Revelation by Michael Mancini: Chapter Five

Chapter Five - Inquiring Minds Want to Know

            Nicholas Nevsky took sip from the small white espresso cup in his hand and carefully placed it back on the saucer.  Fixated on an article picked up by the associated press, he never took his eyes off the newspaper as he put the cup down.  He was transfixed on an article entitled “Герой”.  Translated into English from Bulgarian it read “Hero”.

Nevsky was a stout man approximately five foot eleven inches in height.  We wore a well groomed salt and pepper beard which matched his short grayish white hair.  Always wearing simple clothes and comfortable shoes, he could be found, more often than not, with his reading glasses midway down the bridge of his nose.  He wore them just so he might easily look over them while he was reading to see beyond the book, and he was always reading.  Nevsky, now in his late sixties, had a scholarly and well read air about his character.  His movements were precise and calculated and among English he spoke several other languages, all with a mild Russian accent.

Although Nevsky was a man of the “cloth”, he was more in touch with the secular world than many of his colleagues.  He was well versed in current events, and could often be found traveling about Europe in search of historical evidence supporting many of the topics he based his career on.  Holding a PhD in Religious Theology from Oxford University had its perks, but he remained a humble and “down to earth” fellow.

A student of many languages, Nevsky spoke German, Polish, Latin, Italian, French, Spanish, Bulgarian and Russian fluently.  A native of Russia and raised during the Cold War, he found it helpful to speak German along with many of the Romance languages to avoid trouble while he moved about Europe to further his education.  He was perhaps most fond of the English language and wrote most if not all of his research and published works in American English.  It seemed the most logical language from an academic publisher’s standpoint.  Now, living in Bulgaria, Nevsky found he used Bulgarian more often than not.  He lived in a remote area of the Eastern European country, and enjoyed the unspoiled beauty it possessed.  The mountains of Rila proved a valuable environment in helping him commune with his thoughts without interruption. 

The monastery of Saint Ivan of Rila is where he lived.  Better known as the Rila Monastery, it is the oldest Orthodox monastery in Bulgaria. Nestled in the southwestern Rila Mountains, seventy-three miles south of Sofia the Bulgarian capital, it’s named after Saint Ivan who lived as a hermit there most of his life.  Founded in the 10th century, the Rila Monastery is regarded as one of Bulgaria's most important cultural, historical and architectural monuments.  It is celebrated throughout the whole of Europe for its beauty and serenity.  Founded by St. Ivan during the rule of Tsar Peter I from 927 to 968 AD, the religious center acted as a depository of Bulgarian language and culture in the ages of foreign rule. Destroyed by fire in 1833 and reconstructed by 1862 because of its significance both culturally and spiritually, the monastery has developed an extensive library of ancient works second only to the Vatican in Rome.  Nevsky was instrumental in building this library to monumental proportions during his twenty three years of teaching here and was rewarded for his work by recognition by the Catholic Church in 2002 shortly after the pilgrimage of Pope John Paul II on May 25, 2002 to its hallowed grounds.

The monastery was declared a national historical monument in 1976 and a World Heritage Site in 1983 and plays an important role in the continuing development and spiritual enlightenment for many.  The museum is particularly famous for housing Rafail's Cross, a wooden cross made from singe piece of wood.  Crafted by the monk Rafail over the course of 12 years, it was completed in 1802.  Standing two and a half feet tall by seventeen inches wide, the religious item recreates 104 religious scenes and 650 miniature figures.  After it’s completion the monk lost his sight.

Nevsky’s home held great mystery.  Many of the secrets it contained were known only to Nevsky himself.  He held many ancient and coveted works of literature never displayed in the museum.  In fact, most, of the other monks at the monastery had no knowledge of the items he studied and archived, let alone where he kept them.

Nevsky’s life work revolved around one main topic, the constant battle between good and evil, between God and Satan.  His work sometimes got him into trouble with the Catholic Church in Rome but because of his notoriety in academic circles, and the large sums of money he generated with his publications and endowments, he always seemed to avoid serious repercussions.

Nevsky read the newspaper article about Michael carefully.  What held his attention was not the heroism as much as the hero’s name.  Michael G. Raphael captured his attention to a point of fixation.  He had to learn more about this man.  He had questions the article could not begin to answer and he was going to leverage all of his contacts to facilitate meeting his quasi-famous hero.

He slowly crunched on the last bite of biscotti he ate with his coffee.  Nevsky had a massive sweet tooth and was sure to enjoy the twice baked cookies while visited Rome.  In fact, the supply he brought back from his last trip was almost exhausted indicating a trip to the Vatican might be in order.  He could collect information on Raphael while there from his contacts at the University of Rome.  He wiped his mouth with the white cotton cloth that he had laying across his right leg and placed it on the table next to his empty cup.  He finished the article and folded the paper sharply along the edge to facilitate tearing it from the rest of the paper.  He moistened the fold with a little saliva on his finger and tore it carefully from the body of the page.  Once he extracted it, he folded it carefully and stuck it into his pocket.  Then, he looked out from the veranda where he sat.

The midday sun was bright and warm on his face.  It cast a golden hue over the valley of Rila and up the sides of the mountains.  The view was majestic when in full bloom.  Hundreds of beautiful colored alpine flowers burst into a mosaic of color that blanketed the entire valley.  It was a marvelous display of nature he looked forward to each year.  The miles of endless color painting the valley all jumbled together reminded him of standing too close a great impressionist painting.  A patron of the arts, he admired the impressionists endlessly while visiting the Louvre in Paris.  The view of the valley tickled his fancy just like the extraordinary works of art he loved.

Nevsky swallowed a deep breath of fresh clean mountain air and watched as Egyptian Vultures and Honey Buzzards danced high on the afternoon thermals.  The warm air raised them so high in the clear cobalt sky that one could barely see them with the naked eye.  He knew what species of birds they were by the way the circled and glided effortlessly.  He had watched them many a summer day and often wondered how insignificant he must look to them while they soared way above him.  Blinking from the strain on his eyes, he looked back down at the table, stood up to stretch his legs, and walked to the arched doorway leading to his quarters.  He walked through the modestly decorated bed chamber and knelt beside the bed.  At that moment he heard a soft knock at the heavy wooden entry door to his room.

“Yes?” he said from his kneeling position at his bedside.

The latch clicked and the door creaked open.  A young Bulgarian monk poked his head in the room from the other side of the door.  He spoke English in a thick Bulgarian accent.

“Oh, sorry father.” he said with an apologetic tone in his voice.  “I didn’t mean to interrupt your prayer”.

“It’s alright Georgi.  I wasn’t praying.  I was getting my travel bag.”  “Here,” he motioned with his hand, “Come give me a hand.”

Georgi blushed as he entered the room and hurried to grab the bag for Nevsky.  “Here father, let me.”

Nevsky leaned on the bed and pushed himself up from the floor.  He leaned over to brush a little dust from his trousers.  “Thanks Georgi” he said while he walked over to his dresser.

“Just leave it there on the bed Georgi.  I can take it from here.”

“Going somewhere father?” Georgi asked.

“Just a little trip to Rome.” he replied.

“Want some company?” Georgi said hopefully.

“If you like Georgi, you are welcome to come.”

“What’s the trip for father?”

“Just a little fact finding mission.” Nevsky smiled as he said the words.  “Well, actually, I need more cookies.”  Georgi laughed.

“Ah, mixing business with pleasure I see.”

“Is there any other way son?” Nevsky placed some clean underclothing in the large leather bag as Georgi watched him.

“Perhaps you want to begin packing Georgi?”

“Oh, I’m sorry father.  I drifted off there for a second.”

“Don’t drift too far Georgi, of you will make me miss my train.” Nevsky smiled.

Georgi was not the brightest young monk he had the pleasure of teaching but what he lacked in smarts, he made up in heart.  Georgi was always attentive to Nevsky’s needs and ever willing to lend a hand when needed so Nevsky tolerated his obtuse persona.  He was average height but lanky in stature and hunched his shoulders slightly.    He ate like a horse but never gained any weight and always avoided confrontation.  His voice was soft and generally unnoticeable when he spoke.  Nevsky felt sorry for him but did not pity Georgi, but rather, he treated him just like everyone else; with respect and dignity.

“I will meet you downstairs in half an hour.  Please phone us a taxi cab to bring us to the train station.”

“Yes father.  I will.” he looked down as he spoke.

“Also, have Alec pack us a small snack and a light dinner for the ride please.  We can get some Italian food tomorrow when we arrive.  But we may get hungry on the ride.  I am not sure they have a dining car on the late train.”

“Right father, better to be safe than sorry, I’ll tell him.” Georgi said subserviently.

Georgi left the room as swiftly as he entered.  He loved taking short trips with Nevsky because he knew the best places to eat and to sleep.  Every trip they took seemed more like an adventure than an excursion.  Life could become quite mundane at the monastery so the infrequent distraction was always welcomed.

Nevsky chuckled to himself and shook his head as he continued packing his bag.  The soft spot he had for Georgi was sometimes crippling when a tough decision had to be made, but he liked his company when they traveled.  Georgi had no family to speak of and did little traveling on his own.  He had been with the monastery for just over a decade.  Georgi was named him his personal assistant a few months after Nevsky returned from his excursion to the Italian Alps in the fall of 1991 and held the station ever since.  Years back, Nevsky taught a Religious Theology class at the University of Rome and was asked to conduct some top secret research in the Alps after an ancient scientific discovery was reported by some hikers.  When they returned, Nevsky was in need of an assistant to catalog selected portions of his library, and Georgi was willing to help.  He took direction and never complained of boredom no matter how tedious the activity.  Nevsky came to trust Georgi like a son so the two were often seen together in Rila and abroad.

They rode in the back seat of the taxi in silence while Nevsky reread Defoe’s “Robinson Crusoe”.  He held the book as steady as possible as the vehicle bounced over the many bumps and holes in the poorly maintained streets that plagued Bulgaria.  It was the fifth or sixth time reading the novel, but it was a quick read and one of his favorites.

Georgi’s eyes darted back and forth quickly as he followed the buildings and trees passing by his window.  He seemed a little more distracted than usual which caught Nevsky’s attention.

“Everything okay Georgi?”  Nevsky peered over his reading glasses at him.

“Huh?” Georgi replied.

“Is everything alright?”  Nevsky looked at him curiously.

“Um, yeah…Everything is fine.”

“You seem a little distracted, more than usual.  What’s on your mind?” 

“Nothing, nothing at all.” Georgi continued to stare out of the window.  He did his best to make his reply sound genuine but Nevsky picked up on the underlying subtlety of his tones.  He knew he was hiding something but he could not put his finger on it so he decided not to press him and returned to the book where Crusoe had just discovered footprints in the sand on his beach.  Seconds later, Nevsky glanced at Georgi again.  He still had the same blank expression on his face.  Nevsky decided to bridge the topic again when Georgi might be a little more talkative.