The Prophecy - 13. Chapter 13

Jason and Leonard arrived at Saint-Martin-des-Champs and, to their great disappointment, learned that the priory was dissolved. The place was now a museum. They entered it. Jason studied the leaflet they had gotten at the entrance.

"The priory was suppressed in1790 under the new laws of the French Revolution and the buildings were used as a prison. The monastic walls and dormitories were torn down. The surviving structures became the home of the Museum of Arts and Crafts. It opened in 1802," he read. "The refectory is now the library and cannot be visited by the public."

"I think the parchment is in the library," Leonard said. "The man probably had permission to visit it and study the documents when he was a student of church history. Too bad we cannot enter it." He sounded disillusioned.

"Let's walk around a bit and look for a hint. I trust we find something here," Jason said. "We simply must."

Leonard shrugged. "Perhaps you’re right. Lambert at least feared we were able to find out about the secret," he said.

They entered a room, walked along the walls and looked at the displayed items. A door opened suddenly and a middle-aged man in a brown robe entered the room and looked at them.

"Bonjour, messieurs," he said.

"Bonjour," Jason replied, gazing at the monk’s robe as if he spotted a treasure.

"Good afternoon," Leonard said.

"Do you speak English? Can I help you?" the monk asked in English with a French accent, looking between the two men.

"Are you a Benedictine monk?" Jason blurted out

The monk looked at him. "Oui," he replied reluctantly and then turned his eyes to Leonard.

Leonard smiled and gave a nod.

"Well, yes, you can help us," Jason said eagerly. "We’re looking for a manuscript."

"What kind of manuscript?" the monk asked. "The library is not open to the public."

Leonard intervened. "We heard of a manuscript that tells of a certain incident. The document was written sometime after the year 1012, a letter from a nobleman’s son to his father. He confessed a crime and he told his father of the incident."

The monk’s face paled and he looked at them warily. "How did you learn of it? Who told you? Antoine Lambert?" he asked hastily.

Leonard and Jason exchanged a quick glance.

"Yes, we have talked with Mr. Lambert...," Jason started.

The monk interrupted him. "Come," he said. "I’ll take you to the library. This matter must not be discussed in public."

He led them down a narrow corridor and opened a door at its end. They entered a room. It was filled with bookshelves, desks and chairs. The monk turned to them.

"Alors, tell me more of it," he said, fixing his eyes on them.

Leonard cleared his throat. "Well, it sounds a bit weird," he said. "I’m very much interested in supernatural phenomena. I’m an amateur researcher, though. I read a book about past life regression and one of the stories intrigued me. A man had several dreams that frightened him. He dreamed he was locked up in a dark room. He underwent a past life regression and was told that he had been a Benedictine monk. He had been captured and he died in this room in the year 1012. The story intrigued me and I started to research in the local library. I found Antoine Lambert’s book on church history and stumbled over a footnote that referred to an old manuscript, a letter that the abbot wrote to the French king. The abbot had banned four monks from the cloister as they had been in league with the devil and were responsible for the death of a young man. I was asking myself if I had found a connection to the story in the book about past life regression. I told Jason of my findings...."

"Who?" the monk interrupted. His voice was harsh and his eyes shot nervously between Leonard and Jason.

"He told me. I’m Jason Bolding," Jason said.

"I have not yet introduced myself. Sorry about that. I’m Leonard Sullivan," Leonard said quickly.

The monk did not pay attention to him. His eyes were fixed on Jason. He downright stared at him. "Jason...," he said slowly.

Jason looked back in confusion. "Bolding. Jason Bolding," he said.

The monk smiled a forced smile. "Don’t you think this is all a bit far-fetched?" he asked, turning back to Leonard. His voice was suddenly cold and his look was haughty.

"Perhaps it is," Leonard replied slowly, apparently taken aback at the man's arrogant behaviour. "But like I said, I’m interested in the supernatural. I couldn’t stop my research."

"I’m interested in the stuff also," Jason intervened. "However, I do not research in libraries. I use the internet instead. I found a short passage in an old book. I don’t know if you are familiar with the internet. Google scanned a large amount of old books. You can read part of them online. I found a passage that referred to the story about the four monks. I found more details. One of the monks wrote a letter to his father and confessed his crime."

The monk narrowed his eyes. "Who has written this book that you claim you have found?"

"I’m afraid I can’t remember the author’s name. It was an outlandish name, Spanish perhaps," Jason lied. "But if you want to see a copy, I’ll go and get it from the car. I have printed the page from the internet."

Jason gambled. All-or-none, he thought. He smiled at the monk who gazed at him warily. The man waved with his hand. "Do I understand correctly? The old book mentioned a letter and you are looking for this letter to read it yourselves?" he asked.

"Exactly," Jason replied. "Perhaps there’s more mentioned in it than was mentioned in the book that I have found on the internet."

The monk studied him. "Your book mentioned all. The manuscript actually is in the library of Saint-Martin-des-Champs, but only few have ever seen it. It's not displayed to the public and I won’t show it to you, but I can assure you that nothing else is written in this letter than what you have already found out by yourself. It's written in Medieval Latin, by the way. Forgive my bluntness, I cannot imagine you can read Medieval Latin," he said.

Jason and the monk measured each other. Jason smiled amiably. The monk’s look was conceited.

"No, we can’t read Medieval Latin," Leonard said calmly. "You’re right on this, Father. We would have needed your help. I think we have received valuable information. Come, Jason, let’s go and not bother Brother..."

"Samael," the monk said with a polite smile.

Leonard turned to Jason. "Let’s go and not bother Brother Samael any longer," he said.

"Okay," Jason replied reluctantly.

"Thank you for your help, Father," Leonard said.

"Je vous en prie!" the monk said amiably.

He made a gesture with his hand and then showed them out of the library and down a corridor. He opened a door to the main street. Jason and Leonard stepped out. The monk smiled curtly.

"I cannot imagine Monsieur Lambert sent you here," he said arrogantly and then closed the door.

"Goddamn liar," Jason hissed. "He lied to us like Lambert did."

"Quiet, Jason," Leonard said. "Come, let’s go to the car and drive a bit."

Jason kicked a stone aside. He pushed his hands into the pocket of his jacket, looked at the sky and took a deep breath.

"Okay," he said brusquely.

They walked to the parking lot and climbed into the car.

The monk watched them from a window. When the car was out of sight, he seized a cell phone and typed a number. He spoke rapidly and then ended the call. Madame Lefèvre looked at her cell phone and then made another call. A man answered and said that only ten minutes ago they had finally managed to track Jason Bolding's cell phone. He said he would instantly call their agent who was currently driving north in the direction of Antwerp. The driver of the Bugatti left the motorway and fifteen minutes later joined it again. Jason drove north and the black Bugatti Veyron shot south.

"He lied to us," Jason said. "He said there was nothing else in the letter. He didn’t mention the prophecy."

"He wasn’t a Benedictine monk," Leonard said slowly. "The Benedictine monks are also called Black Monks because of their black robes. His robe was brown."

"Another lie," Jason said grimly.

They drove on silently for a while.

"Why the hell did he not mention the prophecy?" Jason asked finally.

"Hell, that’s it," Leonard said in an agitated voice. "He said his name was Samael. The name rang a bell. I've already read the name in a book about the fallen angels, the angels who were banned from Heaven. The most prominent one is Lucifer, but he was accompanied by a league of angels. They all rebelled against God. Samael was one of them."

Jason seized the wheel tighter. "God," he said. "The abbot wrote they were in league with the devil."

"I fear we've made a big mistake," Leonard said. "I fear we've warned them, Jason."

"Warned them of what?" Jason asked back.

"We let them know that we are close to revealing their secret," Leonard replied.

A black Bugatti Veyron shot south.

"Too many black Bugattis driving north and south," Jason said. "Too many odd things going on to my liking."

He left the motorway and drove up the drive of a restaurant. They climbed out of the car, went into the restaurant and had a coffee. They had just returned to their car when a black Bugatti Veyron was driving up the drive.

"Too many black Bugattis," Jason said thoughtfully, looking after the car.

"I'd second that," Leonard said. He watched the black Bugatti, and then straightened. "Quick. A truck is reversing out of a parking space. The driver of the Bugatti can’t see us. Quick, Jason," he said urgently.

They climbed into the car. Jason started it and drove down the drive. They resumed driving north. Jason looked nervously in the rear-mirror.

"Shall I leave the motorway?" he asked. "Shall we drive back to Paris?"

"No," Leonard replied in a firm voice. "The young monk died there. Don’t evoke the ghosts of times past."

Jason gave a hysterical laugh.