the Third Secret

off your hats, for I see Our Lady.”

The men immediately obeyed, some crossing themselves as if to be forgiven for their rude behavior.

She turned back to the vision and knelt. “Vocemece que me quere?” she asked. What do you want of me?

“Do not offend the Lord our God anymore because He is already much offended. I want you to come here on the thirteenth day of the coming month, and to continue to say five decades of the rosary every day in honor of Our Lady of the rosary to obtain the peace of the world and the end of the war. For She alone will be able to help.”

Lucia stared hard at the Lady. The form was transparent, in varied hues of yellow, white, and blue. The face was beautiful, but strangely shaded in sorrow. A dress fell to Her ankles. A veil covered Her head. A rosary resembling pearls intertwined folded hands. The voice was gentle and pleasant, never rising or lowering, a soothing constant, like the breeze that continued to sweep over the crowd.

Lucia mustered her courage and said, “I wish to ask you to tell us who you are, and to perform a miracle so that everyone will believe that you have appeared to us.”

“Continue to come here every month on this day. In October I will tell you who I am and what I wish, and I will perform a miracle that everyone will have to believe.”

Over the past month, Lucia had thought about what to say. Many had petitioned her with requests concerning loved ones and those too sick to speak for themselves. One in particular came to mind. “Can you cure Maria Carreira’s crippled son?”

“I will not cure him. But I shall provide him a means of livelihood, provided he says the rosary every day.”

She thought it strange that a lady of heaven would attach conditions to mercy, but she understood the need for devotion. The parish priest always proclaimed such worship as the only means to gain God’s grace.

“Sacrifice yourselves for sinners,” the Lady said, “and say many times, especially when you make some sacrifice: ‘O Jesus, it is for your love, for the conversion of sinners and in reparation for the sins committed against the Immaculate Heart of Mary.’ ”

The Lady opened Her clasped hands and spread Her arms. A penetrating radiance poured forth and bathed Lucia in a warmth much like that of a winter sun on a cool day. She embraced the feeling, then saw that the radiance did not stop at her and her two cousins. Instead, it passed through the earth and the ground opened.

This was new and different, and it frightened her.

A sea of fire spread before her in a magnificent vision. Within the flames blackened forms appeared, like chunks of beef swirling in a boiling soup. They were human in shape, though no features or faces were distinguishable. They popped from the fire then quickly descended, their bobbing accompanied by shrieks and groans so sorrowful that a shudder of fear crept down Lucia’s spine. The poor souls seemed to possess no weight or equilibrium, and were utterly at the mercy of the conflagration that consumed them. Animal forms appeared, some she recognized, but all were frightful and she knew them for what they were. Demons. Tenders of the flames. She was terrified and saw that Jacinta and Francisco were equally scared. Tears were welling in their eyes and she wanted to comfort them. If not for the Lady floating before them, she too would have lost control.

“Look at Her,” she whispered to her cousins.

They obeyed, and all three turned away from the horrible vision, their hands folded before them, fingers pointing skyward.

“You see Hell, where the souls of poor sinners go,” the Lady said. “To save them, God wishes to establish in the world the devotion to my Immaculate Heart. If they do what I will tell you, many souls will be saved, and there will be peace. The war is going to end. But if they do not stop offending God, another and worse one will begin in the reign of Pius XI.”

The vision of hell disappeared and the warm light retreated back into the Lady’s folded hands.

“When you shall see a night illuminated by an unknown light, know that it is the great sign that God gives you that He is going to punish the world for its crimes by means of war, hunger, and persecution of the Church and the Holy Father.”

Lucia was disturbed by the Lady’s words. She knew that a war had raged across Europe for the past several years. Men from villages had gone off to fight, many never returning. She’d heard the sorrow of the families in church. Now she was being told a way to end that suffering.

“To prevent this,” the Lady said, “I come to ask the consecration of Russia to my Immaculate Heart and the Communion of Reparation on the first Saturdays. If they listen to my requests, Russia will be converted and there will be peace. If not, she will scatter her errors through the world, provoking wars and persecutions of the church. The good will be martyred, the Holy Father will have much to suffer, various nations will be annihilated. In the end my Immaculate Heart will triumph. The Holy Father will consecrate Russia to me, and it will be converted, and a certain period of peace will be granted to the world.”

Lucia wondered what Russia was. Perhaps a person? A wicked woman in need of salvation? Maybe a place? Outside of the Galicians and Spain, she did not know the name of any other nation. Her world was the village of Fatima where her family lived, the nearby hamlet of Aljustrel where Francisco and Jacinta lived, the Cova da Iria where the sheep grazed and vegetables grew, and the Cabeco grotto where the angel had come last year and the year before, announcing the Lady’s arrival. This Russia was apparently quite important to capture the Lady’s attention. But Lucia wanted to know, “What of Portugal?”

“In Portugal, the dogma of the faith will always be kept.”

She smiled. It was comforting to know that her homeland was well considered in heaven.

“When you say the rosary,” the Lady said, “say after each mystery, ‘O my Jesus, pardon us and deliver us from the fires of hell. Draw all souls to salvation, especially those in need.’ ”

She nodded.

“I have more to tell you.” When the third message was completed, the Lady said, “Tell this to no one, as yet.”

“Not even Francisco?” Lucia asked.

“You may tell him.”

A long moment of silence followed. No sound leaked from the crowd. All of the men, women, and children were standing or kneeling, in rapture, enthralled by what the three seers—as Lucia had heard them labeled—were doing. Many clutched at rosaries and muttered prayers. She knew no one could see or hear the Lady—their experience would be one of faith.

She took a moment to savor the silence. The entire Cova was locked in a deep solemnity. Even the wind had gone silent. Her flesh grew cold, and for the first time the weight of responsibility settled onto her. She sucked in a deep breath and asked, “Do you want nothing more of me?”

“Today I want nothing more of you.”

The Lady began to rise into the eastern sky. Something that sounded like thunder rumbled past overhead. Lucia stood. She was shaking. “There She goes,” she cried, pointing to the sky.

The crowd sensed that the vision was over and started to press inward.

“What did she look like?”

“What did she say?”

“Why do you look so sad?”

“Will she come again?”

The push of people toward the holm oak became intense and a sudden fear swept through Lucia. She blurted out, “It’s a secret. It’s a secret.”

“Good or bad?” a woman screamed.

“Good for some. For others, bad.”

“And you won’t tell us?”

“It’s a secret and the Lady told us not to tell.”

Manuel Marto picked Jacinta up and started to elbow his way through the crowd. Lucia followed with Francisco in hand. The stragglers pursued, pelting them with more questions. She could only think of one answer to their pleas.

“It’s a secret. It’s a secret.”