Prieure
James McGowan
16 March 1998	

	Jesus the Christ was not the man I had been expecting.  Years of cultural conditioning had given me an image of a tall, blond, bearded man, slightly enigmatic.  But this Jesus was short, dark skinned, with oily black hair in tight curls.  His stance was regal, but his eyes were dark and brooding.  His voice was gruff, and he carried Anglo off with some difficulty.

	"Dom Trieste, it is so good to meet you at last"  He bowed slightly, and I was taken aback.  I immediately grabbed the hem of my white tunic, and brought the red rose pattie to my lips in penance.

	"My Lord, I am not worthy..."

	"Rise, please.  No scraping on my behalf, I am a man.  Please do not build a wall between us, I am a man, just like you.  Ever since I arrived, people who say they love me have been as distant as the hills.  It has been a struggle to make real personal contact with people.  Have I become so feared?"

	I found it difficult to meet his gaze.  This was the Christ, the man who had walked on the shores of Galilee, who had preached a simple message to the masses and created a religion which had survived to the present day through revolution, reformation, and destruction.  "It is only natural.", I answered.  "It isn't every day that a man meets his God.  Sweet Lord Jesus, it will take some time for me to get used to you."
	
	He smiled at the collection of Templars around him.  "You can call me Frère Jesu, if it makes you more comfortable."  I was taken aback.  "I have been initiated into the Order of St. German of the Poor Knights of Acre.  The brothers have been very helpful.  I have taken the house of Davidus as my name, as is my birthright."  He made me the sign of Baphomet with his right hand, palm forward, two fingers pointing to heaven.

	I smiled, but could not help bowing again.  I made him the Baphomet, amazed at the irony.  None of the brothers would have dared to suggest that Christ be initiated into one of the Orders, it must have been his own desire.  Templars served the New Pope, who served God.  The idea of Jesus Christ being a servant of earthly men was ludicrous.  But things were going to change, that was for certain.

	Despite my initial reaction to his physical appearance, I could see how this man had been the centre of a huge cult over two millennia ago.  His appearance was non-threatening, open and enigmatic.  His voice was throaty, but his words were gentle and welcoming.  And I was to be his guide for the next few weeks, to ease his move into the highly political world of the Merovingian aristocracy, and to help him do whatever he was here to do.

	We walked from the Priory to the courtyard.  Foot-soldiers turned their backs on us as we walked. Frère Jesu shrugged.  "It is like this wherever I go.  People are afraid to look me in the eye."

	"Can man look the Son of God in the eye?"  I asked.

	"I am no more the Son of My Father than you are.  He created me as he created you.  If anything survived of my message at all, was it not that we are all equal before God?"  He saw my discomfort.  "But come, we have a long journey to reach Aragon, and we will have plenty of time to speak of these things.  I am more interested in the more recent history of the world.  The brothers were helpful, but St. German of the Poor Knights is an Order of solitary monks, and they seemed as unsure about most of history as I am.  They could tell me little of what happened before Elledescende."

	"Of course.  Most of the brothers were not born until after Elledescende, and would know the time before as nothing more than a dark age."  We climbed up onto the cart and I flicked the reins to get the horses moving.  Where should I start, Frère?"

	"With the Prieure do Sion.  That will do for now."

	The horses had settled into a slow trot, and the road was dry and only lightly rutted.  I thought for a moment.  "The origins of the Prieure are shrouded in secrecy.  What we do know is that your bloodline has been preserved, and the job of the Prieure since earliest time has been to ensure its survival and rise to power in the world.  In the fourteenth century..."

	"I know of those times.  Did the brothers not tell you?"

	"No?  How can that be?"

	"I was revived in the fourteenth century.  My casket was found during the Abiginesian Crusade.  It was opened, I was awake for a while, my shroud was stolen, I believe it is still revered in this age."

	"Ah yes, the Turin Shroud.", I said.  "It was proved to be a fourteenth century artifact about a hundred years ago, using a forgotten scientific technique.  We always believed it was a false relic, but you say it really was your shroud?"

	"Yes, it was in my casket with me for fourteen hundred years, and no time passed inside the casket."

	"It is an amazing artifact.", I added.  "The technology is well beyond what even the science from before Elledescende could manage.  It seems obvious to me now that the aging of the shroud ceased while it was with you in the casket.  Where did this technology come from?"

	"Didn't they tell you?"

	"I have been told very little."

	"You built it!"  He saw the confusion in my face, and smiled.  "Not you personally.  The Prieure De Sion from the future.  They travelled back in time and revived me, as I lay apparently dead in the crypt of my good friend and brother Lazarus.  I was dead, in any real sense.  The medicine of the time could not revive me."

	"So the tradition of the Prieure is true?  You did live on after the crucifixion?"

	"Yes, for a while.  I suspect the Prieure travellers thought that I could establish myself after my apparent death, but it soon became obvious that some of my beloved followers were only too glad to step into my shoes.  They didn't want me around."

	"So the Prieure produced the casket, and you vanished from the story for fourteen hundred years."

	"Yes.  When I awoke, I was both pleased and saddened to see that my words had travelled so far beyond their intended audience.  Even gentiles in countries I had never dreamed of were pronouncing themselves in my name.  I only wished that my message had survived intact."
	
	"Yes, we have always held fast against the doctrine of the Old Vatican.  For many years, only a small group of us held the truth about your survival."

	"In any case, I was in danger.  It was a bad time : the Old Holy Roman Order held all Europe in its evil grasp, and the Empire was hostile to the idea of a living Christ.  The church of my closest disciples had turned into dictatorship and a business.  The brothers who guarded me made sure the casket was reasealed and hidden, and I resumed my dreamless sleep.  Templars are good with secrets.  And there I lay for another six hundred years."

	"Until now."  I scanned the hills around us.  "And I would not say that these times were any safer than the Middle Ages.  In many ways, the forces at work now are even more dangerous."

	We had been travelling only an hour or so.  The hamlets and farmsteads we had passed through could easily have been built at any time in man's history.  Wood had resumed its place as the primary construction material, but here and there, a piece of plastic or metal betrayed the time.  We had lost the techniques for producing such materials in quantity, and any such items had almost certainly been salvaged from wrecked buildings built before Elledescende.

	Frère Jesu sat in silence, watching the countryside pass by at horse pace.  At last he spoke.  "Tell me about Elledescende, my Dom Trieste.  It was a great disaster, was it not?"


Jesus Revived and handed over to Dom Trieste
They talk about the casket and the 14th century as the cart travels
They talk about Elledescende