kingdom of nations

Chapter 291 Broken Wings (9)

Bethlehem is an extremely ancient city. How ancient? So ancient that the first prominent figure born here was not Jesus Christ, the savior as people say, but King David, one of the greatest kings of Isaac, who occupies a large part of the history of the Isaacs.

In 6-4 BC, in order to escape Herod's wanted notice, Saint Mary and Saint Joseph came to Bethlehem.

At that time, Bethlehem was filled with people from all over, and there was nowhere for them to stay. But an innkeeper took pity on the heavily pregnant Mary and arranged for them to stay in a cave.

The cave was used by the owner to keep horses, and Jesus Christ was not born in a glittering silver cradle, nor did he fall on a bed made of fragrant wood, nor was he surrounded by purple curtains and attentive servants. He simply fell alone into that rough manger.

A thousand years later, this stone manger became an undisputed sacred object, and a church was built on top of it—the Church of the Nativity.

When Baldwin and César were looking for a location to hold the election ceremony, the Church of the Nativity was one of the options, and it was located in front of Manger Square.

In the past, Manger Square was always bustling with people, shoulder to shoulder, all eager to walk to the sacred manger and touch the holy place where the Savior first lay.

Even now, you can't say there are fewer people in the square, but it's clear that after fulfilling their wishes, they didn't leave as usual, but instead headed out of the city.

Saint Jerome was born in St. St. St., and as he grew up, he received instruction from many Roman scholars, developing a particular interest in philosophy and theology. He even traveled to Antioch—which was then ruled by pagans—but with immense courage and devotion, he successfully translated numerous ancient Greek and Roman texts.

Of course, the Church had nothing to preserve regarding these pagan cultural assets. However, in the following years, St. Jerome successfully translated the Hebrew Bible into Latin, and this accurate and detailed work was eventually recognized by the Church. In other words, almost all the scriptures read today are derived from it.

Unfortunately, St. Jerome's brilliant mind did not allow him to go very far in the court and the church. He once did research in Rome and served as a secretary to a bishop, but was eventually expelled for offending the bishop.

Finally, he went to Bethlehem and spent the rest of his life in a monastery there.

This monastery is the St. Jerome Monastery.

The priests were in their morning prayers when the icon of St. Jerome suddenly shone.

At first, they thought it was because a priest's fervent prayers had attracted the saint's attention, or that a talented novice had been chosen—this had happened before.

But then they discovered that the holy light was emanating from the statue itself. Moreover, five holy marks appeared on the wooden statue—on its hands, feet, and sides—and were clearly visible holes from which holy blood flowed.

The priests were immediately overjoyed.

Saint Jerome did indeed perform miracles before and after his canonization, but unfortunately, these occurred either in Rome or Antioch. His final resting place, however, has always maintained the tranquility befitting a dead person.

This monastery was therefore not favored by the clergy, and some ambitious monks who came here would try to switch sides, especially those religious people who were not prepared to spend the rest of their lives copying, growing vegetables and making wine.

Those who remained here no longer harbored such strong desires that they were able to remain calm when they saw these strange sights and did not immediately reveal them.

They determined that this was not a prank, nor a collective hysteria caused by eating moldy grain (common in monasteries), nor the work of the devil, and thus hurriedly sent someone to inform Bishop Andrea and Patriarch Heraclius.

The abbot of St. Jerome's Convent, unusually dressed in white robes, wearing a crown and holding a pastor's staff, did not immediately appear before the boisterous crowd. Instead, he knelt before the altar, gazing at the crucifix of Jesus and then turning his gaze to the statue of St. Jerome placed beside Jesus Christ, the very wooden statue from which the miracle had occurred.

The icon's expression was so humble, its posture so low, its head bowed, holding a book in one hand and an iron pen in the other. Both the book and the pen were stained red with the constantly seeping blood. The blood stained down its magnificent silk robe (at this time, people always dressed the icon in all sorts of clothes) and dripped down, landing on the brass peacock and partridge—the former representing eternity, and the latter representing truth.

Finally, it flowed down the steps and fell directly into a copper bowl filled with water, which symbolized purity. The holy blood flowing into it was not diluted, but became even more concentrated. The red water reflected the magnificent golden dome, making the bowl of holy water seem as if it had life and soul.

The abbot dared not watch any longer. He hurriedly stood up and walked towards the door. The people outside, who had been pushing and shoving to come in, stopped when they saw the abbot and stared at him with expectant eyes: "Is it true, sir? Has a miracle really occurred?" someone asked loudly.

“At least from what I’ve seen, it’s true,” the dean replied without hesitation. “But we still need to wait for the patriarch to send someone to investigate before we can give a final result.”

"Let us go in and take a look first, so we can be your witnesses."

The dean shook his head and refused, "Please be patient, everyone. After the person sent by the patriarch approves, everyone will have the opportunity to make a pilgrimage here."

Such an answer was of course unsatisfactory to the people, and when they started to clamor, the monks couldn't help but step forward and raise their scriptures, incense boats, and large crosses, which could be used as weapons if necessary—the abbot was from Rome and had experienced this scene countless times.

Whether the miracle was man-made or real, there would be a period of confusion. So he immediately announced that a thanksgiving mass would be held to celebrate the miracle, and a city-wide procession would be organized to bless and grant forgiveness to all people until the miracle was confirmed.

At this time, any sacrament that needed to be performed by monks and priests cost money. For poor pilgrims, this was like another miracle, and they immediately became docile and allowed the priests to make arrangements.

Of course, if a kind-hearted benefactor is willing to donate, the priests will not stop them.

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Haredi calmly closed the door; in fact, one could say that all the Isaacs in Bethlehem did the same.

Through centuries of "experience," the Isaacs had long known that when Christians were caught up in revelry, it was best for the Isaacs not to participate. Not only did most of what they celebrated contradict Isaac's doctrines, but more often than not, they would become sacrifices to the celebration. If people suggested burning one or two Isaacs to add to the festivities, it wouldn't be a hellish joke, but rather the most likely outcome.

Not to mention that in such a large procession driven by hundreds or thousands of people, it wouldn't be surprising if a few unscrupulous individuals took the opportunity to rob and rape, especially since the victims were Isaacs. Haredi crossed the small courtyard, walked through the entire workshop, and arrived at the back bedroom, which connected to a narrow courtyard, almost like an alleyway, but at its end was a door that was difficult to spot from the outside—Haredi's escape route.

Just then, he heard a very faint knocking sound. Haredi immediately became alert. He pulled a dagger from his boot, gripped it tightly in his hand, and then leaned against the wall by the door, rather than behind it.

To disguise the door, it was short and small, made of a thin wooden plank without any iron bars for reinforcement. When he painted it white, it looked almost indistinguishable from the surrounding walls. But this also meant that if a soldier with a spear was standing outside, a spear could easily pierce through the door when Haredi answered from behind it.

To his relief, the people outside didn't seem rude. After knocking lightly a few times, they stopped. Not many people knew about the door, and almost all of them were Isaacs.

Haredi knew that the best option was to pretend nothing had happened and leave as soon as possible, but he was also worried that the person outside the door might be the one he suspected—someone he had recently wronged.

If he needed Harry's help right now, and Harry ran away, it would be like doing him a double evil. The other person seemed to know that Harry had heard the knocking and guessed that he was standing by the door, so he lowered his voice and pleaded softly, "Haredi, open the door, open the door, it's me."

Who is it?
Of course, this refers to Lego, who was ordered never to return to Bethlehem.

After hesitating for a long time, Haredi put the dagger back into his boot, suddenly pulled the door open from the inside, and dragged Lego, who was dressed as a monk, in. Lego was so startled that he almost fell to the ground.

"Why are you back, Lego?"

When Harry saw Lego, he could hardly recognize him as the same chubby, smiling man who seemed to never have any worries. He was now dark and thin, but thankfully his eyes were still the same—ambitious and full of desire.

"Christians are all in Damascus right now, what are you worried about?"

“Bah!” Haredi said angrily, “There are a thousand Christians right outside our door.”

Lego chuckled.

“You haven’t answered my question yet,” Harry asked.

“I have come at the command of the wise men of Nalsa. I also have some personal business to attend to,” said Lego. He looked around, trying to find a suitable chair, but then he looked at himself—in order to disguise himself as an ascetic that no one would care about or pay attention to, he deliberately made himself very slovenly, with tangled hair, tattered clothes, and thick grime and active fleas and bedbugs.

If there were a mirror, he would feel disgusted looking at himself, so he didn't sit on any chair, but instead sat cross-legged on a stone slab in the courtyard. He didn't know if it was because of his age or because he was exhausted from the long journey, but he felt dizzy.

"I'll go pour you a glass of wine."

“Okay,” Lego replied listlessly. This damn weather was too hot and too dry; he felt he must have caught a fever.

But when Haredi brought over a glass of wine—even though the wine was of quite good quality, not too acidic, and Haredi had added honey or rock sugar to it for him to drink—Lego only managed two or three sips before stopping. He didn't know what was wrong with him; perhaps he should take a nap.

Harry was a heartless fellow. But he knew that as long as he came to him, Harry wouldn't be stingy with a bed.

"Summon your apprentice to serve me."

They're not here.

"Not here?"

“I sent him back to his parents’ house.” Although he knew they had betrayed the workshop’s secrets, Haredi had kept it a secret out of compassion for his people and allowed them to continue as apprentices. But perhaps because he had been too kind to them, the two boys started to complain after he revoked their previous privileges.

Haredi didn't bother arguing with them and simply sent them back.

Of course, as an Isaac man, he still had to fulfill his duty to take on two Isaac apprentices, but for the time being he could have a month or two of peace and quiet.

“I’ll serve you today. Those two apprentices are gone; their beds are empty.” Haredi was just thinking about whether to bring out one of his blankets for Lego when he heard a name he couldn’t believe. “What?” He thought he’d misheard. “Who did you say?”

“My poor sister,” Lego said in a daze, “although I said I would never take care of her again, she wrote me a letter saying that she could not stay in Bethlehem and wanted to come to me for help, but she now owes money to the innkeeper, and he will not let her go until she pays it off.”

"When?"

"Two weeks ago."

Haredi could no longer hear what was said after that; his head was buzzing because no one knew better than him that Lego's sister was long dead, killed by his own hand, and thrown out of the city by his own hand.

Haredi was a cautious man; he had confirmed that the woman's head was caved in.

So, who wrote this letter to Le Gou?

(End of this chapter)