Tomas (22 page)

The story begins with a brilliant young man, Emile Reynard, training to become a doctor. He quickly masters the rudiments of medicine, but feels called to a wider role in life. On becoming a lawyer, he rises through the judicial ranks to become the country's foremost judge, noted for dispensing wise and robust justice. He retires with his mental faculties intact but also, alas, with a terminal disease. But he's brought back by the Supreme Justices to try Tomas's case. Only the most senior judiciary will do. This much we know.

The story takes a twist during Tomas's trial. On reading the transcript it is clear that Reynard, far from being hostile to Tomas, is sympathetic to him. From this, it's reasonable to suspect that the judge also believes that the means justifies the end. Perhaps, after a lifetime's exposure to evil, Reynard takes the
same view on society as Tomas. Although appalled by Tomas's morality lessons, he has little sympathy for their recipients.

Reynard considers Tomas's death sentence by popular demand to be even more abhorrent than his crimes and against every legal principle. Not being a fence-sitter, he decides to take matters into his own hands. The judge personally interviews and selects the soldiers for Tomas's execution squad and oversees all details of his execution. We also know that the others chosen to attend – the vulture and the buzzard – were nonentities, who have since disappeared. And that the judge, meticulous in every detail, surprisingly failed to make arrangements for the internment of Tomas's body following his death.

The judge is immediately to hand after Tomas's resurrection and assigns a battalion to guard him, an unusual decision. He connives in the general frenzy surrounding Tomas's deitific status. He continues to support Tomas as he inverts an historic monument and builds a new one. All this based on the simple premise of Tomas's resurrection. Except that Tomas didn't rise from the dead. He awoke from sleep.

Tomas speaks of a swirling sensation in his veins after he was shot, followed by sleep: the description of an anaesthetic taking effect: the soldiers were not Tomas's executioners but his anaesthetists. More precisely, one was. Instead of five guns loaded with live ammunition and one empty, it's likely that all were blank except one that contained an anaesthetic
dart. How was this achieved? Like all brilliant plans, with great simplicity. The squad was hypnotised by the judge, who is an accomplished psychohypnotist from his medical days. Reynard simply found the six most vulnerable to his technique: ‘Close your eyes, my son, search your heart.'

This theory was confirmed by the insusceptibility of the smoker in the squad to hypnosis. I went for treatment to help me quit and subsequently gave the hypnotist's name to the smoking soldier. Later, I received a message that the soldier's head was ‘blocked'. Someone had been there first.

The rest, as they say, is history. Tomas has pursued an agenda of social change, no doubt influenced by the judge. Tomasmania is an unexpected bonus for Reynard's plan. Even without this, he has had a global platform from which to raise the debate, particularly with regard to justice, where the judge's lifelong experience of the silver-tongued techniques of lawyers has radicalised his views. Doubtlessly, he does not expect to succeed in changing the system. But maybe lighting a fire is enough. One day the law might just ‘rupture'.

It's remarkable but true that sometimes the oldest and least suspect people can surprise. The genius professor quietly working on a world-changing formula in his laboratory; the brilliant academic silently making a remarkable discovery. With age and experience come stealth and cunning – far more potent than young men shouting or burning flags in the street. Judge
Reynard is the perfect, perhaps the ultimate, exemplar. And what is the worst that could happen? Prison? Unlikely: the State would suppress the plot in order to preserve the honour and financial position of the
Patrie
. In any event, Reynard is old and knows he will die shortly. And the best result? It has already happened. A global reaction against Russian roubles, bankers' bonuses and football filth.

The only remaining question is whether Tomas was hypnotised as well? The answer is almost certainly yes. After his ‘execution' we know Reynard spent time privately with him. It's also reasonable to speculate that there were other occasions on which the judge could practise his art. But it doesn't actually matter whether Tomas was hypnotised or not. The power of belief is greater than any hypnotic spell. And Tomas's conviction that he was the second Messiah made him ready putty in the hands of the puppet master.

So where does this end? That will be for you, my readers, to say. You may wish to continue to believe. Tomas's influence has spread far and wide. This is the nature of a new religion. It arises, catches fire, then there's a counter reaction. My purpose is to reveal the truth. But this may be apostasy to Tomas's supporters. One man's truth is another man's lie; one man's god, another man's devil. Ultimately, what does it matter what we believe, or even if our beliefs are absurd? The Romans had their gods; others worship the fairies in the woods. I have shone the light. You must now decide.

Judge Reynard closes his eyes. A kindly, tired old man hunched in a chair. Perhaps he's reflecting on life. Or maybe he has just fallen asleep. His finger hovers over another small black plastic square with ‘delete' written on it. A moment later, he goes to join his friends on the balcony.

Sunset over the sea
…

Tomas and Tereza are sitting on a sofa watching the sunset. Reynard settles on a lounger beside them while the Alien twirls around the balcony amusing himself. Tereza is drinking champagne, the bottle propped in a bucket on the floor nearby. Tomas has an ice-cold beer. Reynard takes a campari and soda, an old man's drink. In front of them is a basket of crudités – the sort you can only get in the Mediterranean – and a dish of oil mixed with mustard, salt and pepper.

Tomas has always loved the light in the South of France. All skies are different, but the atmosphere along this coast is somehow unique. Neither too harsh, like the northern light, nor oppressive like the sun-laden skies further south, it's a perfect blend of colour and heat; and the light show's climactic glory is, of course, the sunset.

There's something satisfying about a seaside town winding down for the day. Loungers and all the beach paraphernalia are being cleaned and stacked away. Bars opening; sunbathers smelling of coconut oil returning to their hotels; waiters preparing for the evening service; that moment of calm between the day's end and the night's activities.

The sunset is a symphony of clouds and colours. Yellow turns to orange, then deep red, the sky shot through with a kaleidoscope of colours as the sun moves lower on the horizon. With every breeze, the painted clouds change shape and size like dancers at a phantasmic ball.

The invisible voice joins the party with his friend the invisible eye, who has a special perspective on the sunset. ‘What can you see?' says the invisible voice. The invisible eye looks through the colours and clouds to the very innards of the sky. Sure enough he sees billions of echoes on the wind, but every so often a great man in history – Julius Caesar, the Emperor Charlemagne, Napoleon Bonaparte … Dancing among them, like a kite on the breeze, he glimpses a familiar, still living face.

Tomas looks across the terracotta roofs of the city to the back of the beachside hotels, the sea and the mountains beyond. The sea is a deepening blue against the mountains, which look like cardboard cut-outs against the sky as the light fades. The sun makes its final descent. For a moment, a giant red ball perches ethereally on the mountain top. Then it quickly slips below. A furnace ignites on the far mountainside, shooting red flames into the clouds, which continue their spectral dance.

Tomas takes in the scene in silence, holding Tereza's hand on the sofa. He hopes that, at his end, should it come quickly, he'll be given just a few minutes to remember the indescribable beauty of this moment.

This electronic edition published in 2011 by Bloomsbury Reader

Bloomsbury Reader is a division of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 50 Bedford Square, London WC1B 3DP

Copyright © James Palumbo 2009

The moral right of the author has been asserted

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eISBN: 9781448205387
ISBN 978 0 7043 7158 3

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