by Tony Brennan
The cardinal shuddered, and closed his eyes; his worst fears realised. The young bishop was not even remorseful! He opened his eyes again and continued gravely with the questioning:
“Tell me, how long has this obsession been going on?”
“Oh, only about six months, I think it is.”
“Good, then it won’t take much will power on your part to stop it immediately.”
“Stop it?”
“Oh course, you must stop it. You are a priest, and not only a priest, but a bishop! Think of the scandal you are giving. If this Frenchie knows about it, then very soon others will obviously know as well.”
“I suppose you’re right. I’ve kept it pretty much a secret, but it’s out in the open now, I know. You see, she came with me today to the office.”
“She never did!” shouted the cardinal. “The brazen hussy! Have you taken leave of your senses? Are you completely without shame? You have taken solemn vows to God and you regard them as nothing?” The cardinal paused for breath. “Dear God, is nothing sacred with you anymore? I never dreamed this would happen; I should have prevented your consecration as bishop; you’ll have to be defrocked. Oh, Lord, Lord, Lord God, forgive this wretched man! Oh, the shame of it all!”
Bishop Spotels asked the cardinal, his face puckered with concern: “Would you like to meet the lady, Eminence?”
The cardinal grimaced. “I most definitely would NOT like to meet her but I suppose I must. Perhaps I can talk some sense into her. Tell me, what is her name?”
“I’ll only tell you her first name. It’s Delilah.”
“Seems appropriate! So, like her namesake, she seduced you.”
“She certainly did. Completely bowled over I was; it was love at first sight; I felt woozy in the head when I saw her; I thought my feet had left the ground and I was floating like a cloud; I saw flowers all around me …There was music playing in the trees … I …”
“Stop that nauseating bilge! That’s quite enough; it’s straight out of one of those dreadful celebrity magazines,” shouted the cardinal, “I’ve had enough of this! Bring the wretched trollop in!”
Bishop Samuel Spotels turned his head to the door and called: “Come in Delilah dear; it’s all right, the cardinal will see you.”
The room exploded into sound as the door crashed open on its hinges, and in bounded a huge, young St Bernard dog, its long blue-grey hair flowing as its gigantic feet crashed on the wooden floor then slid on the carpet square. The dog paused, bared its teeth at the cardinal, then seeing its master, nearly flattened him by jumping onto his lap and kissing him with its huge red tongue. Sammy disappeared from sight under the size and weight of the huge dog.
Sammy struggled back into an upright position and holding the dog tightly by the collar, looked at the cardinal. Shaking with suppressed laughter, and trying desperately to keep a straight face, he said: “Eminence, may I present to you Miss Delilah Spotels.”
The cardinal, who usually was never at a loss for words, goggled at the spectacle before him. Realizing he had been tricked once again, he picked up the vase of flowers on his desk; threw it at both man and dog, as he shouted: “Get out! Get out! Get out!”
It was only when Bishop Spotels and his dog were leaving the room – both covered with water and blooms – that the old man started to laugh helplessly, tears running down his cheek.
Sammy, closing the door, heard the old man say: “Oh, Sammy, Sammy, why aren’t you still here with us? Nothing’s the same since you were made a bishop and taken away from us. Everyday something funny used to happen.”
Alone in his office once more, Charles looked down on his desk, and saw the letter that had caused all the trouble. I’ll deal with that mischief-making Frenchman – cardinal or not – in a letter he won’t forget in a hurry, he decided. And I’ll send him a photo of Father Spotels’ lover.
That’ll take the smirk off his sanctimonious face!
EPISCOPAL FLUTTERS IN THE OLD DART
(THE CARDINAL TAKES ON ENGLAND)
His Eminence Charles Cardinal York and His Lordship Bishop Samuel Spotels – the cardinal’s one-time secretary; now the Titular Bishop of Darumbuljka – were sitting together in the airport terminal waiting for their plane to be called. The younger bishop, for some reason, was holding on to the edge of the older man’s black suit-coat.
The cardinal had now reached the age of seventy-five, and had been invited to Rome to receive permission to retire, in person, from the pope himself; they were old friends. The cardinal had invited Bishop Spotels to accompany him on the long journey, as a friend, and also, he thought shrewdly, in case anything went wrong.
Bishop Spotels was grateful for the company of his old friend, and one-time boss, as he needed to go to Rome himself to consult the curial offices regarding the restoration of his new diocese to a residential See, so both friends were happy they could travel together.
In their travel plans, the two prelates intended to make a brief visit to an old friend of the cardinal’s in London; then, go on to Rome. They both thought it would be wise to travel to London first; the elderly cardinal could rest up for a couple of days after the long flight.
The younger bishop, usually called ‘Sammy’ by the cardinal, was a stocky, muscular man with a battered, humorous face and crew-cut hair. He was beginning to get tense, and kept his eyes fixed firmly on his companion.
The cardinal was tall and ascetic-looking, closely resembling a particularly fragile saint from a stained-glass window – which was a joke, Sammy thought; the old chap was as tough as an old boot!
Sammy knew the danger period was beginning as the time of departure drew ever closer; he knew well how awkward things could become if he didn’t watch the devious cardinal like a hawk. He was therefore ready when the old man stood up suddenly to ask his next question, Sammy’s hand grasped, even more firmly, onto the tail of the cardinal’s coat.
“Are you absolutely sure, Sammy, that we’ve got everything? We’ll be away for several weeks you know. I can’t remember whether we left the budgerigar with Rising Damp, or not.”
“Eminence, I’m not going to answer that question again, and that’s that; there’s no use asking,” Bishop Samuel Spotels answered brusquely, then added: “And, you know perfectly well, the housekeeper is not called ‘Rising Damp’ …”
“Well she always seems so damp; she’s always washing things. Last time it was the toaster – it’s never worked since. I tried to fix it with a fork, but it gave me a tremendous shock; I don’t use it any more ... But, Rising Damp … she might decide to wash poor Percival; he could drown, poor little chap ... However,” the cardinal admitted, genuinely contrite. “You’re right, of course; I did ask that before, but you know, Sammy, how tense I get waiting in these awful places – all glass, dribbling children, and raucous announcements.” The cardinal went to move away. “I think I’ll just wander around for a little; that might help me relax…”
“Oh, no you don’t! Not on your life,” Sammy answered sharply, pulling the cardinal back down again firmly by his coat. “Remember the last time when you just ‘wandered’ off; you ended up in Moscow, and what a job I had to find you and get you back here again.”
“It was a very interesting experience,” the cardinal protested indignantly. “I met the Russian Orthodox Metropolitan …”
“And the Chief of Police.”
“Yes … but look at the positive side; I learned Russian.”
“Oh, yes? You could say that, only if the Russian language consists of just two words: ‘Da’ and ‘Nyet’. You used ‘Nyet’ so often they ended up calling you the ‘Metropolitan Nyet’ in the prison.”
“Where the food was terrible! I tell you what, Sammy,” the cardinal lowered his voice, and advised the bishop confidentially, his face serious, “if you’re ever going to turn to crime, then don’t go to Russia. You’d die if you had to live on …”
“Ssh. Ssh! They’re calling our plane. So now, Eminence, just pick up your h
and luggage, then it’s just in through the metal detector, for a final check, and we’ll be off. The plane will be leaving in about 30 minutes.”
The two clergymen joined the queue, and Bishop Spotels began praying silently to St Jude; travelling with the cardinal, one needed all the help one could get!
***
Sammy sighed as he tried to find room for his legs. He knew the cardinal’s decision to always fly economy was motivated by a desire to travel as cheaply as other ordinary people did, but being human, Sammy often wished that, just occasionally, the cardinal would overcome his scruples, and try business class instead. For one thing, the food … His thoughts were interrupted by his elderly companion.
“Do you know, Sammy, that although this food tastes exactly as though it were made of plastic, it is said to be very healthy and good for you?”
“Oh, yes? Where exactly did your read that? An airline booklet by any chance?”
“Well, yes it was, but it’s not too bad, really. The reason I’m not eating anything is that I am determined to lose this excess weight. It has worried me for some time now.”
“Really? Just where is this excess weight located? You’re as thin as a beanpole and always have been… whereas I actually do need to diet. Somehow or other, I have put on ten kilos over my boxing weight. I’m determined to get that off.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed, Sammy. You really need to diet; so you see, all things do work out for the best, don’t they? You can’t eat this food; you’ll take off several pounds – I don’t like those kilo things – and soon you’ll be prancing around again like a youngster.”
“I said I wanted to lose weight; I didn’t say I wanted to starve to death …”
“Not another word about it; we’re travelling like all our flock and that’s that.”
“Next time, I’ll travel for the first time in my life, as one of the wealthy members of my flock.”
The cardinal refused to be drawn, so pretended not to hear. He wondered what he could do to cope with the deadly boredom of sitting, for so long, in a cramped position.
His eye lighted on the ‘emergency situations’ pamphlet; this was just what the passengers would enjoy. He used his big strong voice, and began reading from the card he was holding. It detailed just about every catastrophe that could ever possibly happen while travelling by air – for the edification of the other passengers.
Two young nervous women in the seat across the aisle, listening to the cardinal, became terrified, and started to cry with fright – the flight attendant rushed to their assistance. After cleverly dealing with the girls, the grim-faced flight attendant snatched the emergency pamphlet from the hands of the cardinal without a word.
Sammy immediately put on earphones, opened his breviary and began to say his Office; he was not going to say one word in defence of the cardinal this time.
Sammy had learned through the many years he had been with the cardinal, to concentrate on what he was doing himself, or he would never finish anything, so he said his office slowly, and thoughtfully, relishing the beauty of the ancient, timeless psalms.
***
The next hour passed without incident; their flight was smooth and the gentle hum had made the two bishops sleepy. Already the cardinal’s head was nodding. They had discussed the upcoming visits with the Holy Father; Sammy’s special briefing on his imminent move to the newly-restored Diocese of Darumbuljka that he would get from the boffins in the curial offices in the Vatican, and both men were carefully avoiding the one topic that was in the minds of both: Sammy impending departure, both from his home country, and from his old friend with whom he had been for fifteen years – firstly, as his secretary and master of ceremonies, and then as his auxiliary bishop.
Now they were to go their separate ways, and Sammy was worried about the old man. He had never hinted at his plans for retirement. Where would he go, he wondered, and what would he do?
Sammy made a sudden decision; he would ask the cardinal straight out, no more mincing words.
“Eminence, I was wondering ...”
“Um? Yes?”
“What exactly do you intend doing in retirement? I mean do you have any family left that you would like to live with?”
“I do have a younger sister, Sammy. But her husband and I have never got on. It didn’t help that my sister married an atheist, of course, but I have to admit he’s been a good husband to her, and to the seven kids. But, it’s his attitude to me, that’s the difficulty …You see, he doesn’t like me; he once said he’d like to shoot me.”
“Good Heavens! Why was that?
“Well, he’s never really forgiven me.”
“Goodness gracious! What for?”
“Well, I find it hard to understand myself, but just because I burnt down their house, you wouldn’t think …”
“You What?”
“Sssh! don’t carry on about it! How was I to know that if I mixed the two chemicals together they would explode?”
“You mixed chemicals together? What the hell were you doing?”
“Young Danny, the eldest boy, wanted help with his homework one day when I was visiting, and Adolph …”
“Adolph?”
“Well, that’s what I called him – the husband; his real name was Cecil. Anyhow, Cecil was being sarcastic when he said that I was supposed to be a great scholar – wasting my life all those years at university, studying – and I couldn’t even help a sixteen year old boy with his homework. So … I thought I’d have to show him …”
“But you’ve never studied Chemistry, or general Science?”
“I realised that when the house blew up.”
“Dear God! No wonder they don’t want you for a guest! Was anyone killed, or badly hurt.”
“No … only Danny …”
“How can you say ‘only Danny’? That’s terrible. What happened to him?”
“He had just started to shave, and had a little stubble of beard on his chin that he was intensely proud of; in the explosion, it burnt right off. He never forgave me. Even when he became a Bishop, and we meet at posh conferences, we just bow politely to each other.”
“He’s a Bishop?”
“Oh course, he’s a bishop. I just don’t talk about him, and he doesn’t talk about me either, that’s all.”
“And all because of a scrubby bit of beard.”
“Well … there were a few other things. You see, I accidentally poisoned his little dog, as well. It was one of those tiny dogs; looked like a rat.” The cardinal looked irritated. “Now, there’s no need for you to look at me like that. It was not intentional.”
“Give me strength! What did you do?”
“Well, Hercules was off colour, and I was trying to cure the wretched animal by natural methods. I had read this old Victorian book on remedies for horses, and I thought it should work on dogs as well. You see, if you mix …”
“Spare me, Eminence, I can bear no more. Just go to sleep will you …”
The cardinal smiled; he thought that would shut Sammy up. He looked fondly at the younger man; good old Sammy, he thought, he’d believe anything!
Sammy yawned. “Well, Eminence, we’ll have to think up something, less dangerous, for you to do in your retirement. Oh, dear! I can’t keep awake. Why don’t you just tilt your seat back a little, stretch out those long legs of yours and see if you can nod off?”
“Good idea, Sammy. I really am very tired … really tired; it’s been a long and tiring year … so much work … so many ceremonies ….But, I’m looking forward to London…so restful …”
The men slept.
***
Arriving in London on a miserable grey and bleak day, the cardinal and bishop shivered as they left the plane. Charles thought the rude remark made by the flight attendant as they left the plane door, totally uncalled for. She had suggested to them that they might consider using another airline next time they travelled! The nerve of her! He determined to write to the management.
The two men collected their luggage, and Sammy carefully piled all their belonging onto a trolley. They then waited outside the terminal for the car which would take them to stay with the cardinal’s old friend, an elderly bishop living in the East End.
Eventually, a tall middle-aged, corpulent Indian gentleman arrived in a very small black car and collected both prelates and their luggage. He introduced himself as Thomas, and announced that he was the driver, and chief cook, at the bishop’s house.
With great difficulty Thomas, aided by Sammy, succeeded in tying most of their luggage onto the roof-rack, and the rest was piled onto the passengers’ laps as they squeezed into the back seat.
The two bishops, peering over the top of cases, professed themselves delighted to meet the Indian, while the cardinal whispered to Sammy: “We’ll have curry each meal, just wait and see.” Both he and Sammy were united in their detestation of curry.
Charles then answered a question from the driver, “You’re so right, Thomas, a lovely day indeed; it’s so … so very … bracing!” Charles whispered aside to Sammy, “I’m freezing to death; how can anyone live in this climate. I should’ve put on another sweater.”
They soon arrived at the English bishop’s house in Mulberry Street. It was a poor street with terrace houses running to seed, uncared-for front gardens, tattooed youths were lounging against walls, cigarettes hanging from the edge of their lips. There seemed a positive fetish for metal pieces of all shapes being inserted into faces, necks, and arms, for ornamentation. There was a rather high smell from uncollected garbage bins pervading the area.
The cardinal was surprised that this would be where the bishop’s house was located, and he noted with alarm that there was a high wall around the large, old building where the bishop lived, with barbed wire on the top. He nudged Sammy and pointed to the wire.
Turning again to the driver, he asked. “Thomas is there much crime in this area of London?”