Authors: Gerald T. McLaughlin
The Parchment
2005
Lindisfarne Books
400 Main Street
Great Barrington, MA 01230
Copyright © 2005 by Gerald T. McLaughlin
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review. Nor may any part of this book be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any other means electronic, mechanical, photocopy, sound recording, or other, without permission from the publisher.
L
IBRARY OF
C
ONGRESS
C
ATALOGING-IN
-P
UBLICATION
D
ATA
McLaughlin, Gerald T.
The parchment: a novel / by Gerald T. McLaughlin.
p. cm.
ISBN 1-58420-030-8
I. Manuscripts—Collectors and collecting—Fiction. 2. Church history—Sources—Fiction. 3. Vatican City—Fiction. 4. Catholics— Fiction. 5. Popes—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3613.C548P37 2005
813'.6 — dc22
2004023450
First edition, printed in the U.S.A.
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
IST
RICALB
ACKGR
UND& D
ISCLAIMER
The story of
The Parchment
is played out against the Palais des Papes in Avignon, St. Peter's Basilica in Rome, the destruction of the Temple of Herod, and the Crusades. This story was not written as a work of history and should not be read as one. Although there is much history in it, historical accuracy has been sacrificed when necessary to the demands of the narrative drama. The characters depicted in this story are purely fictional. With the exception of historical figures, any similarity to actual individuals is coincidental.
REFACE
“Latin American liberation theology, Catholic peace movements in the United States and Europe, ashram movements in India, and base groups in many countries in the Northern and Southern hemispheres are examples of how the catholicity of the Catholic Church is not just a principle of faith but a human reality which is lived out in practice.”
—H
ANS
K
ÜNG
, The Catholic Church: A Short History.
“[O]ur Church is a faith institution. A home to Christ's people. It is not a criminal enterprise. It does not condone and cover up criminal activity. It does not follow a code of silence.... To resist grand jury subpoenas, to suppress the names of offending clerics, to deny, to obfuscate, to explain away; that is the model of a criminal organization, not my church.”
— G
OVERNOR
F
RANK
K
EATING
, Letter of Resignation as
Chair of Bishops Oversight Committee.
EDICATI
NT
HIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO MY WIFE
I
RENE
. Writing a novel—particularly a first novel—is a lonely occupation. During the long hours, during the constant rewriting and sharpening of the story, there were times when I needed inspiration, times when I needed humor, times when I needed encouragement, and times when I needed a friendly hand on the shoulder. Irene was there during all these times. One could ask for little more.
C
HAPTER I
: A CRISIS IN JERUSALEM
C
HAPTER II
: THE REWARDS OF SCHOLARSHIP
C
HAPTER III
: A MEETING OF NUNCIOS
C
HAPTER V
: AN ENCOUNTER WITH EVIL
C
HAPTER VI
: THE DEATH OF A RABBI
C
HAPTER VII
: A SPEECH IN CLERMONT FERRAND
C
HAPTER IX
: GERARD DE MONTELAMBERT
C
HAPTER X
: THE CRUSADER'S ROAD
C
HAPTER XII
: THE COPPER SCROLL
C
HAPTER XVI
: HERESY AND CAPTURE
C
HAPTER XVII
: A JOURNEY TO ROME
C
HAPTER XIX
: THE GENERAL CONGREGATION
C
HAPTER XX
: THE DEATH OF A POPE
C
HAPTER XXI
: A TRIP TO AVIGNON
C
HAPTER XXII
: TRUST IN THE LORD
C
HAPTER XXIII
: THE PRELATE FROM DURBAN
C
HAPTER XXVI
: AN EXHIBIT IN THE VATICAN
HAPTER I
A CRISIS IN JERUSALEM
P
OISED TO SHOOT
, the sniper crouched behind a concrete barrier. He kept the casement window of the church in his sights.
A man with an infrared sensor huddled next to him. “He's about ten yards from the window. He's on a cell phone.”
The sniper whispered. “Is it him?”
A soldier with earphones nodded. “We have voice confirmation from central command. He drove the car at the Wailing Wall bombing.”
“I have a clean shot. Should I take it?”
“Yes.”
The sniper pulled the trigger. The crack of the rifle reverberated through the church square, sending a flock of pigeons flying into the sky.
At the report of the gun, Habib instinctively ducked behind the altar. He heard a cell phone clatter to the ground next to him. His brother Mahmood had slumped to the floor of the church. Blood foamed from his mouth.
One of the hostages ran over to help.
“I'm a doctor.” He quickly checked the body. “The bullet went through his heart.”
Enraged, Habib shoved the barrel of his pistol into the doctor's mouth.
“Son of a bitch. You're Jewish, aren't you?”
Yassir, the commander of the Hamas terrorists, quickly moved between them and pushed the gun aside. “Habib, stop it! The hostages aren't Jews....Doctor, go back to your place.”
Hamas's brutal car bombing near the Wailing Wall had set off another spiral of violent recriminations in Jerusalem. Within days of the bombing, Israeli soldiers closed the Al-Aqsa Mosque on the Temple Mount and arrested dozens of suspected Hamas militants. To force Israel to reopen the mosque and release their captives, Hamas notched up tensions further still. Gunmen stormed the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the most sacred church in all of Christendom, capturing over a hundred Dutch pilgrims who had been worshipping at the Tomb of Christ when the raid occurred. The siege at the church was now in its fifth day, and conditions inside the building were becoming increasingly grim. Hostages huddled in frightened groups throughout the sanctuary. The only exercise permitted them were trips to the baptismal font, which now served as a lavatory. The Israeli army lit up the walls of the church with giant floodlights and played loud music to keep the terrorists from sleeping. The nightmare inside the church had already caused several hostages to succumb to depression and bouts of crying.
Yassir took Habib to the far end of the transept.
“Your brother knew the Israelis would kill him for his part in the bombing. Mahmood understood the risks. He died a martyr for Islam.”
Habib glared at the commander. “The Israelis arrest our brothers and sisters. Their marksmen kill us. It is time to act, Yassir, not talk.”
Stung by Habib's rebuke, Yassir stared for a moment at the door of the Basilica.
“Habib, give me your brother's cell phone.”
Yassir dialed a number and waited. A voice came on the line.
Yassir spoke English with a slight accent. “Tell your Prime Minister we've been negotiating with words. Now he negotiates with bullets.”
Yassir walked to where the doctor was sitting. Sunlight splashed color on the floor of the church.
“I'm going to release you, Doctor. The world must see that the hostages have not been harmed. Come with me to the entrance.”
Yassir unlocked the metal bolt on the inside of the door.
“Put your hands above your head and walk slowly out into the square. The Israelis won't shoot.”
The doctor stepped through the church door, arms raised high. He stood for a moment until his eyes adjusted to the bright light of the square.
An Israeli bullhorn crackled. “Walk straight ahead and keep your hands where we can see them.”
Without warning, Yassir pulled out his pistol, took aim, and shot the doctor in the back. The doctor's body fell in a pool of blood in front of the church.
Yassir dialed the cell phone again.
“It's six o'clock in the morning. Unless the Al-Aqsa Mosque is reopened and our brothers released, we will start executing Christian hostages at noon tomorrow—thirty hours from now.”