The Journey

by Jennifer Ensley

  “Hmpft. I would have been happy with just a sandwich and some tea. Instead, I receive a feast and a pleasant dinner companion. How did I rank all this?”

  “I fear this will probably not be the norm, but I will always do what I can.”

  “Why? I mean… why go above and beyond?”

  “I am entertaining an Angel. Well… someone who holds a direct bond with an Angel. If I treated you any less than was possible, it would be a mark against me.”

  “Sooo… If I hadn’t told you about Uriel…”

  He glanced up and met my gaze. “I would have done the exact same thing.”

  I silently refilled my wine glass.

  “I am not a perv, Jem. Truly. I just… feel something… a strong pull to you. I feel like I must take care of you.”

  “It’s okay, Father. I was just teasing you about the perv bit.” I took a drink. “I’m certain your unexplainable pull is because I am a Witness. The people I need to help me… they always do. It’s got nothing to do with me. It’s my task that compels their compliance. Not my personality. Still… I haven’t spent more than a moment in the presence of any one of them. Maybe if they were forced to hang out with me like you are, they’d feel strangely indebted to me as well. But let me assure you, Father, I am as common and undeserving as the next bloke.”

  “As are we all.” He smiled and quietly laid his silverware across his plate. “Tell me some about your adventures. Only if it isn’t against the rules.”

  “Not against the rules at all. In fact, I believe my recordings will eventually be accessible to others in some way. If not that, I don’t really have a clue as to why I’d be called to write down what so many other scholars have already ciphered out. My job’s been the easy one so far.”

  “It doesn’t seem all that easy to me.” He motioned toward my bandaged shoulder.

  “Yeah, well, that’s just dumb luck on my part. I was targeted because I was obviously a tourist, not a Witness. My job didn’t cause this injury.”

  “So… will you share with me?”

  “I will… but I ain’t real sure you’ll like the part I’m writing about right now.”

  “And why is that?”

  “I’ve been reading about the Papacy.”

  “Oh… I see.”

  “Not necessarily the Pope you have now. Just about the office of Pope.”

  “What does the prophesy say?”

  “I’m pretty sure you already know what it says, but I’ll tell you what it means.”

  He filled his wine glass to the brim. I chuckled.

  “You ready?”

  “I believe I can handle it.”

  “Alrighty then.” I retrieved my journal and scooted my chair closer to his. “This was the part I was telling Uriel about when he put me to sleep.”

  “How did he put you to sleep?”

  “Stroked my hair and played with my curls.”

  “An Angel did that?”

  “Yeah, and it was completely out of character for him. Trust me. But… he was just trying to make up for before.”

  “Before what?”

  “The last time he had taken me anywhere—Austria. We had a bit of a disagreement. Well, I wouldn’t really call it that. More like… I teased him and he squished my brain until my nose bled and I fainted.”

  “What?”

  I nodded. “He didn’t mean to hurt me. He said he didn’t realize I was too fragile to handle his spiritual pressure. He felt bad about it, I guess, and found me in Rio—to make amends.”

  “…I see.”

  “Anyway, this is what I’ve been working on.” I pointed to the handwritten page. “First, let me ask you a couple of questions.”

  “Very well.”

  “Do you understand and agree with the year/day method of translating prophesy?”

  “In that a prophesized day equals a year of fulfillment? Yes. Such is common knowledge.”

  “I agree. Now, of the four greatest earthly empires mentioned in the book of Daniel, can you name the first three?”

  “Of course—Babylonian, Medo-Persian, and Greek.”

  “Correct. Historically this is proven beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

  “Agreed.”

  “So, historically speaking… what was the next great empire to rule over the civilized world?”

  “…Roman.”

  “Yes, the Roman Empire. The whole world knows this to be true. Now, before the last trumpet—the seventh trumpet—sounded, there was an Angel who brought a little book down to the man who was recording this prophesy… and told the man to eat the little book up.”

  “John.”

  “Yes, John. He was told the book would taste as sweet as honey in his mouth, but that it would turn bitter in his stomach. Do you have any take on what this little book was?”

  “I do. It can only be referring to the Bible.”

  “I agree. And historically, it is proven. You see… during the Turkish onslaught that happened with the sounding of the sixth trumpet, the Eastern monks and clerics moved the great Greek libraries to the safe haven of Europe before Constantinople fell in 1453. Because of this, the people of the West were now flooded with previously unknown—to them—Biblical texts. This created a flurry of intellectual activity.”

  “Yes, when all of the Greek writings were taken to Italy.”

  “Exactly, and when read by the Western Europeans, these old-world manuscripts created a rebirth in learning philosophy, law, science, and art.”

  “The Renaissance Period.”

  “Yep.” I smiled. “And because of the flood of all this new knowledge, the Greek texts were translated to many other languages—French, German, English, Italian, and eventually all the others. The Bible suddenly became a daily part of life. Such had never happened before—widespread availability of ancient knowledge. This part makes the history geek in me all tingly.” I chuckled. “Okay. So, all this brand-new knowledge gave a rise to a brand-new era of freedom and thought. Medieval European society changed as a direct result of now being able to open and read the Bible without a fight.”

  “Because prior to that… Biblical texts were kept and held by the church.”

  “By the Papacy, yes. At that time, Medieval Europe was set up as an ascending pyramid of vassals and lords—peasants at the bottom, of course.”

  “With the Pope at the pinnacle.”

  “Yeah, with the Pope sitting on top. This era of feudalism was slowly done away with through knowledge and the Age of Reason. And… these more democratic ideals eventually brought about the French Revolution in 1789. That’s why I came to Paris to retrieve your book.”

  “What you are speaking of is the revolutionary thinking of these new Protestants who would stand against the Pope.”

  “Against the autocratic power of the Papacy, yes. The invention of the modern printing press back in the 1400s… that changed this whole ballgame. Now… every single person in the world had access to the Bible—the little book—not just the church. People could read it for themselves instead of having to take someone else’s word for it.”

  “Like priests.”

  “Like anybody. But, yeah… like priests. I mean, with the only copies of the Bible chained to the pulpit… the Papacy could deem what was truth and no one else knew enough to stand up and say… That’s not what it says in the Bible… because they’d never been allowed to—or been able to—read it for themselves.”

  “So why did this honey-sweet book turn bitter in their bellies?”

  “Yeah, well… the best laid plans of mice and men, huh?”

  Father Robert smiled and took another sip of wine.

  “The euphoric reception of the scriptures by the masses of Northern Europe was the beginning of the Protestant period, yeah… but that euphoria would soon turn to bitterness. Groups began to form who wished to take advantage of this newfound liberty and rebelled against their overlords.”

  “Thus the Inquisitions began.”

  “Ye
ah…” I visibly shivered. “The inquisitors were told to lay an axe to the root of these evil Protestant teachings before they spread any further.”

  “All who remained obstinate were burned, beheaded…”

  “Killed in every horrible way imaginable.”

  “Yes… that was bitter indeed.”

  “Yeah…”

  We both fell silent for a moment… then I yawned.

  “You need to get your rest now.”

  “No. No. It’s okay. I’m fine,” I said through another yawn.

  Father Robert smiled softly. “Don’t push yourself on my account. You’ve had a proper bath, your belly filled, your wound tended to, and now a soft bed awaits you. Get some rest now. I’ll see you in the morning. Okay?”

  “Sounds good.” I yawned again. “Hey… Thanks again… for everything.”

  “It has been my honor.”

  He picked up the tray laden with our dirty dishes. I jumped up and opened the door for him.

  “Sleep well, Witness.”

  “Same to you, Father.”

  “I truly enjoyed our dinner conversation this evening.”

  I smiled. “Yeah, me too.”

  “Very well, then. On the morrow?”

  “Yep. Bright and early. I’ll be right here.”

  I waited until I could no longer hear his soft footsteps… then I yawned, stretched, and crawled into bed with a smile upon my face.

  “Mmm… Cozy.” I popped the bones in my neck and snuggled under the covers. “What a super sweet guy—Father Robert. And a super awesome cook as well. Dinner was yummy beyond belief. I am blessed.”

  Chapter

  9

  I was towel-drying my hair when I opened the door to my room, and found Father Robert setting the breakfast table.

  “Good morning. Another bath so soon?”

  “Thought I’d take advantage of it while I could.”

  “How did you sleep?”

  “Wonderfully. As long as I remained on my right side, it was as good a sleep as I’ve ever had.”

  “I’m happy to hear that. Sit down and eat while it’s still warm. I’ll see to your shoulder before you dress.”

  “What? No more awkward glances and uncomfortable shuffling about because I’m only in a towel? Ahh… I guess the honeymoon’s over.”

  “I wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. Initially shocked, perhaps, but that was all.”

  “Shocked that someone came out of the bath not fully dressed?”

  He rolled his eyes, smiling where he thought I couldn’t see.

  “I was only teasing, Father. Still, it serves you right—showing up to a lady’s room unannounced.”

  “So you would prefer I did not feed you?”

  “Bite your tongue, Priest. As long as you come bearing food, I don’t care what state of dress—or undress—I happen to be in. As long as it doesn’t bother you, I’m good.”

  He chuckled. “I have a feeling that even if it did bother me, you would still be good.”

  “And you’d be right about that.”

  He smiled. “Sit. Eat.”

  “You joining me?”

  “As soon as I see to your shoulder.”

  “Oh… Do you think it would be possible for me to use your phone today?” I motioned toward mine lying silent next to the bed. “My cell’s dead and I don’t have any way to charge it. I need to call the bank—check on the status of my account.”

  “That won’t be a problem.” He picked up my phone and looked at the power port. “After we eat we will go down to my office. I may just have a charger that will work for this as well.”

  “That would be awesome. Thanks.”

  “Come. Sit. Let me have a look at those stitches.”

  I winced when he began gently cleaning the wound.

  “I’m sorry this hurts you. If it makes you feel better… it doesn’t look nearly as angry as it did last night.”

  “Thanks to you,” I said, before sucking in another breath.

  “Why don’t you set your mind to something else, Jem? How about you pick up where we left the conversation last night.”

  “Okay. Let me think…”

  “The Inquisition.”

  “Ahh, yes. The bitter Inquisition. Next it talks about the two witnesses who prophesied for one thousand two hundred and three score days.”

  “Which would be twelve hundred and sixty years.”

  “Correct. Being as man doesn’t live that long, and the fact that these witnesses would be speaking on behalf of the true church—”

  “The two witnesses are the old and new testaments. The two parts of the little book.”

  “Don’t make me fall in love with you, Priest.”

  “As if you haven’t already.”

  “Pffts… I’m definitely gonna miss you when I’m gone, that’s for sure. Now, even further proof that it’s speaking of the Bible here and not humans… it says that the witnesses have the power to shut heaven, keep it from raining, turn water to blood, and send plagues upon the Earth as often as it wills.”

  “The awesome power of the holy word.”

  “Precisely… sharper than any two-edged sword. But then it goes on to say that these witnesses will be killed—after said twelve hundred and sixty years.”

  “Who will kill them?”

  “The beast of the bottomless pit… the Dragon. Then it goes on to say that the witnesses will lie dead in the street and their bodies will be humiliated for three and a half more years.”

  “Why was that?”

  “Because the nations of people refused to let the witnesses be buried. After three and a half years, God entered them and the witnesses came back to life.”

  “So tell me what you think that means.”

  “Well, if you count backwards twelve hundred and sixty years from the French Revolution, you end up in the year 533. Being Catholic and all, what does that year mean to you?”

  “The decree of Justinian.”

  “Gold star for Father Robert.”

  He lightly tugged on a lock of my hair. “And being as I’m French and Catholic, both of those events are well known to me.”

  I smiled. “Yeah, that’s why I’m here—in Paris. Anyway, in 533 Pope John the first is decreed as head over all churches. Then twelve hundred and sixty years later… the French Revolution.”

  “I believe I can fill that bit in more readily than you, my dear. The laws banning religious exercise were passed in 1793. This was immediately followed by antireligious exercises throughout the city. The people held a Festival of Reason right here within this place you now sleep.”

  “…Notre Dame.”

  “Yes. The cathedral was stripped of all its religious artifacts and a pagan Greek Temple was designed out of cardboard and set up right in the nave.”

  “Like a theatre.”

  “Exactly like a theatre. An actress of that time played the Goddess of Reason and the crowd sang Ça Ira while she was enthroned.”

  “The emblematic song of the French Revolution.”

  “That’s right. The Constitutional Bishop of Paris was ordered to publicly abjure the Catholic faith. He immediately obeyed and cast the insignia of his office aside and declared there should be no other worship in France than that of Liberty and Equality.”

  “Tragic.”

  “Yes, it was.” Father Robert sighed.

  I waited in silence until he finally decided to go on, a heaviness now weighing down his voice.

  “And as you can well imagine, the populace went wild then—dancing and howling in the sanctuary, men running around with no pants, women with no tops… indulging in everything imaginable.”

  “So sad… An all-out orgy, right here in Notre Dame.”

  “Sad. Yes, but only the beginning. The whole city turned into a madhouse. That’s when the Paris Convention outlawed the Bible and any expression of Christianity under penalty of death.”

  “That all took place in 1793, and then in 1797—three a
nd a half years later—the revolutionary laws were abolished.”

  “Yes. Napoleon wrote that our religious revolution was a failure. He said… Society cannot exist without religion.”

  “And there you have it, Father Robert. The twelve hundred and sixty years of real Christianity being persecuted, starting with Pope John being declared head over everything—side note here… absolute power corrupts absolutely, just sayin’—and ending with the French Revolution. And then the Bible lying dead in the streets for three and a half years. Then the seventh trumpet sounded.”

  “Saying that the Papacy persecuted real Christianity for twelve hundred and sixty years is heresy, child.”

  “Only if you’re Catholic. I’m not. Neither am I a child.”

  He just stared at me for a few seconds. I could almost see the wheels twirling in his mind, but no words came out of his mouth.

  “Umm… Anything you wanna add, Father?”

  “Enough talk. Let’s have breakfast.”

  I half smiled at him when he sat down across from me.

  Father Robert only rolled his eyes.

  *****

  After we had eaten, the priest sighed and leaned back in his chair.

  “I am not unlearned in the scriptures, Jem. You must know that.”

  “I do.”

  “Then you know I know precisely where you are in deciphering the prophesy of Revelation.”

  “Yeah? And where would that be?”

  “The dragon, the woman in labor, the mark of the beast.”

  I smiled. “Things that all scholars and learned Christians have read about, I’m sure.”

  “Yes… And your take on the meaning is?”

  “Very well. I’ll go first then. The prophesy talks here about a woman crying out from the pains of childbirth… and a red dragon with seven heads and ten horns—each head having a golden crown upon it—stood before the woman to devour her child the instant it was born. Oh, and again it mentions the twelve hundred and sixty years.”

  “Go on. Tell me. Who was this woman and who was the dragon?”

  “Quit smirking like you already know and I’ll tell you.”

  Father Robert chuckled.

  “It says in this part…” I pointed at the text. “…that there was a war in heaven—Michael and his Angels against the Dragon and his Angels—Michael winning, of course.”