The dark Bible

1-2

By now, he knew everything about that book. It was the Dark Bible.

3.

December 1977

The three false monks, having left the home of the boy from Montagnana, headed for the center of Padua to the private clinic of Professor Gianni Callegaro, university professor specializing in gynecology and precursor of artificial fertilization. Callegaro was a brilliant and influential scientist, a fifty-year-old dedicated to work. He was also one of the first pioneers of artificial fertilization where experimentation, by now, had given way to certainties. The chosen one was the right age for that experiment. Twenty-one years old, the body toned and formed, well-educated and cultured, intelligent and brilliant, healthy: excellent. Professor Callegaro's selection had been irreproachable. The event was of so vital importance that he could not afford to make mistakes. And the Sect of the Dark Ones did not tolerate even the smallest mistake. The professor was convinced, in fact, he knew that failure would lead to his death. But he wouldn't do anything wrong, not him. The woman was the ideal specimen, and the seed was the best she could hope for. After years of patient waiting, the much-invoked moment had arrived: they had at their disposal the seed of a subject possessed by the Devil, the intoxicated seed of absolute evil. Finally, they would have given life to the man who would have allowed the change of destiny for the whole of humanity: the Antichrist. The professor had prepared his team, all expert collaborators aware of what they were preparing to do, all members of the organization, faithful and, above all, blindly devoted to the cause. The woman was examined with professional accuracy, she too aware of the honor she had been invested with. Callegaro had finished the visit, he was satisfied. Turning to the woman, he confirmed her state of health.

«I would say that you are in a splendid shape. I am very proud of you, Paola. You followed the program flawlessly, well done. »

The woman's name was Paola Bompiani, daughter of a well-known entrepreneur. He was also a faithful follower of the Sect as well as his entire family. The parents had sacrificed their only daughter, proud of that choice that would honor their name and give birth to an extraordinary event: they would become the grandparents of the Chosen One. They too had done everything to ensure their grandson the best. Their task was even more important than that of their daughter: the maintenance of the child within exceptional standards as well as his education so that, at the appropriate time, he could be ready to absorb knowledge. And they also knew that their daughter was in danger of not surviving that experience: a huge sacrifice but necessary for the just cause. Paola was not at all upset. She knew every aspect of the event that was being generated with the help of her body and her own life. She, too, had been prepared in all those years so that she could guarantee the best result. She knew she would have to wait for the right moment: now it was here.

«Do you guarantee that I will not suffer? » Paola asked lying on the operating bed.

The professor reassured her: «Of course dear! I've always told you everything and you know what you're getting into. I will make sure that nothing and no one can harm you. Now relax, we'll start the operation shortly. It will be a matter of minutes, you'll see. »

Paola tried to relax, but she couldn't. She was certainly not worried about the insemination, even if that was by no means a normal operation, but she was afraid of giving birth, in fact, she was terrified of it. The reassurance the professor had always given her didn't take her mind off that thought. The gestation would have taken place inside a ward of the private clinic, in perfect isolation from the outside world so that no germs, viruses or diseases could affect the fetus which, therefore, would have been protected above all personal needs. But Paola would not have survived the birth. They had given her very little hope. She had accepted with faith for the cause, but she could not overcome the terror of the thought that her young life would end in such a peculiar way. She could not back down now, the anesthetist and the whole team were already there, ready for the operation. In the next room, other doctors had carried out a preventive treatment on the donor's spermatozoa by washing with the swim up{1} technique. They had the young woman placed in a gynecological position, then, through a probe inserted into the v****a, the professor injected the treated seminal fluid into the uterine cavity. The whole process was meticulously checked on special monitors connected to the instrumentation. After a few minutes, the operation was classified as a success, now it was enough just to wait for the sperms to follow their natural path by fertilizing the oocyte.

January 1978

Professor Callegaro eagerly awaited the outcome of the exams, together with him, seated around the meeting table in his office, were Paola's parents: Vittorio and Sara Bompiani. The girl, on the other hand, was monitored in the clean room they had prepared for her in the clinic, with all the confidentiality of the case. Paola had every comfort at her disposal. The room was spacious and contained what she had requested: many books, a gym to stay in shape, she wanted to eat only her favorite foods, albeit under careful supervision by nutrition experts. Apart from the freedom to go out and lead a normal life, Paola lacked nothing, and that condition of recluse was quite bearable. An assistant to the professor came into the office and broke the news: Paola was five weeks pregnant.

They were the long-awaited extraordinary news.

4.

Zara, year 1214

Boniface was shocked, incredulous that he had spent all that time reading the strange book without having noticed it or having suffered from hunger or thirst and without growing old.

Everything around him had remained unchanged: furniture, carpets, furnishings, yet who knows how long had passed. He realized this when, after leaving the building, he found it dilapidated, in pitiful conditions as if it had been abandoned for years. He wondered what could have happened to him. He had seen the boy just before starting to read the book and, immediately after finishing it, he was still there, only he was older. But then the young man disappeared and, with him, the book as well. Boniface remembered every word, formula, or message: they were inside him. He felt them present in his mind and, above all, in his soul. It lives inside of me! It was his first thought. Chaos reigned in Zara. There were still some mismatched groups of crusaders who had probably remained in garrison to ensure the established order. Wandering around the city, Boniface met several of them without recognizing even one. Either they died in battle or of old age. He said to himself.

When he met a man, he ordered him: «I am Boniface I of Monferrat, inform me of the situation. »

The man, named Luca, recognized him instantly and told him that he had been reported missing in the great battle of 1202, when Zara was sacked. He confirmed that the Pope had given the excommunication to the Venetians and that the crusade would have to go to Constantinople. And so, it had been, but they had been repelled with immense losses. It had also been said that the great Boniface I had perished precisely in the final battle.

«But you are still alive, sir», said Luca excitedly, «come with me, my lord. The men will be happy to see you again.»

Bonifacio thus learned that twelve long years had passed. So, there were seven days to go until he turned thirty-three. He followed Luca like an automaton for a few kilometers outside the city to where the camp of the surviving crusaders was located. There were few tents and even fewer men, most of them wounded, battered, and malnourished: a true ghost army. Luca ran to announce that the lord of Monferrat was alive, survived the battle of Constantinople and that he would protect and save them from that loneliness. The men, less than a hundred, gathered in the center of the village, hoping to be able to return home, finally safe and sound. Boniface immediately realized that these men no longer had anything to do with a true crusader: dirty, emaciated, with very black teeth. He felt disappointed, perhaps he was expecting a real army as he had left it before he started reading, but it had been twelve years ago, following the logical temporal reality. He did not lose heart, on the contrary, he felt proud, strong and victorious. He began to speak and realized that he was making a speech to incite the war against Constantinople, those were not the words he wanted to say, that was not the speech that was going through his mind at that moment, but he did not stop for a moment. He had no inflection other than the emphasis of the spur. The speech was convincing, the men's eyes shone with renewed courage. Gathered in an incessant chorus. They chanted his name with an ever more frenetic rhythm, shouting in chorus: Boniface, Boniface, Boniface! And his name was repeated endlessly, for hours, while the conviction grew in him that he would be able to wage any battle. He would create his army of men, subjects, slaves. He felt power rising within him: the power of domination over men. In the following two days, the rumor of the return of the great Boniface I of Monferrat spread throughout the population and in the neighboring villages. Everyone went to great lengths to convince every available man to pick up a weapon and follow the new leader to victory over Constantinople. Seven days later Boniface turned thirty-three and felt even more powerful. Outside the tent, they shouted his name, a roar that managed to shake the earth around them.

Boniface, Boniface, Boniface ...

He went out of his tent and saw an army of two thousand men, but others were reaching the already overcrowded camp. He began to speak until he pronounced sentences in a language other than his own. He realized that it was the language acquired by reading the book: the Dark Bible. The men were bewildered for a moment, then they seemed to understand him and resumed shouting his name while he still spoke. And the more he talked, the more people came, perhaps three thousand or four thousand men, a multitude of which he could not see the end.

Days, months, and years passed, Boniface first conquered Constantinople, then other cities and more.

He was never satisfied with the conquest.

Boniface I of Monferrat was a great leader, cruel and implacable, men died for him without delay: they were fascinated and adored him as a God was adored. He recorded memorable victories, enemies were exterminated, he never took prisoners.

Thirty-three years later, year 1247

At the height of his splendor, rich, powerful and respected, at the end of his sixty-six years, he declared himself King and designed his kingdom. He made arrangements for every man within the kingdom, whether he was a subject or not, to adore him not only as a King, but above all as a God. On the same day, intent on celebrating his birthday and coronation, a boy presented himself to him. Boniface recognized him. Iblis! He said to himself in amazement. From the last time he had seen him, thirty-three years ago, when she had read the book, Iblis had looked aged by that time. Now, however, he had before him the same young man from his first meeting.

«Do you recognize me, Crusader? » Iblis asked.

«Yes, I know you, but how ... »