The Thirteenth Apostle by Michel Benoit Read Free Book Online Page A

of frozen statues.
    â€œI know we’re straying away from the beaten track, that this isn’t what they taught you in catechism classes. But the text gives us no choice… You’re in for quite a few more surprises!” Such had been his line.
    His classes were the result of years of solitary study and reflection. Time and again he had sought in vain, in the library of the Abbey to which he had access, for certain books which, as he knew from a specialized review to which Father Andrei as librarian subscribed, had only just been published.
    â€œWell, Father Nil, the fact is: they’ve finally brought to light a new batch of Dead Sea scrolls! I’d never have believed it… The jars were discovered fifty years ago in the caves at Qumran, and nothing’s been published since Yigael Yadin died: morethan half these texts are still unknown to the public. It’s an incredible scandal!”
    Nil smiled. In the intimacy of this office, he had discovered in Father Andrei a man of passion, who was aware of all the latest developments. He loved their long conversations behind closed doors. Andrei listened as he told him about his research, his head bent slightly forwards. Then with a word or two, or sometimes a silence, he would give his disciple his approval, or point him the way forward as he came out with his most daring hypotheses.
    The man he could now see in front of him was so different from the starchy librarian, the strict guardian of the three keys, who had always been such a familiar figure in the Abbey on the river Loire!
    The building had been rebuilt after the war, and the cloister had been left unfinished: it formed a U shape open to the plain. The libraries occupied the top storey of the three wings – central, north and south – just under the roofs.
    Four years earlier, Father Andrei had seen considerable sums of money coming in, with instructions to purchase particular titles in the fields of dogma and history. He had been thrilled at this opportunity to place his knowledge at the service of these miraculous gifts of cash. The shelves filled up with rare books, editions that were difficult to find or out of print, in all languages both ancient and modern. The opening of the special theological school, closely followed by the Vatican, was obviously responsible for the creation of this marvellous research tool.
    There was, however, an unusual restriction. Each of the eight teaching monks appointed to the theological college possessed just one key , the key corresponding to the subject he taught. Nil, who taught the New Testament, had been given the keyto the central wing, over whose entrance was a wooden notice engraved with the words: Biblical Studies . The libraries of the northern wing ( Historical Studies ) and the southern wing ( Theological Studies ) remained obstinately closed to him.
    Only Andrei and the Father Abbot possessed the keys to all three libraries, held together on a special keyring, which they never let out of their sight.
    Right at the start of his research, Nil had asked his friend for permission to gain access to the historical library.
    â€œThere are certain books I really need and I can’t find them in the central wing. You told me one day they’d been catalogued and placed in the north wing – why on earth can’t I get in? It’s ridiculous!”
    For the first time, Nil saw his friend’s face grow distant. Looking strained and edgy, Andrei eventually told him, with tears in his eyes:
    â€œFather Nil… If I told you that, I was wrong to do so. Forget what I said. Please, never ask me for the key to one of the two libraries to which you no longer have access. You must understand, my friend, I can’t do just what I want. Father Abbot’s orders are strict, and they come… from a higher authority. Nobody can have access to all three wings of our library. It keeps me awake at night: it’s not ridiculous,