The body and even the mind of the old priest were now growing feeble. The young and ambitious priests under him intrigued and maneuvered against each other to catch the power that would soon slip from his hands. But they had somehow polarized into two camps. One group of seven priests tried to curry favor with him, mostly by reporting the misdeeds of their brothers. None of them could be considered his true disciples.
The other group, which was larger, sought their advancement directly from the council, which was to make the final decision on his successor. They acted like spies for the council and reported secretly on the old priest's failing health and on each questionable thing he did. They were especially distrustful of Jonathan. But the council was a little wiser than they. It saw the situation simply and dismissed their rumors, wanting to keep the old priest in power as long as he breathed, knowing full well that in spiritual stature he towered above them, and whatever his health, he was still, by far, the best man for the job.
This old man was almost heady with excitement at the return of Jonathan. They stood close together on the platform near the front gate of the temple while the benches were brought out and set up for the service. During this time Jonathan continued to chat with him in a most friendly manner and hinted several times that he had very glad tidings to share later on. All this time he held the girl by the wrist. Now she was trying to stand directly behind him, trying to hide as much as possible from the stares of the townspeople congregating for prayers.
The priest then led the prayers, speaking through his bullhorn. Afterwards he delivered a special sermon. The subject was "hope." It was a brief speech but very moving. Even Jonathan was impressed. The old man spoke of hope as a precious oil that we ourselves distilled in our minds and stored up in our souls. He called it the essence of faith and the fluid that nourished the purest part of the flame that kept us living.
He finished by mentioning the great honor they had by the return of Jonathan. He declared the next day a holiday, with a public feast and games to be held before the whole town. As the crowd applauded this unexpected benefit he asked Jonathan to step up and say a few words. The girl was now squirming behind him frantically and he quickly glanced at her as he let go and sternly whispered, "stay here." He stepped forward, took the bullhorn in hand and began.
"Fellow citizens, I am greatly honored to be able to address you. Tomorrow I hope to share some news with you that will truly justify a celebration. Let us all hope for better days ahead."
With these remarks and a closing chant the meeting ended. The priests came forward from their benches to officially welcome Jonathan and lead him through the temple gates. Before he left the stage Jonathan turned to the priest and asked as a special favor that the girl be taken into the temple and lodged with the nuns. He explained that he would have some business in the morning that would require her assistance.
To this the old man readily agreed, insisting that it would be no trouble at all. He wondered secretly at the request, but settled in his mind that she must be some near or distant relative of Jonathan, whom he wanted to employ in some worthy office while he was here.
While he wondered, Jonathan turned to the girl and told her not to be scared. All she had to do was spend the night with the nuns and then be brought to him in the morning. With good luck they could continue the business they’d started today. If she wanted to get word to her family she could do so now, through one of the attendants standing by. She’d be back home soon enough.
Jonathan guessed rightly that if he let the girl go now he’d never see her again. He hadn’t yet formulated any distinct plan of action, but vague ideas were starting to brew in his head. He’d think more on them that night. Meanwhile he didn’t want to let any pawn he might have slip away. He knew he’d have to validate his paper-hunting scheme by some complicated and dazzling fiction, and the girl could prove to be a useful accessory in this also.
After another stroll through the main chambers of the temple, arm in arm with the head priest, Jonathan was again ushered into the dining hall and took the very same seat as before at the long and well dressed banquet table. His chair was in the place of honor, at one end of the table, next to that of the head priest. Down the two long sides sat the other priests, in descending order of rank. At the far end there was a vacant seat, reserved for citizens who had won some special promotion or prize that included a temple banquet.
For this was by far the best fare in town. There were even servants here, novice priests, all boys in their teens. It was their task to learn obedience, to stand behind their superiors and serve the fish and wine and bread and catch whatever crumbs they could of the wisdom that was supposed to fall from such learned lips.
In a smaller hall at the opposite wing of the temple sat the nuns, in equal number, and with fifteen young girls to serve them. Jonathan's girl had been led in and seated in the lesser place of honor, at the far end from the head nun. She was very frightened at the strange scene and said nothing. The young girls serving her were as old as she was and better dressed.
As most of the nuns at her end of the table had taken vows of silence, she was relieved from having to talk. She ate her fine meal in silence, taking in the sight, and sipped cup after cup of an aromatic tea she’d never tasted before. Each person was served from a silver pot and tray, and each cup tinted white by the serving girl, with a few drops of the miracle paint.
In the other wing dinner began pleasantly enough, with the business of eating foremost at hand. Civilities were bandied between mouthfuls. It was not until the main courses were consumed and the sweetbreads not yet arrived, that conversation began in earnest.
It was not the old priest, but one of his chief assistants, a lean and scheming man of middle age, who seemed to smirk every time he smiled at Jonathan, who asked the unavoidable question.
"If I may inquire, sir, what brings you here so soon again after your last gracious visit?"
The whole room hushed of a sudden to hear Jonathan's reply. They dropped their forks and were all staring at him intently. Only the old priest had a different look on his face, one of displeasure at his secretary for being so forward, and in his eyes, impolite.
Jonathan knew full well that the question was coming. He wasn’t ready, but he was glad that it came from this quarter. He already distrusted this man, and with a quick scowl he indicated that he didn’t appreciate interrogation.
"When does the next supply ship arrive from White Perth?" he asked the man bluntly. The secretary was a caught off guard by this response and showed a hint of nervousness in his reply.
"In three moons," he stuttered. But then, as if to regain control over himself he went on, like a true secretary. "But sometimes it’s a full moon late. The schedule isn’t rigid, and we are an out-of-the-way place. Sometimes we send off messengers in our own vessel, if we have any pressing request."
"Good then," replied Jonathan, glad to have humbled him. "I will have time to complete my project before the boat arrives."
The table was still silent as Jonathan paused and looked boldly about. Then he went on in a loud voice, "I will require several assistants to travel away with me for a short while, and besides this I’ll need all the holy paper from the houses of your citizens."
As he said this he reached down to the satchel at his feet and lifted up, for all to see, a handful of the folded and somewhat crumpled sacred leaves.
An audible gasp was heard through the room. To touch such sheets and unceremoniously fold and pocket them seemed like an outrageous act of sacrilege, though no specific decree could be cited against it. Some of the priests actually thought for a moment that the man must be mad. Most were too blinded by his high rank to suspect any such thing, and waited, gawking, like children at a magic show, for the explanation.
Jonathan paused a moment and then added, to double the shock, "I need these sheets because I intend to make a book."
Another long and painful silence followed. Even the head priest, who was trying hard to keep up a friendly smile, now looked concerned. To mention the word "book" without adding the most pejorative condemnation of the thing was just not done, in any circles. The word had become synonymous with "pollution" and "sin." Many years and many lives had been devoted to eradicating this stain from the face of the earth. And it was still a current evil because fragments of print kept turning up in the most improbable of places.
So the old priest, to break the uncomfortable quiet, softly asked, "Is there some new law that we know nothing of that commands or sanctions such a thing?"
"Yes," replied Jonathan, "and a very high authority has commissioned me with the performance."
"But are the shrines of our people to be emptied?" pleaded the old man, concerned for his flock.
"They may pray to their shrines as they’ve always done," he replied. "The sheets they sacrifice shall be replaced. But these sheets shall be put to a purpose that will bring them great honor, far and wide. Do you remember the Bible, my friend?"
Here again a universal gasp was heard through the hall, as a word, long proscribed, but still softly couched in the minds of the old, was now uttered in a holy place.
The head priest looked positively pained in his questioning gaze, as did many others. He was too struck to say anything, so Jonathan continued on.
"Well, I intend to stitch these pages together and cover and embellish them to make such a book, or rather several. Then I plan to deposit one here, another in your capital, and another before the Great Council of White York. That is why I shall require some fine leather, some glue, string, a small amount of silver and several apprentices to help me."
By going into this unexpected explanation, and offering up these minute details, as if it were a perfectly legitimate project or commission, Jonathan brought a sigh of relief to the old priest and most of the others. They even followed his cue and smiled in unison. The use of the forbidden word was instantly justified and a dangerous moment had passed with a pleasant and almost humorous end.
Not only that, it rang a distinct bell in the minds of the older priests who remembered the thing, even the head priest. There were many unresolved qualms concerning the destruction of the old Bible. It had left quite a void. Of course it could never be revived, but even this namesake sounded like an inspired idea and a soothing balm for what had been lost.
Many of them recalled from television the previous such blank book, which was held up often in the first months of the revolution before the Great Council as an example of the purity to come. But nothing ever came of that prop. It was lost a few months later in the confusion and forgetfulness of progress.
No one here dreamed of anything being written in this new model, except, of course, Jonathan. They assumed that it would be a fat, blank book, a collection of many holy pages, guilt in silver and a holy object to adorn their church. They even caught fire to the idea of such a thing emanating from their tiny town, to be presented in their capitol, and then before the highest officers of Church government.
They were made heady with the thought of so much fame, and one of the priests nearby couldn’t refrain from asking, "We are greatly honored, sir, by your choosing us to partake in this great matter but how do you think it will be received? We’ve never been asked to send tribute to the World Council before?"
"Rest assured," replied Jonathan, "I will assume all the risk, and you all the glory, when it does succeed."
"But from what source," asked the sharp-witted priest who’d first spoken, "did you draw inspiration for this project?"
"From the highest authority," replied Jonathan, rather loudly, "the highest in the land. And you shall see with what zeal and certitude I prosecute my design."
