Chapter 1.
The Letter.
Golden sunlight
peeked from behind clouds, touching the bustling streets and terra-cotta
rooftops of Lucca. Near the city’s piazza, stood a glistening, grey cathedral.
Its tall bell-tower soared upwards and spread cool shade over sunbaked
pavement.
Suddenly,
a figure burst from the large, wooden doors; wearing elegant clothes, obviously
wealthy. A black-robed priest chased after him then halted upon the steps,
raised his fist in the air and called out:
“Get away from
here! I do not absolve people who aren’t sorry- your sin will be the death of
you!”
The wealthy man
turned and angrily gestured with his hand. After some shouting, he hastily
left.
Still
huffing with irritation, the priest spun, seeing a flash of bright red crossing
the nearby courtyard. Squinting against vibrant daylight, another man,
brown-haired, in his early thirties, came forth. His draping, scarlet finery
rustled from the wind and he quickly snatched his small, red cap before it
could blow away.
“Father Adreo, whatever is the matter?” he
asked.
Anxious, Adreo
stared down. He bowed, reverently kissed the man’s hand and replied, “Cardinal
Fratelli, Your Eminence, I didn’t think I would see you so soon…I’m sorry this
had to get your attention.”
“I was just strolling,”
Fratelli said, “and heard you yelling. Are you upset? Do you wish to talk about
it?”
“No…not
really.”
For
a moment, they stood awkwardly eyeing eachother.
Hesitantly,
the cardinal began ascending the stairs but he stopped right in front of Adreo
and stepped back. He waited silently for several minutes- then spoke,
“Father,
you are blocking the door…”
“Oh!”
Adreo exclaimed and moved aside.
He
blushed, his fair-skinned face turning almost as red as the cardinal’s robes.
Fratelli however, ignored this embarrassed display while he passed by. Entering
into cold candle-lit air, he sighed; glad to escape from the summer sun.
Walking solemnly with his hands folded, he chose a suitable place where he
knelt quietly in prayer.
Peering up at
the white, marble high-altar, smelling fragrant melted wax mixed with
lingering, woody incense, he mumbled:
“Good Lord, be my shelter and relief. You
know everything and so, you indeed know I’ve had a headache all day. If this
suffering cannot be removed, O God, please… at least spare me from yelling and
stress…”
Immediately
after he finished this prayer, delicately signing a cross, some loud noise clanged
outside. Jumping afoot, he muttered, “What now?”
Exiting
through a side door, Fratelli looked upon broken glass, scattered paint-brushes
and a man who sat next to a fallen cart. Splatters of every imaginable color
surrounded him. His black hair streaked yellow and blue, he glumly frowned. As
Fratelli approached, gingerly lifting the hem of his garb far from the paint-splashed
ground, he jolted and spoke:
“I’m
so, so sorry! I had been scheduled to come here, for restoration work in the
cathedral…but was so excited, I lost my bearings! One thing happened, then
another! Please forgive me?”
Although
concerned, feeling utmost sympathy for this man, Fratelli bluntly asked, “You
were supposed to work here today? Why didn’t anyone inform me?”
“I’ll
clean all this up, Your Eminence…I promise…”
“Why
doesn’t anyone tell me these things!”
The
cardinal stomped off, leaving the painter alone to bemoan his colorful mess.
Sun
shone through tall windows. Seated in the rectory office, an older priest;
grey-haired and very short, browsed through a pile of letters. He raised his
head when Fratelli rushed in.
“Did
you see what happened outside?” the cardinal huffed.
“No,
Your Eminence.”
“Father
Rodrigo, the painter you sent here, without informing me of course…which is
something we must speak about, he dropped all his things and the sidewalk… is
now covered with every color of paint!”
“Lord,
have mercy!” Rodrigo gasped, folding one arm against his chest.
“You
will help him clean it up,” Fratelli said, “Then come back here so we can
discuss why you keep forgetting to tell me things!”
Avoiding
Fratelli’s hot gaze, Rodrigo scurried out.
Musing
to himself, Fratelli now rested. Seated
at the desk, he regarded the letters and began sorting them. One, addressed
from London, England, caught his eye. Quickly, he opened the envelope and read
aloud:
Dear, Angelo Cardinal Fratelli,
I have not forgotten about you and the
wonderful times we shared when we were two, mischievous youths. You had always
been a great friend of mine and at last, I’ve taken opportunity for a vacation
in Italy. Summers here in London are dreary and depressing, so this arrangement
is perfect!
I cannot wait to see you, visit and
talk about where life has led us. In advance, I send this letter so
preparations can be made for my reception. Don’t be too anxious, I’ll be there before
you know it.
Sincerely,
Your Old Friend,
Jack Holloway.
Feeling
shivers of excitement; Fratelli set down the letter, tapped his fingers on the
desk then picked it up and read again. Though a dull pain still throbbed in his
head, he felt glad- even relieved. He hadn’t seen Jack for fourteen years,
since his ordination into priesthood. Truly, they would have so much to talk
about!
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