Chapter Four
Why have you repaid evil for good?
Genesis 44:4
It was a strange thought to never have to use the cilice or discipline again, Silas thought, tracing the scars on his thighs with one finger while in the shower. He never had to be in pain all the time ever again. He was too afraid to use them again now, after Sennett had told him they were an insult to Christ. Just the thought of it made him go hot and cold with shame and horror.
There were times he despaired of ever understanding what it was that God wanted of him. He had been told so many things by Opus Dei and slowly, doubt was creeping into his mind. Could it really be God's will to kill anybody for any reason? He had read the Bible many times and it was clear murder was a sin. But then, Bishop Aringarosa had said it was the right thing to do to protect the Church. Who was lying - the Bishop or the Bible? The authority of the Word of God was unquestionable, it had to be the Bishop and if it was the Bishop, then the one friend he thought he had found in life was no real friend at all. He had been duped and used. His immortal soul had been put in peril to serve the ends of man, not God's purpose at all. It was no friend who would endanger your soul like that but the very worst kind of devil.
He wasn't a messenger of God, he was just a dupe. Silas bowed his head and shoulders in grief. Being a messenger of God had been his whole identity. Without that purpose, who was he?
It was then the tears came because it was then that Silas realized just how alone he was in the world and how alone he had always been.
Was there not one human being who would treat him like one? Not one human being who wouldn't either reject or fool him? Not one who would be a real friend, caring about what was best for him rather than pursuing selfish aims that would hurt him?
It was also then that Silas realized how fragile faith was. He was tempted to chuck the whole thing in – the Church, his numerary promises and even God Himself. Why try and serve God in such a corrupt world?
He quickly realized that the thought of losing God was too much to bear. If he lost God, he lost absolutely everything. Without God, there was only darkness. The thought was so lonely that it nearly crushed him.
When he came out of the shower in his new pajamas, he went and sat in the room that Sennett had prepared for him. Everything was different - everything had changed in just a day. He was even wearing clothes that he had not worn for years. He didn't feel like himself. He had no familiar points of reference, not even his old companion pain. He had doubts about everything in his old life – Opus Dei and Bishop Aringarosa and the Church itself. Was what they had told him about God true? If not, which parts were true and which were a lie? Silas felt like he had to start his search for God all over again. He wasn't sure who God was anymore where once, he had been so sure. He had no idea where or how to start.
Suddenly there was a knock on his door and the doctor came into his room with a friendly smile.
"You'll have to take your pajama top off so I can get to the dressings," he said matter-of-factly.
Silas immediately felt anxious and his eyes went to the door, as if to see if Sennett or Sophie were nearby. He didn't really want anybody to see the scars on his back.
"We'll just close the door, shall we?" Diggory said kindly, immediately recognizing the source of Silas' anxiety. Most of his patients were self-conscious when they had to strip off.
Slowly Silas peeled off his top and lowered his eyes, waiting for the inevitable questions.
Diggory dealt with the entry wounds on the front of Silas' torso, deftly changing the dressings for fresh ones. When he walked around to Silas' back, Silas heard the swiftly indrawn breath.
"What happened to you?" Diggory asked softly, after a moment. He deliberately kept his voice soothing although he was deeply shocked.
It reminded Silas of Sennett's question last night – what happened to you? Like he was the victim and not those he had murdered.
"It's the discipline. I am… was… an Opus Dei numerary," Silas replied in a low voice, tensed for the next question.
"Opus Dei," Diggory said musingly, "a Catholic organization?" he asked.
"Yes," Silas replied.
"They still practice corporal mortification?" Diggory asked with calculated mildness, beginning to take the old dressings off.
"Only numeraries," Silas said in the same low voice.
"What are numeraries?" Diggory asked curiously as he worked.
"Celibate members of Opus Dei," Silas said. The questions weren't as bad as he had feared.
"There are members that aren't celibate?" Diggory asked.
"Yes, the super numeraries," Silas replied, "They have families. They are the biggest part of Opus Dei by far."
"Well, to be honest, as a doctor I'm not happy about the self-damage. Those scars are nasty. I would like to ask you not to use practice corporal mortification at least until your bullet wounds are fully healed. Of course, I would prefer it if you never used it again but I can't tell you how to practice your religion," Diggory said frankly.
"I won't do it anymore," Silas said in a low voice. He had already made the decision. Sennett's words had frightened and sickened him.
"Will the authorities at Opus Dei be happy about that?" Diggory asked, placing new dressings over the bullet exit wounds.
"I'm not returning to Opus Dei," Silas said in a voice so quiet that the doctor barely heard it.
"What are your plans?" Diggory asked, his voice purposely neutral.
"I'm not sure yet," Silas said, his shoulders slumping slightly. He hadn't even begun to tackle that particular question. He was not afraid of living rough on the streets; he had done it for a long time. He didn't really want to go back to that insecure life; it was so hard to break out of it. On the other hand, he couldn't go back to the Church. Not now.
"Concentrate on healing first," Diggory advised, finishing the new dressings.
He swabbed the worst of the fresher wounds on his back but the antibiotics were doing their job and they were healing well.
Silas took his medication before Diggory left him and was already drifting off to sleep again.
Diggory had a cup of tea with Sennett before he left.
"That young man is in a bad way, Sennett," Diggory said to her seriously, "He belonged to some kind of strange organization within the Church that practiced corporal mortification. His back is covered in horrible wounds.
Sennett stared at him, feeling sick. It wasn't just that cilice thing, she thought? There was more?
"I know he was a member of Opus Dei and that he wore some horrible, metal, spikey thing he called a cilice around his leg. I didn't know about the self-flagellation," she murmured and shivered.
"He said he had already decided not to practice it anymore, I'm not sure why. I didn't want to give him the third degree. I had already asked a lot of questions when I saw what a mess his back was," Diggory said, absorbing the information about the cilice.
"He's had a lot of shocks in the last day or two. I suspect his whole world had crumbled," Sennett said with a sigh.
"He doesn't seem to have any idea what to do next," the doctor told her.
"He should just heal first and then think about it," Sennett said.
"That's what I told him," Diggory agreed.
"He can stay here as long as he needs to. He's no trouble at all. He eats anything you give him and seems grateful for anything that is done for him. I don't think he's likely to become any kind of problem," Sennett said.
"You don't mind having your flat invaded by a stranger?" he asked kindly.
"I feel very sorry for Silas although I can't really explain why. He's done some terrible things but I suspect he's had many terrible things done to him. I think he's been very brain-washed, and been manipulated by people he trusted and needed," Sennett said with a frown, "I can't explain to you why I trust him but I do. In some ways, he's like a child and in others, he seems very old."
"Like someone who never got the chance to develop into a healthy adult but has suffered too much?" Diggory said, catching on quickly.
"Exactly," Sennett said nodding seriously.
"People like that are unpredictable," Diggory said warningly.
"Show me a human being who isn't," Sennett replied wryly.
"Well, I'd better get back to Sophie. The kids have probably ripped the flat apart by now," Diggory said with a grin.
"Thanks for helping Silas like this. Let me know how much the medication is so I can reimburse you," Sennett said.
"Oh, I get that stuff free as samples from pharmaceutical companies," Diggory said with a grin, "Doesn't cost me a cent. Besides that, I'm intrigued by Silas more and more as time goes on. I'd be interested to learn more of his story."
"I don't think it will be a happy one," Sennett said sadly as she waved him off.
The next morning Silas woke up feeling groggy from the drugs once more. He shaved his two day growth (barely visible, it was so pale) and then slowly got dressed in the new clothes Sennett had provided. He felt strange wearing trousers of any kind again. He liked the hood on the pull-over though and pulled it forward over his colourless hair immediately.
He was hungry and wandered tentatively out of his room in search of food. He found Sennett dressed in office clothes at the small table.
"Good morning, Silas. You're beginning to look a bit better now," she said, "Do you want some muesli with warm milk?"
Silas nodded and Sennett fetched him a bowl and spoon while she heated up the milk in the microwave.
"You'll have to tell me what kinds of foods you like and dislike," she said, pushing the box of cereal towards him as she sat down.
Silas stared at her uncomprehendingly. He had no idea what she meant. He had always just eaten what was put in front of him or what he could scavenge. Opus Dei numeraries were not meant to be picky about their food. Those living on the streets or in jail couldn't afford to be picky either.
Finally he shook his head and shrugged, to indicate his confusion. "I don't know what you mean. I just eat what I am given," he said in his grating voice.
"Really? Well that makes things simple," Sennett said with an amused grin, "I have to go in to work today, so I've left a key near the front door in case you want to go out. Otherwise, there is plenty of food in the flat. Just help yourself to whatever you want. Feel free to watch TV or listen to music or whatever. Just don't move around too much, okay? Those bullet wounds will need to be kept still in order to heal."
Silas nodded, his odd eyes on his cereal bowl. To have so much freedom was strange to him. He was used to having every minute of his life controlled – when he got up and when he went to bed, when he ate, when he prayed, when he worked and when he rested. It had been a long time since he had not had strict regimentation in his life. He felt lost without the discipline of it. Once again, he felt at sea without any familiar reference points to guide him.
"Don't forget to take your antibiotics. You don't want to end up in hospital with an infection," she added, getting up to take her things through to the kitchen. She picked up her bag and went back to the table. "Are you okay? Do you need anything? Would you like me to pick up anything for you today?" she asked.
Silas raised his eyes from his cereal long enough to shake his head, "No, thank you."
"Okay, see you this evening. Your antibiotics are on the coffee table," she added as she left.