Eminently Respectable Capers

by Tony Brennan

  “Sir, Darumbuljka … most beautiful city in desert. Here when Nabataeans rule Petra. They build my city; is called ‘brown’ city of plains – Petra be ‘red’ city.”

  “Really? How interesting. Are there very big buildings there – you know – with tall … you know … um … high buildings?”

  “Yes, effendi, there are two buildings which are sky-touchers.”

  “Sky-touchers? What on earth? Oh, yes, I do see what you mean,” the cardinal decided to change the subject.

  “Do you know the holy Abuna, the Bishop Samuel Spotels?”

  “Oh yes,” grinned Ibrahim, showing his teeth – hidden before by his beard. “Everyone him knows. Great fighter, the Abuna!” He laughed aloud, letting go the leading rein of the camel – to the terror of the cardinal – and pranced around imitating a prize fighter, clothes flowing in every direction. The old man watched the performance in horror:

  Dear God, he worried, what on earth has Sammy been doing? What does this hairy fellow mean, a ‘great fighter’? Has the heat of the desert and the isolation turned Sammy’s head?

  Well, I’ll just have to wait and see; perhaps I can do something about the situation, but I must try to remember that he’s not just an auxiliary Bishop now; and he’s definitely not just the young secretary I once had, all those years ago. He may not welcome any interference from me. But … fighting! That didn’t bode well for the dignity of the Episcopacy.

  The cardinal’s thoughts were interrupted by his guide pulling the camels to a halt.

  “What’s the matter, Ibrahim? Are we there yet? All I can see are a couple of tents near that sand-dune. Is this Darumbuljka? It surely can’t be … can it?”

  The heavily bearded guide laughed loudly, and adjusted the long knife at his belt, flourishing it wildly. The huge blade caught the blood red rays of the setting sun and gleamed wickedly. The cardinal averted his eyes and began to pray audibly.

  After fixing his knife to his satisfaction in his sash, the guide answered:

  “No, not Darumbuljka! That funny! This very beautiful, very modern, very hygienic, wash-up, bath-up, clean-up, dress-up, station. You like very much. Get down now, careful … camel kneel down … Ooops! You slide off; I tell you many times … No worry … sand soft.”

  The cardinal picked himself up carefully from the sand, and followed the guide with apprehension into the first of the tents. To his alarm he was seized by two burly men, naked to the waist with their heads in turbans.

  In total silence, his clothing was removed, and he closed his eyes thinking his time had come, but hastily opened them as he was physically lifted and placed in a steaming bath.

  The men left him alone – to his intense relief – to scrub himself clean. After bathing, he stood waiting for his clothes and found that a complete new outfit was brought in to him.

  To his stunned amazement, it was full Episcopal dress, complete with a beautiful mitre studded with gems. There was even a crosier of the finest silver. He dressed slowly and looked, bewildered, at the beautiful vestments he was now wearing. None of this made sense!

  In a state of wonder he was led to a camel – a different one – magnificently caparisoned, and when mounted, he sat tall and stately, his crosier in his left hand.

  “Little way go, now,” chattered Ibrahim happily, “just round dunghill.”

  As they rounded the hill, Charles gasped in wonder. Before him was a great city, very modern, cable television dishes visible on the houses, streets well paved; the place buzzing with life, and sparklingly clean!

  He was confused – he had been expecting a few mud hovels and great squalor. To add to his confusion, the Mosque, large and imposing as he expected it would be, was apparently ringing what sounded like, of all things, the Angelus!

  The cardinal wondered if it were he, perhaps, who was suffering from heat stroke; he was imagining things. However, he was relieved to discover that a huge cathedral was situated very near the Mosque, and it was from there that the bells rang out gloriously.

  As the news of his arrival spread, the main street was filling with people, including a number of nuns, who joined the populace in clapping and cheering their welcome to their distinguished visitor. With a tremendous effort, the cardinal pulled himself together and began to give a series of blessings as he processed along the street towards the cathedral.

  There was a party waiting to welcome the cardinal, and Charles saw, to his amazement, that the Iman was there waiting alongside Bishop Samuel Spotels on the dismounting block.

  Even more surprising, was the sight of a boxing ring erected directly outside the main steps of the cathedral!

  Bishop Spotels helped the cardinal to alight, and for a moment held the old man tenderly in his arms. As he hugged the cardinal, Sammy whispered to Charles: “Be polite to the Iman won’t you? I beat him at chess the other night, so he had to agree with our bells ringing the Angelus for one week – nice bloke really, educated at Oxford, fearfully clever, and a keen boxer as well. Now for the speeches.” He released the cardinal.

  Bishop Spotels, speaking surprisingly well in Arabic, welcomed the distinguished visitor with sincere gratitude for making the long and difficult journey; then the Iman welcomed Charles on behalf of the city

  Charles in his turn, having no Arabic, spoke in English thanking his hosts for the wonderful welcome and expressing his awe at the beauty of their city.

  It was a typical, ‘response to a welcome’ talk that the cardinal had had to give on many an occasion, and he wondered – as Bishop Sammy Spotels translated what he said – why the people shrieked with laugher – it wasn’t meant to be funny!

  Eventually, they adjourned inside the bishop’s house – the Iman excusing himself – and Charles and Sammy were alone at last. Gratefully Charles removed the mitre from his head, and sipped the ice-cold lemonade he was given with real pleasure.

  “Are we really alone, my Lord Bishop,” he asked between sips.

  “We certainly are, Eminence,” Sammy replied, “it’s just like old times.”

  “Well, not quite,” responded the cardinal. “A couple of questions, Sammy. Firstly, what is the purpose of that boxing ring outside the cathedral?” Sammy’s eyes began to twinkle with mischief. If the cardinal had been less fatigued, he would have recognized the signs at once: the bishop was going to trick him again!

  “Simple really, Eminence. Whenever there is a religious difference between two of the Christians, in order to stop it getting out of hand, I put them in the ring and the winner after three rounds, is in the right! He has the correct theology.”

  “Wha-a-a-a-t!” spluttered the Cardinal.

  “And, when the Iman – his name is Feisal – has a similar problem with his flock, he puts them in the same ring under the same rules.”

  “But, isn’t there a court of higher appeal?”

  “Oh course there is! We’re not barbarians here! If there’s still trouble – even after the fight in the ring – then the winner has to take on either me or the Iman. If they can beat us, then they are the winners, but, as we’re both champs in the ring, so far no one has taken us on. Simple really.”

  “Sammy, I have to tell you this is not right; you will have to change all that; we’ll have to discuss it later, but first, tell me why did the people laugh so much at what I said?”

  Bishop Spotels looked a little embarrassed.

  “Well, Eminence, I sort of … spiced up your speech a bit – you know, made it a bit more crowd-pleasing …”

  “In what way?”

  “Well, I said you were telling them, for their own good, that you were the retired middle-weight wrestling champion in the Western World and that, if they didn’t behave, you’ll take on, personally, any man over the age of eighty-two.”

  “You what? Are you out of your mind? … No, don’t attempt to explain anything more to me Sammy. I cannot take any more today; I’m going to bed.” As the cardinal stood up, he happened to glance out of the window.


  His eyes goggled as he saw a small helicopter parked outside in the side garden.

  “Whose helicopter is that?” he demanded sharply, suspicion rising in his mind.

  “Why, mine of course; you don’t think I go traipsing around on camels when I want to visit my Diocese, do you?”

  “Why … you … you … wretched man! You made me ride that flea-infested animal for three days in the scorching sun, and through that ghastly sand …”

  “Well, I knew you thought this place was right out of the pages of the Arabian Nights, so I thought I give you a little glimpse of the romance of the desert – you know, the camels, the dust storms, the tents, the scorpions, the fleas, the lions that still roam the area – real movie sort of stuff. Now, you wouldn’t want to miss that, would you?”

  Sammy had to dodge as Charles threw all the cushions in the room at his erstwhile secretary. Having exhausted the supply, he reached for the lamp stand before suddenly deciding he’d had enough. He demanded to be taken to his room – it had been a long and very confusing day.

  However, on reaching his room, the cardinal found that the confusion had not yet ended. Lying on his bed was a very large metal key attached to a big bow of red ribbon. A printed note lay under the key. It read:

  Use this key and open your eyes

  Look up and you’ll get a big surprise.

  The cardinal looked at the note, puzzled. The doggerel was so bad, it had to be from Sammy, but what did it mean? He shrugged; he was too tired for anything else tonight. But tomorrow! He would solve the mystery then.

  ***

  Cardinal, Charles York was a very old man yet he still rose from bed before six in the mornings. When he had retired to a home for elderly clerics, he continued the practice of a lifetime, and was always in the chapel for Mass, forty-five minutes later. This morning was no different in spite of the fatigues of the past days, and the strangeness of his surroundings.

  When he entered the cathedral he was surprised to see that Bishop Sammy Spotels was just leaving; his Mass already finished. Goodness, he thought, this is very impressive; Sammy – in spite of the boxing ring and everything else – seems to be doing a good job. Charles, left alone with the master of ceremonies, stared, puzzled at the man – there was something familiar about him … Suddenly he realised what it was!

  “Ibrahim! What are you doing here? You’ve shaved off your beard, you villain. Don’t tell me you’re actually a Christian.”

  “Oh course, I am, Your Eminence,” Ibrahim replied in his beautiful English educated voice, “We have been for centuries.” The young man came and knelt at Charles’ feet.

  “Eminence, I humbly beg pardon for the deception I played on you during your journey. His Lordship, Bishop Spotels asked me to do it as a special favour.”

  “You mean you were only pretending not to be able to speak English?”

  “Of course, Eminence. I was educated in England – Harrow actually – then went on to Cambridge.”

  The cardinal was bewildered. “Then, why on earth, after that, did you come back here?”

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Charles realised how rude they would have sounded, so hastened to soften what he had implied: “I mean, it’s a lovely city, no doubt about that, but after London …”

  “Too many foreigners there, Eminence; you know, dark people! My family decided to return, and I agreed with them. I work at the University here.”

  “And you are Bishop Spotels’ master of ceremonies?”

  “Indeed I am, and my brother is an expert in Gregorian Chant; he will lead the choir today.”

  The cardinal sat down abruptly in the only chair in the vestry. He spoke slowly:

  “Ibrahim, I think I’ve managed so far to get everything wrong. I think it might be wise if you helped me to dress now for Mass.”

  ***

  After breakfast, Sammy explained that he had to be out for a couple of hours, so excused himself and left the cardinal alone – to his relief. Now, he could try to solve the mystery of the key. He waited impatiently until he heard the door slam after Sammy, then prepared to act.

  The cardinal took the key from his pocket and studied it carefully. It was beautifully made, about six inches long. Keeping a lookout for any servants, or any other people, in the house, he began trying the key in every door lock he could find. It fitted none of them.

  As he neared the rear of the large building, Charles found himself outside the kitchen door, and saw to his astonishment, that there was another building directly behind the bishop’s house. It had a big and very impressive door. Charles felt sure he had found the solution to the mystery.

  He advanced on the door, inserted the key and gave a loud whoop, as the door swung open.

  His mouth dropped open when he found Sammy standing there grinning.

  “Welcome home, Eminence,” he said, “this is your new home.”

  “My what? Is this another of your crazy games?”

  “Go outside again, Eminence, and look up over the door.” The cardinal did so and clutched the door post for support. Over the lintel was his very own crest and coat of arms.

  “But I don’t understand, Sammy …”

  “Look Eminence, you have retired. You have no family left, so I thought, why not come here to me? I’ve had this place specially built for you; there’s a study with the internet connected, your own phone, two bedrooms – in case you would like to invite a friend to stay – your own kitchen, but you’ll be having your meals with me, of course, unless you want to do things yourself. There’s a good sitting room and, best of all, Eminence, it’s all air-conditioned.”

  “Sammy, could I please come in and sit down.” The old cardinal came shakily into the house, and sat in one of the comfortable armchairs. He looked at his one-time secretary.

  “Sammy, why are you doing this for me? It’s unheard of … it’s also the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me in my whole life.”

  Sammy was embarrassed. “Well, we always got on rather well, didn’t we? And, to tell the truth, I’ve missed you.” Sammy gave a cheeky grin. “I especially missed all those dreadful things you did – getting me mixed up with the police and everything … the truth is, everything is pretty tame out here without you.”

  The cardinal was deeply touched. He dreaded that he might actually burst into tears at any moment, “So, you built this for … me …”

  “Yes, it’s called a ‘Granny Flat,’ so, of course once you’re in residence I’ll call you ‘Granny’ and …”

  “You’ll WHAT? Over my dead body!”

  Sammy went on. “And, as you’re so obviously over the hill, you’ll not be able to play tricks on me anymore.” Sammy dodged a glass bowl that missed his head by inches. He slipped out the door, popping his head back in to say quickly: “And, poor old chap, now just ready to sit in the old rocking chair …” As another missile crashed against the door, Sammy retreated laughing.

  Back in his new home, the cardinal chuckled. This is going to be fun, he thought. And there I was, thinking I’d be sitting in the retirement village, sharing endless boring stories with other old blokes. Whereas here! Well, if Sammy thinks the ‘old boy’ is finished playing jokes, he’s got another think coming.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a knocking at the door. Sammy’s head popped in again. “I say, there’s a special camel race on; I know you wouldn’t be interested – it’s a young man’s sport – but I’m going to have a bet on the race, so, see you later…”

  The cardinal jumped up quickly.

  “Wait for me,” he shouted, “you cheeky fellow, I’m coming.”

  Sammy chuckled happily, as he turned to leave; things were already back to normal!

  BACKGROUND TO THIS BOOK

  It is difficult for most people to realise that VIPs live two separate lives; one the exterior image they present, and are expected to present, to the public, and the private and inner being that exists behind the social mask.

 
Since man existed on the earth those who held important secular or religious roles have worn special clothing of one sort or another, and were expected to act, speak, behave, and above all, to be models of behaviour of whatever kind that was valued highly by the society in which they functioned. Mankind was aware that to remove those exterior ‘trappings’ would risk demeaning the office held, so that it would soon become totally socially and morally irrelevant.

  George Eliot, one of the greatest of the masters of English Literature, had this in mind when she wrote: ‘Scenes of Clerical Life.’ She wanted to highlight the human being, inside the public figure. Without conscious thought of Eliot, I think that is what encouraged me to create these two characters: the Cardinal and the Secretary/MC.

  I created these two men from two real characters I had known. I knew the Cardinal personally and was aware of his shining innocence which was coupled to a fiendish sense of humour; I was aware of how difficult it was for him to be always dignified, solemn, calm in the midst of horrendous problem situations, impeccably dressed – in fact all the things we, unconsciously, expect of the Sovereign, the grand old lady, herself.

  With the secretary/MC it was easier, but he, too, could never say publicly what he thought privately. Sammy Spotels had to learn as he went on to play the role of a VIP, but as he was a super intelligent young man who had a very healthy outlet in his motor bike and his boxing, it was easier for him.

  I think the best story in the group is the ‘Class Reunion’. This is the one I entered in the US International Short Story Competition and, to my delight, was a runner-up prize winner. The editors said that the writing reminded them of Guareschi (The Little World of Don Camillo); I hope that is so.

  In writing of my two characters and thinking of them for some years now, I’ve come to admire them and, as in the farewell scene between the two old friends at the airport, I think the genuine manly love that developed between the very old man and his young, faithful assistant is apparent – it is that of father and son. They are real human beings.