The Sixth Station(124)
“Inside of this enormous jug was a stack of books produced sometime in the fourth century AD. None of the fifty-two tractates in the thirteen leather-bound books they found are included in the New Testament. He was digging for fertilizer, thought he’d found gold—and was disappointed it turned out to be just leather-bound papyrus.”
“But worth its weight in gold, though.”
“More than that. They are considered to be the most important find of the modern age, in fact. You see, these are allegedly the words of the private Jesus—mystical teachings he imparted to his closest disciples. They are not the sermons he gave for the multitudes.”
“So was ’Alī al-Sammān the Chosen One of his day?”
“Perhaps—if you believe the words in the books are the words of Jesus. I, for one do not. And ’Alī al-Sammān? Hardly what you’d call a visionary. In fact, after bringing these extraordinary lost books home, his mother used some pages as kindling for the home fires. Shortly after that, according to ’Alī al-Sammān himself, he and his brothers set forth to avenge the death of their father by another local.”
“And?”
“He said they found him, hacked off his limbs, ripped his heart out, and proceeded to eat it. Then, fearing they’d be caught and needing money, they sold what was left of the books on the black market.”
“Wow.”
“So while you are a Chosen One yourself, it’s not necessarily because of your specialness.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it. Anyway, I don’t think I’m special as much as cursed at this point. Unless I get a great story out of it…”
“Well, hurry up with that. I think ben Yusef just announced the end of the world.”
“Or maybe the beginning.”
“You mean his reference to ‘again and again’?”
“Yes. I think he meant, if I’m not mistaken, that the source blood, if we find it, will be his resurrection.”
“So you believe that he is indeed the clone of Jesus?”
“I’ve come to believe that he’s not evil, if that means anything. I believe that he wasn’t responsible for those atrocities. Is he the Son of the Son? Hell, I don’t know. But I know I need to find out for myself.”
As we came over the next rise, the traffic, which had been nonexistent a moment earlier, was now at a dead stop. Up ahead red lights were flashing, sirens were blaring, and a lot of angry Italians were standing outside their cars and cursing.
“Roadblock. That would be for you, my dear.”
“Oh, crap—as they don’t say in the Nag Hammadi.”
We inched our way up car by car until we were five or six from the roadblock itself and the inspection of our vehicle.
“I have this fake passport and license.…”
“I just need to show my license and you can show yours if asked. We are just a couple of nuns traveling to see the various churches in the area. You don’t even need to show your passport—no reason you’d be carrying it around for a car ride. Got it?”
“Got it.”
As we approached the roadblock, a news flash came on the radio and every Italian standing outside his or her car, previously cursing and yelling, grew silent to listen. Even the cops stopped checking IDs momentarily.
“Another message? You mean he didn’t finish?” I ventured.
Instead, a reporter from the BBC came on breathlessly to announce, “Chief Judge Fatoumata Bagayoko, president of the United Nation’s Special International Criminal Court, has entered the General Assembly room, temporary home of the ben Yusef tribunal, to make a special announcement.”
Even Maureen’s eyes widened. If we hadn’t already been at a standstill, I think she would have slammed on the brakes.
The voice of Bagayoko came on clear but not strong. She sounded—what?—defeated.
“Good day, ladies and gentlemen. First let me thank you all for attending the tribunal these past days and reporting the facts as accurately as humanly possible. It is, however, my sad duty to inform you that due to a gross and unforgivable breach on my part, I will not be able to continue in my role as chief judge of the most important tribunal in modern history.”
What the—?
“Because I was moved to visit the children who were victims of the terrorist bombings allegedly masterminded by Demiel ben Yusef—children you all saw for yourselves in court on the first day of the tribunal—and then to make a public declaration about it, I tainted the process. I went so far as to declare that they had been healed after being prayed for by ben Yusef.
“I therefore can no longer serve as a fair and impartial overseer of these proceedings. For as God is my witness, I am no longer impartial.