The Cathedral of Truth

Please see the endnote at the end of the book for more illumination into the above family tree, but be assured it is all explained during the course of Hellmantle’s adventure.

FIRST PART

Ω

Chapter 1

Concerning the famous Hellmantle’s position, character and way of life

Lamma Island, Hong Kong, China, November 2001

ﭏ

Extremism in all its forms can always be justified by a partial mind. In Hong Kong, recently designated as Special Administrative Region of the People’s Republic of China, lived an unusual man, non-conformist and rebel against mainstream dogma, an expatriate motorcyclist who loved history books and maps. Preferring movement to stagnation and curiosity to indifference, blind spots and lack of gumption were the scourge of humanity, to him an indolence offending his philosophical nature. Phoniness was the bane of man and ultimate embodiment of deception born from lies, a dishonesty of self-founded on shifting sands on an unstable underpinning. He believed one should have fidelity to principles, create their own morality discovered through truth and live by a code that embodied nobility and daring. This was Roland Hellmantle of Normandy.

There is some dispute among scholars, and authors of past works written on the subject, that his original surname was Redmantel but had been changed to Hellmantel, but the spelling changed to Hellmantle due to his Norman roots. Suffice to say these events are recorded with objectivity and no trace of hyperbole or subjective license. This is Hellmantle’s story.

He lived on a mountainside above the shores of Aberdeen Channel where the sprawl of Hong Kong Island could be seen from his balcony. In his forties, wrinkled around the eyes, his face bespoke character one might say, lines showing experience and hardship from his inclination for adventure, enough to garner respect but shy to be seen as marks of a sage. Something about his mouth was out of place, a stiffness perhaps or crookedness hidden by a drooping moustache and beard. When not writing for a magazine, Hellmantle spent hours reading history in cafés or hunkered down on Lamma Island, seldom leaving his hideout on the cliff overlooking shipping lanes to the world’s busiest port. Religious history mainly, areas that touched on his family history, such as the Holy Grail, the Crusades and the life of Jesus. His interest in these subjects snowballed the deeper he went. Recent discoveries had come to light, such as the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Nag Hamadi Scrolls, which included The Gospel of Thomas, which threw Hellmantle into a fever during the summer months. The twelve disciples came alive as the entourage of Jesus the Nazarene, and His original message revealed new information after finding a code, bringing a hidden history to light of events that happened two thousand years ago. His magazine work suffered so he was hired as a freelance writer, the company realizing that it was cheaper. With more free time he read more, his house soon covered with books. His mind grasped new insights, his imagination fueled, and compounded by his anomalous psychological apparatus. Hellmantle’s mind was infected by Aspergers Syndrome, skewered, physiologically tweaked which made him semi-autistic, giving him a sharp, high-functioning mind but blinded him to emotions expressed by others but that left him free to embrace ideas on a high level and without fear to pursue his inclinations to extremes.

Once he engaged an interest his Aspergers Syndrome enabled him to engineer his life so that he could dedicate himself to the pursuit without empathy of others, often leading him to dangerous and reckless behavior.

Our story begins with a telephone call from his uncle in Kowloon asking him to dinner. Hellmantle envisioned a grand adventure, sensing his time had come to put his vast knowledge into play, a door opening that would lead him to greatness he always knew he was destined for. His uncle Jack Grosseteste, notorious in his own ways for his fervent interest in the family history of the Hellmantle clan, was a professor of economics but spent his time researching the more esoteric aspects of religious history, staunchly opposed to the interfering hand of Rome, abreast of the prophecies and legends and hidden knowledge of secret societies. From his research Hellmantle had become convinced evidence existed that proved the stories and dogma taught by schoolteachers and priests weren’t entirely accurate so that he had made it his personal mission to right this wrong through industry and employing courage to take the step that would lead to a new understanding of the true message of Jesus and the unrecorded events that Rome had suppressed to protect its power over centuries. And to undertake such a mission, he would use all his resources and acumen to set the record straight.

The day came to go to the uncle’s for dinner, so he readied his motorcycle kit, taking care to be prepared for any eventuality. The gloves with holes in the fingers had proven effective when riding the mountains of Taiwan years ago, as had his waterproof riding boots during forays into the jungles of Cambodia during the rainy season. His eyepiece scratched but not enough to mar the visual aspect, and helmet like those worn in hockey, a toy unable to protect against head injury, were chosen for their comfort over effectiveness for he insisted on comfort over infringement of his ride. The hat as he called it, epitomized Hellmantle’s motorcycle kit, light but enough to avoid ticketing or infractions against his insurance. Boots or Birkenstocks, hat or not hat, non-scratchy scarf and thick leather motorcycle jacket well-worn from countless miles of riding, were all selected based on how it enhanced the motorcycle experience. Even his Yamaha FZRR400 motorcycle was extreme, chipped and scraped and engineered for the racetrack, a rocket illegal for the roads of Hong Kong, a vehicle he loved like a man loves his horse. It was common for Aspergers sufferers to give a disproportionate amount of love to inanimate object and Hellmantle was no different. His iron horse was named Sir Thighpiece after Don Quixote’s horse, caring for the bike by locking it with three kryptonite locks for added protection so he could sleep at night knowing his loyal servant was safe from theft. Every time he looked at Sir Thighpiece a deep love welled-up in his breast as if there was a great debt owed by him for services rendered.

Once ready to visit his uncle Jack Grosseteste, he spoke thus:

"Perceval, thou hast conquered and art healed. Enter this ship and go wheresoever adventure leads thee. And be not dismayed by anything thou seest, for wherever thou goest God will be thy guide."

How he loved to say these words! It was the first step towards affirming his destiny, and the first pen strokes in the story of his pilgrimage to the cathedral of truth.

Chapter 2

Concerning the ingenious man’s visit with his uncle Jack Grosseteste

פֿ

When he left for Kowloon Tong to visit his uncle, somewhere in his Asperger mind he knew he mission was upon him. After the ferry ride from his house on Lamma Island to Hong Kong Island where he picked up his motorcycle, Hellmantle cruised the south side of the island around the central mountains weaving his way through traffic to Victoria Harbor Tunnel riding under the harbor to Kowloon soon emerging into the thick underbelly of Tsim Sha Tsui. Taking an overpass through the seventh floor of an office building, he passed the congested shopping Mecca of Mong Kok and entered a long tunnel under Lion Rock Mountain after which the number of cars dwindled. Hellmantle was in the mountains and forests of Hong Kong that no one ever saw, the part where nature still bloomed in full force. During the ride north through the green foliage and valleys his ardent belief in his destiny of greatness so deep, he spoke thus:

"They will speak about me one day in the centuries to come! It will be a story for those brave enough to find meaning in a word! They will find a record, those armchair philosophers with potential of being world leaders who instead have chosen the practiced way of life eating popcorn on their soft couches. The world will have a testament of a life outside of constraints that hinder modern man during the Time of the Great Change. I make no apology for the fundamental extremism of my empirical data because that is the cost of discovering truth!"

So lithe with his tongue the words rolled out of his mouth like rainwater off a petal of the flower.

Ω

Parking Sir Thighpiece in the quadrangle of the academic compound for professors, Hellmantle walked up the stairs to his uncle’s apartment like Homo Robustus. When the door opened he saw before him a white-haired, white-bearded man of noble bearing. Perhaps due to the long time between visits, Jack Grosseteste was dumbstruck at the man in front of him, a look of bewilderment lingering for a moment.

Good to see you Rolland. Grasping his hand, shaking it in earnest, his nephew looked different, older, somehow taller. Cheeks defined, he had become hardened by life. A scholar with a spiritual cast, he looked possessed, on fire, enlivened by purpose, a clear-eyed confidence born from knowledge. He had changed after his years in the Far East.

Uncle, your timing could not be better. You call because of the Grail? Jack Grosseteste’s laughter, uneasy at first, tested the waters for his reaction.

In fact yes, I do. Hellmantle, offended by the laughter because of the divine task before him, an event in history that demanded respect, could let this offence go unaddressed.

"Ignorance is the fundamental cause if disharmony in the world! And the global populace can no longer remain in a state of ignorance! God will open a path for me fraught with obstacles to test my spirit. How I overcome adversity will challenge my belief and determine my fate but I am not a gimcrack! I am a man of my word through action, a seeker who sees life as an unfolding adventure. So! As a loyal member of the Hellmantle clan, I hereby declare my services available for hire." Earnest, and lacking irony, he squinted, looking deep into his uncle’s eyes.

Jack Grosseteste, being a practical man who taught for a living, was confident that his nephew was suffering from a similar condition to that of his own father, Thomas Grosseteste. He suspected it was Aspergers that caused this neurosis because he knew the behaviors associated with the Hellmantle and Grosseteste autism gene.

You might very well be hired Roland. Acknowledge with sincerity for the serious nature of his visit, Hellmantle relaxed.

Ah! Since you’re fond of the grape. Pulling out two bottles of wine for his uncle from his bag, he was happy to have the means to provide him with refreshments for dinner.

You’re a gentleman. Shall we try one? Hellmantle, in his delusional state, believed his uncle acted as if it was still British Hong Kong despite it being four years since the handover. Colonial Britain in the Far East had changed over the generations evolving from tweed jackets and Oxford wing tips to insulated Gortex windbreakers and desert boots with rubber soles, all made across the border on the mainland.

Did you know that your cousin D’Aqs is living in TST?

D’Aqs Grosseteste? Surprised. I thought he was living in Japan.

No, not Japan. Burma. He’s in a residence beside St. Andrew’s church close to the harbor.

No, I didn’t know that.

Resting after his stint as a missionary in Mandalay, he’s been living here for almost six months now. He’s on his way over here to have dinner with us.

Why? Face showing anxiety at the possible disturbance from their business at hand.

Because we’re discussing some family history. Sorry, perhaps I should have told you.

I haven’t seen him since I was a kid. It was at that moment when the doorbell rang and in walked D’Aqs Grosseteste. Time treated all people differently, but when he saw his cousin, shock replaced the look of determination on Hellmantle’s face.

My God! How long has it been Rolland? Fifteen years?

More, I think.

Good to see you cousin. You look the same as boarding school, D’Aqs said. Your beard suits you.

"You poor devil! What have you done to yourself? You look a little sallow. Prone to social gaffes and lacking social grace was attributable to Hellmantle’s illness. A tad peeked."

I’m better than I was, he replied, a bit taken back. Two months ago D’Aqs had been deathly ill, having a bluish-yellow pallor, but he thought he had recovered sufficiently to pass as fit.

When I arrived in July I was fearing for my life. He assumed Hellmantle had some idea of where he had been through his father.

"And now you’re a minister." Distaste oozed, suspicion could not be masked.

I am, but I’m not preaching this year. I-

What denomination please?

Anglican.

"Well that’s a relief. D’Aqs glanced at his father. Though if one were to be a minister, Presbyterian would be my choice."

Good. I wanted to get away from the congested life of the West but I didn’t expect such a jungle. Perhaps I should have, but the Burmese are good people and I enjoyed the years I was there.

That’s what it’s like over here in Asia, but here in Hong Kong is a little better. But why are you in Hong Kong?

"Because my father is here and because the Anglican diocese in Tsim Sha Tsui had an open room that they are providing for me. I am recovering from malaria after my posting in Mandalay."

That’s a tough lot. That will stay in your liver for the rest of your life you unfortunate soul! It is a shame about the mosquitoes and the water there. Hellmantle then remembered to shake his hand. Um, why a minister please?

I wanted something different, something meaningful.

And?

What?

Is it meaningful?

Yes, it can be very meaningful. Hellmantle’s expression changed to satisfaction as he looked at the bookshelves. You look well enough to me Rolland.

Indeed I am. D’Aqs wiped his hands on his shorts. Ah! My hands are still sweating from the motorcycle ride here. He ran his hand through his long hair.

You ride a motorcycle in Hong Kong? Noticed his boots.

"I ride a fast motorcycle in Hong Kong. Yes." Pointed at his hat on a chair beside the door.

That’s your motorcycle helmet?

"Hat, actually."

That’s a pretty risky proposition.

That’s what I said, said his father.

"It is their inability to ride that is the only threat to my life," in a serious tone, motioning to the spaghetti of roadways through the window.

"Do you have a death wish?" his uncle picked up his helmet. Hellmantle pensive, gazing out the window.

Riding a motorcycle in Hong Kong can be a calming pastime, he said, almost in a whisper. "I am not eager to graduate to the Great Café in the Sky until my work is done. Both Grossetestes laughed. Besides, it’s all right here. Taiwan is the place where it’s pretty hairy on the roads. Here in Hong Kong it’s like riding on a big go-kart track with no shoulders. But it was the first day that was the toughest. Riding on the left side of the road was an exercise of fighting my reflexes to go the other way. My mantra was: Stay left. Stay left!"

Just don’t get yourself killed, said Jack Grosseteste.

For D’Aqs it was eerie seeing his cousin after so many years. An aspect about him that he could not place, maybe something in his eyes, an intensity that gave him a pang of fear in his gut. Intuition told him that Hellmantle was on edge, like a revved up engine about to overheat.

It is good that you are both here, said the professor. There is something from our family in Normandy that has come to me in the mail. He eyed Hellmantle, who looked positively haunted by some Holy Spirit. But we’ll look into this business after dinner. First we eat.

The three of them went into the main room where all Professor Grosseteste’s books and encyclopaedias lined the walls. It was cold in the library where the air conditioner blasted, one of the many things that Hellmantle could not understand. His shirt wet from his ride, he shivered in the cold air but his uncle and cousin were both reluctant to turn down the air conditioner. He didn’t think twice about putting on his motorcycle jacket. For him it was irrational to shiver in discomfort and eat, so he wore it throughout dinner. Every time he brought food to his mouth they could hear the thick leather crinkling, elbow pads built into the leather stretching and bending as he ate. They spoke about family and about the Far East but Hellmantle for the most part was quiet. The only reason he was there was to find out what his task was in order to engage in his first sally.

Chapter 3

Which relates to how Hellmantle is given his first adventure

Kowloon Tong, Hong Kong

כֿ

Being so dedicated to the pursuit of truth under the ever-watchful eye of God, Hellmantle hurried dinner and drank wine, hoping to get to the meat of why he had been asked to his uncles’ place. D’Aqs became increasingly aware of the unbalanced emphasis of his cousin on all things related to the Bible.

Like so many noble families, said Hellmantle out of the blue, "the history of the Hellmantle clan is at risk of being relegated to a dusty shelf in favor of watching television. For my part, I am proud not to have a television. It is winning the battle for people’s limited supply of time and has even more power over people’s belief systems than the Catholic Church had during its reign of terror for two millennia! It is for this reason that I have been able to get so much done in the family tree, and now, so close to finding the truth about what happened to Jesus, I predict it will profoundly affect our lives as well as the lives of mankind."

As a trained missionary, D’Aqs was skeptical at first of his cousin’s outlandish opinions, but then realized that he was a bit off-centre in general. His father gave him a glance during dinner that said he too was worried about his nephew.

The professor, seeing how his guest was itching to hear what he had to say, delayed no more after the maid removed the dishes from the table.

As we all know, he began, "our families left Normandy to escape the residual oppression from the Pope Pius and his minions because our family, both Grosseteste and Hellmantle, bear the name of the coveted Merovingian bloodline of the Desposyni: the ancestral offspring of the family of Jesus and Mary Magdalene. And because of this, our family is a threat to the Catholic Church by virtue of being alive." Hellmantle’s eyes beamed, loving the words that referred to the greatness of his ancestors, which gave him visions of his own greatness.

Don’t forget, interrupted Hellmantle, "that the Hellmantles in particular have been persecuted throughout the centuries following the First Crusade, when our forefather Owen Hellmantle fought alongside the Nine Worthies, such as Hughes des Payens and Godfrey de Boullion."

Yes, we must never forget our ancestor Owen Hellmantle who distinguished himself during the campaign of the first of the six to recover the temple from the infidels. Hellmantle’s uncle, who, as mentioned, was something of a rogue himself with family history, knew his nephew had spent countless hours reading about their family past that had magnified his zealous devotion to seeking truth, unlike his son who had instead become a priest. This both scared and thrilled him because in Hellmantle lay the future of the family, and perhaps the solution to the unsolved questions that had dogged the Hellmantles and Desposyni for centuries.

Nodding in encouragement, the light of hope brewing in his heart, professor Grosseteste spoke thus:

"Remember the family story about how your grandfather Dane Hellmantle joined the French Foreign Legion and saw action overseas?" The mention of Dane Hellmantle – or the Great Dane as he was known within the family – brought a palpable reaction to Hellmantle.

Professor Grosseteste went to his desk and brought back a letter.

What is it?

This is an old letter that…that should have found its way home sooner but didn’t. An edge to his voice. "It has to do with your grandfather. It was written by a soldier in the French Foreign Legion named Louis de Steward who happened to die just after the battle of Dien Bien Phu. Unfortunately the letter was left to Louis de Steward’s brother Godfrey, who recently died without knowing where or how to find anyone from the Hellmantle clan. Since we had fled to New France three generations ago when the jackboots invaded, and de Steward knew no relations of ours in Europe, he couldn’t find us. A frown and shaking of the head. Since your father has passed away, I’m the eldest living male relative of Dane Hellmantle. It was de Steward’s lawyer who found the next of kin, which was me." He handed the letter not to D’Aqs but to Hellmantle. D’Aqs felt a spicy mixture of guilt and shame for not showing more interest in the rich tapestry of his family’s unique past. A slap in the face. But for Hellmantle it was the moment when all would change forever.

The letter has our symbol on it. Hands shaking as he opened the letter, handwritten scrawl on yellowed paper had faded over time. He read the letter aloud:

December 1954

To the Son of Dane Hellmantle,

As a fellow Legionnaire, I impart this important message to you for safekeeping and execution. The brave Dane Hellmantle, whom I had the honor of serving with during the siege, and who now lies dead after weeks of intense fighting with the enemy’s guns, gave me the responsibility to make sure the story of the lost scroll may be kept within the Hellmantle clan and that one day a Crusader from the descendants of the Long-Haired Kings will complete what needs to be done to bring the truth to light.

Before he was killed in Indochina, the Great Dane said to me that if he were to fall in battle I was to tell his son that he had found the map. I do not know where the map is because it was the Great Dane’s design that no one person knew everything. The secret of the lost map was left with a valiant Dutch preacher who he had met while on leave in Hanoi. All that I know about this Dutchman is that he returned to his church on Luzon Island in the Philippines, where ‘the bell tower rings and the color rouge glows.’ Find the Dutchman and you will find the map.

The Great Dane adamantly believed that this is a task for a Hellmantle. If he is like his forefathers, then he will have the spiritual vigor and undaunted courage to carry him forth to find the Dutch Padre and the map. These sacred scrolls are said to be from Jude Thomas the disciple. If these scrolls are found, it may change the course of modern religious history on par with his Merovingian ancestors during the First Crusade.

God bless you to whom this quest is bequeathed.

Louis de Steward

Hellmantle bolted up. The hand of destiny touches me in the shoulder! Eyes ablaze, sweat on his forehead. We must correct the fudging of the divine message that has been carried out by Rome for two millennia!

Professor Grosseteste dipped his brow slightly at his son, who sat wide-eyed listening to the madman sitting across from him. But for Hellmantle the letter in his hand had finally brought the legendary Dane Hellmantle to life. This greater-than-life character from a foggy past was now bringing him into the fold of great adventurers that had served God for a thousand years. Hellmantle spoke thus:

Time and perhaps my life might be the sacrifice required for this adventure, but it falls on my shoulders and I accept wholeheartedly the responsibilities of this assignment with God as my witness. I shall flourish while I find this Dutchman and come into the riches of hidden truths too long buried from our eyes. I seek to shatter the illusions that hamper mankind and bring back the treasures that are bestowed to us and our forefathers.

D’Aqs watched his cousin with absolute curiosity. "Fudging?"

"Fudging, yes. Major fudging. At the Council of Nicaea in 325AD." They both looked at D’Aqs.

Yes? His pale skin took on a rose hue.

At the Council of Nicaea the Roman Emperor Constantine the Great decided to make Jesus the product of a virgin birth, and a number of other very odd tenets that still to this day rub people the wrong way because it goes against very basic intuition, said his father.

"It was voted into existence, almost three hundred years after Jesus’ life, that He was a product of a virgin birth and that He was the Son of God, not the Son of Man, Hellmantle, eyes piercing. They also voted to adopt the belief of the Trinity. I’ve always considered the virgin birth to be difficult to believe." D’Aqs sheepish and embarrassed at his lack of knowledge.

"That’s an understatement! Even in the Quran there’s a passage that goes: ‘They sirely lie against God those who say, God is one of three in a Trinity. There is no god except One Allah. If they do not stop themselves from their word of lies, a painful penalty will surely fall on the liars among them.’

From what I know about Louis de Steward, said Jack Grosseteste, he and Dane were stationed in Hanoi before the war and became friends. De Steward survived the war and lived in Laos after the surrender of the French until his death in 1956. There were many dedicated French soldiers who found it difficult to let go of a land they had ruled for 150 years. De Steward was one of these dedicated Frenchmen who believed the land was theirs. From what I know he was stabbed by one of his servants who was a secret communist. Hellmantle listened but had his back to him looking for an atlas in his uncle’s bookshelves.

Damn shame, he said.

Your grandfather’s friend Louis de Steward was one of these soldiers who kept fighting after a hundred-and-fifty years of colonial rule. And you know that the Grosseteste and Hellmantle possessions in Indochina were seized.

When I was in Cambodia I could still feel anti-French sentiment, fifty years after the French leaving, said Hellmantle. At last he found an atlas, opened it to a detailed map of the Philippines out on the balcony and found Luzon Island.

Meanwhile Jack Grosseteste confirmed with his son that Hellmantle had Aspergers Syndrome and was precariously balanced on a precipice waiting for the slightest gust of wind to push the poor young man over the edge into the abyss. They agreed that his intentions were noble but he was careless enough to invite danger. As family, and with his father dead and so far away from home, the professor asked D’Aqs to accompany him to the Philippines on his quest, insisting the fresh air and exercise of the trip would do him good and contribute to his full recovery. D’Aqs shared his father’s concern and agreed to join Hellmantle on his task as long as his father could cover the costs of the trip. D’Aqs thought it might be something he could contribute to honor his father’s interest in secret societies that characterized the families’ past.

Head buried in the atlas, studying the minutia of gradients and shorelines and roads, Hellmantle suddenly erupted:

Providence will show that this Dutchman is still alive and that we shall find him! Confident, spoken with a proud posture.

Will you be able to afford the time off work? asked Jack Grosseteste.

"Work! ‘Tis secondary to me uncle! This is everything! Finding the Padre is my focus now. Nothing will stop me and no one will stand in my way."

But it could be dangerous.

"Dangerous! I hope it is! I am fit to undertake this sally without help or advantage. The journey must be executed with vigor and integrity since God will witness our trials and hardships that will be the road to salvation!" D’Aqs went to take the atlas from Hellmantle but he grabbed it back, exclaiming:

"None shall hinder my research nor obstruct my methods! Be not careless my cousin and get in my way!"

D’Aqs and his father exchanged looks again but this went unnoticed by Hellmantle, who, being inspirited, settled into studying Luzon Island on the map. D’Aqs, in an effort to keep things rational, asked:

Do you even think that this Dutch priest exists?

Of course he exists! exclaimed his indignant cousin. "The question should be my dear cousin, is he still alive? He could see Hellmantle doing some swift calculations in his head, his hand going to his chin. If he were 25 in 1954, then he’d be 72 years old, and priests never really retire, do they?"

"Well, they do Rolland." Using his first name was D’Aqs’ effort to reach out to the sane part of his mind, but this too failed to penetrate the wall of irrationality that had taken hold of his mental fortress.

"But he must be alive, don’t you see? We are part of a secret brotherhood that has remained together since the victorious find in Jerusalem when the original nine crusaders from Normandy led the First Crusade in 1099 and found what they sought under the Temple of Solomon in 1106. My poor D’Aqs! Do you forget that our family history recorded that the Nine Worthies were following a map?"

No, but what were they looking for?

"The treasure was the discovery – or rediscovery – of sacred geometry that has since been the foundation for building cathedrals throughout Europe for the last thousand years. Do you forget your history, man?"

I guess I do.

"Hughes de Payens changed history. He believed in the whispered secrets kept alive among the brotherhood to lead the First Crusade and persevere for seven years, digging under Solomon’s stables to find the buried booty. And nobody knows his name. But we do. And some of his blood stirs through our veins. Now it’s our turn to believe, to have faith, and to succeed." Vehemence overflowed in Hellmantle.

Professor Grosseteste, savvy enough to seize the opportunity of his nephew being so committed, took his cue and spoke thus:

That’s for you to find out, Rolland. And when you go to the Philippines to discover the truth, you should go with your cousin because he can learn about our family history, something he has ignored his entire life. It behooves all people to know about their past and family history. Our story happens to be a little more involved than the average family. He looked at his hands. Believe me, I would go with you but I am not able. Remember, the only thing an older man envies of a younger man is the bounty of time that lies at his feet in the fullness of youth.

With his chin high up in the air, Hellmantle replied:

"Time is like malleable clay within the reach of a sculptor teeming with untested ideas, proud of his philosophical acumen. I am a man who goes forth into the world to press my thoughts against humanity with only Helios and God as my witness. For me curiosity is the sparkplug to action. I have learned through hardships of adventure that the bite is more profitable than the graze."

I’m afraid more goes on than can be explained by your little philosophy, said Jack Grosseteste.

"Tall words uncle," he replied.

How? asked D’Aqs. "How are you going to find a Dutch priest in the northern island of the Philippines?"

"Motorcycles, man! The modern horse. Stop off at all the churches with a bell tower we see while touring the island." D’Aqs thought it was