I finished reading Conclave, and while doing so I undertook the task of documenting all the background Cardinals who appear in the book, and now that I am done, here is the link to the document! I hope that it's helpful and interesting.
Conclave Compendium of Background Cardinals Cardinal Alatas- Indonesian, Bribed by Tremblay (pg. 213) Cardinal Baptiste- Saint Lucian, B
They are ordered alphabetically by surname, with any background information provided about them. As well, I added page numbers said information appeared on.
@owl-nerd-13 my idea based on your original "Lamb to the Slaughter" notes
A pair of feet come rushing down the corridor, slamming on the floor, then a hammering on her door. "Sœur Agnes, Soeur Agnes."
She's on her feet, calling, "Entrez."
Sister Marie almost falls through the door, their shared French falling from her lips in a rapid chaos of words, interspersed with an even quantity of Kikuyu.
"At The Door... Holy Mother Mary... Cardinal."
"Marie slow down, which cardinal?" Not the Dean, she would have said.
"Come..." the girl reaches out wildly to grab her sleeve - pulls. She runs with her back down the corridor, towards one of the service doors.
She hears the cries, gasps and sobs, and more running feet, leaving and approching
Rounding a corner, she can see a thicket of people, her Sisters and the tall figure of O’Malley ahead and above them.
"Permesso!" She calls, Sister Marie adding her "Excuse me." The sisters part a channel. They are pressed through to the front.
O’Malley, yes, standing, the glint of tears on his cheeks. Ahead of him, right by the door, Dean Thomas, who is shaking and making little gulping noises as he cries, again.
She steps to the side, to see past Thomas. A small figure at the outside of the threshold, one hand at the corner of his shirt
Eyes, eyes so so weary, which find hers as she approaches around the Dean, and still manage to light up a bit.
"Sorella Agnes, posso entrare?" It is polite but also a supplication.
"Si, si" She answers, with her arms out hurrying forward. He's clutching a cane, and when he tries to step towards her his feet don't move. She gets an arm around him, the other finding the wrist of his arm nearest to her. - Dear Lord he's cold how long has he been outside? - and draws him in.
They nearly walk into the Dean, standing there like a statue. "Permesso Decano!" She threatens an elbow and he stumbles out of their way.
"Soeur Catrine, a chair!" Let him sit down before he falls down. Get him warm, poor thing
Someone runs away down the corridor.
"Sister," he speaks in Englishthis time, "I'm sorry to have come so late again."
"Don't apologise, things happen- you're here now."
The chair arrives through the growing crowd and she sits him in it. His head drops a little, he's exhausted, even worse than last time.
"Sister Martha, Sister Isabele see that the ground floor spare is fully prepared." She kneels as she speaks, chaffing at his hands.
"I'm sorry to put you to all this trouble, Sister." he says.
"No trouble, no trouble, hush," Get warm. He's almost sallow, he's so pale.
"And I'm afraid I have to prevail upon your charity to borrow some Choir dress again." He gives a shamefaced little smile. "And a day cassock too, if it's possible."
Charity... Possible... ah Vincent, if we Sisters have to sew the night through, you'll have your Cassock and Choir dress.
A/N Permesso is the Italian for "Excuse me"used in a crowd situation
Playing in @owl-nerd-13 "Lamb to the Slaughter AU"
-
It's a great honour to be chosen as the Artist for the Holy Father’s Inauguration Portrait, a chance to use the full classical methods, on the kind of Portrait which are few and far between. A Portrait to stand alongside those of the old masters perhaps.
The Holy Father is an interesting subject, with his propensity for decoration, so many small things to ve captured. He is both aloof, welcoming, and incredibly precise over matters, one might almost say picky he wants to see the painting every time, he asks over this or that element. He has the right, but it nags. As if he dies not think that he knows his job, as if a dossier had not been gone through before he was selected. As bad as some of the very rich, who want every detail just so. But he is the Holy Father one should be more gracious of such a commission, and he is cordial, a little grandiose. He works and works, the hands, always fiddly but they show so much of a person, not least the Fisherman's Ring. The robes, in their full glory and trim. The details and his skill could make his name, small details are the key.
It is perhaps 2/3 finished, he's working at home on the background texture, when the news breaks. That the Holy Father has been implicated, worse - personally deeply involved, in sending the poor, formerly In Pectore Cardinal back to his Diocese - right into danger and right into his eventually death
Who has not prayed for the Soul of dear Father Benitez?
From the radio speaker, the Dean recounts the damning words, and declares Sede Vacante, that the Pope is, by vote of the College, stripped of his election, to retire to a discreet monestary to live out his days there. That a new Conclave will be called, to elect a new Holy Father- with the Guidence of the Holy Spirit.
Luca has already stopped painting as he listened, finds he stands there with the brush dripping on the floor. He stares at the painting. The Masterwork, the peice which should underline his name. It is beautiful, the details. And it is tainted
The Inauguration Portrait of a Pope who is no longer a Pope, and in such circumstances
The face is blank, but the shape is distinctive, it could not be cast as anyone else.
He steps away, to the range where the brush won't reach, and sets it down. He picks up the rough cloth sheet, and throws it over the canvas. It hangs awkwardly, a careless shroud.
Let it lie there, on my conscience I will have no further part in this
@owl-nerd-13 Sorry, done it again. (Bad Brain Bad Brain, WIPBB fics to work on)
I'm not even American, and I only see bits of the show on Youtube so I apologise if the Tone and style is way off. I was somewhat inspired by "God Give us a Pope who Memes" which as an excellent reaction chapter. Then this Monster tumbled out;
Lamb to the Slaughter and Back Again (Colbert Reacts)
-
Stephen Colbert stands in front of his set and begins;
"Welcome one and all to the Late Show. I'm your host Steven Colbert.
"I know it may feel like the World is descending into disaster and Chaos, and it's never going to stop. but then, then something happens and you think 'Hey We might be Okay in the end, God- or whatever higher diety you subscribe to, is looking out for us. No I don't just mean this-
*cut to the Sistine Chapel chimney, white smoke pouring from it*
"I specifically mean this- "
*Cardinal-Deacon Santini on the balcony pronoucing 'Dominum Vincentum Sanctae Romanae Ecclesiae Cardinalem-” The Cardinal Deacon’s voice cracks, and he stops to visibly swallow, blinking furiously before continuing, “Cardinalem Benitez."*
Stephen stares at the Camera, straight faced, "And This-"
*A Cardinal, and an Archbishop step onto the balcony of St Peters. Between them, a younger Latino man and dressed in Papal Whites, walking with a stick, stepping up to the rail of the Balcony and staring out at the crowds*
Back to Stephen, staring at the audience and the camera, "Recognise him?"
*Cuts back to the man on St Peters Balcony. Then a picture of the same man, dressed in a Black cassock and a Purple Zuchetta, smiling at the Camera, appears next to it, it is the sort of photo which would have appeared on many news broadcasts*
"That is Cardinal Vincent Benitez ,Archbishop of Kabul." Gasps and murmering from the crowd, Stephen stills them with a raised hand "Yes, you will have heard that name, he's the Cardinal-Archbishop believed dead in a Bombing in Kabul in April and declared Martyred and Servent of God shortly after by the Emeritus Pope Pius," he speaks more angrily, "who, who it turns out, was the man who sent Benitez right back to Kabul the first place!"
*boos from the Audience, Stephen nods along.*
"But he did not die that Day in Kabul, and he makes it back to Rome, and he is made Pope!"
Stephen raises his voice and raises his hand in celebration, the crowd cheer along,
"He is made Pope in the SHORTEST CONCLAVE IN MODERN HISTORY
More cheers. Stephen adds, looking around at the audience as he speaks, "Two votes, can you believe that, two Votes? They don't even normally put up smoke for the first morning vote of a Conclave, because no one is elected then- untill." He looks back at the camera. "Until now."
Gathers himself again
"Now I don't know about you, but if I'd ended up back in a place that would almost certainly get me killed, and then been blown up, and then probably had to live in fear while I was also dealing with injuries from that Bombing, I'd be pretty angry and upset. Not this guy. You know what he said-" He guestures off camera. "no actually, lets see what he said, in his own words. "
*Vincent Benitez/Pope Innocent, speaking at the Microphone on the St Peter's Balcony, in italian, with subtitles in English* “So I give thanks, to those who rescued me, my friends, to the Doctor, to all of you who sheltered me these months. I hold you in my heart, in pectore,” The pope touches his chest, and there is the faintest smile on his face. “Know that you did the work of God, God bless you, and keep you safe. Allah Yubārik Fīk.”
Cut back to Stephen. "He then repeats all that in Dari, which is an Arabic language spoken in Afghanistan, so that anyone who helped him in Kabul who might be listening Can. Understand, His. Thanks." He slaps the side of his hand ont his palm in emphasis "And then he goes on the remind everyone that it wasn't just Afghani Catholics who helped him, but Muslims as well, and to all Love or at least Help Your Neighbour.- Pope Pius the Unpious, put that in your vape and puff!"
Stephen pauses, pulls out a Handkerchief "Now as you can tell, this has all rather got to me, but hey, if the Senior Cardinal-Deacon is crying-"
*shot of Cardinal Santini collecting himself to continue annoucing Benitez*
"-The Dean of Cardinals is crying" *distance shot showing Cardinal Thomas on the balcony, an indistinct red shape, wiping his eyes during Benitez Homily from the Balcony* and even the Pope is nearly crying *Shot of Benitez's face as he says the opening lines of his Speech, it's clear he can barely manage to speak, such are his emotions.* Stephen speaks around his own thick voice, dabbing his eyes "Then I think I, a tiny little Lay Catholic Person, have permission to cry about this, in public, on live television and not feel bad about it." Stephen swallows, "And I'm not the only one;"
*Tweets and Facebook posts with variations of shock over Vincent Benitez; "I'm in tears right now, happy tears. but tears" "I can't Beleive it *crying emojis*" I'm not even Catholic, I'm not even religious, and I'm crying listening right now."
"Now, there were always a few Moaning Ninnies, complaining about our New Pope's pronunciation of his Italian and that he looked ' infirm and about to keel over' as one user put it. WHAT is WRONG WITH YOU! That man has survived being in a Bomb explosion probably meant to kill him, has healed from injuries without the help of a full hospital staff, and has got himself from Kabul to Rome in time for the Conclave, and then been elected on the Second Vote of a Conclave, which. is. a. Record!
"Who cares if he has a walking stick, he's lucky to be walking. Who cares if he's only just about managing to speak Italian, I don't know how many languages he speaks fluently, but struggling with one more of them is not a crime. So he looks exhausted, well after everything he's been through I don't know about you, but I'd be exhausted after all that." He looks at his watch, then at the camera "It is 11:50pm Eastern Standard Time at the moment. That's 6:50am in Italy." He looks directly at the Camer, through the camera,
"Your Holiness, I hope you have had good night's rest, or are even still having a long Lie-In. I as one of your many parishioners, think you deserve it."
-
Later that Day, Europe-time /The following Morning EST Time on Twitter;
Pope Innocent XIV @-Pontifex
@-colbertlateshow "I don't know how many languages he speaks fluently", It's 6, and I can read Arabic easily as well. Italian is currently a #WorkInProgress #ButIHavePlentyofHelp
[A/N I imagine it takes another Week to Calm Stephen Down about being tweeted by the Pope's account}
@owl-nerd-13, your Lamb to the Slaughter Idea is at Nest in my Brain (*stop. go away, I have big bang stuff to finish in less than a month, and it's nowhere near done...*). (Required Reading here, everyone.)
Have a snippet from the Conclave Dinner as seen by a German Cardinal;
Dinner is late, now by - he checks his watch - half an hour. Functioning on Italian time is all very well, but they fail to account for the human need for food. Don't think he hasn't noticed the Sisters discreetly slipping bits to Cardinals Tutino and Diabetics both. Penence is all very well, but if we are expected to consider rationally, it would be better to be fed as well as well rested. Not that the beds in the Casa really offer that, although they are better than the Old Conclave cots apparently were before the Casa was built.
Still the Dean does not come, although the Sisters throng the room. Somone had said there were hundreds of them for the Conclave, to serve 106 Cardinals, now he starts to believe it. They form a bank around the room, the wall turning dark blue with their habits pressed together. This, this is not usual, it did not happen at the last Conclave, or the one which Elected the Late Holy Father, strange for that term to still be recognisable as the last Pope-but-one. Perhaps Pius should just be erased from the list.
There is more movement, the Dean's head visable at the door moving through a thicket of Nuns, accompanided by a murmering.
Dean Lawrence steps out onto the clear floor, a little forwardof the pillars so all can see him. He does not need to raise a hand to gain attention, all eyes are on him at once. He looks pleased, there is a smile struggling to stay off his face, even under eyes which are marked with weeping. But then, when have they not been marked with weeping, over the entirety of this time. Yet his smiling, his eyes gleam in a way which speaks is more than unshed tears.
"My Brothers, please forgive my Tardiness, and the Delay to this Dinner. I also apologise to any of you in A Block who were disturbed by the commotion a little earlier in the evening, you must believe me when I say, it was quite reasonably caused."
A soft murmer around the room, everyone wondering. He looks to on his other side, Heinrech, Cardinal Lechner, wasn't he assigned an A-Block room? The Austrian leans in, murmers in their shared tongue, "The nuns went running around like headless chickens, and there was a lot of shouting and yelling near the door, I stayed out of it."
Good idea, and this is suppoed to be contemplative as well as political, but with even the Nuns becoming excitable? Dear God, preserve some sanity.
"Brothers," Dean Lawrence calls "It gives me great great pleasure to tell you, we remain- by God's Grace- yet numbering 107." He steps back, holds out his hand "Cardinal Benitez, welcome..." It seems he was to say more, but his voice fails, and he simply beckons with his fingers.
What, did he say Benitez? He lifts his head higher, to see over the brother Cardinal opposite him.
A small figure, cassocked in Black as they all are, comes forwards, a walking stick tapping along in the silence with every other heavy step. Surely it can't be? The height against the Dean is about right, a little shorter, the barest bit, the cane would account for that.
The face, once he can see, is thinned, worn even closer to the bone, the eyes shadowed. But it is the same man, or else his twin.
The voice with which the figure speaks to the Dean is tired, but still kind, the very same voice who had lead them in that Prayer, "By Man's goodness, Dean, not merely God's Grace."
It is him, somehow, by some God-given miracle, Vincent Benitez, Archbishop of Kabul stands at the front of the room.
One of the nuns starts to trill- no they call it ululating- then another, and another, then Mwangale is on his feet, adding his note. Yatsenko and Jandaček hammering their sticks on the floor, joining the cacophany of general exclamation and joy
The Archbishop Emeritus of Kinshasa actually rushes forward down the room, flinging his arms open to embrace the man, Benitez seems to stagger, or they both do.
"Zastavit! Enough!" Jan has got to his feet, leaning on his own stick and, shouting over the hubbub, "Let the man sit down and rest, by the love of Holy Mother Mary. "
Silence ripples out and Jan gives a little nod "Good-" He turns himself to face the Dean "Decano, forgive my interruption"
The Dean inclines his head, "Forgiven."
Sister Agnes herself has stepped up to Benitez's side, escorting him to the nearer table, where, with a fewsqueats of chairz, it appears the other Cardinals move up to make room for him, sister Agnes standing guard.
The Dean clears his throat, puts his hands together in prayer, head bowed, eyes closed.
He gets to his feet, as do the others, spotting, out of the corner of his eye, Agnes placing a hand on Benitez's shoulder, ordering him to stay sitting.
"Bless us, O Lord, and these Your gifts which we are about to receive
from Your Bounty. And Lord, we thank you for the restoration to us of our Good Brother Vincent Benitez, believed lost to us on earth. By the Grace of the Blessed Virgin and through Christ Our Lord, Amen."
"Amen."
Amen indeed. He sits down, and the sisters, well oiled-machine that they are serve and present plates, ravioli of some sort. He looks over at Löwenstein, opposite Heinrich, uses his native tongue,
"Well, this Conclave seems to be more favoured in God's eyes than the last one."
Löwenstein smiles, "And easier to decide too, no?" He guestures back in the direction of where Benitez sits, "God's own suggestion, if ever there was one."
A/N, your background compendium of Cardianals is saving my neck when writing this, because otherwise I would not remember correct names of the Czech and Ukrainian Cardinals. Not sure on Lowenstien's Political Bent, but here he can be liberally inclined
Zastavit!= Czech for Stop -I found it only right that another Cardinal injured because of his faith would be the one who tells them all to stop it before Benitez gets kncked over by too many zelous greetings. (I also imagine him and Benitez and Yatsenko, (wheelchair user in the book, in my mind uses sticks for short distances, or to stand and take the Oath) forming a sort of "Lame Duck Trinity," over the short Conclave)
@owl-nerd-13, here you go, I wrote something on your "Lamb to the Slaughter AU"- Everyone else; it will not make sense unless you have read this thread.
The Very Strange Conclave of Brother Eustace
The abbot declares it, the night of the Sequestration in Rome, in a rare proclamation at Dinner.
“My Brethren, owing to the Conclave for our next Holy Father, there will be a relaxation in our rules over media. A television will be kept tuned to the Sistine Chapel in the meeting room, and expected smoke times will be pinned on the Bulletin board, so that all may attend who wish to. However the Rule of Silence will still remain within those rooms.”
The Abbot seats himself and the Lector rises to his feet to give the grace. He glances along the table, and faces are alight, even dour old Wilfred has frightened. Not all of them. The great Bear, an 'Honoured Guest' according to the Abbot, but everyone knows the gossip from the Lay Brothers and the families of the Novices - everyone knows that face, from when it used to wear a much purer white than their rough robes. 'Purer than his soul,' some of the Lay Servants mutter, when they think they are out of earshot. The bear glowers, stuffing the bread into his mouth as if he hasn't eaten, and as if it has personally offended him.
Tomorrow, perhaps, you will be even more of a footnote, you who sent one of your brothers to his death, almost as Cain did Abel, for there will be a new Holy Father. The thought, uncharitable as it is, God forgive me, gives the food more flavour in his mouth.
They are not permitted the Dean's Homily, but spend the time in Chapel, praying that the Holy Spirit will guide the Cardinals to a Holy Father, a bishop of Rome. A decent one, he silently appends in his head, trying not to look at Brother Goffredo, who's posture is of pure defiance, even in kneeling.
More people than should be are gathered in the meeting room, shoulder to shoulder, Lay brothers as well, all fixed on the small screen, the single metal pipe, on the simple roof. Black Smoke. The tension which had held them together snaps, a sense of sadness cascading, echoed only by the groans from St Peter's Square.
As he turns, it is to see, of all things, a satisfied smile underneath burning eyes. Brother Goffredo brushes past him, a thick smugness in the low voice, “Of course they cannot replace me so easily, they could never agree on anything.”
He moves away, out into the gardens, seeking the cleanse of the air away from the misma of cruelty and selfish focus which hangs around the man.
They agreed enough to throw you out of Rome, Brother-who-is-not-my-Brother-in-Christ. Not even your supporters backed you after they discovered you had sent that good Father Benitez to his death.
-
He has patrol duty that evening, through the corridors coated in the depth of the great silence. Yet there is the flicker of a candle in the meeting room. Brother Wilfred sits there, eyes still focussed on the blank screen, hands folded in prayer. He reaches out, touches the man's shoulder, the old head turns.
Sleep, he signs, hands up at his head.
Wilfred shakes his head,gesturing between hs eyes and the screen, pressing his hands together. I keep vigil for Rome, and pray. God tells me to. The Old Brother makes a shooing motion Go on go on, let me be.
He does so. Brother Wilfred is a law unto himself, but he never really breaks the rules. At least it is warmer for his vigil in the Meeting Room than in the Great Chapel.
-
Brother Wilfred appears at Breakfast and then disappears again. Mid-morning, after a spell weeding, he passes the Meeting room. Brother Wilfred is sat there bolt straight, his hands resting on his cane-head, watching the television, the chimney. Silly really, for when has there been a Conclave solved on two votes, he must ask Brother Giuseppe, during the hour of discussion, Brother Giuseppe knows things like that. And yet, there is something warming about the old Brother's dedication. He slips up the room towards him, checking the clock
Someone, one of the lay brothers, had pencilled on an extra time on the list; First morning smoke 10.30? To wait a little while with Brother Wilfred would be no shame, if only to then be able to draw the man away until the next smoke time.
The chimney sits there against a grey sky, a wisp of cloud floating by. No, not cloud... Wilfred's hand clamps on his arm, quivering with excitement. As if determined to impress it's existence as a fact, white smoke billows out of the chimney, thick and true and unmistakable. White- Habemus Papam. The crowd roaring from the television is like a distant thunderstorm coming over the mountains.
“God be Praised, Mother Mary thank you. Habemus Papam, Habemus Papam” Words pour from Brother Wilfred's lips, the old man getting to his feet and raising yhis hands to the screen to Heaven. His blue eyes are quick and piecing “Quick Eustace, the Abbot, get the Abbot.”
The Silence, Brother, he wants to plead, raises his finger to his lips, then signs We must wait for the Bells.
Wilfred shakes his head “Get Him.”
He runs, and hammers for entrance on the Abbots door. The single bell rung from the other side inviting admittance.
“Benedictus, Papa.”
The abbot gestures, permitting him to break the silence.
“There appears to be white smoke from the Sistine Chapel, Father.” Eyes which have always been steady widen
“Have you heard the bells?”
“Not yet Father, Brother Wilfred was insistent I came and got you, at once he would not let me ait.” The abbot shakes his head,just a little “That Wifred.” He stands, “I come, Brother Eustace.”
Brother Wilfred has resumed his seat by the time he brings the Abbot to the Meeting Room, yet there is still the quivering sense of excitement radiating from the small man. He does not even turn as they enter the room, but points at the Television “Bells. Therer you are. And sure enough an unmistakable Gong-ing is emanating from the Television.
The Abbot settles his hands in his sleeves, becoming once again a figure of control and reverence “Well Brother Eustace, please go and ring the summoning bell, it appears we have a Pope to witness.”
It takes three-quarters of an hour before everyone is gathered in, and if anything the room is even more packed than it had been the afternoon before. On the screen, the balcony, empty, presenters chattering over the picture discussing how incredible it is that a Pope has been elected after only two, two, Ballots. That this is, as far as they can recall.
He glances about, but can't immediately see Brother Giuseppe to gauge his reaction, which would confirm or deny the fact, he trusts Brother Giuseppe more than whoever is commentating. Seated in one of the front chairs, set there by the Abbott, is the Honoured Guest, fury rippling from him over the pointedly empty seat on the other side. Brother Wilfred on the other hand, is practically vibrating out of his chair with excitement. He edges closer to the old man, notes his lips moving in a furious repetition, praying and thanking God on a whispered breath not to break the silence.
The curtain moves and a tall thin man in Cardinals robe's steps out with two other assistants in white vestments,one carrying a large book. The Camera cuts in closer to the Cardinal, the Senior Cardinal Deacon. The man is beaming, and yet it also looks as though he has been weeping, indeed as if he has only recently stopped, red rims around and under his eyes.
No one breaks the silence, but it is a near thing, the humm of release, of near excitement. Those in Rome have no similar constraints, the roar rattles through the speakers.
“Annuntio vobis gaudium magnum;
Habemus Papam.”
“Che?” Brother Goffredo bellows into the silence “What Joke is this?”
On the screen, the Cardinal Deacon continues; “Eminentissimum ac Reverendissimum Dominum,
Dominum Vincentum Sanctae Romanae Ecclesiae Cardinalem-” The Cardinal Deacon's voice cracks, and he stops has to visibly swallow, blinking furiously before continuing, “Cardinalem Benitez, qui qui sibi nomen imposuit Innocentius” The Cardinal Deacon all but shouts the last word, for the Roar has grown from silence at the identity, to all consuming
“Shhhh,” almost everyone turns on him, even the Abbott, finger sternly pressed to lips. Honoured Guest does not subside “The Man is Dead, this is all a very funny spoof, Father Abbott, but if I must be replaced, at least let me see which of those weak-minded liberals in truth replaces me."
“It is live, Brother Goffredo, now shut up and listen,” Brother Wilfred swings around and snaps, before turning sharply back to the television.
The Presenters though, seem to be in similar state of shock. Passing the name back and forth between them- that it is the name of the blessed, but dead Cardinal Vincent Benitez, who had been an In Pectore choice of the Previous Pope, and archbishop of Kabul, where he had died. Replays of the moment announcing the name, with the crowd murmurs of confusion and then Rising Crescendo of noise from those in the Square, “We will find out more for you...”
-
Then, abruptly, the camera snaps back to a live shot as the curtains move, swinging wide the great cross is carried forwards, and then two figures, one in the Cardinal's Red, one in the Purple of an Archbishop. Between them a third, smaller figure dressed in pure white, a stick just visable clasped in his right hand limping forwards to the front of the Balcony.
The figure raises his head, the camera focuses in on him.
It is Him, the same face from a smiling Photograph, which had been portrayed on the news nearly a year ago, which was settled on the Alter for prayers, the one for whom they had begun beatification. The crowd in Rome see it too, and cheers rise to screams. Vincent Benitez, Cardinal and Archbishop of Kabul ... alive.
Paler, drawn and pinched, yes, and the camera makes it all the more obvious there is a new scar just at the edge of his fringe, but he's there, standing on the balcony, as Anthems play. He doesn't smile, but he stands, and as the anthems finish he raises his left hand to the crowd a slight wave, provoking more cheers.
He glances along the rows. He'd never seen someone go purple before, but Brother Goffredo was certainly an interesting shade of puce
Brother Wilfred's tap on his arm draws his attention.
On screen someone beyond the close Camera shot holds a microphone out, then moves it outward away from Innocent/Benitez. They can see the man take a breath, slowly. When he speaks, it is Italian;
“Brothers, Sisters...It's good to see you.”
The crowd roars so loudly the television speakers wail in protest. Benitez raises a hand, and all falls silent “When I left Rome last year, I knew I would not see these roofs again. Yet somehow...” he trails off, looking down at the crowd.”Apparently it was not my turn to die yet”
The crowd go to roar but a held up hand muffles them back “So I give thanks, to those who rescued me, my friends, to the Doctor, to all of you who sheltered me these months. I hold you in my heart, in pectore,” He touches his chest, and there is the faintest smile on his face. “Know that you did the work of God, God bless you, and keep you safe. Allah Yubārik Fīk.” Benitez takes a breath “If you permit me, I will repeat that in Dari, so they may understand themselves?” He glances to one side, checking with someone, but the Crowd are already roaring their approval. He speaks again, the words quick, liquid-flowing. ”-Allah Yubārik Fīk.”
There's a low growling, spluttering sound in the Meeting Room, but Eustace can't be bothered to turn and look, not when the Pope stands there, waiting for the silence to fall.
It doesn't, but then the Microphone picks up a soft ”Please...”And the cheering dulls again
“My friends, I ask you to remember this, many who helped me were not Christians, but Proud Muslims, so I ask, if you see someone in trouble, help them, for they are Human, and a child of Heaven too, whether they believe or not, whatever name they choose to call God by, those are petty differences compared to Blood, Pain, Life, Death” Benitez eyes seem to burn, but when he stops, there is a catch in his breathing, a shudder running through his body, a hand reaches out into frame, nearly touching his other arm, but his chin twitches and the hand withdraws “And now, let us pray, with words word or in our hearts, as we choose.”
Benitez closes his eyes, bows his head his left hand resting on the Balustrade.
All around him in the meeting room, heads drop into the attitude of prayer, and he follows their lead, trying to sneak a look at the screen around his folded hands, catching Brother Wilfred doing the same. Innocent leads the Our Father, then the Hail Mary, The Glory Be, his voice wavering with emotion.
From the screen The Cardinal Deacon speaks. When he lifts his head from Prayer, the Deacon is standing just beyond the Cardinal- is it actually the old Dean?- who stands like a sentry at the new Pope's side. The Blessing and the Forgiveness of Sins are invoked.
A white-robed priest brings out the Lectern book, Holds it so the Pope can read from it. He does so, pronouncing the blessing line by line, just at the edge of the shot, the Cardinal's arm moves, and then on the other side, the Archbishop seems to edge a little closer. Slowly Benitez, Pope Innocent's hand rises, and he makes the sign of the cross to the left, to the centre, and turning a little awkwardly, to the right. The book is closed, and taken away, Innocent's hand settling gripping, on the ridge of the Balcony, taking a breath, then another.
“Now my friends, here, and all of you across the world, Go with my Blessing and Peace go with your steps, remember we are all children of Him above.” The Pope bows his head, and then slowly, slowly turns to leave the Balcony, Cardinal on one side, Archbishop on the other. Other dignitaries crowd in, blocking the camera, as the cheers rise
He's brought back to the room by Brother Wilfred's soft Murmer “Oh well done, Well done indeed.”The Abbot rises to his feet and walks to the front of the Room “My Brothers, let us all repair to the Chapel, and give thanks to God for this election, may he offer our new pontif guidance.”
“Guidance! Brother Goffredo shouts into the soft murmer of assent “He will need it, that Islamist atheist lover.”
The Abbott fixes eyes on the disrupter, and even at the edge of the glare, Eustace finds himself cowering away“You, Brother Goffredo, confined to your cell,”
“Discrimination” roars Brother Goffredo
“And to SILENCE” The Abbot continues, above the interruption, “until I deem penance sufficient/” The Abbott nods to two other monks “Brother Jerome, Brother Marc, do assist him in finding his way.”
It would be uncharitable to cheer, but from the stregth of glares following their un-sainted Brother from the room, he may well find burn marks on his back in the morning, should he care to look
“Come Brother Eustace,” Brother Wilfred murmers in his ear “Lend me your arm, and let us go and Sing a lusty Te Deum and Non Nobis, for our new Holy Father.”
-
[Not Pictured, Vincent collapsing in a dead faint two steps off the Balcony. Ray doesn't exactly manage to catch him, but does manage to slow the fall, and get himself between Vincent and the Floor before contact happens.]
A/N
Allah Yubārik Fīk is Arabic for 'Allah Bless you.'
Brother Wilfred's existance , I blame on watching a partial Episode of Cadfael as I was writing this.
Sorry there wasn't quite as much Angry Goffredo as you might have wanted, Innocent was too fascinating.
Just another Random thought/ Idea of a carry over from Vincent having been a priest in a warzone or two (or three). I have no actual evidence for any of this happening, but it made an interesting idea.
Ray is late for the meeting. Ray is hardly ever late, and when he enters, it's at a pace near a run, a folder under his arm and a distinctly harrased and disttracted look on his face . I'm sorry Dean, Vincent, Monsignor- a crisis came up." He drops into the chair.
"What's the matter?"
"Priest turned up beaten at a regional Hospital nobody recognises him there and he's got no ID left on him after whoever it was took his wallet, so somehow they end up ringing us to see if we know anything. We've got the records of everyone here, but finding just one, particularly a minor preist, needle in a haystack. Anyway, I've got Sister Jaquetta and Monsignor Hubert on the hunt now." He shifts the folder under his arm up onto the Desk, assuming a formal, meetign position in his seat
"Did he still have his cross?"
Ray's brow furrows for a long moment, shifting tracks again "The Priest who was beaten? Yes... I think he did, the communicating Doctor couldn't tell us anything about the design, though they're sending a photo over, to see if it helps."
That's a start, each cross will be somewhat individual, even by it's plainess, "Get them to turn it over and check on the back as well. If he's an out and about priest, or works in an unfriendly area, he might have his initials on the back of it."
Ray's fingers twitch, reaching for his phone instictively,
He nods "Ring them now, this meeting can wait." If it helps one of our brothers in need.
"Thank you, Holy Father," Ray stands up and moves to the corner, nearer the window. He watches his silhuette, tall in the light, already raising the phone to his ear
Whern he turns back, Thomas is staring at him "qué, Tomas?"
"How do you even think of that?
He reaches down and turns over his own cross when it rests on his chest, finger brushing the dents in the central column; VB
"One of the First things my Senior Sister told me to do in the Congo they all did it." He shrugs, "I suppose they hoped that, whatever else had happened, people would leave the cross alone. It wouldn't be a foolproof, some people would just take the metal for money, but it was something, at least. And even if the cross ws taken, it might later provide proof when it turned up elsewhere."
Thomas swallows slowly, looking shaky, but as Vincent turns his head to check on Ray, he finds Janusz is nodding. The prefect turns over his own cross, showing three letters carved in at the crux point. "We did it too, in Poland - just in case. You never could trust the SB."
Over by the window, Ray concludes his conversation and hangs up, walking back across with long strides. "They've got the cross, for certain, they're going to check it now."
"Good" Lord, Grant whoever it is comfort soccour and healing "Now, those meeting requests?"
Ooooh that is exactly the kind of thing Vincent would think about and Thomas would never have had to think about. I like it when their two worlds clash.
