Francis Bacon, an ambitious politician and a brilliant philosopher, had despised the philosophy of Aristotle since his university days. Aristotle had sought to find logical answers upon a foundation of unshakable truth, but could one truly discover new knowledge that way?
All men are mortal. Socrates is a man. Therefore, Socrates is mortal. Is the fact that Socrates is mortal really so new and valuable? No.
A universally valid truth is not obtained by playing logical word games upon such general propositions. One must proceed gradually toward the truth through meticulous experimentation and verification of each individual fact. Plato died, Socrates died, and Aristotle died. It is by confirming these individual facts that we can proceed toward the truth that ‘all men die.’
That was his belief.
And at this very moment, Bacon’s belief came to him as a cruel metaphor. The ‘servants’ that Robert Devereux had assigned to him each took a dagger from their cloaks and approached the Indian Emperor.
And once, they stabbed his heart.
Another time, they stabbed his abdomen.
Once, they slashed near his throat.
Once, this time they struck near his thigh.
And so, step by step, each individual stab led him to the final and universal state of death. Through thorough and meticulous verification and re-verification, the assassins confirmed his death.
- Bacon’s face turned pale. From this situation, he could recall several facts.
- Premise 1: His patron, the Earl of Essex, Robert Devereux, had been extremely reluctant for him to come here, as it seemed he was trying to align himself with the rising star, Walter Raleigh.
- Premise 2: His patron had a very narrow view and a hasty temperament, and would not shy away from any means to an end. And in the process, he often committed very foolish acts. A man whose ambition was not supported by his ability.
Premise 3: His patron had more than enough reason to want to ruin Walter Raleigh’s colony.
Therefore, the conclusion: The Earl of Essex had sent assassins with the intent of screwing over both Bacon himself and Sir Raleigh. Even though attaching assassins to his own close associate would naturally cast suspicion upon himself.
Bacon’s face turned deathly pale. His lips trembled, and the impending ruin painted itself in his mind. Traitor, a madman who led the American colonial enterprise that would have made his country great to ruin, a Spanish spy…
It was over. With the death of that Indian Emperor, his own brilliant political career was also over—
…
…
…
Oh, my God.
Bacon, without realizing it, felt his legs give out from under him, and he collapsed.
Socrates had died. Cause of death: drinking poison.
Plato, too, had died. Cause of death: natural causes.
Aristotle, as well, had died. Cause of death: a stomach ailment.
Therefore, all men die. This was a truth forged from thousands of years of observation and experience.
And.
The native emperor before his eyes had not died. The wounds that had been inflicted upon him were mending, and the severed blood vessels and muscles were knitting themselves back together as they had been. The lost blood was replenished, and the color returned to his face, which had been turning deathly white.
He had come back to life.
Therefore, from this ‘individual fact,’ Bacon could draw one of two conclusions. Either not all humans necessarily experience death.
Or… the being before him was not human.
Bacon chose the latter conclusion.
***
He looks around. Thousands of people are staring at one man. On each of their faces, a variety of emotions flicker. Relief, or wonder…
And then.
Clang.
From the faces of the assassins who have just dropped their weapons, horror and fear flow. As the man takes one step toward them, they take two steps back. It is a ridiculous sight. There are more than half a dozen of them, and the man is unarmed and alone.
The man gave them a faint smile.
“Have you forgotten that the commandment says, ‘Thou shalt not kill’?”
“…Uh, ahh.”
As he spoke and took another step forward, this time, no one could open their mouths.
“If you knew your sins, would you repent? How is it that you do not recognize one of the Lord’s own and instead commit this transgression?”
“D-Dev…il…”
“I do not understand why you call me a devil. I have never harmed you, nor will I.”
In that moment, the bodies of all who heard the man’s voice froze. The natives and the English looked at each other’s expressions, horrified to realize that they had all understood the man’s words.
“Do not flee. You cannot flee from the justice of the Lord. I will give you a chance to repent…”
“Ugh, uuh, uwaaaaaaak!”
The assassins once again began to stab the man with their knives, as if in a frenzy. The fake servants, the fake cleaners… all the fakes, as if they had no reason to hide anymore, took out other knives and weapons they had concealed and attacked the man.
Only one, the fake bootblack, was frozen in fear and stood still. The assassins, with the exception of him, were now using any and all means to kill the man. The being before them had just performed a trick. Therefore, he must die. Or he was a wicked devil, so he must be killed.
But despite the endless stabbing, the man did not fall. The onlookers, who at first did not know what was happening, gradually grasped the situation, and their faces turned white. But the ones who were more terrified than anyone were the assassins themselves.
He should die.
But he does not die.
He must be killed.
But he does not die.
In that case, if that man truly does not die… If it was not a trick, and he was not a devil.
Then what were they, who had tried to kill such a being?
“…Huh?”
Someone, having reached that realization, suddenly stopped his futile stabbing. The others also slowly… lowered the knives in their hands.
And then the man spoke.
“You are… still sons of the Lord… The kingdom of heaven has not fled from your hearts.”
At his words, their movements completely ceased. The more brightly his mercy shone, the darker the shadow on their backs felt. They looked around and saw that everyone was weeping in his light, but only they were burdened with shadow. They felt that their sin was heavier than a thousand pieces of gold. It felt as if they would be crushed by the weight of that sin.
Finally, one of the assassins slit his own throat. The man did not have time to stop him.
And that was the signal.
SLICE! SHINK!
The assassins, who had been standing frozen in place, as if coming to their senses one by one, stabbed and slit their own throats, committing suicide. It was likely to hide the identity of their master.
And now, only one man, dressed as a bootblack, remained. His fingertips were trembling so violently that the man could see it.
SHLICK!
But he, too, after a moment’s hesitation, chose the same end as his comrades. He slit his throat—
Clatter.
“Kh, khoff, keuk… kuhuuk…!”
…No.
Unfortunately for him, it seemed he lacked the courage to choose death. The fake bootblack’s knife, after piercing halfway through his neck, stopped, and as the strength left his hand, it fell to the ground. Clang.
And the fake bootblack’s body staggered and then collapsed. The man rushed forward and supported his head, preventing it from hitting the ground. The fake bootblack coughed and sputtered, blood gushing from his neck like a fountain. He looked up at the man, his eyes trembling.
“Sinful one, will you repent?” the man asked the fake bootblack. But his words were not heard by him alone; they echoed with a certain power to all those around.
Those who were still standing quickly fell to their knees and wailed. Amidst the wails echoing from all sides, the fake bootblack nodded his head.
“Do you wish for me to ease your pain?”
Again, a nod.
The man picked up the fallen assassin’s knife and plunged it into his neck. The fake bootblack shuddered once, then his body went limp. His expression was peaceful. His soul seemed to have departed to be by the Lord’s side.
“…”
“…”
“…”
A strange silence echoed through the area. The occasional sobs and cries that burst forth did not break the silence but only deepened it. It seemed no one could break this holy silence.
Everyone had seen it. They had seen a man rise from death. They had seen a man who urged those who tried to kill him to repent, and who, even as they tried to escape into death, tried to save their souls until the very end.
All the Christians present unconsciously began to mutter the Lord’s Prayer and hymns. Those who did not know the Lord sang their own holy songs, expressing their reverence for the being before them.
The man looked down at the fake bootblack’s face for a long time, then laid his body on the ground and closed his eyes. As the man stood up, a woman shot to her feet and spoke.
“Th-th-that man is the one behind it! All the men with knives just now, that man brought them!”
“Th-that’s right! I saw it too! I saw that lord Member of Parliament giving orders to those servants!”
A murmur arose, and the crowd parted. A path was formed between the man and the ‘lord Member of Parliament’ standing on the pier. The man, with a timid impression, was trembling, sweat and tears streaming down his face. He didn’t even think of running as the man approached, his body frozen.
And, the moment the man drew near and opened his mouth…
“N-n-no, not me…”
The lord Member of Parliament flailed his arms and staggered as if he were falling from the sky.
“I-it, it wasn’t me… please! Not me! I knew nothing…!”
His eyes filled with terror, the lord Member of Parliament’s legs gave out, and he collapsed. And instinctively, he leaped off the pier.
SPLASH!
As the crowd was bewildered by the lord Member of Parliament’s sudden action, the man suddenly began to run. He ran and, without hesitation, leaped into the water where the man was sinking.
And then.
A few air bubbles rose to the surface, and… a man walked back onto the shore. He was dragging the lord Member of Parliament who had just tried to commit suicide.
As the lord Member of Parliament shivered with cold and fear, the man whispered.
“Do not be afraid.”
“…”
“The mercy of the Lord is like the sunshine. It is most precious, yet it is given without price.”
Only then did the lord Member of Parliament burst into tears.
And the people knelt.
And their number was 7,344.
***
Thomas Harriot, ‘hears.’
He hears the man’s voice, speaking in countless languages. No, can this be called hearing? Can one say that a sound from one man’s mouth is being heard by one man’s ears? Is it not like a chorus, where sentences in numerous disparate languages are intertwined, firmly bound into a single meaning, a single harmony, and are boring into his mind?
“…Lord Raleigh?”
Sir Raleigh was already on his knees, his body trembling, offering up a prayer. Surprise could be read on his face, but not fear or bewilderment.
-“A real angel… there comes a moment when you see him, and you cannot help but be certain.”
He has already seen it once. He has seen an ‘angel.’
Thomas Harriot sees. He sees a man who shows mercy to his murderers, who saves one who tries to escape into death. Just as he has now walked out of the sea, he has walked out of death and stands before Harriot and the crowds. He watches everyone in silence. His eyes are piercing.
Thomas Harriot had said it. That man is foolish, and caked in greed, so even if he were to see an angel, he would not recognize him. And Thomas Harriot had also said it. That he would remain an atheist even after seeing an angel and would demand an explanation, pointing out the numerous errors in the Bible.
At this moment, no such demand for an explanation came to his mind. He felt nothing but shame.
-“There comes such a moment.”
I… knew nothing.
-“A moment when all the doubts in your heart are erased, and you cannot help but be certain that the being before you is truly a holy being from the heavens.”
Truly… I knew nothing, yet I spoke with such arrogance.
Every single word of Sir Raleigh’s is etched deeply into his heart. He stops even blinking or breathing and stares at the ‘angel’ who is walking among the crowd.
Yes. An angel.
He is an atheist. Because he pursued the truth, he had faced the executioner’s block and had not abandoned his beliefs. He was an atheist. Because he pursued a truth free from the unwavering deception, oppression, and fear.
And he had seen the truth he had so longed for. He had seen the naked truth, tearing apart all the deceptions, violence, distortions, and oppressions created by man. It wasn’t just because a man did not die when stabbed with a knife, and stabbed again. There was a greater miracle than that small, trivial one.
The man was the angel of the assassins who tried to kill him, the angel of a certain lord Member of Parliament who tried to escape into suicide. He was an angel who revealed his own nobility for the sake of all the ugly, cowardly, and vile things on earth.
This is the truth.
And in that truth, Harriot soon saw that there was light.
“…Lord Raleigh, you were right.”
Sometimes, there is a truth that breaks through even human foolishness and greed.
He knelt.
The converted Thomas Harriot knelt before the angel.