The Prophecy - 11. Chapter 11

It was about noon when Leonard and Jason arrived at Saint-Denis, a commune in the northern suburbs of Paris. Jason’s navigation system led them to the Basilica of St. Denis. Jason parked the car. They climbed out and walked the short distance to the church. They stopped and looked at the impressive cathedral.

"I have no idea how we can dig here deep in the past," Jason said.

"Let’s visit the cathedral," Leonard replied. "Perhaps an idea occurs to us."

They entered the building, stopped for an instant and then slowly walked down the central aisle like others did also, tourists most likely.

"Truly impressive," Leonard said in a low voice. "Gothic, I think. Look at this beautiful window."

They walked around and then entered the nave aisle, the burial site of many French kings.

"Look," Leonard said. "King Henri IV, 1008 to 1060. The abbot wrote the letter to him."

They stood and looked at the memorial.

"His nephew was Philip the Conqueror," a man said.

Leonard and Jason turned to him. The man was dressed in a crumpled suit, had well-groomed white hair, and held a thick paperback in his hands. He smiled at them, showing big and slightly yellowed teeth.

"Barry Dexter," he introduced himself. "I’m from Texas. I heard you talking. On a round trip through Europe also?" he asked.

Leonard smiled politely and Jason suppressed a snicker.

"Just visiting Paris and the surroundings," Leonard said in a distinguished voice. "We’re from London."

"I see," Barry said cheerfully. "Just a day trip. That’s fine. I’m here with a group. We’re on a magical mystery tour. That’s how they call it. We’re visiting places with a past. My wife is totally intrigued by murder mysteries. Stuff like that, you know."

An elder woman with a sunhat joined them. She was dressed in an oversized white blouse and black trousers. Her face was tanned, her hair dyed blonde, and her lips were painted pink. Leonard and Jason gazed at her.

"My wife Sally," Barry introduced her.

Sally opened her painted lips and showed a broad smile. She had overheard her husband’s last words. "Yes, I’m totally interested in mysteries. Mysteries of the past intrigue me. Europe has a past, hasn’t it, my dear," she said in an exalted manner.

"Sure," Barry said. "St. Denis, for instance. Did you know that four Benedictine monks from St. Denis killed a man some eight hundred or so years ago?"

"Black Monks," Sally said. "Monks in long black robes and with hoods, you know."

"A thousand years ago, according to what I've heard," Leonard said.

"Or so," Barry replied. "The remains of the poor murdered man have never been found."

"I could imagine he's walking the cathedral at night," Sally said cheerfully.

"You've watched too many mystery shows," Barry teased her.

"How did you learn of it, Mr. Dexter?" Jason asked eagerly.

"I'm Barry," the man said with a smile. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a leaflet. "Our tour leaflet," he said. "The major places of interest and their secrets are listed here."

Sally took it from his hand and opened it. She was interrupted by a pale man in his thirties.

"Barry, Sally. The bus will be leaving in a minute," he said.

"Oh my god," Sally exclaimed.

Barry and Sally wished them goodbye and a nice stay and then hurried down the aisle. Jason stopped the tour guide man and asked him about the tour. The man smiled in response to his question.

"I actually made up the tour. They like it. It’s so mysterious, so creepy, you know. There are better places than St. Denis, but I needed a stop in the morning. We’re going to London now. I booked a ferry passage, but I only got one in the afternoon. I had to fill their morning," he said with a smile.

"What’s it about St. Denis? How did you learn of the story?" Leonard asked.

The smile on the man’s face disappeared. "I studied church history, but I quit," he said shortly.

"Sorry," Jason said. "We don’t mean to bother you. But we’re desperately trying to get more information on this particular story. For personal reasons, but nonetheless important ones."

The man looked at his watch. "Okay, five more minutes," he said. "I came across this story during my studies. A footnote in a book referred to it. In the year 1012, the abbot of St. Denis wrote a letter to the king and complained about four monks being in league with the devil. He accused them of being responsible for a young man’s death and in absentia banned the four monks from the cloister. This brief recount somewhat intrigued me. I have a foible for mysteries myself. I started to research, hoping to find something interesting for my thesis. I found something, but I was put under pressure. I signed a document that my thesis supervisor had set up. It says I must never publish nor discuss my finding. It shook me to the core and I quit and became a tour guide instead."

He looked between Leonard and Jason. Pain and hate showed in his eyes.

"But I don’t give a damn," he spat out the words. "I'll tell you the story. One of the four monks, son of a nobleman, later confided to his father. I found the letter, a very old manuscript, but well preserved. He told his father that a young monk fled the cloister after he had stolen a parchment from the abbey. The parchment contained a prophecy and the prophecy announced the end of the world to come about on the 17th of May 1012. The four monks had hid the prophecy from the abbot, the king, and the public. They pursued the young monk and they must have killed him or let him die. The man at least wrote to his father that he had broken the Fifth Commandment. They were all mistaken, however. The end of the world did not come about on the 17th of May 1012. Antoine Lambert, my thesis supervisor, put me under pressure. I suspected he wanted to publish the finding himself. He was a renowned historian, famous and respected in his field, but his reputation suffered over the years. He has meanwhile left university."

The man looked at his watch. "I must go," he said. "Goodbye, gentlemen."

He turned around and walked down the aisle. Jason hurried after him.

"Where is this manuscript now?" he asked.

"In the Priory of Saint-Martin-des-Champs," the man replied, and then fastened his steps.

Jason went back and joined Leonard who looked after the man in almost shock.

"Good Lord," he said under his breath. "What have we gotten into?"

"Let’s go and have a coffee somewhere. I need to calm down," Jason said harshly.

Leonard gave a nod. They left the cathedral and looked for a quiet café. They found one, sat down at a table and ordered croissants and coffee.

"What a coincidence. If we had not met that tour guide...," Leonard said, eying his croissant suspiciously.

"A minor coincidence," Jason said sarcastically. "I mean compared to the fact that the murdered man is contacting me in my sleep."

"Quite true," Leonard replied. He took a bite of the croissant.

They sat silently for a while. Jason gazed into nowhere. His face showed utter distress.

"I still don’t understand why Lambert lied to us," he said finally. "Why did he tell us that crap? Why did he not just say he has not found out anything and cannot help us?"

"I’m pondering on this also," Leonard replied. "We have not yet found the key fact."

"To sum it up," Jason started. "The parchment contained a prophecy that not fulfilled. For whatever reason, the four monks tried to keep the prophecy a secret. They killed the young man who had stolen the parchment."

"He most likely stumbled over it," Leonard said.

"Why did he flee the cloister?" Jason asked.

"To stop the announced event?" Leonard asked back.

"It would make sense, provided he found the parchment prior to the announced date of the end of the world," Jason replied. He straightened in his chair. "He said in my dream that he was mistaken. He said it was the 18th of May."

Leonard nodded thoughtfully. "He lived long enough to witness that the prophecy did not fulfil," he said.

Jason fidgeted in his chair. He leaned forward and looked at Leonard intently. "He said it was up to me now. Why? Did he think…oh my God! There is yet time! That's what he called out to me."

"Goodness," Leonard said under his breath. "He thought the prophecy would fulfil anyway and he had just misinterpreted the date. The announced year was not the year 1012. Is it 2012? The 17th of May is…when, Jason?"

Jason looked at Leonard in shock, but then seized his cell phone and checked the calendar. "On Thursday," he said in a hollow voice, and then started to laugh hysterically. "Ascension Day," he said. Jason’s laughter faded, and he slumped in his chair."I finally get it. There is yet time. Three more days," he said in a toneless voice. "Heaven, what am I supposed to do?"

"We need to see this manuscript," Leonard said. "We must see it whatever the cost. I will call Gary if necessary. He has connections. We’ll find a way. Where is this priory, Jason? The priory that keeps the manuscript."

"The Priory of Saint-Martin-des-Champs," Jason said. He opened his cell phone and googled the name. "There are many with the name. Stop. There’s one in the city of Paris," he said.

"I suppose that’s the one the man referred to," Leonard replied. "Not far from St. Denis. Perhaps the four monks fled there."

"It makes sense," Jason said. He googled an article and read the text and then looked up. "King Henri I rebuilt the abbey in 1060 and the Benedictine community became one of the major houses of the Congregation of Cluny in 1079. However, a community of monks had already become established there earlier around the chapel that was built prior to 710. The abbey was destroyed by the Norman invaders in the late 900s," he summarized the text.

"I could imagine that the monks have never entirely given up the site. A ruin though, an almost deserted and forgotten place, until Henri I rebuilt it. A Benedictine site that could well have admitted the four monks who had been banned from St. Denis," Leonard said thoughtfully. "Think of the letter the man found in the Priory of Saint-Martin-des-Champs. One of the four monks later confided to his father. He told him of the murdered man. The letter was most likely never sent, for whatever reason. The priory kept it. We should find it in the archives."

Jason searched for money in his pockets. "Let’s go, Leonard. There is yet time, but time is getting short," he said. He gave a hysterical laugh, but then regained control and called out to the waitress.

They hurried back to their car. Jason started it and checked his navigation system. A couple of minutes later, they left Saint-Denis.

Jason thought of Antoine Lambert. The man was cunning, deceitful, a bloody liar who ruined other people’s career. Jason found it was high time to stop the traitor. He seized the wheel tighter. His look was grim and determined. The murdered monk had called out for his help and he, Jason Bolding, would answer the call. He was no longer a victim, a man randomly involved in a mysterious game. He was a man with a mission, a man with a goal. He would avenge the murdered monk and he would avenge the miserable tour guide also.

A rush of adrenaline swept through Jason's body as he stepped on the gas.

"Here we go!" he called out. "Saint-Martin-des-Champs, we’re coming."

“Yes, sir,” Leonard said with a faint smile that did not completely hide his worries.