Episode 47
After changing into fresh clothes, I was escorted to St. Peter’s Basilica, where the Pope awaited.
This was the basilica before its reconstruction.
Signs of wear and the need for restoration were beginning to show, but it still maintained its status as a Catholic holy site, especially before the Avignon Papacy.
Relics like St. Veronica’s Veil and the Spear of Longinus were well-preserved here.
Anyone with even a passing interest in history, not just Catholics, would find their eyes drawn to these treasures.
I, too, couldn’t hide my excitement as I explored the basilica.
Even Fatima, who usually feigned disinterest, was subtly glancing around.
“Come to think of it, Fatima, you’ve been to Mecca, right?”
“Yes. It’s a place every Muslim should visit at least once. I went there to pray devoutly after completing my training and before my first mission.”
“I’ve heard the mosque there is enormous.”
“I’ve heard the Masjid al-Haram can accommodate up to a million people. Though I’ve never seen it that full myself.”
Unlike Jerusalem, non-Muslims are not allowed to enter Mecca. It’s written in the Quran.
So unless there’s a truly exceptional circumstance, Christians can’t see the Masjid al-Haram or the Kaaba inside.
There’s a rumor that the black stone embedded in the corner of the Kaaba is a meteorite. I’d love to see it for myself, but I doubt that’s possible.
“Maybe someday I’ll get a chance to visit Mecca. Do you think they’d let me in?”
“If it’s you, Apostle, you’d be more than welcome. If anyone dares to block your way, I’ll… take care of them.”
“Ah, right. Whether I go to Mecca or not, that’s a matter for the distant future. Let’s focus on Rome for now.”
As I entered the basilica, I was met with a sea of people, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.
I had expected that someone as cunning as a fox wouldn’t meet with me alone.
The Pope sat at the center of the gathering, surrounded by priests and nobles, all eyes on me.
“The Count of Auvergne and the Church’s recognized prophet, Edward Marshall, requests an audience with His Holiness.”
“Oh, yes. Come forward.”
Following Cardinal Orsini, I approached Pope Clement III, who spread his arms wide in welcome.
The reason for gathering such a large audience was obvious.
It was a subtle way to pressure me into aligning with the Vatican’s views.
The words “Paranoia” hovered above his head, a reminder that his suspicions hadn’t faded.
Since I hadn’t actively defended the Vatican when the Third Crusade fell apart, he likely still harbored doubts about me.
He wanted to secure my allegiance here and now.
“Your Holiness, have you been well?”
“Isn’t that what I should be asking you? I’ve heard you’re fine, but you haven’t been hurt anywhere, have you?”
“Thanks to your concern, I’ve been in good health.”
“That’s good to hear. As a symbol of our Church, you must always take care of yourself.”
Pope Clement III spoke with a grandfatherly smile, as if worried about a beloved grandchild.
“In that sense, it’s hard to overlook the atrocities committed by those Muslims who tried to harm you. Don’t you agree?”
At the Pope’s natural segue, a knight standing nearby nodded fervently.
“Absolutely! Our Knights Hospitaller swear to deliver divine retribution upon those Muslims this time.”
“Such faith is commendable. Thanks to devoted believers like you, good citizens can live in peace. Continue to strive for God’s kingdom on earth.”
“Leave it to us!”
While I stood silently, they were busy beating their own drums, creating quite the spectacle.
The Knights Hospitaller still held fortresses in the Levant region of Syria.
To defend these, a large-scale crusade to reclaim the Levant was necessary.
Most of those gathered here likely held positions in the former Kingdom of Jerusalem.
They seemed to be using this gathering as a de facto declaration of war, a politically astute move.
It appeared that Pope Clement III intended to proceed with the war, regardless of any objections I might raise.
While I had no intention of complying, there was no need to openly oppose the Pope here.
I asked in a neutral tone, devoid of emotion.
“Do you plan to declare a holy war against Islam, Your Holiness?”
“Of course. This isn’t about reclaiming holy sites or territorial ambitions. Do you have any objections?”
“Only God can judge what is right. You should follow the path you believe is just, Your Holiness.”
The Pope interpreted my words as agreement and laughed heartily.
Punishing Islam for harming God’s favored prophet was a perfect justification for the Church. As long as secular rulers could gain something, there would be no complaints.
By placing me, the victim, in the basilica for a show of sympathy, they crafted a compelling narrative.
Pope Clement III’s methodical approach to avoid repeating the failures of the Third Crusade seemed flawless.
At least on the surface.
After the audience at the basilica, I endured a long day before finally returning to my lodgings in the evening.
People I barely remembered claimed to have met me in Jerusalem, and dealing with each one was exhausting.
But to maintain the image of the kind and humble prophet Edward Marshall, I had no choice.
I shook hands with everyone, offered blessings when asked, and presented myself as a generous figure.
As a result, Cardinal Orsini, who had been with me all day, looked visibly fatigued.
“I’m sorry for keeping you out so late.”
“Not at all. When else would I witness the prophet at work? It’s an honor.”
“Thank you for seeing it that way. But we’ll be seeing each other often, Cardinal.”
”…Pardon?”
I gestured for the bewildered Cardinal Orsini to sit and poured wine into a glass.
“What did you think of today’s events, Cardinal?”
“Today’s events… What exactly are you referring to?”
“I’m talking about what happened at the basilica.”
“Regarding the war, didn’t you agree with it, Prophet?”
Suspicion crept into Cardinal Orsini’s tired eyes.
I watched him calmly, sipping from my half-filled glass.
“I said God would judge what is right and wrong. And I’ve already received an answer.”
“What? Then why didn’t you say so at the basilica?”
“Do I need to state the obvious for you to understand?”
If the Pope’s will aligned with God’s, why wouldn’t I have said so at the basilica?
Realizing this simple truth, Cardinal Orsini’s face turned pale.
“But… this time, it was clearly the Muslims who provoked first… Your life was threatened…”
“Cardinal, I’m truly saddened. And deeply disappointed. Do the priests of the Vatican really believe they can deceive God?”
“D-deceive? Never!”
“You proclaim an all-knowing God with your lips, yet harbor different intentions in your hearts. It’s so obvious that even human eyes can see it. Do you think God wouldn’t notice? You know what happened to the kings of Israel who thought that way, don’t you, Cardinal?”
My voice, cold and different from earlier, made Cardinal Orsini shiver.
For a believer, nothing is more terrifying than the threat of divine retribution.
Of course, I have no power to actually deliver such punishment, but they believe I do.
With convincing evidence in hand, there’s no fear of my bluff being called.
Overwhelmed by my boldness, Cardinal Orsini asked in a trembling voice.
“D-did God really say He would pass judgment? Even on the Vatican…?”
“The Vatican is tarnishing God’s name, which makes it an even greater issue. Cardinal, do you know why I’m telling you this alone?”
“Gasp! Surely I’m not the one to be judged? Am I receiving a prophecy of death? I swear, I only guided you, Prophet, with no other intentions!”
A prophecy of death? Where did that come from?
Could it be that my past predictions of death have evolved into something like this?
In truth, I wasn’t sure how many more times I could use this nearly expired trick, but to have it given such a grand name—what a way to wrap things up with a flourish.
I responded to the cardinal’s words with a knowing smile, playing along just enough.
“Please, calm yourself. You’re not the one destined to receive a prophecy of death.”
”…Pardon? Then who…?”
“If there’s been wrongdoing, the one responsible must face the consequences. With the head of the Vatican clearly in place, why would judgment fall upon you, Cardinal?”
“Are you suggesting… no, surely not…”
There is only one person who holds the highest authority in the Vatican. Cardinal Orsini, fully aware of whom I was referring to, stood there, mouth agape, unable to close it.
“Yes, the very one you’re thinking of. Pope Clement III. God will hold him accountable for failing to fulfill his duty as the Pope, who should represent the divine, and instead pursuing his own selfish desires. To put it simply, God will not allow a sinful Pope to lead the Easter Mass.”
”…”
If my memory serves me right, Pope Clement III will die in about three to four months, though I’ve allowed for some leeway in case of unforeseen consequences.
Even so, the impact of this revelation was immense.
I leaned in closer to the visibly shaken Cardinal Orsini and spoke softly.
“The reason I’m telling you this is because I’ve heard the voice of God proclaiming that you will be appointed as the next Pope. Should you stray from the righteous path, well… I trust you understand the implications without me having to spell them out.”
“I swear, I will never stray from the right path! I promise!”
“It doesn’t matter what you promise me. I have no way of knowing if you’re speaking the truth.”
“In that case, please, Prophet, guide me. You can pray to God and seek wisdom. If I do ascend to the papacy, I vow to heed your words and act accordingly!”
The cardinal, now on his knees, was practically begging, clinging to my every word.
If only he had listened sooner, things would have been so much easier. But no, it always takes a shock to get through to them, making it seem as if I’m the one issuing threats.
I offered him the most benevolent smile I could muster and helped him to his feet.
“Since you’ve gone to such lengths, I’ll trust you once more. Let’s work well together from now on.”
You understand, right? Let’s do this right.