Chapter 484 - 345: The Manifestation of Christ

Late at night, thousands of soldiers gathered in the square before the Cathedral, waiting for the peasant Stephen.

No one made a sound.

Belem was the last to arrive, carried on a stretcher.

Earlier that evening, he had attempted to capture the Mountain Castle. Not only had he failed, but he’d been driven back by the enemy and shot in the thigh with an arrow.

He staggered off the stretcher, his injured thigh giving way, his hands covered in blood.

Belem looked as if he had just walked out of Hell, his steps weak, his face pale.

The other leaders stood on the steps, wearing their coronets and displaying their war banners. Brother John stood before them.

Eric had expected him to be in solemn vestments, but he wore a simple Monk’s Robe with no cap on his head.

The peasant Stephen emerged from a small alley, walking silently toward Brother John, utterly undistracted by the presence of the many soldiers and Nobility.

A Priest followed him, muttering prayers to himself and beating his chest like a madman.

The peasant Stephen’s appearance was shocking: his eyes were wild, his hair matted with dirt, and his robes were tattered.

If he were to appear in any small town in the Frankish lands or England, he would surely be treated as a lunatic.

The peasant Stephen walked straight to Brother John, bent down to kiss his ring, and then stood up with a smile.

Brother John was silent for a moment before speaking. "Good child, what do you have to tell us?"

"The resting place of the Holy Spear," the peasant Stephen replied.

"Did God reveal it to you?" Brother John asked.

"Oh, yes, respected Brother," the peasant Stephen said with a brilliant smile. "It is right here."

Brother John looked around. "Here in the Cathedral?"

"Underground. If you wish, I can show you."

Brother John stepped aside, allowing the peasant Stephen to pass.

Everyone followed him into the Church and into the chapel. There were no lights inside; it seemed even the windows were covered, admitting not a single ray of light.

A few soldiers tried to bring a Torch inside but were stopped by the peasant Stephen. "Remember, the light of God can illuminate all things. In His light, we can see the truth."

In the soldiers’ eyes, the peasant Stephen, ’temporarily chosen by God,’ held a certain mystical Reputation, so they tossed their Torches aside.

Knights, soldiers, and the other Nobility and Christian citizens all poured in, quickly packing the chapel from wall to wall. They had to open the three large doors at the back to let the overflow of people stand in the chapel’s rear courtyard, and soon even the courtyard was full.

Inside the chapel, Brother John smelled the faint scent of wormwood. The smell of wormwood in a Church was not unusual, as various ceremonies required it. Yet, he also keenly sensed that this scent was masking some other, stranger odor.

The crowd, eager to witness a miracle, paid it no mind.

Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, the peasant Stephen knelt before the high altar, one hand on his chest, the other pointing to a spot on the floor.

That very spot was illuminated by a sliver of moonlight.

"It is right here," said the peasant Stephen.

Eric called for some Knights. Half a dozen came in, and he ordered them to start prying up the flagstones and digging.

"Where are those big Danish oafs of yours?" Stephen asked from Eric’s side. He could only see Eric’s Knight Commander, Guy, the Breton.

"They can’t be seen at this."

"Haven’t they converted?"

"Halfway. One half belongs to Christ, the other to Sol. As it happens, their other half is celebrating a festival today. Besides, they think praising Sol might help in tomorrow’s battle," Eric spun the tale with a straight face.

"Is that even possible?"

Stephen’s jaw nearly hit the floor. He then pointed to Lagman, who was kneeling on the ground and banging his head on the floor before Stephen the peasant. His head was already covered in blood, and he looked utterly fanatical, crying out, ’Save me, Lord!’

"What about him?" Stephen asked.

"His sins ache in his very soul. More than battle, he craves atonement, craves death." Eric had also noticed Lagman.

"I see." Stephen nodded sagely, though he had understood none of it.

The Knights exchanged glances and began to work. The peasant Stephen stood to one side, smiling, his head bobbing in a strange rhythm.

The Priest behind the peasant Stephen pushed his way through and threw himself down where the Knights were digging. He began rolling on the filthy floor, chanting prayers.

Brother John ordered more tools and helpers to be brought.

Soon, twelve Knights were digging, carving out a pit nearly as deep as a man is tall. The soil was dry and hard.

Belem stood to the side, watching them with fury. "Dammit," he growled under his breath. "Is this all you’re going to do?"

Brother John frowned.

Stephen said with a laugh, "If it were wine, they would have found it by now."

At the same time, Brother John noticed the smell of wormwood growing stronger. ’Someone is burning wormwood. Where?’

Brother John instinctively looked up. But because the peasant Stephen had refused any source of light, the chapel was dark. The wide, vaulted ceiling above was just a black void, and he couldn’t see anything clearly. However, by the faint sliver of moonlight, he noticed some smoke.

An hour passed, then two. Still nothing.

’I’m such a fool. Really, how could I believe this stuff? The Holy Spear is just something this peasant dreamed up.’

’If there was a Holy Spear, how could it have remained here until now?’

’Exactly. If there was a Holy Spear, the Christians of Hama would have surely known about it by now.’

Some people began to question the reality of the Holy Spear, wondering if it was all just the peasant Stephen’s nonsense.

The smell of wormwood became more pronounced. Some people began to notice the increasingly strong scent. Although wormwood smoke was often used in Church services, today’s fragrance was a bit too thick. The smoke was making some people feel dizzy.

Some began to complain, but most people’s attention was still fixed on the pit, waiting for the Holy Spear.

The pit was now deeper than a man, and soil was being thrown out by the handful.

Brother John glanced at Stephen the peasant from time to time, but he seemed completely unconcerned, just standing to the side, still bobbing his head to the same rhythm.

The Priest who had jumped into the pit grew restless, groaning and screaming like an animal. Brother John threatened to throw him out if he didn’t quiet down.

Another hour passed. The pit was now deeper than the altar. The Knights, nearly exhausted, set down their tools, panting as they wiped the grime from their faces.

"Stephen," said Brother John, "it’s not here!"

The peasant Stephen seemed to awaken from a dream and looked over at them with a smile.

He said calmly, "Digging cannot reveal it. Only prayer can."

Brother John was the first to kneel. The crowd followed his example, but some refused, having come to see it as a farce. Besides, they had already been kneeling for a long time.

"Father," Brother John began to pray, "we have heard Your Son’s command. We have forsaken all to follow Him. We have come to this Holy Land to defend His tomb from desecration, to walk in His footsteps, and to clear the way for the servants who will come after us.

Now, we are surrounded by Your enemies. Those of us who have bled, and those who are prepared to bleed, cry out to You for mercy.

If it is Your holy will, we beseech You to grant us the Savior’s Holy Spear from this deep pit."

As Brother John’s prayer rang out, a flash of golden light appeared in the dark Church. White smoke began to materialize in the glow and spread out, like a mysterious, thin veil gently covering everyone’s eyes.

Within the smoke, warm, golden motes of light could be faintly seen, like the afterglow of the sun or some sacred symbol, slowly emerging from the darkness.

As the points of light moved, the smoke grew thicker, seemingly guided by some invisible Power. The image of a hand appeared in the smoke, pointing toward a spot on the ground.

The hand was white and holy, gradually manifesting through the refraction of smoke and light.

"Look! Look!" a soldier shouted, pointing excitedly at the air. His voice nearly drowned out the surrounding prayers.

All eyes focused on the spot where the hand was pointing.

The light grew brighter, and the image in the smoke began to change. Gradually, an entire figure began to emerge.

"It is Christ! It is Christ!"

"My Lord! My Lord! My Lord!"

Under the illumination, the image of Christ gradually appeared from the air. His face was gentle and loving, His gaze profound, as if looking directly into the soul of every believer.

As the smoke slowly dispersed, Christ’s figure became clearer. He was dressed in a long robe, His arms outstretched, as if preparing to welcome every devout Prayer.

The soldiers and Nobility in the crowd were utterly stunned. They fell to their knees one by one, their eyes filled with awe and Devotion. Some, in their excitement, began to smash their heads against the ground.

"Jesus Christ, save me!"

"My sins are heavy, have mercy, O Lord!"

"Lord, accept my suffering, deliver me from sin!"

"He has come! The Savior has come!"

More people cried out, "Hallelujah! Hallelujah!"

Even those who had previously doubted the miracle could no longer question what was before their eyes.

Brother John stared blankly at the vision of Christ before him, muttering in disbelief, "The Holy Son appears... the Holy Son appears... the Holy Son appears... If this is Your will, may we follow Your light." He slowly prostrated himself on the ground.

"Look where Christ’s finger is pointing!"

Someone in the crowd gasped, watching as the finger guided their gaze.

The peasant Stephen did not kneel. As if he were very familiar with the figure, he tilted his head and said softly, "Yes."

He walked to the edge of the pit. "Look, that is the Holy Spear!"

Most of the people were lost in a frenzy over the manifestation of Christ and paid no attention to the peasant Stephen, but those closest to him heard his words.

Brother John and the others got to their feet and crowded closer to look. Sure enough, at the very bottom, a speck of Metal was showing through the earth.

The Priest pushed to the very front, let out a scream, and then dove headfirst into the pit. He began to slam his chest against the soil, trying to impale himself on the piece of Metal, screaming, "Accept me! Accept me!"

"Pull him out!" Brother John commanded, and the Knights roughly dragged him from the pit.

At that moment, the peasant Stephen stepped forward. "I will get it," he said.

Belem grabbed him by the arms and gently lowered him into the pit. The peasant Stephen knelt, carefully scraped away the soil, and then picked up the shaft of a Roman Spear.

The peasant Stephen held it up for all to see. Brother John bowed his head, preparing to receive it.

"This is the Holy Spear that pierced Christ," he said, his tone solemn.

Everyone knelt once more.

Below, the peasant Stephen stood in the pit, smiling peacefully.

The Christ in the smoke, as if its mission were complete, abruptly vanished.