Sometimes, Simon sensed an amorous tone in Ursus’
description. While he wasn’t certain about the true nature of their
relationship, he didn’t care if they had been lovers. This didn’t matter. All
he knew was that they loved one another and Ursus truly grieved. He wanted to
hear more. Talking about Natalie, with someone who knew her, obviously helped
the big man, so he offered his own recollection of her.
“I can remember when she came to me, when she was not
allowed to become a Perfecti. It was the only time I ever saw her angry.” Simon
stopped and noted a silent chuckle escape from Ursus’ burned face. Though his
lips never curled into a smile, and some might have found his amused expression
ghastly, Simon welcomed it. “What’s so funny?”
“I saw her angry many times, and usually after I hurt
or killed someone. Then, she was always cross, and I didn’t blame her, but it
was my nature to defend. She would always say she did not want her life to be
more precious than the smallest animal, but to me, it was more precious than
anyone foolish enough to harm us. I would tell her that one could not stop a
guardian animal.
“She called it instinct, something you could not
help, and that is why we moved to the Ornolac caves. I would be a voice in the
darkness and she would not have to worry about others I might harm or kill,”
Ursus smiled at his memory. “Why was she forbidden and who dared to forbid
her?”
“The Grand Master at that time, Arnold de Toroga,
forbade her to enter into an order that rejected breeding. Her blood was the
most righteous of any other on earth. He said that it must be passed on to other
families. It had to continue; it could not die out.
“We returned to de Toroga’s chapter house and told
him that the line could not die out if she became a Parfait. Natalie was not an
only child, but Templars, being Templars, remained adamant, until Natalie
suggested a bargain. She noted one of her nieces was quite friendly with one of
Arnold’s nephews, so she proposed a marriage. By mingling with the Sangrael,
his house would gain prestige, and Natalie could gain his allowance.”
“Why did she need his permission?” Ursus asked.
“For centuries, the Templars have protected the
Sangrael. Well, before Templars, they were Essenes, who watched over Mary, with
Rachel and their descendants. This continued to the Merovingian kings when they
sat on the French throne. Even after they became regular folk their bloodlines
were revered. So they, of the Sangrael, listened to the Templars out of, what
Natalie called it; instinct.” Simon smiled, “You understand instinct, don’t
you?”
Ursus smiled back and nodded.
“So, with that bargain, she became a Parfait, as if
born to it, and the Cathari gained a way to salvage their beliefs.”
“So, the Templars guard Natalie’s family and have for
centuries? I’ve always heard others speak of the Sangrael, and mention her
royal blood. Are there more of her family in France?”
Simon was becoming confused by the conversation.
“There is at least a family, or several, close to every Templar chapter house
in Christendom. They are always vigilant and have never revealed their true
mission to the Catholics.” Simon continued, “You mean, you never knew Natalie’s
family? What this Sangrael is, to which everyone has referred for all these
years?”
“It is as the name says, royal blood:
sange real
.
The Merovingians, you just told me.” Ursus’ brows met over the top of his nose.
“How far into your initiations has Natalie led you?”
Simon asked. “For how many years did she teach the Gospels?”
“It will be twelve years, or would’ve been, with the
new summer,” he replied.
“So, you know of the crucifixion and Jesus is our
savior, the one we revere. Did she teach you that Cathari, and the earlier
Gnostics, believe that Jesus was an extraordinary man, but human, just the
same? Some believe he never died on the cross and the Essenes sacrificed one of
their own in his place.” Simon saw Ursus was not following what he was saying.
“The point on which most do agree, at least Gnostics,
Cathari and Templars, is Jesus was a man who grew to adulthood and fathered
children. Their descendants came to France and were the Merovingians, including
Natalie, her brothers, sisters and any of their children.”
Ursus looked at Simon in disbelief. Disbelief was
then followed by confusion, followed by anger, once again confusion, and
finally replaced with understanding. “Natalie never came out and said it, so I
never even thought that anyone descended from Jesus, but she did tell me of
past lives. Some we shared. In one, we were crucified at the hands of the
Romans. Now, once again, the Romans are winning.”
Simon asked another question. “This past life you
mentioned, what do you remember of her story?”
“What we both remembered was not knowing who we were.
Whether it was because of the pain of the nails that held us to the crosses, or
the nearness of death, but we could not even remember our names. There were two
others on the hill, with a sky over us like the end of the world. The heavens
waited in frustrated rage, ready to fall on all who watched us die,” Ursus
spoke as if it happened in his own lifetime. He had the same emotional
attachment as when he spoke about his childhood or meeting Natalie. This was
real, though he was someone else and breathed through different lungs and lips.
“I heard someone say to forgive them, and in the
final moment of fear, ask why his father had forsaken him. I can’t recall if it
was me, and Natalie could not either, but we were there as one of them.”
For a few moments, Simon was silent and looked at the
big man, trying to see this life of which he spoke. In the returned gaze, he
saw no guile, no attempt to deceive. In truth, he did not think anyone could
make Ursus do anything he did not wish.
“Did Natalie seek you out because of this —
these shared lifetimes?” Simon asked.
“Why else would anyone love this sight?” he asked in
return.
“I did,” Simon responded.
“I’m grateful, Simon, but you never looked at me the
way she did. Nowhere else have I seen the same complete acceptance. It was that
easy. As easy as saying it, no, thinking it,” Ursus said.
“You’re right, but why do you think she wanted to
connect with this other part of herself?” Simon’s question was easily answered.
“Instinct. Her instinct was to complete herself. It
is the same reason she wanted to be a Perfecti; she was driven to it. She
wanted and needed to help the world around her. She had to find her other half,
the rest of her soul. I also felt complete when I was with her. This is
something which most will never feel,” Ursus said.
“I’ve heard the troubadours call it courtly or
romantic love. Chaste love,” Simon said.
“Those wandering minstrels wouldn’t understand,”
Ursus snapped. “They talk about hidden glances and secret meanings. None of
that ever happened with us. Our love went beyond anything written in verse, or
which will ever be understood. Sever your limbs, all of them, and then put them
back in such a way that it seems that they were never severed. This is the
connection we shared. We were one, not like the romances, full of hidden and
double meanings. We were a single soul, not two connected. A single soul.”
Ursus stopped, not knowing how to explain further.
Finally, Simon understood his love for her; no explanation was necessary.
“Put limbs onto someone born without them, or give
sight to someone who is blind, and that was what you two were,” Simon said.
“Exactly,” Ursus exhaled, “exactly.”
“In these past lives, some we lived as one, in others
we lived separately. About those we told the other, and came out of it with
conscious lessons, lest we repeat wasted efforts. In the last life, Natalie
showed me that a sacrifice counts to those attaching value to it,” Ursus said.
“What did she mean?” Simon looked at him quizzically.
“Jesus, dying on the cross, only had meaning to those
who believe he was the messiah. To others, it was a criminal executed, while to
others their enemy the Weakling, was defeated. Even those who saw value in his
death cannot agree what that value was, or how to show it to the world. These
diluted interpretations ruin the sacrifice. Each of us has lost the true
meaning of the sacrifice. More importantly, we have missed the entire point of
the sacrifice, making his life, and all the torment and terror through which he
went, pointless.”
Simon looked stricken. “Then why do you believe and
practice the Cathari way? What’s the point, if you say this with such belief?
Did Natalie think this too?”
“She’s the one who first said it,” Ursus answered.
“Then why did she not renounce her calling? Give up
this pointless life?” This upset Simon tremendously.
“Her beliefs weren’t pointless the sacrifice was. We
were saddened the teaching of this extraordinary man was lost to history and
interpretation. None ever understood the true reason for which he was killed,”
Ursus sighed regretfully. “Now, the Cathari are being wiped out for the same
reason.”
Simon nodded agreement. “I cannot believe a church
who murders, speaks for Jesus. He was never that unkind. He loved everyone,
whores, lepers, thieves and murderers.”
“His powerful church pronounces they teach his true
words will kill any who disagree. Not only kill, but torture and malign until
they say that the church is right,” Ursus said under his breath.
“I don’t think they’ll go against anyone who
disagrees with them,” Simon added half-heatedly. “They took decades, trying to
change or win back the Cathari. They could’ve begun the crusade in the Third
Lateran Council, years ago.”
“They started burning heretics well before then,
Simon.” Ursus continued, “This Domingo de Guzman is a very dangerous man. He
has a small mind and believes he is a genius. He will destroy anyone who does
not agree. He is the perfect Catholic.”
“After he failed to convert the Cathars he spurred
Innocent to call the crusade. Since its success Honorious gave him his own
Order of preaching brothers, the Dominicans. I see the horrible fire he ignited
here, continuing past the inferno he set at Languedoc. He will kill many more
and his Order will kill more still.”
Simon agreed, “Yes, the Dominicans are zealots. We
will have to hide any of our faith very well. I fear even the Templars won’t be
able to stand against them. In time, I think that they will also fall, and what
will the world do then?”
“The world will continue on with or without us. It
did before and it will again,” Ursus said, surprising even himself.
TIME: JANUARY 5TH, 1964. PRINCE RUPERT, BRITISH COLUMBIA,
CANADA
A dusty, grey Chevy cab pulled into the Prince Rupert
general store. The old Grand Trunk terminus was pretty remote, and apart from
the rail lines ending there it did not have access to any highways. That suited
most of the Tsimshian natives just fine. The town elders decided the railroad
brought in enough bad influences. Three of them sat and watched the latest
newbie come down the 16. Most came into Paul on the train, but this one came in
on his own, without so much as a by your leave. Floyd noted this intrusion,
mentioning it to his brother, Chuck, as they sat rocking back and forth,
judging the day’s weather to be colder than a witch’s tit.
Chuck turned to the third in their trio, Gordon, and
nodded over to the fella, exiting the Chevy.
“I can see, ya fool,” Gordon snapped. Chuck flinched
at the unprovoked smack down and sulked. Always the quieter of the two
brothers, Floyd nodded at the man who walked past them. Chuck would’ve said
something in greeting, but still smarted from Gordon’s earlier rebuff.
“I heard tell that he’s up at Digby Island with a
kid. Some of the women say he’s got a nice size cabin with the biggest TV
antenna you could imagine. That’s sweet,” Gordon offered up.
“They got electricity up at Digby?” Floyd asked.
“The women, well, my sister-in-law, Sheryl, said he’s
got his own generator.” Gordon said.
“How’s Sheryl know all this?” Chuck asked.
“She’s heard,” Gordon replied.
“Some say he’s planning on opening a camp for rich
kids up there,” Chuck said.
“Oh, how sweet,” Gordon snapped again.
“Hey now, what’s your problem, Gordo? You’ve been on
my ass since yesterday. What did I do to piss on your cornflakes, fucker?”
Chuck normally didn’t snap back, but he’d taken enough abuse.
“Huh? You don’t know, I ain’t telling you. You know
what you did,” Gordon said petulantly.
“Shut up, both of you whiny shits, bickering like a
couple of old hens. Pawk, pawk, pawk; shut up, bitches!” Floyd was fed up.
“He’s mad ‘cause you had the last beer he saved for himself, and he’s too big a
baby to tell you. So, there ya go. Shut up, kiss and make up, ya pansies.
Sheesh, the both of ya!”
Both Gordon and Chuck looked down, ashamed of being
scolded in public. Each looked around to see who heard the dressing-down and
breathed a sigh of relief when they saw no one else was around.