Chapter 26 chapter eight

"Introiboadaltare Dei." [Latin: Let me fall before the throne of God. ] Montanelli stood on the tall altar and recited hymns in a steady tone.All around were his priests and acolytes. The whole cathedral is decorated magnificently.From the festive finery of the assembled people to the pillars on which hung the flaming curtains and wreaths, nothing was out of place. The open entrance was hung with a bright red curtain, and the hot June sun shone through its folds like red poppy petals in a wheat field. Members of each order held candles and torches, and parishioners carried crosses and banners, illuminating the small altars on either side; Glittering down.Beneath the stained-glass windows, the white surplices of the choir priests burst into hues; the sun's rays hit the cella floor in squares of orange, purple, and green.Behind the altar hung a shining silver tapestry; the cardinal, in his trailing white robes, stood against the curtain and the lights of the ornaments and altar, like a statue of marble brought to life.

According to the practice of the festive procession, he was only responsible for presiding at the mass and did not participate in the celebration, so after the forgiveness prayer was over, he left the altar and walked slowly to the bishop's throne.Priests and lay people bowed deeply to him as he passed. "I'm afraid His Excellency the Bishop is not feeling well," a priest whispered to his companion beside him, "his expression is a little strange." Montanelli bowed his head to accept the jeweled diadem.The deacon put the bishop's crown on him, looked at him for a while, and then leaned forward and whispered softly: "Your Excellency, are you sick?"

Montanelli turned slightly.His eyes didn't respond. "Forgive me, Your Excellency!" whispered the priest, curtseyed, and returned to his place.He blamed himself for disturbing the cardinal's prayers. The familiar ritual continued, and Montanelli sat upright, motionless.Shining episcopal diadems and gilt-damask vestments reflected the sun, and the heavy folds of white festive robes trailed the red carpet.The light from a hundred candles shone on the sapphire on his breast, and shone into the deep and calm eyes, but there was no reflection in his eyes.Heard "Benedicte, patereminentissime" [Latin: be blessed, Eminence Bishop. ], he bowed to the censer to bless.When the sun shines on the gemstone, he may think of the magnificent and terrifying ice elves in the mountains, with rainbows on their heads, snowflakes on their bodies, and outstretched hands to sow blessings or curses.

When offering the wafer, he stepped down from his throne and knelt before the altar.There was an eerie, calm rigidity in his every movement.He then got up and returned to his seat.The Major of the Mounted Patrol, in festive uniform, sat behind the governor, and whispered to the wounded captain: "The old cardinal is certainly exhausted. He moves like a machine." "It deserves it!" whispered the captain. "He's been against us ever since that goddamn amnesty was issued." "But he gave in and agreed to a court-martial." "Yes, at last it was agreed. But it took him a long time to make up his mind.

God, the weather is so boring!We'll all get heatstroke during the parade.It's a pity we're not cardinals, and there's a canopy over our heads along the way--shh-shh-shh!My uncle is watching us! " Colonel Ferrari turned and glared at the two young officers.After the solemn incident of yesterday morning, he was in a state of reverence and seriousness, wishing to reprimand them for their want of a proper sense of what he called the "painful needs of the nation." The master of ceremonies began to direct the people who were going to participate in the parade to line up.Colonel Ferrari got up and left his seat, then went to the front of the cella railing, and beckoned the other officers to follow behind him.After Mass, the wafer was placed in the crystal veil of the tabernacle, and the presiding priest and his priests retired to the sacristy to change their clothes.At this moment there was a murmur in the church.

Montanelli still sat there, staring straight ahead, motionless.The tumultuous ocean of the world seemed to rise up around him, and to subside gradually under his feet.Someone held an incense burner in front of him, he raised his hand mechanically, and inserted the incense into the incense burner, without looking around. The priests came back from the vestry and stood in the cella waiting for him to come down.But he remained motionless.The deacon stepped forward and bent down to take off the bishop's crown for him, and whispered to him hesitantly: "Your Excellency!" The cardinal turned his head.

"What did you say?" "Do you really think the parade won't tire you? It's hot outside!" "What's the matter with the scorching sun?" said Montanelli, his voice cold and measured.Again the priest thought he had been offended. "I beg your pardon, Monsignor. I thought you were not well." Montanelli stood up without answering.He stopped on the top step of the throne, and asked in the same measured voice: "What is that?" The skirt of his cassock trailed down the steps and spread out on the floor of the cella.He pointed to a fiery red spot on the white brocade.

"Just sunlight reflected through the stained-glass windows, Your Excellency." "Sunshine? Is it that red?" He walked down the steps, knelt in front of the altar, and slowly shook the censer back and forth.As he handed the censer back, a grid of sunlight fell on the top of his head and upturned wide eyes, and cast a bright red light on the white surplice.His priests were folding the cassock around him. He took the gilded tabernacle from the deacon and stood up.At this time, the choir and organ burst into triumphant melody. Pange, lingua, gloriosi Corporismysterium, Sanguinisquepretiosi Queminmundi-pretium, Fructusventrisgenerosi Rexeffuditgentium. [Latin: Praise the radiant Eucharist, the precious blood of Christ generously shed on the precious world, this is the grace of Christ. ] The guard of honor stepped forward slowly and raised the silk canopy on his head.At this time the deacon stood on his left and right, straightening his robes back.As the acolyte stooped to lift his surplice from the nave floor, the laity who stood in front of the procession solemnly formed two ranks, held up their lighted candles, and advanced along the sides of the nave.

He stood above them, close to the altar, motionless under the canopy.Steadily holding the tabernacle aloft, he watched them file by.They walked down the steps of the cella in pairs, holding crosses, statues of gods, and banners, walked along the wide nave covered with wreaths, passed the raised red curtains, and then entered the street under the scorching sun.Their singing faded away into a humming cacophony, drowned out by the voices that followed.A continuous flow of people rushed forward, and the sound of footsteps kept ringing in the nave. Past the parishioners in robes and veils; after them came the priests of the Requisitions, clad from head to toe in black, their eyes gleaming dimly through the holes in their visors; There are solemn monks, including mendicant monks in dark black robes and red brown feet, and Dominican monks in white robes with solemn expressions.Followed by the secular officials of the district; then the mounted patrols, carabineers, and local police officers; then the governor in full dress, with his colleagues at his side.A deacon follows behind, holding up a huge cross, and two acolytes on the left and right hold sparkling candles.The curtain was drawn higher to allow them to walk out the door.Now Montanelli stood under the canopy and glanced through the curtain at the carpeted street and the flag-hanging walls.A child in a white robe sprinkles roses.Ah, roses.What a red rose!

The procession marches forward one by one.Square by square, color by color.Sometimes it is a large white cassock, solemn and decent; sometimes it is a gorgeous sacrificial robe and embroidered robe.Now pass a tall, slender gilt cross, held up above the lighted candles; now pass solemn-looking cathedral priests, all in white robes.A priest steps down the cella, holding the bishop's cross between two torches; the acolyte steps forward, his censer shaking to the rhythm of the music; the guard of honor raises the canopy higher and counts Their steps: "One, two; one, two!" Montanelli embarked on the Way of the Cross.

He descended the cella steps, passed the nave, passed the organ-thundering verandah, passed through the raised red curtain--terribly red--and out into the scorching street.The bright red roses scattered on the street have withered and been trampled into the red carpet by everyone.He paused at the door for a moment, when several secular officials came to replace the guard of honour, who was supporting the canopy.Then the procession moved on, and he walked among them holding the tabernacle.The surrounding choir sings up and down, and the shaking of the censer and the pace of the chanting are in harmony with the rhythm. Verbumcaro, panemverum, Verbocarnemefficit; Sitquesanguis, Christimerum—[Latin: the Lord made the body of Christ into bread, the Lord made the blood of Christ into wine...] Always blood, always blood!The carpet unfolded before me like a red river of blood; the roses like blood splashed on stones—oh, God!Has your world turned red?Ah, what is this to you, Almighty God—you, have your lips painted with blood? Tantumergo Sacramentum, Veneremurcernui. [Latin: Let us bow deeply and let us adore the great Eucharist. ] He looked at the wafer in the crystal case.The wafer oozed -- and dripped from the corners of the gilded tabernacle -- and what was it dripping onto his white surplice?He saw dripping -- what was dripping from his hand? The thatch in the yard was trampled red—all red—so much blood.From the cheeks, from the pierced hands, from the wounded flanks.Even a lock of hair was stained with blood--wet hair stuck to the forehead--ah, this is the sweat of death, which comes from terrible pain. The voices of the choir are higher and more triumphant: Genitori, genitoque, Lausetjubilatio, Salus, honor, virtusquoque, Sitetbenedictio. [Latin: praise the Father and the Son, praise the Lord for saving mankind, praise the glory and authority of the Lord, praise the grace of the Lord. ] Oh, can't take it anymore!God sits on a brass throne in heaven, smiling on his bright red lips.He is looking down on pain and death.Isn't that enough?Wouldn't it be enough without bad compliments and blessings?The flesh of Christ, you were smashed to pieces to save mankind; the blood of Christ, you shed to atone for mankind. Isn't that enough? Ah, shout louder at him, maybe he's fast asleep! Dear son, are you really fast asleep?Will you never wake up again?Is the grave so jealous of its victory?Beloved son, won't that black puddle let you off even for a moment? The thing in the crystal hood answered, and the dripping blood said: "Haven't you made a choice, and will repent of your choice? Haven't your wishes been fulfilled? Look at those wrapped in silk and gold and silver, they walk in the light; for them I am Throw into that black pit. Look at the children who drop roses, and hear if their songs are sweet; for them my mouth is filled with dust, and those roses are red with the blood that flows from my heart. Look at the people How on their knees they shall drink the blood that drips from the hem of their garments; for them I will shed blood, to quench their insatiable hunger. For it is written in the Bible: 'If a man lay down his life for a friend, This kind of love is the greatest.'” "Oh, Arthur, Arthur. There is no greater love! If a man sacrifices his dearest, is it not great?" It replied again: "Who is your dearest person? It is not me." When he was about to speak, the words froze on his tongue.For the choir's song had rounded them, as the north wind blows through a frozen pond, and silenced them. Deditfragilibuscorporisferculum, Deditettristibus sanguinispoculum, DicensAccipete, quodtradovasculumOmenesexeobibite. [Latin: We salute to the great body, we sacrifice to the glorious blood, eat it, drink it, we are blissful. ] Drink it, Christians; drink it, drink it all of you!Isn't this yours?Because of you, the thatch is red with blood; because of you, the flesh of the living is withered and torn.Eat it, carnivorous savages; eat it, you all!This is your feast, your carnival; this is your day of rejoicing!Come and join the festival; join the parade and march with us; women and children, young and old -- come and share a portion of the meat! And it answered: "Where did I hide me? It doesn't say in the Bible: 'They'll run up and down the city; they'll hit walls; they'll climb houses; Go in through the window like a thief?' If I build me a grave on top of a hill, won't they open it? If I dig a grave in the river bed, won't they smash it up? Check it out, they're as good as hounds Pursue their prey. Because of them my wounds bleed so they may drink. Can't you hear what they sing?" Ave, verum Corpus, natum, DeMaria Virgine: Verepassum, immunolatum Incruce prohomine! CujuslatusperforatumUndamfluxitcumsanguine; EstonobisproegusstatumMortisinexamine． [Latin: worship the Eucharist, that is the son of the Virgin Mary, in order to save mankind, he was nailed to the cross, the nail pierced his body, and let the blood flow. ] When they had ceased singing, he went to the door, past the silent rows of monks and priests.They knelt in their respective places, holding up lighted candles. He saw their hungry eyes fixed on the host he held, and they knew why they bowed their heads as he passed.His steps left a deep red streak on the cathedral floor as dark blood trickled from the folds of his white robe. He passed through the nave to the balustrade of the cella.There the guard of honor stopped, and he stepped out from under the canopy and up the altar steps.The acolytes on the left and right knelt down holding the censer, and the priest knelt down holding the torch.As they looked at the Host, their eyes gleamed greedily in the blazing firelight. Holding the mutilated body of his murdered son aloft in his bloodstained hands, he walked to the altar.At this time the people who were preparing to share the Eucharist sang again: Ohsalutaris Hostia, Quoecoelipandisostium; Bellapremunthostillia, Darobur, fer, auxilium! [Latin: O Holy Lord!Noble Victim, Our Heart's Consolation, Our Eternal Peace. ] Ah, now they are coming to receive communion--go, dear son, to the bitter end, and open the gates of Paradise, and let in those Russian wolves that cannot be driven away.The gates of the lower reaches of hell have been opened for me. The deacon placed the vessel containing the Eucharist on the altar, while Montanelli bent down and knelt on the steps of the altar.Blood dripped from the white altar above and dripped onto his head.The choir sang, echoing between the arch and the dome: UnitrinoquedominoSitsempiternagloria: QuivitamsineterminoNobisdonetinpatria. [Latin: Holy Spirit of the Holy Trinity, who perpetuates us from generation to generation, whose glory endures forever and never ends. ] "Sinetermino, sinetermino!" [Latin: never ending. ] O blessed Jesus, that he may fall at the foot of his cross!O blessed Jesus, who can say, "It is all over!" The Last Judgment never ends; it is as eternal as the stars that move through the universe.It is an earthworm that does not die, it is a fire that cannot be extinguished. "Sinetermino, sinetermino!" Tired as he was, he carried out his duties patiently for the remainder of the ceremony, under the sway of old habits to perform ceremonies that no longer meant much to him.Then, after the blessing was finished, he knelt before the altar and covered his face.A priest was reading a form of forgiveness, his voice rising and falling into a murmur, as if from a world he no longer belonged to. The voice stopped, and he stood up, holding out his hand for silence.Some people were walking towards the exit, and turned back when they saw this.At this time, there was a whisper in the cathedral: "Your Excellency has something to say." The priests under him were quite surprised. They approached him, and one of them hurriedly asked in a low voice: "Your Excellency, do you want to speak to everyone now?" Montanelli waved them aside without saying a word.The priest withdrew and began to discuss in whispers.It was unusual, even illegal, but the cardinal had the right to do so.Undoubtedly he will make a statement of special significance, announcing a new reformation decree in Rome, or reading a special oracle from the Holy Father. From the steps of the altar Montanelli looked down at the crowd looking up.They looked at him with eager anticipation.He stood above them, ghostly, calm and pale. "Hush-shh! Hush!" whispered the leader of the procession, and the murmur died away like a gust of wind disappearing in the rustling treetops. He paused every word, and said: "The Gospel of John wrote: 'God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.'" This is the Eucharist and the festival of the Holy Blood, where victims were slain to save you.The Lamb of God took away the sins of the world, and the Son died for your sins.You are gathered here for this solemn festival, to eat your allotted sacrifice, and to be grateful for such a great boon.I know that this morning when you came to this Feast to eat the Holy Communion of the Suffering, your hearts were filled with joy because you remembered the Passion of the Son, who died to save you. "But tell me, has any of you ever thought of another's suffering—of the Father? He gave his Son, and had him crucified. Has any of you thought of the time when he descended from his throne, bowed down, What about the pain of the Holy Father while watching Calfrey? "Today, I watched you as you passed in solemn procession. I saw your hearts filled with joy as your sins were forgiven and you celebrated your deliverance. But I beg you to consider the The price. Of course the price is great, the price is higher than the ruby. It is the price of blood." There was a slight but persistent tremor in the crowd listening to the speech.The priests in the cella bowed forward and whispered to each other.But the cardinal went on, and they fell silent again. "So it is I who speak to you today: I am I. For I have nursed your cowardice and misery, and nursed the children of your knees. My heart could not help pitying them as they must die. Then I looked at my dear The eyes of his son, I knew the blood of atonement was there. I went away, leaving him to die. "This is the atonement, he died for you, the darkness has swallowed him. He is dead, and I have no son. O my child, my child!" The cardinal's voice changed to howls, and the stunned people talked about it.All the priests rose from their places, and the deacon stepped forward and laid his hands on the cardinal's shoulders.But he broke free and faced them suddenly, his eyes burning like an angry beast. "What are you doing? Isn't there enough blood? Wait, it's not your turn yet, you jackals. You'll all be fed!" They drew back, huddled together and trembling.They were panting, and their faces were as white as chalk.Montanelli turned away again.They shook and quivered in front of him like wheat fields battered by a hurricane. "You have killed him! You have killed him! But I am tormented because I would not let you die. Now, when you come before me with false praise and unclean prayers, I regret it—I regret that I have done such a thing! You should all rot in your sins, in the bottomless rubbish of hell, and he deserves to live. And your decayed hearts What value should such a price be paid? But it was too late—too late! I cried out, but he could not hear me; I knocked on the door of the tomb, but he would not wake; I stood alone In the empty desert, look around me. My dear baby is buried in the blood-stained ground, and I am alone in the empty and terrible sky. I give him up. You children of vipers, I for You have given up on him! "Take the Eucharist, for it is yours! I throw it to you like a bone to a pack of barking dogs! You have been paid for this feast. Come then , gorging, you man-eating savages and vampires--carrion-eating beasts! Look at the blood that flows from my precious heart down the altar--it's blood shed for you! Drink Smear it and smear your mouths red! Scramble for the Eucharist, eat it—don't bother me any more! Here's your corpse—look at it, it's torn to pieces , dripping with blood, still throbbing with tortured life, and trembling with the agony of dying. Take it, Christians, and eat!" He grabbed the alcove containing the Eucharist, lifted it over his head, and dropped it to the ground.Just as the metal edging touched the stone, the priests rushed forward and bound the madman with twenty hands. At this moment, the silence was broken with wild, hysterical shouts.Overturning chairs and benches, they rushed to the door, trampling each other, tearing down curtains and wreaths in their haste.A tumultuous crowd poured out of the street.