Chapter 27
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Translator: volt
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: Prophecy
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"Huff... huff..."
His breath came in ragged gasps. Sir Walter Raleigh, feeling suffocated, unbuttoned his collar and barely managed to steady his breathing.
He could sense the overwhelming presence. A tension unlike anything he'd ever felt—not even when first meeting Her Majesty the Queen—crawled up his spine.
"Ah... Aaaah...!"
He recalled the fantasy he'd just imagined.
Kneeling before the noble yet ignorant Great Chief of the savages to pay his respects. The chief tossed out a few clumsy words in English, showing curiosity about Walter Raleigh's clothes.
Smiling, he gently brushed off the chief's hand without rudeness, then offered the Bible. And he said, "This is the fountain of eternal life."
The chief replied, "Fountain?" and turned the Bible this way and that, examining it. Unfamiliar with books, he pondered how to handle this strange object.
Patiently, he taught the chief how to open the Bible and began reading from the very first verse.
"In the beginning... Let there be light..."
Yes, just like that.
One word at a time, one letter at a time.
Teaching the blessed verses of the Gospel to one who had never known it.
Realizing how foolish that imagination had been, his face flushed red. He exhaled his pent-up breath in gasps and opened his mouth.
"Wh-what... are you? What in the world...!"
"Did I not tell you? I am one who beholds the Lord's light up close."
Once more.
Every single word carried a heavy pressure. It felt as though his voice pierced not his eardrums, but his heart directly.
"Compared to the Lord, I am nothing."
Every syllable he uttered deliberately translated into countless familiar languages, hammering into his ears like nails. This was no longer mere "speech."
"I am Nemo."
This was the descent of the Holy Spirit.
And suddenly there came from heaven a sound as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting. (Acts 2:2)
And there appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire, and it sat upon each of them. (Acts 2:3)
And they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance. (Acts 2:4)
It was exactly as described in the Acts of the Apostles.
Trembling in fear, his eyes half-filled with tears, Walter Raleigh looked up and said,
"Could you be... the Lord?"
"Foolish talk. How could one confuse the potter with the clay?"
"Then."
"Did I not tell you? I am one who hears the Lord's words up close, beholds the Lord's light up close, and touches the hem of the Lord's garment up close.
I am Nemo."
"Ne... mo."
"Yes. The people of this earth call me that."
"..."
Only then did Raleigh feel something click into place in his mind.
Why John White had shown such cautious reverence.
Why he had gradually, bit by bit, hidden and avoided revealing 'His' true identity.
Tremble, tremble.
The shaking started from his fingertips. Awe and shame made his whole body quake.
I had tried to gift the Bible to Him.
"If you are not Satan or the Antichrist, then you must surely be an angel...!"
My God, to such a being, he had tried to give the Bible! To baptize Him! To make Him swear fealty as a servant of England!
"Are you worried I might be... a devil? Well, that could be.
He exerciseth all the power of the first beast before him, and causeth the earth and them which dwell therein to worship the first beast, whose deadly wound was healed. And he doeth great wonders, so that he maketh fire come down from heaven on the earth in the sight of men, and deceiveth them that dwell on the earth by the means of those miracles which he had power to do. (Rev 13:12-13)."
"N-no, no. I..."
"Speak honestly."
"..."
Walter Raleigh endured the terror enveloping his body and spoke.
"If you are Satan... you will vanish in the Lord's name. If not, I humbly request proof here...!"
"..."
"Yes! Like foolish Thomas who thrust his finger into the Lord's side, or Gideon who believed only after the dry fleece—like them, I may be foolish, but doubting and guarding against evil is also a virtue of the Lord's sheep..."
"Your words are right."
Nemo nodded to him with a smile.
"Well done. Though you broke the seventh commandment, you truly strive to serve the Lord."
Th-the seventh commandment... from Exodus...
'Thou shalt not commit adultery.'
Ah.
Aaaah...
Raleigh's face flushed red again. He bowed his head so deeply it nearly touched the ground.
"I-I-I, with our virgin Queen... such a shameful relationship..."
"Hm? That's not it."
"Uh... Pardon?"
"Your lover, Bess."
"Pardon? How do you know of her...?"
"You wish to marry her, yet you share a bed with the Queen. That is shameful."
How.
The being before him made the word "how" feel shameful.
...Even so, clinging to a thread of doubt, a fear of hell, Raleigh asked,
"Th-that... isn't it all in the past? Even demons can know such things..."
"Return."
"...Pardon?"
"Go back and see. See how the current Pope dies, and Ippolito Aldobrandini of San Pancrazio becomes the new Pope.
He will take the name of Mercy—Clemens."
"..."
A clear prophecy.
No one could know if it was true, yet he stated it with utter certainty. That conviction sealed Raleigh's lips.
The Pope's death and the new Pope's ascension.
Ippolito Aldobrandini of San Pancrazio. Muttering the name, Walter Raleigh finally rose from his knees.
Then the 'angel' said to him,
"Fear not."
How could this sinful man not fear the Lord's servant?
"I did not come to punish you. The Lord has not prepared curses for you, but glory and blessings."
"...!"
"The Lord will greatly use you."
At that moment, Walter Raleigh's hands trembled violently. The angel's voice, now familiar, wrapped around his ears.
"Therefore... serve that One alone with faith."
Glory.
He had chased wealth and glory his entire life.
Not the kind that vanishes like a drawing in sand at the whim of wind and waves, but eternal wealth and glory, etched into a great marble temple.
He had just been promised that.
By an angel.
...By the Lord.
"Ah, amen..."
Those were the only words Raleigh could utter.
"Th-this... life needle... stick it into your body!"
John White stammered in the Algonquin tongue he'd clumsily learned.
"Haven't your tribe's numbers suddenly dwindled lately? Hasn't anyone been dropping dead unexpectedly?"
Murmurs rose.
Ooitotan and the others nodded gravely.
It was a problem every chief here had faced.
Death had come suddenly with rashes on the body. No one knew the cause. They merely thought it the wrath of some non-human entity.
A few clever ones might have realized it struck first those who mingled with the sea-crossers, but there was nothing they could do.
"The Great Chief says that if you prick this needle into your body, you'll fall ill for a few days but recover, and death will retreat! Hallelujah!"
Moved by White's impassioned speech, more chiefs gathered, extending their arms one by one.
Pok. Pok. Pok.
Blood beaded up, and faint grimaces crossed the warriors' faces. Having endured tattoos before, a mere needle didn't faze them much.
Watching from afar, I said to Walter Raleigh,
"Do you see?"
"I-I see. I can't fathom why they're injecting cow pus into those sav—er, natives' arms, but..."
"In this land, rivers of blood and injustice will flow henceforth. Millions will be slaughtered in the Lord's name, and they will die crying out the Lord's name in hatred."
"...!"
Millions of blood, tears, hatred, and stolen lives.
Startled by the weight of those words, Walter Raleigh's shoulders trembled slightly.
This was clear truth.
Look at how the native population, once millions or tens of millions, dwindled. Not just from epidemics, but systematic massacres and forced relocations.
But this land was now the angel's domain.
Such things could not be allowed on the angel's land.
"However, I said I would greatly use you, so he will shine the Lord's name in this land."
"Shine the Lord's name, you say?"
"Half of them were fated to die of smallpox. But thanks to the dairy cows you sent, they will now be free of it."
"..."
"The other half were fated to die by the guns of those who claim faith in the Lord. You have saved them too.
You have surely broken many commandments. Yet through you, a sinner, millions are saved. This is the mysterious way of the Lord."
"Ah, aaa... I-I'm ashamed."
Walter Raleigh was a man who had strived for power his whole life but gained nothing.
He was no member of the Queen's Privy Council, nor could he offer her more than coquettish advice. Everyone called him the Queen's favorite, but his influence was negligible.
"I cannot fathom why He would exalt one as lowly as I."
"Does the branch question why the master lifts it up?"
I filled his self-esteem.
"All men are made in His image. You may be a sinner, but why deem yourself lowly?"
"...Lord Nemo, but."
"Behold."
I gripped Raleigh's slumped shoulders and made him look beyond the hill.
Thousands of people plowed the fields with plows, planting potatoes and wheat.
"This is the scene you created. What do you think?"
"...It's beautiful."
"Soon they will hear the Gospel and enter the gates of heaven. That too is your doing. Even if you are a sinner, your great deeds will not be washed away. You are a sinner, but your legacy will endure immortally."
"..."
I saw a teardrop fall from Raleigh's eye.
"Walter Raleigh."
"...Yes, angel."
"Return to London. Gather hundreds of people and bring them into my fold."
"For what purpose?"
"To establish a holy church in this land."
So this colony could become self-sufficient.
Thousands of novice farmers had been created. They had come under my control.
So was this an English colony? Or a native kingdom?
If my domain remained a native kingdom...?
'It will eventually be exterminated.'
Not just England.
The more formidable Spanish, eyeing this place from Florida to the south.
And France, with ambitions toward the New World. They too would advance into North America in a few decades.
Establishing one native kingdom wouldn't ensure survival here.
We needed to adopt Europe's relatively advanced civilization, expand through continuous immigration, and build an independent community.
Thus, for survival, this place needed more Englishmen.
"We will gather Englishmen to establish a colony here. Through that colony, the Lord's word will spread farther and deeper."
This was no lie either.
How would I spread Christianity to them? By self-harm and endless miracles? They'd see it as mere wonders, not believe me an angel of Christianity.
Without an organized religious community, faith wouldn't take root easily. Cases of self-conversion from reading the Bible alone were rare worldwide, except in Joseon.
...Yes. I spoke no lies to Raleigh.
Because he believed me an angel.
As an angel, every word from me had to be truth. My words had to be righteous in his eyes.
Faith and worship are not one-sided.
The worshipper inevitably moves the worshipped.
Suddenly, I felt John White and Manteo's gazes turn toward me amid the vaccinations.
I saw the steadfast faith in their eyes. The conviction that I would protect them and save their souls.
Turning, I saw that same conviction slowly igniting in Raleigh's eyes.
I raised the kneeling Raleigh and said to him,
"Return to England.
Go, and do it."
And so I spoke.
"...I shall do so at once."
Raleigh boarded the ship with a resolute expression.
To find more kindling for that flame of conviction.
He went to England.
"Sir Raleigh, have you heard? The Antichrist Pope is dead!"
"...Yes."
Upon returning to England, Raleigh felt his heart surge wildly.
The Pope had died.
The cardinal of San Pancrazio Cathedral had been elected the new Pope.
His name was Ippolito Aldobrandini. As Pope...
"Clement VIII."
A shiver ran through Walter Raleigh's entire body.
-"He will take the name of Mercy—Clemens."
How... could everything match so perfectly?
With even the last shred of doubt washed away, he threw himself into fulfilling 'His' command.
"These ones have cowpox right now, so when they recover, then take them..."
"No, take them now."
For a while, he'd gathered only dairy cows. Cowpox was a disease cows caught easily and recovered from easily, so he couldn't select only the sick ones and had to settle for amassing hundreds indiscriminately.
And then... next came people.
Sir Raleigh greatly expanded the Virginia Trading Company. Or rather, the company, which had never turned a profit, was already massive without needing expansion.
"H-hey! Don't you need blacksmiths? Blacksmiths! Skilled ones!"
"I heard you're recruiting bricklayers! If you pick me, I'll cover the New World in bricks!"
"Over here, basket makers! Please... please take us too!"
"C-calm down, everyone. Miners, go back! The miner quota is full!"
"What? You said jewels and precious metals overflow—why so few miners?"
The first floor of the bustling Virginia Trading Company building teemed with middle-class folk and laborers applying to emigrate. But with only a select few chosen, disappointment and anxiety filled their eyes.
And on the second floor, relatively upper-class and nobles came and went.
Today too, after filtering out unskilled applicants all day, Raleigh occasionally met guests to secure investments or chat.
But.
"...What brings a Member of Parliament here?"
"Oh, just that your colony's fame grows daily... I want to travel there myself."
"..."
"..."
Today, a guest had come for a different purpose.
Honestly, the man before him was a thorn in Raleigh's side.
He was a famed advisor to Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex—Raleigh's rival. The Queen's favor was boosting his political influence, which Raleigh didn't welcome.
But... politics had its subtle rules; one couldn't openly antagonize.
"...You've been denied passage rights to Virginia by everyone else, so you have no choice but my ship."
"Hm..."
"I'm curious! What society will unfold in the New World? And how majestic will that great Indian Emperor be...?"
"'He' is not one for you to casually mention."
"...Calling savages exalted?"
"Hah, you think mere savages possess such advanced techniques?"
"That may be true.
Anyway, I want to go. Not to settle permanently, just travel and see around?"
"..."
"Is that alright?"
Walter Raleigh stroked his chin, glaring at the man for a while. The man showed no great hostility toward Raleigh. He seemed genuinely driven by scholarly curiosity.
...Or perhaps, as rumored, a flatterer of the powerful switching sides.
Sir Raleigh cautiously nodded to the man.
"...Very well. I hope you have a satisfying journey."
"Hahaha! Thank you, Sir Raleigh!
I shall surely repay this favor someday!"
"Don't go blabbing rumors around. Passage fare will be steep, and cabins limited.
We're short on space for solid permanent settlers; sightseers flashing status would be trouble."
"Understood! I'll keep it in mind!"
The man tipped his hat deeply and bowed.
"Francis Bacon will never forget this grace!"
After sending the man off, Sir Raleigh sighed and leaned back.
Already the second tourist.
Some odd actor had begged, so he relented; now this one.
Raleigh glanced at the calendar.
It was February 1592 already. That dreamlike audience was 3-4 months past.
...Enough time to fulfill 'His' command.
-'February 25, 1592: Departure.'
So it was marked.
In a few days, he would set sail again.
This time with hundreds of new settlers.
"I heard Member Bacon is off on a tour... Did you agree with the master?"
"No! He just up and left on his own...! Haaah, typical fickle bird.
Actually, good riddance. We need a witness anyway."
Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, irritably stroked a dagger as he spoke.
"Someone to tell how Sir Raleigh's American colony crumbles."