The Celtic Conspiracy
Read The Celtic Conspiracy Online
Authors: Thore D. Hansen
Dedicated to all people who have lost their lives or their freedom through the actions of the Catholic Church. And to those who have realized that historical truth and spiritual self-determination are the right of every human being.
No crime can be hidden forever.
No culture, banished forever.
Every truth shall find the light of day.
If law can become justice,
then a divine culture can return
.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright © 2011 by Thore D. Hansen
Translation copyright © 2012 by Amazon Content Services
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
The Celtic Conspiracy
by Thore D. Hansen was first published in 2011 by Scorpio Verlag in Munich, Germany, as
Die Hand Gottes (The Hand of God)
. Translated from German by Anne Adams. First published in English in 2012 by AmazonCrossing.
Published by AmazonCrossing
P.O. Box 400818
Las Vegas, NV 89140
ISBN-13: 9781612183473
ISBN-10: 1612183476
Library of Congress Control Number: 2012904055
Since the earliest days of our childhood we have grown used to hearing fabricated histories, and for centuries our soul has been so saturated with prejudices that it watches over these fantastic lies like a treasure until, ultimately, truth appears incredible and the lie, true.
—Sanchuniathon, Four Thousand Years Ago
Major Sean MacClary heard the scream—like something out of a vicious nightmare—moments before the young soldier came running toward the tent where MacClary was awaiting orders from British high command.
“Major, sir, a recruit has fallen into a cave.”
In spite of the tension of battle, MacClary felt a momentary sense of relief. “Brilliant, my friends,” he said to his nearby troops dryly. “I was afraid I’d lose my men in battle. Instead, they’re falling down holes.”
The moment for joking passed quickly, though, and MacClary delivered orders for the rescue sharply. The last of the German troops had recently scattered; it was too dangerous to use a light to investigate the area, so this was going to be a more difficult operation than he would have liked.
MacClary took two soldiers and medics with him to find where the soldier had fallen. His left eye began to twitch nervously, a quirk he had developed at a young age when he was under pressure from his teachers. War had only made it worse. In spite of his reluctance to show weakness in front of his troops, he stopped for a moment, took off his helmet, and held his filthy forehead to calm himself down. His dark eyes searched for a point in the countryside where they could focus. As the twitching slowly subsided, he ran one hand through his short, gray hair and with the other put his helmet back on.
When he came to the edge of the cave, MacClary risked using a small flashlight to look into it. About ten feet down, he saw the motionless infantryman.
“Soldier, can you hear me?”
Only a faint groan confirmed that someone was still alive down there.
MacClary turned to the two men nearest him. “Smith and Rudy, rappel to him.”
The soldiers quickly did his bidding. As they reached their companion, though, MacClary heard awed whispering that had nothing to do with the wounded man.
“What’s going on down there?”
“Major, you have to see this! There’s an entrance here to a room filled with all kinds of old stuff.”
“What? Wait a minute, I’m coming down.”
MacClary rappelled into the cave, following the light that one of the soldiers had turned on once hitting bottom. When MacClary got to the cave’s floor, he couldn’t believe his eyes. At first he thought they’d found a secret bunker, but he immediately realized that this structure was hundreds, perhaps thousands, of years old. Before the war, MacClary had been a professor at the London Institute of Archaeology. Seeing the artifacts the soldiers had discovered made him weak in the knees and instantly hit him with the desire to go back to the life he’d loved.
“Stay back and rescue the man,” he said briskly to the others. “I’m going to take a closer look.”
He couldn’t make out very much in the dim light, but he could see that this must have been some sort of library or special burial chamber. The condition of the stones, the statues, and the few characters he could make out in the dust-filled air suggested Celtic or Roman origins. That didn’t make sense, though, since the Celts were assimilated and converted to Christianity after the Romans conquered them; they would hardly have created this mysterious collection after that. Only the Druids would have had the knowledge and perspective to have hidden these treasures, but that would also have been impossible because the Druids only passed on their knowledge orally.
Was this cave a sanctuary? A place to preserve knowledge and culture? If so, who had built it? Questions shot
through MacClary’s head like the salvoes of a machine gun, but he wouldn’t find any answers now, not under these miserable conditions.
There were few people who knew as well as he that it wasn’t the Romans and the Greeks—or the Germanic people—who had first shaped Europe. It was the Celts. True, the fate of Celtic independence was virtually sealed by Julius Caesar, but the culture and its natural religion continued for a long time, until Christianity became the prevailing doctrine in fourth-century Rome. MacClary knew that the loss of Celtic culture had not received nearly enough attention, and its significance reached to the present day. Was this the reason he’d happened upon these artifacts?
Breathing heavily, handicapped by the darkness and the dust that filled the cave, he eyed the pieces as carefully as he could. He saw scrolls that shouldn’t have been able to survive a hundred years in this region, but they were clearly ancient. Whoever had made this place had to have looked long and hard for such an unusually dry and warm cave. There could only be one explanation: they wanted to make sure that these testaments to the past would endure, so that one day in the future someone would discover them and show them to the world.
But why?
Among the stone tablets, statues, scrolls, and decorative pieces, a lone chest caught his attention. It was covered with dust and partially disintegrated, but he could
make out something through the filth that was written on the top: