A/N – Sorry for the delay on getting this chapter up. I'm trying to find a way to finalise the story and tie up the loose ends. The next chapter should be the final chapter.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Arise, O Lord, in anger! Stand up against the fury of my enemies! Wake up, my God, and bring justice!

Psalm 7:6

The evidence was so overwhelming that although there were 11 trials to get through, it would take only three years for them all to be heard.

Silas was always called in as a remote witness, so each trial only took one to two days of his time. Sennett, who had to fly to Rome each time, had more time away from Berne.

Judge Leo De Angelis had been briefed on Silas' background of trauma and knew it was important to project Silas from being triggered by the accused or during cross-examination.

The first three trials went smoothly, but the fourth trial was the one that Silas felt the most anxious about. It was Aringarosa's second in command, the most powerful in Aringarosa's circle after Aringarosa himself and also a powerful figure within Opus Dei in his own right.

There had been many within Opus Dei who were shocked when he was arrested and some who had fought for his release, not believing the allegations initially; but the evidence had been too prodigious thanks largely to Silas' information.

Silas had to give evidence at 11am which fortunately gave him time to help with the milking before he had to leave for the Berne police station where the remote witness cameras had been set up.

The moment Silas appeared on screen in the courtroom in Rome, Lazzaro Mastrosimone, Aringarosa's right hand man, sat glaring at Silas.

The Prosecutor asked Silas a long series of questions which he answered quietly and succinctly.

As the Prosecutor went to sit down, pleased with the accuracy of Silas' testimony, Lazzaro suddenly leant forward and pointed a blunt finger at the screen which held Silas' image.

"You… You are a hypocrite! You dare to give testimony against me when you have blood on your hands?" he hissed across the courtroom.

Silas felt his stomach tighten and a sensation like ice spread across his skin.

The Judge banged his gavel, "Order!" he barked sharply.

Lazzaro ignored him.

"Aringarosa picked you up off the street like the piece of garbage that you are and gave you a holy mission, and this is how you repay him?" Lazzaro continued, raising his voice above the banging gavel.

Silas' heart was pounding. He felt frozen. He wanted to defend himself and tell Mastrosimone he was wrong – that Aringarosa had used him, but his jaw seemed welded shut.

"Order! I will have order, Mr Mastrosimone!" the Judge shouted as he banged the gavel harder.

"You are a Judas! A betrayer of friends!" Lazzaro was shouting, but suddenly the screen in front of Silas went dead. They had disconnected him.

Silas sat in the small police interview room, his broad shoulders bowed and his white brows drawn together in a deep frown. His colourless eyes were wildly and painfully confused.

Mastrosimone was right; he did have blood on his hands. He was culpable too, but he hadn't wanted to kill anybody, so why had he allowed himself to be manipulated into it so easily? What was wrong with him? Something had to be terribly, terribly wrong with him. Someone like Sennett or Bishop Seraphim or the Abbott or Hans wouldn't have been manipulated like he had. What was wrong with him?

And why couldn't he speak to defend himself when Mastrosimone was accusing him? Why couldn't he tell Mastrosimone that he was wrong, that he had been used by Aringarosa and Aringarosa had never been his friend? He had been like an animal frozen in the headlights, unable to defend itself.

At that moment, the screen flickered back to life. Judge De Angelis was speaking.

"We have removed the accused from the courtroom for the remainder of today's session. Mr Santoro, please proceed."

The cross-examination was stressful, but Silas was able to answer all the questions honestly without feeling that the case against Mastrosimone had been weakened in any way. There was just too much evidence against him.

Perhaps that's why Mastrosimone was lashing out so viciously, Silas thought once he was on his way back to the farm. He knew that a sentence was inevitable.

x x x

Sennett could see that Silas was troubled, but she knew better than to pry.

He played with his dinner, a frown on his face, his thoughts far away. This was unlike Silas. He was usually hungry after working in the fresh air all day.

Finally Silas put his fork down.

"Why was it so easy for Aringarosa to manipulate me?" he suddenly asked Sennett, his deep voice belying the almost childish quality of the question.

He was staring at his plate, his body very still.

Sennett sighed to herself. How did she explain something so complex that she barely understood herself?

"You were brainwashed, Silas," Sennett said gently.

Silas frowned and looked at her quizzically. He had never heard the term. He shook his head.

"I don't understand," he said.

"It's hard to explain," Sennett said slowly, "When a person is traumatised, usually through things like starvation, cold, pain, lack of sleep and isolation, they are in a state of crisis; exhausted and disoriented. When you met Aringarosa, this is exactly where you were having just escaped from jail. It's easy for someone else to step in and start convincing the person that the reason they are suffering is because they are 'bad' or 'sinful'."

Silas' frame suddenly stiffened. One of the first things Aringarosa did was encourage Silas to confess his sins so he could have a fresh start. He remembered clearly the sense of shame he felt.

"Then you are usually asked to denounce everything about your old life," Sennett continued, "This is to weaken a person's sense of identity even further. After this, you are asked to convert to a completely new belief system that will save you from your suffering."

Silas listened to his with a sense of recognition but also confusion. He had been born into a Catholic family, his mother was Catholic, but was his adoption of Opus Dei part of a brain washing process? It certainly sounded like it.

"But why did I kill when I really didn't want to?" Silas asked, his pale eyes painfully confused.

"Part of stripping away the old identity is creating guilt attached your old life and channeling that guilt into the aims of the person who is brain washing you. In Aringarosa's case, this was destroying the Priory of Sion. You now had so much shame attached to your old life that you would do anything Aringarosa told you to escape that sense of shame. As The Messenger of God, didn't you feel free from shame – somehow redeemed by the missions you were given?" Sennett asked kindly.

Silas stared at her with wide eyes. She was right. When he was acting as The Messenger of God, it was the one time he felt free from shame. He felt strong and clear and special and important and sure of everything. He knew now that it was all a lie, but at the time, it was the best feeling he had ever had – until he actually had to kill someone.

"Do you want to speak to someone about this some more?" Sennett asked, observing his reaction.

"I want to speak to Bishop Seraphim," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'll contact him tomorrow. Eat your dinner otherwise you'll be raiding the fridge at midnight," she said with an amused smile.

Silas stared at his full plate with some surprise and then ate his dinner as obediently as a child, a faraway look on his face.

x x x

"Sennett said that Aringarosa brainwashed me," Silas said, his deep voice barely above a whisper.

"Then Sennett, as usual, is right," Bishop Seraphim said gently.

"I thought he was a man of God. How could he do this to me?" Silas asked.

It was a cry from the heart. The Bishop sighed inwardly, his pastor's heart touched by the man's vulnerability, as always. Silas sounded like a bewildered child, not a vicious assassin.

"He was a fanatic, Silas. Once upon a time, faith used to drive Aringarosa's work against the Priory of Sion. Over time, his determination to eliminate them took priority over his faith and God simply became the justification for his vendetta. Eliminating the Priory of Sion became more important than anything else – even obeying God. God may ask His martyrs to die for the faith, but He never asks anyone to kill for it," Bishop Seraphim replied gravely.

"He didn't kill for the faith," Silas said, almost sullenly, "I did."

"You were merely the instrument in his hands. Do you think the Pontiff could have secured those pardons for you if it was not obvious to everyone concerned that you were not responsible for your actions? A brainwashed man has deliberately been stripped of his will," the Bishop responded compassionately.

"A different kind of man could have resisted Aringarosa and never been brainwashed. There is something wrong with me," Silas insisted, tears of despair coming to his eyes.

"Yes, you are right. A man who has been brought up in a loving home with everything they need including a good education; who has never been beaten or neglected or starved or threatened or locked up unjustly like an animal, they would have some chance of resisting. But that has not been your life, has it?" the Bishop replied matter-of-factly.

Silas was silent as he processed this, his white head bowed as his gaze turned inward to the past.

"Aringarosa had a lot of fear and shame to work with, did he not?" the Bishop continued, "He used your pain and trauma against you and now he is answering for it in a higher court than any on earth."

"I'm afraid it could happen again – that someone could make me do things I don't want to do," Silas confessed in such a low voice that Bishop Seraphim could barely hear him.

"It will never happen again now that you have real friends around you and particularly now that you have Sennett," Bishop Seraphim said encouragingly.

Instinctively, Silas knew the Bishop was right. His life was very different now. Then, he had nothing good in his life to protect. Now, he had a good job and friends like the Bishop, the monks at Engelberg and Rudolf and Hans. Most importantly, he had Sennett. She was his anchor. As long as he had her, he knew no-one could persuade him to do anything he didn't want to again.

"Let's pray now," the Bishop suggested.

Silas bowed his head and felt peace slowly descend.