From: thanatos@interaccess.com (Timothy Toner)
Subject: The Caine Files (3 of 6)

	My second colleague is but a rail of a man, small and
wispy, with an incredible air of piety that radiates from
him.  He often laughs that Montfermas, his sire, could have
waited a year or two before Embracing him, to allow him to
beef up a bit, although he did allow his hair to grow back. 
Indeed, he often gets passed over in Rants, because most
Brujahs are afraid they'll snap him in two.
	Still, a fire creeps behind those eyes, a knowing
courage that burns those who think him a weak coward.  His
name is Arond of Beaune, better known to the world as St.
Arond.  He was born in Beaune, France, in 1148, the last of
six boys.  Fearing starvation, his parents gave him to be
raised by the local monastery.  He read Greek at age 6, and
was capable of speaking and writing in seven languages by the
time he was 12.  He had memorized the Bible on a whim, bored
with all the recitation, and tired of lugging around the
ponderous work.
	When he was 15, the head of the monastery wanted him to
begin work as a scribe, translating the various Greek works
into French for the nobility.  Rather than the mean religious
texts he was force fed, he thrived on the philosophy of
Aristotle, Socrates, and Plato, and fell in love with the
dramas of Aristophanes, Sophocles, and Aeschylus.  Arond
sensed that there was so much more to be had than mere
religious life, and petitioned to become an itinerant
preacher in the German North, where many great works were
sequestered in musty libraries.
	The head abbot refused, seeing much evil in the Heathen
North. However, Arond walked in on him and a young convent
girl in a compromising position a week later, and he was off. 
"I didn't see it as blackmail," he said later, "as much as
both of us having something to offer the other."
	Travelling the north was difficult to say the least. 
Fear of the plague had paralyzed some of the smaller towns,
and the appearance of a wanderer terrified them, even if he
wore the robes of a priest.  Nevertheless, his unassuming
attitude relieved many, and soon people began to look forward
to his visits.
	He allowed himself 2 years to get into a routine, and
then began to call on the monasteries in the area, looking
for lost tracts on philosophy and drama.  It was in one such
place that he found it:  The Book of Nod.
	After reading the fragment, he recalls not being able
to sleep for days.  The shadows that terrorized him in the
past as he walked in the woods now seemed all too real. 
There were monsters.  Yes, there were monsters.
	He did something that ten years, a year, a _week_
before, he would have considered a mortal sin.  He stole the
pages, lest any other mortal find them, and be damned in the
process.  Hiding them in his Bible, he fled that place.
	Little did he know then that the monastery was the
haven of a powerful Nosferatu, who had set up wards making
the place undetectable to other vampires while he slept the
Eternal Slumber. The moment Arond left the building, those
who hungered after the pages were on him.
	What he did not know was that the fragment he had was a
piece thought lost to time and dust.  Many would kill to read
its contents, and many had died already.  He was a hunted
animal, fleeing the most savage hunters.
	Luck favored the boy once again, when the first Kindred
he crossed was a kindly Brujah by the name of Montfermas.  A
fellow Frenchman, Montfermas passed himself off as a
tinkerer, needing a travelling companion.  Arond still though
of vampires as slavering inhuman demons, and he naively did
not wonder why his companion could not travel during the day,
or never ate with Arond around the fire.  Arond chose to
travel at night for his part.  If he was to fight the forces
of darkness, he did not want to be sleeping when they came
for him.
	The ruse quickly ended with the first true vampire
attack.  As a tinkerer, Montfermas had armed himself with and
endless supply of wood products, and silver tipped tools. 
The fight went fast, when combined with his prodigious combat
skills.
	Montfermas introduced himself, and Arond felt somehow
safer, reassured.  All the Cainite wanted was a glance at the
Pages, and he would be on his way.  Arond realized that
Montfermas could have killed him at any moment, but chose not
to.  He gave the pages to the vampire, asking him to keep
them out of the wrong hands.
	The vampire felt sorry for the poor boy, now a man, who
was so burdened by things he should not have discovered. 
Further, he had the taint of the Book on him, and would be
hounded all his life by Kindred desiring the book.  He
decided to stay with the monk, just in case.
	Arond tried to return to his previous life as a
preacher, but every step he took, he was stalked by the
darkness that the Book attracted.  The peasants, seeing a
holy man plagued by the forces of darkness, and seemingly
emerging triumphant each time, aided by a "guardian angel"
who watched his steps, and came to his aid when the creatures
attacked, created a legend around him.  Arond was not
fleeing, he was instead rushing forth to encounter evil
wherever he found it.  And indeed, between the two of them,
they managed to put a severe dent in the vampire population
of Northern Europe.
	Soon, though, time caught up with Montfermas, and he
told his charge that soon he would have to sleep.  Without
his aid, Arond would be defenseless against those seeking
vengeance.  Arond agreed to the Embrace, and staged his own
death, after a fiery battle with Montfermas.  The tale of his
exemplary life, coupled with the miracles they had seen him
perform (most done at a distance by his friend) reached Rome,
and he was soon made into a saint, becoming, in his words,
"One of the six Kindred to have been canonized."
	Arond stayed in the region of Germany that he had come
to see as his home, protecting those who walked in the night,
until he came to be known as St. Arond of the Night, Patron
saint of midnight travellers.
	The lure of Intelligentsia lured Arond to this city,
where he now speaks with the best.  A child of the
Inquisition in almost every sense, he possesses a keen
insight into the dogma of the one belief system that has
affected Kindred the most:  Christianity.

	"Tell me, Wilhelm.  What do you think of me, of my
teachings? You came to me, asking for my views on Caine, and
yet I often hear you scoff my philosophies.  Why?"
	"I was told to look you up, since you were the Kindred
to speak with on the Christian nature of Caine.  But I can
see little good that Christianity, and all its teaching has
done for its own _people,_ much less the vampires it seeks to
eradicate.  I find you a puzzling oxymoron, sir."
	"Yes, a Christian vampire.  You must wonder why I don't
run raving into the sun over grief.  In every way, the
anathema of what Jesus Christ teaches.  Two things keep me
strapped to this mortal coil.  The first is a real fear that
I have about suicide.  If I would kill myself, of my own free
will, then I will be eternally damned."
	"But are you not eternally damned now?  In the moment
of the Final Death, will you not be plunged into the fires of
Hell?"
	"Why?  What flaw do I have on my character?  Do I break
any of the commandments?  Do I not keep holy the most
significant:  'Love one another as I have loved you?'  The
only sin I have committed is not fully entrusting myself to
God's Plan, and accepting my mortal death.  In my own way,
however, I think He understands."
	"What do you mean?"
	"I have heard of victims of the Embrace, mortals who
did not rise when the Vitae was reentered within them.  These
were exceptionally pious individuals.  If God did not wish me
to rise again, then I do not believe I would have.
	"The second reason why I do not slay myself is directly
tied into the first.  Free will.  I _freely_ chose to be
Embraced. Nothing I have seen or done since then has made me
believe it was an unwise choice.  In this unlife, I continue
to do the work of the Lord with twice the zeal as I did in
life."
	"While allowing your flock to tithe in blood, right?"
	"No.  I am a Transubstantian."
	I froze momentarily.  Before me, if he did not lie, was
a walking miracle.  "Y-you do not require...the Blood?"
	"No.  I trust God in all things.  I now know the
meaning of the phrase, about the lilies of the field.  Even
in this hellish existence, God may provide an answer."
	Transubstantians were vampires who could derive
sustenance from the Blood of Christ, prepared during the Rite
of Mass.  The process of becoming one was harrowing indeed,
since your very soul was tested by God, and if found wanting,
obliterated.  None were publicly known to exist.  Until now.
	"H-how...when...?"
	"Montfermas was one.  It is why he travelled with me. 
Every night, as I awoke, I would say Mass with him.  He would
then feed. He taught me how it was done, and prepared me for
when my time had come.  I would offer you the same blessing,
now, but I fear too few in this unenlightened time would
survive.  No offense to you of course.  I blame your
environment."
	"Of course."
	"You mock me with that tone.  You still cannot
understand how Christianity could do _any_ possible good in
this world?"
	"I have had run ins with the Society.  Charming
fellows. Great conversationalists."
	"So have I."  He opened his tunic, exposing a truly
disturbing sight.  A metal cross, undoubtably made of silver,
was imbedded in his chest.  It looked as if someone had
heated it and then forced it into his body.  "Touch it."
	I did not want to, but a desire to _know_ moved my
hand.  I grazed it gently.  "CHRIST!"
	"Shh...No need to take His name in vain."
	"Arond, it's still hot...still BURNING!"
	"...and still causing me a great deal of pain.  I am in
agony. But, to answer your next question, I am no flagellant. 
I keep this here as a reminder, a reminder that good exists
in all things, and that evil can take any form.
	"I helped a pack of hunters run a vampire who had been
plaguing the land to ground.  They used this trinket to bring
him down, and initiate the Final Death.  Then I retired for
the day. When I awoke, I noticed they had butchered all his
herd, to prevent the evil from spreading.  Wilhelm, these
were _innocent_people!_ Their only crime was to be a
vampire's cattle!  When I went to protest, I walked into a
trap.
	"They used brute strength to restrain me.  Then they
explained that even my evil was too great.  Despite all that
I had done, I was a deluded fool, a pawn of darker forces. 
They were going to use the artifact to wipe the world of the
stain of my existence. And I let them...try.
	"I knew how it worked.  It took the inner resolve of
the hunter, his faith in God, and used it to strike at all
the evil in the room, including the hidden evil.  I knew all
it took was contact with flesh.  So I let them touch it to
me.
	"Until that point, I had never taken a mortal life.
Even the most evil of ghouls were spared my hand when I
realized that in less that a month, their dream would be
utterly shattered.  I also realized that I would not be using
the item.  The item acted on its own will, so I would not
truly be taking a life.  It did not make it any easier.
	"The explosion knew no sound nor heat.  Just light. 
The power of God.  The Fist of God turned into a slap.  All
of them were incinerated before me, each having a look of
wonder on their face. All died a fool's death, and I do not
mourn them.
	"I leave it in me, as a reminder, a constant reminder,
of the evil within us all.
	"Wilhelm, if you had been there, if you had _lived_
through the Inquisition, as I have, you would not think so
poorly of the Church.  We had to do what we thought
necessary.  If not for the Inquisition, the Camarilla would
never have been formed.  Kindred would not look upon humanity
with such esteem.  You probably would not even have been
Embraced.
	"There were Kindred who seized whole provinces in their
Iron clad hands.  Free from the interference of the nascent
Camarilla, they raped the land, walking it as if it was their
own, demanding virgins each equinox, and babies each
solstice.  If your door was locked against the night, you
would be barred in, and your house burned to the ground, and
Embraced in your mutilated condition, all too ready to face
the rising sun.  A tarp would be placed over you to make it
last longer.  These were sick men, monsters.
	"They needed to be stopped.  All the humans needed was
organization, to fight together against the darkness.  The
Inquisition was just the name they gave themselves.  Is that
so different from your beloved French Revolution?  Peasants
banding together to defeat their oppressors?  You would not
look on it so highly, if it was _your_ head in the
guillotine."
	"But so many innocents _died_ in the Inquisition!"
	"Man, is, ultimately flawed, a trait I notice does not
die with the body.  I am no apologist for my Church.  	
am living proof that the zeal to purge, the zeal for
equality, can get carried away, and that too often, personal
agendas are followed. However, mankind does regulate himself. 
Does the Inquisition still exist?"
	"No.  Not like it was."
	"Then.  Then I would be sad if it was.  But it isn't,
so I'm not.  Simplistic, yes.  Realistic, yes.  When you have
lived as long as I have, you become used to changes in
government.  If you don't like the current one, wait a
minute, a year, a decade, and it will change.
	"But some things do not change.  The past.  That which
is written in stone.  And we must turn our attention there,
to Caine.

	"I am a rare individual.  I knew of the Book of Nod,
and read it long before the Embrace was even offered me.  The
damned secrets I read in those pages, pages few, to my
knowledge, have ever seen, twisted me inside.  By being
mortal, and by reading that Book, I was spiritually reborn, I
fear, for the worst.
	"I do not know if the book yet exists.  Montfermas took
it with him when he slept.  When I visited him once, fifity
years later, the room was covered in long cold ashes.
	"What can I say about the pages?  That they were
horrifying to me, a mortal?  That now, as an immortal, with
perfect hindsight, the mere thought of what I have seen sends
chills down my spine? I have said these things, and more, in
a vain attempt to disguise the truth, to gloss over, and
attempt to placate the never ending questions.  But I will
say them, here and now.
	"Caine was Jesus..."
	"I have heard that theory.  13 clans and 13 disciples?
Please!  Grist for wayward numerologists."
	"I am aware of that, but this book, this tome, was
supposed to be written by one of the disciples.  I am a
religious scholar. Apocrypha is my meat and potatoes.  This
one has the sweet tang of truth to it.  Please hear me out.
	"Caine was born, the first made of flesh, the first
Incarnation, so to speak.  His parents folly made him mortal. 
His folly made him immortal.  How strange.  One sin has a
great gift taken away, the other has it given back but at a
terrible price. But wasn't Adam and Eve's bought at a
terrible price?  An eternity of never knowing, of never
suspecting, except in the allure of the flesh of a piece of
fruit?  The first product of that knowledge, Caine, was the
first to test, to be sure that this was not all but an
illusion, that God's punishment was all too real.  Man could
die.  And what was his penalty?  Life everlasting."
	"It makes no sense.  Harlaan was right.  That is the
fatal flaw in the legend.  Why would God reward murder with
eternal life?"
	"We can bandy this for hours.  An eternity of night, an
eternity of devouring life is truly horrific.  We think it a
great gift, because we have been alive for such a short time. 
We know death awaits us at every dawn, with every flickering
candleflame. If we truly aspire for it, Final Death is
accessible.  Caine could never know death.  It is the penalty
of his sins, to never know the sweet sleep death affords, to
never taste what he brought into the world, unless God wills
it."
	"Correction:  Adam and Eve, by your rhetoric, brought
it into the world."
	"Incorrect.  Adam and Eve, through free will, brought
the potential to die into the world.  Caine actualized it. 
Adam and Eve merely created the sword; Caine used it to cut
the life out of his brother.
	"The why's of his actions are unimportant.  Jealousy is
a good an answer as any, and is as valid as a simple
misunderstanding. The point is that he was the first to do
something else:  beg forgiveness.
	"Adam never asked for it.  Eve never asked for it.
Their crime was written in stone, unchangeable.  But Caine
did.  He _knew_ what he had done was wrong, and he asked
forgiveness."
	"So this is yet another example of 'God's forgiveness?'
Vampirism in exchange for murder?  What ever happened to an
eye for an eye?  This punishment surely did not fit the
crime."
	"There is more to the Book of Nod than that blurb about
the Messiah.  Through that death, and the subsequent
punishment, Caine was exalted above all men.  He was the
walking embodiment of God's mercy, and a talking testament
that forgiveness was available if one but asked.  Free Will
has its price, yes, but Caine proved that some things are
greater yet.
	"Caine had to learn his lesson, however.  Such
knowledge could not come immediately.  He had to learn how to
appreciate what he had been taught; that forgiveness is
attainable, and that the sins of the world are not because
God ordains them, but rather the free will of Man.  The
intent would have been lost if it was carried generation to
generation.  One man had to do it himself, and tell the world
once he had figured it all out.
	"In the process, he made many mistakes, the least of
which was the creation of more of his kind.  As I have shown
above, there is no sin in vampiric existence, only a residue
of the sin of murder that plays such a strong part in the
creation process.  Regardless of what you might think, one
cannot WANT to become a vampire. Inevitably, the blood is
drained, you are dead, and someone _else_ must infuse unlife
within you.  There is no free Will.  There is no sin.
	"So Caine's first order of business was to begin to
undo what he had done.  He created Christianity, teaching all
the noble aspirations of God, all that he, the first truly
mortal mind, figured out on his own.  And he created the
disciples, men who would one day set wheels in motion,
crushing his original 13.  If not for the treachery of
Judas...
	"All.  All the miracles, all the testaments, all the
sayings can be attached to one man, who was there for the
first murder, and who would die to free the world of the
burden of that first sin of commission, of _his_ sin."
	"There are a few problems.  First, Jesus walked around
in the day..."
	"Cannot those of high generation and great power
withstand direct sunlight?  I assure you Caine is the
mightiest of them all. The day would discomfit him, but not
kill."
	"Well, what about Judas?  I mean, there were only 12
disciples, and he..."
	"Tremere betrayed Salubri.  One usurped the other. 
It's that simple.  And there were 13 disciples.  One was
unmentioned, a mere carpenter from Nazareth...
	"So do you feel Caine still walks amongst us?"
	"No.  He died?"
	"What?  If he is immortal..."
	"He died on the cross.  Think of those words again: 
'Where is my mother?'  Where is Eve indeed?  Is he indeed the
oldest human, and what horrors has he endure to get here? 
'My God, Why have you forsaken me?'  The answer to this is
simple:  HE WAS NOT DYING!  In grave pain, the promise of
final death was not being answered. 'Into your hands I
commend my spirit.'  It is here that Caine corrected the
mistake he made so long ago.  It is in the spirit, and not
the flesh, that true power, and true salvation is found. 'It
is finished.'  And it was.  The first man died.
	"And so much happened in response.  A new religion was
formed, secretly dedicated to wiping out the sins of the
past.  It swept across the known world, its purpose to put
the destiny of man back into the hands of Man.  So much
evil...so much evil done in the name of good..."
	"So what about all this Jesus crap then?"
	St. Arond smiled a wicked smile.  "I did not tell you
the awful secret yet.
	"Caine knew mankind could not do it on their own.  The
mistake he had made was too grave.  So he did the only thing
he could.  He repeated the mistake, this time waiting for the
right person.
	"In the fight in the garden, one of the disciples, a
zealot named Jesus fell in the battle.  Caine asked for a
moment alone, and told his disciples to bury Jesus in his
crypt, and to dispose of his own body in any rude fashion. 
This they did.  And three days later, Jesus woke up.
	"He made a few appearances, as Caine had requested, but
much work needed to be done.  He set the plan in motion.  Did
you ever wonder why one Jesus in the Bible seemed peaceful,
and the other a destructive menace, who spoke of God's
terrible vengeance?  Look to the true reason; one was an
immortal, with a thousand lifetimes to see the errors of his
ways; the other was an immortal, freshly created, determined
to correct those mistakes.
	"Jesus is coming back...as a member of the Second
generation. When he does arrive, we had better be ready, for
there will be Hell to pay."
	I could write no more, could ask no more questions.  In
the deepest pit of my heart, filled with the bilious black of
one time disbelief, I could see an awesome truth growing
within me.  He did bid me write one more thing.  The final
page of the book had a smear of blood.  He and Montpelier
took it to a thaumaturgist, who declared it of the Second
Generation.  It was part of the signature: Jesus of Nazareth,
King of the Jews.
	He left me there, in my cold, dark room, singing an
annoying Negro spiritual on his way out:
	"Oh when the saints come marching in,
	Oh when the saints come marching in,
	Oh Lord, I want to be in that number,
	When the saints come marching in..."

thanatos@interaccess.com