Chapter Ten
…to open their eyes, in order to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins and an inheritance among those who are sanctified by faith in Me.
Acts 26:18
The Bishop arrived at around 3pm the next day. Sennett had dropped a key to the flat in to him on her way to work. She guessed that Silas would be nervous about answering the door to anyone who knocked. He was too distinctive looking to hide very well from his enemies should they come calling.
Silas had just woken up from his daily sleep and felt groggy. He examined the small Russian man with grizzled hair with interest. He could see the gentle, scholarly, humble disposition of the man immediately and relaxed. He knew why Sennett trusted him instinctively. He had a full grey beard almost down to his chest and intelligent, mild brown eyes. He looked more like Silas' idea of a Jewish Rabbi or Elder than a Bishop. It was odd how Catholic priests tended to be clean shaven in the tradition of the Romans although their Christian faith came to them through the Jewish tradition, Silas thought inconsequentially.
In the same way, Seraphim was sizing up Silas. He was a kind man but also shrewd. Although somewhat mystical, he had been in the world enough to know human nature well. Seraphim saw a man still physically young enough not to be considered middle-aged but with a look in his eyes that was far too old for his years. He looks were startling in terms of his sheer size and strange colouring but it was the expression in Silas' eyes that really captured the Bishop. It was not a look he had seen on very many faces – in fact, it was unique. It was the look of an inexpressibly weary child, an abused animal that was frightened, a grown man used to living without hope or comfort, a spirit almost too strong for the body that housed it – particularly such an abused one. This was not a usual soul.
To Seraphim's amazement, the giant dropped to his knees before him. "I must kiss your ring," he said humbly.
Seraphim was surprised. The Catholic Church was not so formal anymore and ring kissing was not a tradition of the Orthodox. However, it was appropriate for a Russian Orthodox Bishop to be greeted with a bow to the floor, a request for blessing and a kiss on the hand.
"May the Lord bless you, Silas," Seraphim said without missing a beat and gave his right hand to the kneeling man.
"How should I address you?" Silas asked anxiously, after kissing his hand. He didn't want to offend a Bishop.
"You can call me Seraphim," he replied mildly.
Silas looked scandalized, "Oh no, I couldn't do that! It would be disrespectful."
"If it makes you more comfortable, the correct address is 'Your Grace'," Seraphim said gently, "Sennett tells me you would like to make confession," the Bishop added kindly.
"Yes please, Your Grace," Silas said humbly.
Seraphim began to wonder when Silas was going to get off the floor. It was nice to be treated with so much respect, particularly in the modern world, but Silas' deference was outside his experience.
"Let's sit on the couch and I'll explain how the Russian Orthodox celebrates confession," Seraphim invited, gesturing to the couch.
Silas got up meekly and went and sat on one end.
Silas learnt that the Orthodox confession was slightly different. There was no Rite of Contrition but rather Psalm 51 was read and other readings dealing with David's repentance before Nathan the Prophet. Then Silas could unburden himself and receive absolution.
Seraphim had been somewhat prepared to hear something disturbing. Sennett had warned him that the things Silas wanted to confess were serious; that he had already discussed them with her, in fact.
"But he feels he needs absolution?" Seraphim had said.
"Yes – and I can't give him that, of course," Sennett had said wryly.
For over two hours, Seraphim listened to the whole story of the Priory of Sion and the murders. Bishop Aringarosa had already absolved Silas from all the murders except those he had committed on Saturday night and Sunday. He felt the need to tell Bishop Seraphim everything, however.
Seraphim listened with a carefully expressionless face. It was the strangest story he had ever heard. He never would have suspected these goings on in the Catholic Church but he was sensible enough to realize that it involved only a very small, fanatical group within the Church. It was almost certain that they did not even have permission from higher authorities for their actions. As for the Priory of Sion business; anyone with any kind of understanding of history, particularly Church history, should have been able to see through such a wild tale immediately. Who knew what kind of game Opus Dei had been playing? Silas was obviously not educated enough to defend himself against their ploys.
Seraphim had heard many confessions in his life as a priest and Bishop but this was the strangest, the darkest and the saddest. He did not know but he suspected that Silas life was one of great tragedy.
When Silas described killing the policemen and Bishop Aringarosa, thick hot tears ran down his ravaged face turning his strange, red-rimmed eyes translucent. It looked uncanny. It was strange to see such a large, hulking man as vulnerable as a child, Seraphim thought compassionately. He could see how easily Silas' superiors in Opus Dei had manipulated him.
"May Our Lord and God, Jesus Christ, through the grace and bounties of His love towards mankind, forgive you, my Child Silas all your transgressions. And I, an unworthy Priest, through the power given me by Him, forgive and absolve you from all yours sins," Seraphim said, after covering Silas' head with his stole.
"What is my penance?" Silas asked anxiously, wiping his tears with his colourless hands.
"I think you've done more than enough penance in your life," Seraphim said with mysterious insight, "You just need to firmly resolve not to allow any man to lead you to commit sin again regardless of his rank in the Church."
Silas nodded despondently, "I promise, Your Grace."
After having a cup of tea with Silas, the Bishop left to go and contemplate the strange life of this Opus Dei numerary. He shivered as he remembered the tale and thought it a good caution against secretive organizations within the Church as a whole. One thing he knew for sure, he would never forget meeting Silas.
Sennett came home that evening to find Silas on the internet. She had left it on for him again that morning. He was obviously researching the Roslin area of Scotland, ready for his trip.
"Have you found everything you need?" Sennett asked, coming up and standing a few paces behind him.
"Yes," Silas said with a nod. He knew exactly how he was going to travel there and back without being seen. He would hire a car and drive there at night. It would take most of the night to get there but he could spend the day hiding out. It was never hard to find hiding places. It was an instinct he had picked up as a street kid and never lost. He would need to find where Sophie was staying once evening fell but Roslin was only a village. It would not take long to sniff out the remnants of the Priory. He had printed out maps and directions of the different routes to Roslin from Kensington and a map of the village too.
"Well, come and have some dinner. It won't take long to cook. I got some fish seeing as its Friday," she said and went through to the kitchen.
Silas was not worried about failing in his mission. He had done things that were far harder to accomplish than this. He was curious as to how Sennett was going to gain entry to the Louvre and break open a hidden tomb without anyone knowing, however.
"Seraphim rang me late this afternoon," Sennett said as they ate.
Silas glanced at her curiously. He did not doubt for one second that the Bishop had kept the seal of the confessional unbroken. He was right.
"He wanted to know if he could drop in on you during next week just as a social call," Sennett said. She wanted to add, 'See? You're making friends already,' but she had a feeling that would somehow spook him and make him self-conscious.
Silas looked surprised but almost pleased too. He was not used to people requesting his company just for its own sake. He wondered if the Bishop wanted something from him but Silas hadn't gotten that kind of feeling from him.
"I told you he needed people to pastor," Sennett said with a grin, "And I could tell he liked you from the way he spoke about you."
Silas looked even more amazed. Somebody liked him? Particularly someone who knew the worst things about him? Somebody just wanted to spend time with him? It was a new feeling to him. He could feel warmth steal over him like something physical. He could feel something within himself relaxing and softening, like a knot loosening and coming undone. It was such a startling feeling that Silas forgot to eat for quite awhile. He was so arrested by this new feeling of warmth that he sat perfectly still staring into space.
Sennett was used to all kinds of weirdness from Silas by now, so she let him be. It was quite apparent he was having some kind of personal revelation.
The next morning, Silas woke to find Sennett dressed in very smart casual clothes with a small travel bag waiting on the table. For someone who was obviously quite well off, she wasn't ostentatious, Silas thought fleetingly. Not in the way she dressed or the kinds of possessions she had.
"I need to leave fairly soon to catch my plane. I've left a backpack and a coat on the table for you with some cash, the spare key, and the sleeping drugs and the dark glasses you asked for. Buy anything else you need along the way and make sure you eat regularly too because you're still not strong," she said with concern, "I'll see you sometime Sunday?" she asked questioningly.
Silas nodded. That should be plenty of time. He already knew he would need to come back here to take cover and rest as soon as the mission was accomplished.
"See you Sunday!" Sennett called on her way out the door, "Don't forget your medicine!"
Silas could not leave until night fell, so he took his medication and checked the contents of the backpack. Sennett had bought a wallet for the money. When he counted it he realized it was far more than he needed. £1,000 was a fortune to Silas who could make do on nearly nothing. With that kind of money, he could stay in the best hotel in the district. Not that he had any intention of making himself that conspicuous. Besides, he was uncomfortable with ostentation. He was not used to it. It felt somehow wrong and wasteful to him.
Inside the backpack was a pair of warm, lined, leather gloves. He picked up the coat and examined it. It was thick and warm and waterproof. The fact that it was black would make moving around at night that much easier. Also in the backpack were plastic bags for the hair samples and a pair of tweezers. Sennett, as usual, had thought of everything.
He added his maps and medicine to the backpack, and made a sandwich for the long night's drive. He had held on to the false driver's license and passport that Opus Dei had provided long ago which he had kept in the deep pockets of his old monks robe. He doubted anyone in Opus Dei would have given that information out to Police. They would hardly want the Police to know they gave their numeraries false identities. He put these documents in his backpack too. He would need them for hiring a car. Lastly, he looked at the mobile phone Sennett had left for him. It was an old one that she had lying around the flat still but it couldn't have been a model more than two years old. She had obtained a new sim card under her own name for it so he could contact her or anyone else if he needed to. Her mobile number was written on a piece of paper tucked into the wallet.
Sennett had told Diggory that they were going away to the country for the weekend to give Silas some fresh air. He put the spare bandages that the doctor had given him in the backpack too.
He had already found the nearest car hire place within easy walking distance of the flat by way of the internet and rung to book a car for pick up at 6pm.
He would sleep through the day so he could stay awake that night. He was ready.
Sennett boarded the plane at Heathrow for the short hop to Paris. France was home, so Sennett was looking forward to going back for a day or two.
She had already contacted her cousin who worked in the Religious Art Department of the Louvre. She had grown up with him and they had a bond of unusual closeness. Philippe was one of the few people Sennett had ever come across that she could love without effort. Even after he was married to a very nice (but rather vague) young woman, their bond remained close.
She spent the day shopping. She was not meeting Philippe until closing time at the Louvre. There was no point trying to break into tombs during the day. Even operating in the hidden places of the Louvre, there were still too many people around. It was best to minimize the risk.
At 6pm, having stashed her shopping at the Hotel Ecole Centrale, she headed for the Louvre by Metro. She rang her cousin on mobile as she stepped off the train and he met her by the Pyramid.
"Now, where did you want to go?" Philippe asked her in rapid French after they had exchanged their customary bear hug.
"Right underneath here," she replied in her native tongue, pointing down.
"Underneath the pyramid?" he clarified, clearly puzzled.
"Oui," Sennett replied with a grin.