Bishop Guillaume Varsy appeared at Cardinal Bishop Monteria’s door with a strained and serious look upon his face.
“I know what you’re up to,” – he spoke seriously, tears gathering in his eyes, staring firmly at the man reclining on his chaise longue.
Monteria’s eyes darkened and he sat up, his hand reaching for his cane, wondering whether or not he possessed the strength to wield it and subdue the young Bishop.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he replied, swallowing slowly and feeling the weight of the wooden shaft in his hand. He’d never killed a man before and trusted that God would guide his arm with both precision and forgiveness should he need to. He made to push himself up, to be ready to face the Bishop standing so that he might be able to strike him with more force than he could sitting, but Varsy threw himself forward, too quick for the old man.
At once Monteria feared the worst, but rather than grapple him to the floor, Varsy fell upon it instead in front of him, gathering the end of his cassock into his hands and kissing it, weeping openly as he did so.
“What is the meaning of this?” cried the Cardinal Bishop, both bemused and relieved in equal measure, his hand loosening its hold on the cane.
Varsy looked up, his wide beseeching eyes on the one man he admired above all others, even more now for discovering what he had just heard.
“Such piety!” he wept, burying his face into the folds of Monteria’s cloak, as if it was a treasured relic.
“For God’s sake man!” replied Monteria, pulling himself clear of the Bishop and his tears. “Stop talking in riddles! What do you mean?”
“The banning of all guards, of all soldiers, of all security at the Mass!”
“What of it?”
“I have just heard it is what you have stipulated for the Mass. It is inspired! How can there be a Mass for Peace, a true Mass for Peace, if we fill Notre Dame, every doorway, every aisle, every entrance and exit with men armed and prepared for violence? Only peace, and those with peace in their hearts and their minds can possibly bring the vision to fruition.”
Monteria’s mind slowed and he smiled cautiously, dropping his hand to the young Bishop’s head.
“Let us cast away all our weapons,” Varsy continued, his eyes very wide. “Let us embrace this opportunity, show the world we can live as one!”
“Good,” Monteria muttered, his breath slowly recovering, “I am glad you have recognised the significance of such a demand. Yes, there will be no one armed as we sit down to pray in the Cathedral.” He smiled, cautiously at first. “We come together sharing the same hope that by casting our weapons aside, we can find a new and compassionate future for us all.”