《The Crows and the Plague》His Holiness Pope Benedict XII
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The Vatican. A shining beacon of light in a dark and troubled world.
When Giradin entered those streets for the first time, riding on the back of Sir Emeric's horse among the cathedrals, monasteries, and other ecclesiastical buildings towering over him, he found himself in complete awe that such a place could exist. To him, the sheer majesty of this city within Rome was a piece of Heaven on Earth. A sign that God's glory could shine through more brightly than he ever thought possible in a world so fallen and broken.
He could hear the monks singing in latin, their deep voices all joined together in perfect unity.
Along the streets walked priests and bishops in their traditional attire. When Giradin spotted a group of men in red cassocks, he realized he'd just seen cardinals for the first time.
Over his shoulder, Giradin spotted Shlomo, in his plague doctor uniform and mask, glancing about as if he were a nervous canary.
Sir Emeric rode up to the courtyard before a building with tall, rounded pillars, each with the statue at the top. Whether these were statues of saints, previous popes, or Biblical figures, Giradin could not be sure.
The Templar gave Giradin a gentle nudge, and both men dismounted from the horse. Attendants immediately arrived to take the reins and lead the steed away to the stables. Sir Emeric turned to Giradin. "Nervous?"
Giradin shook his head. "Umm... not really. Just... in awe! This place is amazing!"
Sir Emeric chuckled and patted Giradin on the shoulder. "I wish I had your perfect faith. To not be nervous the first time one meets the Pope himself?"
The other Templars dismounted as well, as did Shlomo, who had been completely silent since they entered the city.
The front doors of the palace which lay before them swung open, and an entourage of men in chainmail armor with tabards on which were pictured crossed golden keys. Each man held in his hand a war hammer. These soldiers poured out, marching in time with each other. Their faces were each stern as stone, more so than the statues above the palace pillars.
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"His Holiness, Pope Benedict XII!" called a herald from within the palace.
Giradin caught his breath as a man in elaborate robes embroidered with gold threads strolled out through the open doors. A tall, conical hat made of silver, bedecked with gold crosses, rested upon his head. His eyes were half-lidded and glossy, but when they turned to Giradin they conveyed both great compassion and complete judgment. As if on a glance he had seen Giradin's soul, and both loved everything good and condemned everything wrong.
The Templars dropped to one knee first, and Giradin followed. Shlomo hesitated for a moment, then did the same.
The Pope drew near to Sir Emeric and gave a smile one gives an old friend. "Sir Emeric!" he said, his voice scratchy.
"Your Holiness," said Sir Emeric
The Pope held out his hand to the Templar, upon which was a ring with a large, red jewel. Sir Emeric kissed the ring, and the other Templars did the same.
"You wrote to me about a potential saint," said the Pope. He gestured to Giradin. "I take it this is he?"
"Yes, your Holiness," said Sir Emeric. "This is Giradin, a former cobbler's apprentice who became a plague doctor. He has performed wonderful miracles, your Holiness, and has a pure heart."
The Pope faced Giradin and grinned. "Rise."
Giradin did as he was bid, not sure if he should keep his gaze fixed on the Pope's eyes or if he needed to avert them.
The Pope looked him over. "Well, we shall have many questions for you, I'm sure. If it is true, and you are a saint chosen by God, then we will need to ensure that you are well-protected."
"Sir Emeric has been a wonderful protector so far," said Giradin.
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"I'm sure he has," said the Pope, glancing up to Sir Emeric with what appeared to be a hint of suspicion. "Come in, all of you, we have much to discuss..." he turned to Shlomo and shook his head. "Remove your mask." The command was stern, but not forceful. There was no threat behind it, but merely an understanding that it was to be obeyed.
Shlomo sighed and unlatched the leather straps, removing his plague doctor mask to reveal his tangled black curls.
The Pope gave a look of recognition and both his eyebrows raised. "Thank you," he said. "As I said, all of you, come inside." He gestured with both hands, his billowing sleeves swaying, and turned to walk back inside the Apostolic Palace.
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