Sign Of The Cross (54 page)

Far from the eyes of Tiberius yet still within his reach, I knew what must be done or I would suffer the same fate as the Christ, only my life would be ended without the peace of mandrake or the glory that is achieved in battle. My allies were few and options limited; thus after a night of no sleep I knew I must flee as this was the only way to ensure my continued life. My preparations started in haste, with me telling no one, not even my Claudia, knowing that word could not leak or I would surely be questioned by those who served the position that I intended to abandon. This continued until the third day, the day I was to leave, when I was greeted by one of my men, a man whom I trusted, one I could count on in the most dire of times, and he gave me word that could not be explained, news that forced me to open my eyes to a new way of life: the Nazarene had risen and walked from his tomb alive.

I knew not how this could be, for no man could wake from the slumber of death from which I bore witness: I felt the cold of his skin, saw blood not weep from his wounds, heard no sound when I rested my ear upon his rib. Yet two days later the holy man from Nazareth, the man I murdered for the betterment of Rome, found the heavenly strength to discard the yoke of death and emerge from the tomb in which he was forever sealed.

Looking back with the wisdom of my many years, the latest of which I have spent repenting in this distant land while living on Roman treasures given to me for the secret task I didn’t achieve, I do regret, after his emergence from the cave, not searching for him in the streets of Jerusalem and falling to his feet and begging his forgiveness for what I had done. I despise myself for not joining his flock and spreading his word, for my presence as a Roman, bearing witness to the death he had risen above, would surely have aided his cause and saved the lives of many of his disciples. But instead I did the worst and most cowardly thing that I could possibly have done: I sent word to Rome that all had been accomplished, that his death had been faked, and his return had been revealed to members of his flock – though unforeseen events prevented it from occurring on the great stage that Tiberius had hoped, for if it had been done as planned, the religion of the Christ would have taken hold at once, and the people of Judea would have sung his praises to the world, and the world would surely have listened, believing that the Messiah had returned as prophesied, and everyone in all lands Roman would have joined hands in unity, and the benefits to the Empire would have been immense.

In retrospect, some might ask why I write this now, why it has taken so long to share my story with those who must hear it, and for that my answer brings me no pleasure, for it means I lived my life as a coward and not as the hero that Tiberius was led to believe: the approach of my death has given me courage I did not have in life, and with this courage, I beg of my sons, and their sons as well, to honor the life of the Christ, for he was the true Messiah.

(
WARNING
: Some crucial story lines will be discussed in this section. If you haven’t read the book, you
shouldn’t
read this note. Some major plot twists will be ruined if you do.)

The concept for
Sign of the Cross
first came to me in 1998. I was teaching high school English at the time and had just started to outline my first published novel,
The Plantation.
I loved both concepts equally well but chose to keep
SOTC
on the back burner since I knew it would require the type of research that I couldn’t do in a rural community.

Looking back, it was the best decision I could’ve made as a writer. Not only because I had access to several world-class libraries when I moved back to Pittsburgh, but also due to the explosion of the Internet. That allowed me to scour documents from the Vatican, view the Dead Sea Scrolls from the Qumran Library, and read letters that were penned by Tiberius himself. All of which allowed me to expand my story beyond the concept that I had originally planned.

Amazingly,
SOTC
could’ve been a thousand-page book. My agent urged me to stop my first draft at the 711-page mark, even though I had more than enough research to keep it going. In hindsight, I’m glad he stopped me. Otherwise
SOTC
would’ve killed half the rain forest. Of course, the sad part in all of this is that I saved some of my best research for the end of my original story line and was never able to squeeze it into the shorter version. Oh well, if
SOTC
ever gets made into a movie, I can include my research in the bonus material on the
DVD
.

In the meantime, if you’re interested in the non-traditional history of Christianity, there are many nonfiction books that explore the final years of Christ. The most infamous is
Holy Blood, Holy Grail
by Michael Baigent, Richard Leigh, and Henry Lincoln. Published in 1983, it reveals many theories about the crucifixion of Christ that I chose not to include in my story. Other books that I saw mentioned in my research (but haven’t necessarily read) include:
The Templar Revelation
by Lynn Picknett and Clive Prince;
Rosslyn: Guardians of the Secret of the Holy Grail
by Tim Wallace-Murphy and Marilyn Hopkins;
Jesus and the Lost Goddess: The Secret Teachings of the Original Christians
by Timothy Freke and Peter Gandy.

A complete list of books can be found on my website: www.chriskuzneski.com.

Changing subjects, I’d like to address one final issue. After reading
SOTC
, several people have asked me to point out which parts of my book are real and which are fiction. Obviously I take that as the ultimate compliment because it suggests I have blended things well enough to create a plausible world. That being said, I have no intention of telling anyone (including my mother) which details are true and which are make-believe. I mean, that’s one of the reasons I chose to become an author. I longed for the opportunity to blur the line between fact and fiction without ever having to explain myself.

In other words, everything you read is the way it
really
happened in my universe.

Besides, Jonathon Payne won’t tell me anything else. The bastard.