Chapter
1
A
Lazy Afternoon.
Afternoon
sun flooded through stained-glass, soaking the cathedral floor with blue,
yellow and magenta hues. Faint incense smoke still hung in the air. Birds
chirped outside heralding springtime.
Knelt
there before the white, marble, side-altar of St. Joseph, a young, brown-haired
cardinal in draping, red finery prays a silent prayer. No sound disrupted him.
Ignoring the sun’s glare which danced off the golden cross around his neck, he
intently concluded aloud:
“Holy Patron of the Universal Church, also pray
the Lord blesses the work of my hands. Be a guide and guardian to me. Steady my
soul and protect my heart… May the Angels of God watch over me…In Father, Son
and Holy Ghost~ Amen.”
After
delicately tracing a cross, he stood up with hands folded and begins walking
down the wide aisle as if in solemn procession. No sooner than he stepped
outside, did he trek over a puddle left by morning rain and slip onto the
ground. Rubbing his hurt side, dismayed at stained robes, the cardinal
muttered, “thanks…”
Still
softly grumbling, the cardinal walked beneath shaded trees and crossed a
finely-kept courtyard. Calm set over him. Roses spread their petals towards the
sun, vines crept upwards and a small, white bird bathed in the stone fountain
at its center. Hearing human footfalls, it fled leaving a sprinkle of water
behind.
The
cardinal wiped sweat from his forehead and entered into the welcoming shade of
his villa. Reminded of his irritation, he removed his shoes, shaking rainwater
off them and took off his wet socks before stepping onto the carpet. Suddenly,
he heard a sound.
“Father
Rodrigo?”
No
answer. Quietly, the cardinal tiptoed down the hallway and peered into the
parlor where a man’s shadow stood then moved about. He froze worriedly
wondering if someone had trespassed into his house.
His
hands frantically searched for something and grabbed a walking-stick from the
tall vase nearby. Then he advanced. The man now turned around. He wore a
priest’s black cassock. Sheepishly, the cardinal lowered the walking-stick and
his lips curled in a slight smile as if pretending he had no intent on hitting
the fellow over the head. He asked:
“What
are you doing here?”
“Father
Rodrigo, before leaving for vacation, sent me here to replace him as your
secretary…”
The
cardinal replied, “It would have been nice if someone told me that…”
“I
am Father Arnold,” said the priest, “and you are His Eminence, Cardinal
Fratelli?”
“Of
course.”
Arnold
bent to kiss the cardinal’s gold ring then took notice of his mud-stained
garments. He paused, taken aback, and said, “Well my first order of business
should be to bring those dirty robes to the maid…then I’ll make tea.”
“Sounds
good to me.”
Fratelli
changed into clean garb, this time being very cautious about where he stepped.
He paced down the hall careful not to don the wet shoes he’d just removed and
instead, wore house slippers. They were old, well used; a dull-red and barely
fit, yet were preferable to soggy feet.
He
and Arnold sat for some time sipping hot tea, enjoying the lazy afternoon and
talking about various subjects including this wonderful weather. Then they
switched to the topic of the cathedral and its parishioners.
“They are very nice,” Fratelli
explained, “The old ladies sometimes bake me bread but I don’t need more food,
so I give it to the poor when they aren’t looking… I always take a little taste
though so when they ask me if I liked it, I’m not lying when I say I do. Very
gracious the people of Lucca are. I am actually in the middle of writing a
letter to the faithful now.”
“Oh yes, I read it,” Father Arnold
replied and quoted: “”Dear brothers and sisters in Christ…””
There was a long pause nothing else
being said. Fratelli straitened in his chair responding “Well, there’s going to
be more!”
Silently, the two put their teacups
down then dutifully headed for the office downstairs to sort through piles of
paper and letters. Papers and such tended to pile up at the week’s beginning,
sitting even longer since they had been gone all morning for prayers and Holy
Mass.
Arnold
recovered Fratelli’s “Letter to the Faithful” beneath one of the piles handing
it to the cardinal. He took it and sat down resuming his letter. After writing
two more lines, he raised his head at a bird’s song. Beyond the arched window,
a blue-feathered bird hops from branch to branch and keeps singing.
Fratelli
longed to be out there strolling amongst little creatures and taking in their
beauty. The roses must be in full-bloom and wonderfully fragrant by now… However,
he shook the lovely musings from his head and continued working. A few more
lines were written.
He
stopped again asking Arnold, “Maybe I can describe the beauty of God’s creation
in the letter. Tell about how His Sacred Face is revealed in the world…?”
“They’re
your faithful,” Arnold replied.
“No
Father, they are just on loan to me.”
The
cardinal’s amber-colored eyes flashed with inspiration. Happy, he kicked up one
leg like a young boy. Arnold murmured something about immaturity. Almost
hearing, unsure, Fratelli asked him what he just said.
“Nothing,
Your Good Eminence, just keep writing.”
An
hour passed, significant work was done and Cardinal Fratelli had just finished
his letter. He looked up hearing horse-hooves upon pavement, seeing a shadow
fall beneath the door.
“Come
in,” he said boldly.
In
stepped the Monsignor Barolo, a smile between his high-set cheeks and a flush
to his pale skin. He lifted his majestic, draping garb off the floor as if the
floor were dirty and sat beside Fratelli. The chair creaked beneath this obese
man causing Fratelli to glance apprehensively. The older man, white-haired,
grey eyed, almost forgot to nod with due reverence before he spoke,
“I’ve
traveled long to see you Fratelli… I thought you would’ve invited me.”
“Sorry,”
Fratelli said meekly, “I was so busy.”
“You
can never be too busy for old, dear friends!”
“Oh
yes you can.”
They
talked for some time outright ignoring Father Arnold who sat arms crossed,
softly huffing. Finally, he said,
“Your
Eminence, why don’t you go fetch your letter and read it for Monsignor?”
Fratelli
began to stand then halted. He turned replying, “That is your kind of work-not
mine.”
Arnold
nodded.
“Oh,
yes…yes,” he agreed standing. Instantly, Fratelli waved a hand at him.
“Never
mind, sit down, I’ll get it…”
Once
Fratelli left the room, Monsignor Barolo peered at Arnold inquisitive.
“I
wonder about that one,” he states.
No comments:
Post a Comment