Mysterium Hyperboreum: Sive, De Spiritu Mundi in Materia Spitsbergensi Captivo#
Important
The following document was retrieved from the Archivio Apostolico Vaticano.
A Private and Faithful Relation touching the Strange Nature of the Luminous Nitre of the North
Humbly submitted to the Feet of His Holiness, Mutio Vitelleschi, by his most loyal and unworthy servant, Kenelm Digby, Knight, in the year of the Lord Jesus Christ, 1641.
Pax Christi.
I apologize beforehand for the length of this missive, but in writing these words, I continually found them lacking the substance they required until I introduced the personal element. Your Holiness is one of seven individuals that knows the nature of my operations in England; I have thus found myself compelled to detail not only the actual events that have occurred, but also my state of mind and thoughts during the time in question, since Your Holiness is perhaps the only person in the world capable of comprehending their significance. I have come to believe through subsequent analysis the mental variable is vital to understanding the course of events.
So I shall attempt to start at the beginning, though that is no easy task; There are many beginnings, as you well know, to any story. While I was officially inducted into the Society of Jesus when I ascended from the Mithraeum beneath the holy basilica on my fifteenth birth year, you are no doubt aware the sacrifice my father made for the Order when I was but a boy. The true beginning of this story can be traced to a single day: the day my father was dragged in front of a roaring Anglican crowd. It would be unseemly to disgrace this letter to Your Holiness with the barbaric details of his execution. Suffice to say, even when presented with his own beating heart, my father’s faith in the Order never faltered. If I could have but a tenth of his honor, then that would be ten times the quantity alloted to the Protestant devils.
I have therefore dedicated the entirety of my life to uprooting this blasphemous weed from the soils of England. Many years I have labored and many hardships I have suffered, but always I have drawn strength from my father’s memory and his unwavering faith. Though I admit the deception has taken its toll, turning every friend into a potential enemy, never once have I strayed from the path set before me. Even when the Lord took from me my dear Venetia and left me as broken as shattered glass, even then, fallen into the depths of my grief, I still faithfully executed every order received by Your Holiness. You will understand, then, the astonishment with which I received your previous letter.
It is only now the seeds we carefully planted over these long decades have begun to sprout and bear fruit; The fool on the throne has cut off his right hand with the execution of Wentworthl; Meanwhile, Henrietta is confident the Lords of the Pale will soon raise an army beneath the banner of Rome. When I left for France in the summer, the hysteria in London had only just begun. The kingdoms teeter on the edge of chaos. The moment we have been crafting in secret, for which we have sacrified everything, has finally arrived.
Yet your letter informed me I was to go to Saint-Jean-de-Luz to meet a Basque whaler and gather information on Dutch activity in the Arctic Sea. Even in my wildest imaginings, I could not have conceived a stranger request at so pivotal a moment. I confess that I doubted Your Holiness and thought perhaps you had gone mad. To abandon our plans at such a critical juncture and chase the rumors of sailors seemed nothing short of lunacy. With the benefit of hindsight, it is now clear Your Holiness was acting as a vessel for the Lord, and I am shameful for ever having nurtured such thoughts.
I should have seen the threads of providence at once. Saint-Jean-de-Luz was the sanctuary where the Order sheltered me while my father’s head still rotted upon the heathen’s spike. It was here that I first met Your Holiness, in my darkest hour. It was here I received my holy mission in sight of my brothers, here where I wet the blade of our Order with my blood in sacred vow. And it is here, at the culmination of my life’s work, where the Lord has called me once again to bear witness.
Upon arrival, I met our contact along the cobbled streets of the harbor. Father Pere Jean de Lohobiague provided the full report on the petient whaler. The confession contains extraordinary claims. It is best to read the whaler’s words for yourself.