The Celtic Conspiracy (42 page)

“Out of fear of the truth. And with complete disregard for your own teachings. You know as well as I that your Bible was written for the people of ancient times and only made sense in that context.”

“Even if that were true, do you really understand what you’ve started? What the social and cultural consequences of your actions will be?”

“I think so,” Shane said, sitting next to the pope on a velvet-covered chair. “I even think I can bear the responsibility for these consequences.”

“Well, in regards to your concern for our Church, I can tell you that you’re only accelerating something that
has been simmering within these walls for a long time. In a few hours I will be announcing to the cardinals that we will be holding a council. You will be glad to hear that in this council we will be rethinking several doctrines of the Church and, where necessary, adapting them to present times.”

* * *

A couple of doors down the camerlengo was sitting at a desk with nothing on it except a simple speaker with raspy voices coming out of it. For centuries, double walls, hidden doors, and secret passageways had sufficed for what today could be accomplished with a couple of simple, electronic components. He looked into the grim faces of the two cardinals sitting across from him and shook his head.

“I’m telling you, we have to take action,” he said.

* * *

“I don’t think that that’s enough,” Shane said sharply. “Inside of these walls, and in your Church throughout the world, nothing will be sacred until you acknowledge the changes wrought by time and the crimes of the past. And the changes within seem to be the hardest for you. This doesn’t really surprise me, since this change would mean the loss of power.” Shane could sense that the pope was trying to cover up how nervous he actually was. The man was hiding something, that was clear.

“What makes you so sure that you will succeed in dissuading the people from their belief in God?”

“Where did you get the idea that I want to convince people to give up their faith? I wouldn’t be able to, and that was never my goal. Why do you believe that the writings you’re referring to haven’t been adulterated?”

“Believe me, we are well aware that traditional Christianity is experiencing a crisis of its absolute claim to truth, especially in Europe, but you cannot seriously expect to sell me on the writings of these Druids and the other so-called scholars as an alternative!” Pope John Paul III said scornfully. “The parchments found in Austria are really not a threat to us, even if you choose to see them otherwise. Only the foolish actions of Cardinal Lambert and Victor Salvoni have attracted so much attention to them, and it won’t be long before your Druids have disappeared back into a drawer in some university.”

“You are mistaken, I’m afraid. Only the power of faith supports Christian scripture, but it cannot withstand any rational scrutiny. The philosophers during the time of the founding of the Church knew this. I have come to understand one thing in the last few weeks and in my study of the parchments: The original scriptures of Christianity, Islam, or Hinduism are no more believable than those of Druidism. No one can rightfully claim to be in possession of the sole truth. I don’t have to be an agnostic to understand this.”

“The Celtic texts originated after Christianization, Mr. Shane.”

“That may be, but how does that differ from the original texts of your religion? The original Aramaic texts were written long after the death of Jesus, translated into Greek, and then into Latin, a huge operation that brought errors into the texts. The first Christian text was actually the Apocalypse of John! Then the letters of Paul the Apostle. The Gospels were written even later, at least in the form that we know them today. The parchments of the contemporary witnesses, Sopatros or Porphyrios, for example, are authentic. You would be ill advised not to view the Irish texts as equal in value to your own.”

The pope smiled with little humor. “Do you want to establish the Druids as the better religion?”

“No! What the Druids taught was not a religion, and even if it were, they’ve been dead for as long as you’ve been keeping up your lies. That’s the point! Still, these teachings deserve the same respect as the texts of Christianity.”

Shane didn’t want to engage in this debate any further. He could tell that the certainty the pope had radiated at their first meeting was long gone. This was nothing more than the last gasp of the battle. Still, he pressed on.

“Do you still not realize what happened in the courtroom in Washington? Your zeal has cost millions of people their lives and caused massive confusion in people’s minds. For centuries. Yesterday many of us lost a very good friend, and for what? Can you tell me that?”

The pope shook his head slowly. “Christianity is not simply based on mythical images and ideas whose justification—”

“I’m really not here to discuss your faith with you. I’m concerned with something completely different. I have seen and felt how torn you are. I can sense the unbelievable amount of resistance you are up against here. I have just one request: give back to us, give back to humanity, an important legacy. Do it of your own free will. It belongs to us all.”

“I don’t understand you, that’s already...I’ve already turned over all the documents to the institute for—”

“You understand me quite well. I mean the items that are still hidden in your archives.”

The pope massaged his forehead with his fingertips, sighed deeply, and looked at Shane with an expression of profound sadness. “My dear young friend, I thought you were brighter than that. Have you been taken in by this old tale? Mr. Shane, there is no secret archive. I know there are all sorts of wild conspiracy theories floating around out there, but it’s just another myth. Our archive has been open for years, though initially only to researchers sympathetic to the church.”

“I...I just don’t believe that. You’re saying that there is nothing about the Druids in the archives of the Inquisition, that you know nothing of their scientific genius? It must have scared the Church at least as much as Copernicus once did, or Giordano Bruno, or the critical writings of a Porphyrios or Sopatros. If that is true, there can only be one reason—these documents were systematically destroyed.”

The thought was fascinatingly simple, horribly simple. If it were true, than Druidism was dead and gone for all time.

“Yes, I’m afraid that is one of the shadows that hangs over this Church,” the pope said, looking out the window in resignation.

“Then I can better understand why we were followed and almost killed in Austria. You don’t want to reform this Church. You don’t want to accept a humble role for the Church that puts it on a level with all other religions with no claim to the ultimate truth. But that will ultimately destroy you. Just look around you!”

The pope, to Shane’s surprise, remained silent.

“You heard the American president’s speech,” Shane continued. “The planet is joining together. A planetary code of ethics is the logical next step to ensure our survival. These ethics are not the accomplishment of the Church, but perhaps it is at least the legacy of the original Christian teachings of compassion and brotherly love. But this is also about the necessary respect for the true miracle, for nature, and for that which can still nourish us. Only humankind can stop the internal and external exploitation of resources by taking responsibility for everything. For that to happen, we need self-determination. We are the creators. Each of us carries the divine spark within us.”

The pope remained quiet, staring at a desk strewn with books criticizing the Church.

Shane pressed on. “You are holding the faithful and all humankind in spiritual slavery. Religion has great power. I don’t have to tell you that. You can drive people to war, as any child knows by now. But it’s more than that. The longing for redemption and the thought that the end of the world is near kills every impulse to shape our future. We don’t have any more time to leave the leadership of this world to people who think like this. Here, read this!”

Adam handed the pope the translation of a parchment by the Druid Aregetorix, which he had brought with him in one of the boxes. John Paul III read only the first lines before he crumpled down in his chair. When he looked at Shane again, tears were in his eyes. Shane knew what he’d read.

“A great continuum is now ending, and the world will be all the poorer for it. You have looked on silently as the legacy of our ancestors was destroyed. You have attacked our roots, abused our mother, and rejected our belief in divine inspiration. You have rejected the faith in every individual human that nothing is impossible for him. If humans forget that they themselves are divine, they will become victims to the dark powers, slaves for eternity...”

The silence hung heavily over the room until the pope finally stood. “Mr. Shane, I can assure you that I realize more than you might believe at this moment. What do you think I should do now? Go out and say, ‘I’m sorry, we’ve been wrong for two thousand years?’ I understand now that you are no enemy to the Church, that you are not my enemy, that you may be no one’s enemy at all. You
would have waged this crusade against any other institution, I believe, and I will act in a way that I think will appease you.”

The flush of accomplishment at winning the first round in Washington having faded, MacClary, Jennifer, and Deborah arrived the next morning in Dublin. MacClary had a hard road ahead of him.

“Ronald, what is tormenting you?” Jennifer asked.

“I’d like to finally have some clarity about the past. And I want to take the burden of responsibility from Ruth,” MacClary said softly.

The taxi turned into Arbour Hill. As MacClary opened the door, the workers were busy removing the last bit of paint left behind by the paint bombs thrown at the house. A guard was still posted at the door. He gave them all a friendly greeting.

“Thank you,” MacClary said to the guard. “You’ve been protecting a jewel.”

Everyone went inside. Ronald treaded heavily toward the kitchen to find Ruth. Deborah and Jennifer were going to retreat to the library when he quietly called after them. “She wants you to be here with her.”

And so they sat together and heard firsthand the story of Sean MacClary’s death.

* * *

In August 1945, Sean MacClary had been strapped to his bed after receiving a local anesthetic. No one thought anything of it, since he had been having seizures after a bullet was removed from his spinal column. No one was surprised that the patient was alone in a room meant for four patients. He had received several visitors, among them two priests. The nuns working in the clinic had been surprised at that, since Sean MacClary had until that time expressed no desire for spiritual assistance. In reality, the visit had nothing to do with spiritual assistance, as one of the nuns later unofficially reported. The conversation had gotten quite loud in the room and it had had something to do with a trip to Austria, where the two men wanted to accompany the patient. Sean had categorically refused. A bit later young Ronald and his mother came to visit, and the men hastily left the clinic. Not a half hour later, Sean was dead. The murderer had apparently been so surprised by the family’s visit that he had forgotten the most important evidence—the capsule in Sean’s mouth.

* * *

Ruth Copendale sat at the kitchen table, completely spent after finishing her story. The
Herald-Tribune
, which lay in front of her, was wet with her tears.

“So now you all know everything. I am responsible for Sean’s death. I confided everything to this Morati, everything. I brought the devil into the house. Oh, Ronnie, I’m so sorry. I never wanted this. I only wanted to help. I had the idea that Sean could trust Morati because he seemed to be a more critical priest and at least he knew a lot about the antiquity...”

“Ruth, please,
shh
. You didn’t have any idea, and I know my father agreed to meet with this man. And my God, I saw how much Morati has suffered having allowed himself to do such a thing.”

Deborah laid her hand on Ms. Copendale’s arm.

“But Ryan...my God, I can’t forgive myself for that.”

“Yes, Ruth, you can and you must,” Jennifer said. “You are not guilty if someone else breaks every ethical rule there is.”

“Ruth, what Jennifer is saying is damned important,” MacClary said, tears running down his face. “Ruth, you know that I’ve always loved you like a mother. Please, listen to us. They will all be punished as they deserve, and we can find peace. And perhaps we’ve gone a long way toward helping many more people find peace as well.”

“But what will come next?”

MacClary had gradually pulled himself together. “Well, we’ll be spending a lot more time with each other, I think, since I don’t really have any work in the United States anymore. But above all, I’m sending you into retirement, as well as offering you a home in this honorable house for the rest of your life.”

“What? Excuse me?” The sight of her confused face made everyone laugh, even if it was through their tears.