. The book is a curse.”
‘I stared hard at his dark eyes. There was a danger there, some leviathan lurking beneath the calm surface.
‘“All you have said of corrupt officials, of wicked men and poor rulers, all of this could be changed if we were to find the book. If we knew what would happen, if we could anticipate each move, we would be able to stop them. And it is clear to me that you still seek the book, so your entreaties to dissuade me from doing the same make you nothing but a hypocrite,” I said.
‘He leapt to his feet and thrust the scroll beneath the loop of his sash.
‘“You idiot! Do you not understand?” he shouted. “I do not mean to read the book. I will make sure that no one ever gets ensnared in its traps. I shall find it and destroy it, and then I will make sure the whole world knows that it is gone forever!”
‘I rose to face him, my hand reaching towards my dagger. Yet I vowed to keep myself composed.
‘“I cannot allow that most heinous blasphemy. You speak, my friend, of the Last Gospel of Our Lord Jesus of Nazareth, who died that you might live. The whole of Christendom shall not be threatened because of you. Give me the map.”
‘He laughed in my face, spittle flying from his lips.
‘“You are even more deluded than I thought. The Book of Crows was written by my ancestors, the first Han people, who wrote it with brushes made from the feathers of those dark birds. You are an ass to think it has anything to do with your worship of a man who was executed along with other petty thieves and criminals.”
‘As he spoke I sidled slowly to my left, biding time, so that I might be able to block off the only clear exit from the courtyard. It was imperative that I keep him distracted.
‘“I am afraid it is you who are mistaken. I can assure you that this book is no vainglorious history of the Han! Let me tell you the real story behind the Last Gospel. Your blasphemous comments suggest you know a little of the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, which record the details of Christ’s ministry on earth. Yet the Church uses these Gospels not as it should, to bring Grace to all, but instead to hold mastery over the common man, to keep him labouring in darkness and poverty. That is why we need the Last Gospel! It shall set us free! And that is why the Church has done its best to deny all knowledge of the great book, for it fears there will no longer be any need of priests and bishops when the whole world can see the complete truth revealed before their own eyes.
‘“It was born from the Transfiguration – that miraculous day when our Lord Jesus Christ led Peter, James and John to the top of Mount Tabor, and there Moses and Elijah appeared to Him. A great cloud enveloped our Lord as the Father spoke to Him and He was transfigured. It was there that the Father, from whom all history flows, revealed the future of mankind to His only Son. Coming down from the mountaintop, Christ told those three blessed apostles who had accompanied Him what He had learnt, though He swore them to say nothing until the first of these prophecies – His betrayal and resurrection – had come true. And so it was that some time later, Saint James the Greater set down all he could recall and spirited the book away so that one day the truth might be known. I have no doubt that the book will tell us about the Second Coming, as documented in the Revelation of Saint John – who no doubt learnt about it while upon that very same mountaintop. Mark my words, once I find the book, the whole world will change.”
‘I kept going, telling the interpreter everything I had learnt over the past thirty years, every single secret of the Order of the Eternal Light, keeping him engrossed so that he might not notice that I was gradually moving to cut off his only chance for escape. I talked of how the apostles had kept the book secret, fearing that new converts would be frightened away by the accounts it provided of the persecutions the first Christians would suffer; of how Saint James carried it east, away from the Roman authorities, so that it might be kept safe until the world was ready for its revelations; of how the early Church decided it could not risk letting its followers know that such a work exi
sted, and so censored all accounts of it from the Synod of Hippo in the fourth century, when the council of bishops agreed upon the canon of Sacred Scripture; of how it lived on in myth and rumour and how the first Crusaders searched for it in the Holy City after the siege of Jerusalem; and of the clandestine work of my companions in searching for the hiding place of this most sacred work.
‘“The Western Church has grown corrupt, just like those eunuchs you spoke of. It speaks of charity while amassing money for churches and monasteries as the poor die of famine and plague; it speaks of justice while sending the Papal Inquisitions out to rack and burn the faithful. The Eastern Church, meanwhile, is riddled with heresy, and the barbarous Moors still clamour at our gates. The Last Gospel shall tell us of the future, and then there will be no need of the Church at all. Think upon it.
‘“Today man is stuck thinking only of the present. He thinks of the hunger in his stomach, the pain in his back, the lust in his loins. The Gospel shall teach man to think of the future. It shall free all from doubt, for everyone will be able to watch with their own eyes as prophecy after prophecy comes true, and thus they shall come into the arms of the Lord. All shall see the truth of Jesus Christ for themselves, and shall be bound in a brotherhood of belief. There will be no need for kings, for popes, for money, for countries, for we shall all be united in our Christian mission to fulfil the will of the Lord. Sicilian and Genoan, Han and Mongol, all shall work together to build a new Christian world. Everyone shall see that the Second Coming and the resurrection of the dead are unstoppable, and we will work together in peace. Everyone shall see that all is predestined.
‘“The Church fears this brotherhood of men. It fears that when the truth is made available to all then the church shall become obsolete, for who shall need the guidance of a hypocrite priest when they can read of the Lord’s plan for themselves? Man is a weak creature, but with the guidance of the Last Gospel he may at last transcend his fallen nature.”
‘I smiled, triumphant, for I now stood between the lithe man and the only path back out through the ruins.
‘“I care little for religions that worship men,’ he sneered. ‘We too have temples devoted to figures from the past, from the Taoists who study the wisdom of Lao Tzu to the great schools based upon the teachings of Confucius. Some men bow down before their ancestors, and even now we are standing in what is left of a shrine that remembers Siddhartha Gautama, who is said to have escaped this bitter cycle of suffering and rebirth. Yet I spit upon those who would worship another man. For, as you so rightly say, man is a weak creature. He is lazy, greedy, corrupt, and cares only for himself. You do not truly believe that all men shall one day work together, do you? Even if all mankind knew the future, there would be those who would buck against it, those who would challenge it, those who would seek to control it. If you were ever to read the book, you would see that it talks not of peace and fraternity, but of war, carnage, slaughter, revenge. Nothing more.”
‘His teeth were gritted tight as he pulled the scroll from his sash. He held it aloft with shaking hands and began to tear. The ripping sound let loose something terrible within me, and I bent down and tore the dagger from the knot around my ankle. I was overcome with a most righteous rage, and with a cry I threw myself towards him.
‘By the time he had seen me it was too late; though he stumbled back, crying out some fearful oath, his foothold was uncertain and his path blocked. As I raised the dagger, he threw his long, bony hands over his face, unwittingly allowing me to plunge the blade deep into his gut. His scream was shrill, an animal squeal, and I pulled down through the torn flesh much as I had seen butchers do to a bound lamb. His shaking hands flew to my neck, but his lifesource was seeping from him. With one more heavy thrust I split the seams of his stomach and, dragging the dagger back, let the great gaping flaps of skin belch open and spill forth the bloody slop of his entrails.
‘He staggered back before sprawling to the ground. I pushed at his body with the stub of my sandal, and managed to turn him onto his back. He was still conscious, blinking up at me, his breaths fast and urgent and his hands clutching frantically at the dark mess that was staining the front of his silk robe.
‘“You will not find it,” he spluttered from between clenched teeth, his accent slipping and his words half slurred.
‘“My friend, if you have strength left, I implore you to commend yourself to the Lord Jesus Christ and seek absolution for your sins before it is too late. I fear that you are one of the damned, but nonetheless I shall say a prayer for the passage of your soul.”
‘He let out a howling laugh, blood and spittle spraying from his pale lips. He seemed as if he wished to speak, no doubt to curse or mock me, but his words were swallowed by wheezes.
‘I knelt down beside his head so that I might whisper into his ear.
‘“Know that you have made a most noble sacrifice. Once the Gospel is found, there shall be no murder, no vice, no sin, for everyone shall learn that their own righteous path is written for all to see, and they need only follow the Lord. Our Saviour may yet forgive you, just as he forgives me for doing what needs be done that the whole of mankind be delivered to the light. And so I show you mercy, that you may suffer no more. Give yourself to the Lord, my child.”
‘And thus I raised the dagger high above my head, then drove it down into the centre of the interpreter’s chest, and pierced his heart. He gasped, then his head slumped back, and I waited a few moments in the shade of the blackened trees before touching the points of the cross upon his outstretched body.
‘It took me an hour to dig a hole deep enough that his corpse might be safe from beasts, for he was deserving of a Christian burial, whatever his mistaken beliefs.
‘I then returned through the streets in which the artisans have their workshops, and managed to considerably lighten my purse by employing the services of a craftsman to mend the scroll by fixing the torn pieces upon a fresh base. This I communicated through a tiresome labour of mimes and gestures, though I was thankful that the craftsman was shrewd enough not to draw attention to the flecks of blood upon the corners.
‘Finding someone to translate it proved much more difficult, but my contacts among the merchants in Dadu proved most propitious, and just before we left on this return journey across the deserts I was supplied with a rough translation. It took me many more weeks, working every night in this very tent, to fit the pieces together, until finally, only a few days ago, the secrets of the crow map were revealed to me. No doubt you have glimpsed the old scroll I have been constantly working on, though of course its meaning must have been unclear to you. Suffice to say that when I deciphered it I was elated, for the patterns round which my studies had stalked these many years suddenly became clear, just as when a gentle wind disperses all fog and mist and the mountains beyond are suddenly revealed.’
Lovari’s eyes are closed once more, and he takes a slow, gargled breath. I am unsure how to respond. His recollection of the murder of the interpreter did not invite absolution. He does not even seem to regret it. How, I wonder, does one attempt to ease the passage of such a barbaric man? I try to remember that we are told to love our brothers, though I cannot stop a shiver from trembling through my body as I tuck the blanket up around his damp neck. He is a heretic, a thief, a murderer, and there is not even the slightest part of me that doubts that he will writhe and howl in the torturous fires of hell for all eternity. I do not, however, say this to him.
‘Go to my chest – yes, that small one there in the corner – and open it for me.’
Reluctantly I do as he asks. His voice is frail now, a wisp, the sound of moths flitting their wings. Though his sins are repulsive, sickening, most wretched, I shall remain with him. It is up to the Lord to punish him now.
The chest is no bigger than my arm and contains a single scroll. I sit back down and then untie the loop to roll the parchment out across my lap. Lovari is right, I have observed the strange symbols before, for he has not been as scrupu
lous about hiding it as he might have been, but I do not mention this to him.
‘This is what you killed a man for?’ I ask, though I already know the answer.
‘It is the crow map.’
It is a pitiful thing, dog-eared and stained, with the rips and tears peeling up from where they have been crudely fixed. The depiction of mountains, deserts and rivers is clear enough, and I have no great trouble deciphering its secrets.
‘It will lead you to the Last Gospel,’ Lovari rasps.
‘You are not serious, brother. Now is the time to make your peace, to ask forgiveness for your sins and give yourself over to the Lord’s mercy.’
‘This is my life’s work, brother. I have told you of my most terrible sins that you might understand how important this is. The fate of every Christian soul now rests with you.’
He groans, his eyes bunching up into wrinkled creases.
‘You would have me understand that you have broken almost all of the Lord’s commandments for a book that tells you what will happen in the future? A book you claim was written by Saint James about what he was told by Christ himself?’
‘It is no idle claim!’ he coughs, his pale face reddening. ‘The Transfiguration showed Christ the magnitude of His task, and He trusted the great burden of this knowledge to his disciples. Saint James set it down because he knew that in the future the book would be found and all men would thus be freed from the tyranny of doubt. But even then the early Church authorities feared its power. Now, after many centuries of searching, it will finally be reclaimed by Men of God, and it shall help us deliver mankind from darkness.’
This desert sickness is clearly overcoming his senses – D’Antonio, Salvitici and Nazario were also delirious towards the end.
‘Brother, this is all myth, legend, supposition. The Gospels are the only word of God, and you must put your faith in these or else be damned.’