Blood of the Lamb (51 page)

“But he chose to remain,” Thomas whispered.

“As always, he assented to what he saw as the will of his Father.”

The grand church dedicated to the lowliest of Jesus’s followers fell completely silent. Not a footfall or a whisper interposed itself, waiting for Thomas to say, “So he is still here.”

“Yes.”

“Where?” Thomas had never wanted the answer to a question as much as he wanted this one.

The Pontifex smiled and spoke softly. “I don’t know.”

Thomas, stricken, could not reply.

“Understand,” the Pontifex said, “that he could have revealed himself at any moment before the writing of this Testament—or any moment since. But from the start of time, good has rarely come from religion. When it comes, it comes from faith. The Concordat was an attempt to set the Church founded in his name—a Church founded on faith—back onto a righteous path. Ultimately, though, each of us, Unchanged and Noantri, must choose our own way. If any good is to come of religion, faith must guide that choice, and faith does not merely allow, it absolutely
requires,
a lack of proof.”

In his head, Thomas heard his own earlier thoughts:
If God’s existence could be “proved,” what was man offering God? Faith was what God asked of man. The only thing man has, and the only thing God wants.

Faith was our single gift to him.

107

What Livia felt now, she’d felt only once before, at the moment of her own Change: that the world had been revealed to her as overflowing, churning, mad with color and sound and scent, with promises she’d never thought to ask for and answers to questions she’d never thought to ask. This kaleidoscopic symphony, this vast, endless tapestry was before her now, again, in this silent church. What a gift! What a marvel, to live in such a world!

But a question grew in her, and with it a fear. One question, that did have to be asked.

“Lord,” she addressed the Pontifex, “what do you intend to do?”

“I?”

“Now that Father Kelly and I have come upon this knowledge.”

He regarded them without words for quite some time. “From the moment I was asked to lead our people,” he said quietly, “it was clear this day would sometime come. I have given much thought to this question and never found an answer. Even as I stepped forward to speak with you here, I was not sure what my duty required. Now, I am.” He paused. “Father Kelly. Livia. The choice is yours.”

Livia had to swallow before she could speak. “Ours, Lord?”

“As faith was put in me, I put mine in you, to make the correct choice. If you choose a path that I would not have, my faith will continue to guide me as we travel that path. Reveal what you know, or hide this secret again. I await your decision.”

Livia was struck dumb, unable even to think. She stood motionless, staring at the Pontifex, the dark eyes that seemed to see into her. For a few long moments, that was all. Then Thomas spoke.

“We will replace it.”

Slowly, he rose from the plinth and faced them. “I can’t claim to understand the meaning of what we’ve learned today. That will take a long time, perhaps a lifetime, of contemplation and prayer.” Unexpectedly, he smiled. “My lifetime. Not yours.”

“I think,” Livia said, “mine, also.”

Thomas met her eyes and went on. “That this document was written at all tells me there will come a time when these facts will be revealed. That it was hidden tells me that that time will come at the choosing of someone much greater than myself. Sir, your faith in us is an honor that will forever humble me. But the choice is not, in fact, ours. Jesus of Nazareth chose to keep this secret. Until he chooses otherwise, it will remain a secret.”

The Pontifex nodded slowly, but said, “Others—Unchanged, or Noantri—might one day discover what you have.”

“Then they will make their choices. I’ve made mine.”

Wordlessly, Livia handed the scroll to the Pontifex. He took it and glanced over it, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Then he rerolled it and, as lightly as she had, he stepped onto the marble plinth, removed the jar’s cap, and slipped the scroll inside. No one said anything until he was standing beside them again. Then it was the Pontifex who spoke.

“Thank you.”

Nothing else needed to be said. He turned to leave them. Before he could take a step, though, Thomas said, “Sir?”

The Pontifex turned back.

“May I ask something?”

“You may.”

“Thank you. You speak as one who . . . knew them. Knew him.”

“I did. And loved them both. My own Change dates from not long before his. Father Kelly, you know my story, though it’s not as you’ve long thought.”

To Thomas’s puzzled look, the Pontifex continued.

“I also was thought to be in the arms of death, I also was brought back to this world. Jesus of Nazareth, however, did not accomplish that ‘miracle.’ It has been attributed to him, but in truth it was brought about by the same Noantri who later performed his. Mary Magdalene. She who was also”—he smiled again—“despite what biblical scholars say, Mary of Bethany. My sister.”

The Pontifex’s smile broadened as understanding dawned in Thomas’s eyes, though Livia herself didn’t quite believe it until she heard him say it.

“I am Lazarus.”

Then he turned in the aisle, and was gone.

POSTSCRIPT

N
OTABLE
N
OANTRI
—
A BRIEF LIST

Most Noantri, of course, take some pains not to become famous. The spotlight makes disappearing, and reappearing in another place as another person—a necessity of eternal life—more difficult. Some, however, especially those in the arts, are unable to avoid public notice; and some frankly enjoy both the acclaim, and the thrill of danger that comes with it. Listed on the following pages are some men and women claimed by the Noantri as their own. It must be said that the siren song of fame is heard, perhaps, more clearly in some nations than in others; thus it will be noted that this list is heavy with Americans. The birth dates given for some here are the actual date of birth of the person before his or her Change; for others, they are the birth date associated with the identity we have come to know—a false date, in other words. Which are which are facts deeper in the Noantri Archive than your scribe was permitted to go.

Sam Cabot

January 1, 2013

Khachatur Abovian, b. 1809, Armenian writer.

Al-Hakim bi-Amr Allah, b. 996, sixth Fatimid caliph.

Theodosia Burr Alston, b. June 21, 1783, daughter of U.S. vice president Aaron Burr.

Dorothy Arnold, b. 1884, American socialite.

Benjamin Bathurst, b. March 18, 1784, British diplomat.

Ambrose Bierce, b. June 24, 1842, American writer.

Captain James William Boyd, b. 1822, Confederate States of America military officer.

Matthew Brady, b. 1822, American photographer.

Giordano Bruno, b. 1548, Dominican friar, mathematician, astronomer, philosopher.

John Cabot, b. 1450, Italian explorer.

Saint Cecilia, b. second century AD, Roman, Catholic martyr and saint, patroness of poets and musicians.

Thomas P. “Boston” Corbett, b. 1832, Union Army soldier.

Hart Crane, b. July 21, 1899, American poet.

Joseph Force Crater, b. January 5, 1889, New York judge.

Arthur Cravan (Favian Avenarius Lloyd), b. May 22, 1887, Swiss boxer, poet, surrealist figure.

Emilio de’ Cavalieri, b. 1550, Italian composer.

Amelia Earhart, b. July 24, 1897, American aviatrix.

The Eight Taoist Immortals, b. during Tang or Song Dynasty, Chinese “mythological” characters.

Carlo Gesualdo, b. March 8, 1566, Italian composer.

Franz Greiter, b. 1918, Austrian scientist, inventor of sunscreen.

Jesus of Nazareth, b. 1 AD, central figure of Christianity.

Louis Aimé Augustin Le Prince, b. August 28, 1841, French inventor.

Romualdo Locatelli, b. 1905, Italian painter.

Thomas Lynch, Jr., b. August 5, 1749, American patriot, signer of the U.S. Declaration of Independence.

Stefano Maderno, b. 1576, Italian sculptor.

Mary Magdalene, b. first century AD, early disciple of Jesus of Nazareth.

Philip Mazzei, b. December 25, 1730, Italian physician, confidant of Thomas Jefferson, originator of the phrase “All men are created equal.”

Methuselah, b. 1,656 years after creation, figure mentioned in Hebrew Bible.

Nefertiti, b. 1370 BC, “Great Royal Wife” of Pharaoh Akhenaten.

Ivan Nikitin, b. 1690, Russian painter.

Qin Shi Huang, b. 259 BC, Chinese emperor.

The Seven Sleepers of Ephesus, b. 250, Christian martyrs.

Spartacus, b. 109 BC, Thracian rebel slave.

Bram Stoker, b. November 8, 1847, Irish novelist.

Horace Sumner, b. 1826, American passenger on ill-fated ship on which Margaret Fuller (American writer) was lost.

Jan van Eyck, b. 1390, Flemish painter.

Yellow Emperor or Huangdi, b. 2724 BC, Chinese emperor, reigned 2696–2598 BC.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Without the hard work of many people, this book would not exist. For that, Sam Cabot would like to thank Damiano Abeni, Dana Cameron, Moira Egan, Conor Fitzgerald, Massimo Gatto, Tom Govero, Betsy Harding, the late Royal Huber, Tyler Lansford, Dermot O’Connell, Franco Onorati, Ingrid Rowland, Tom Savage, Barbara Shoup, the secret map-maker, and all the believers and nonbelievers at Rancho Obsesso. Sam would also like to offer a particular tip of the biretta to Steve Axelrod of The Axelrod Agency, and to David Rosenthal, Vanessa Kehren, and the fine folks at Blue Rider.
Grazie.

Without the electricity of Art Workshop International in Assisi, Sam Cabot would not exist. For that, Carlos Dews and S. J. Rozan would like to thank Edith Isaac-Rose, Bea Kreloff, Charles Kreloff, Chris Spencer, and the Hotel Giotto.
Pax et bonum.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR