The Reversed Hierophant

The guards, who had heard from their captain about what was happening in the lower city before arriving, were on edge, eager to avoid any physical contact. Their evasive actions filled the eyes of the poor with anger and hatred. The hands that stretched out from the gaps in the fences and barbed wire like waving black flags, exuding an ominous aura.

“Go back! Everyone, go back! Stay at home!”

A man dressed in a captain uniform held up a crude loudspeaker made of rolled tin sheets, pressed it tightly against his mouth, and shouted at the top of his lungs.

The silent crowd turned their eyes to him, and gradually, low whispers appeared in the crowd.

“They’ve locked us up. Do they want us to die here?”

“They don’t care about us… It’s an order from the Papal Palace. The Holy Father has abandoned us.”

“Go home? I don’t have anything to eat at home. The York family at the bakery are all dead. There are too many corpses in the church that there are no places to put them. I’ll die if I go home too. Has the Holy Father really abandoned us?”

The whispers and confused sounds gradually grew louder, and the captain noticed that more and more people were coming from the street behind. They were pushing forward in confusion and anger, like a dark tide hitting a weak dam.

“The nobles in the upper city just don’t want to be infected by us. They’re afraid of death and they might run away from Florence soon. Then we will be the only ones who die here.”

Someone said this in the crowd, and the captain’s heart skipped a beat. He quickly looked around, but the crowd was so dense that he couldn’t tell who said what.

“The Holy Father won’t abandon you!” the captain shouted at the top of his lungs. “Doctors from the Papal Palace are already preparing medicines. They will be here soon!”

But his words didn’t seem to calm the agitated crowd. A fiery light appeared in the eyes of the numb people, and they glared at the people on the other side of the fence. Some had already started trying to pull at the barbed wire on the fence.

“Oh my God, this won’t do,” the captain realized something keenly. He was numb all over and subconsciously wanted to step back, but in front of the angry crowd staring at him, he felt that as soon as he stepped back, he would be swallowed up by the oncoming wave. “Go and report to the Papal Palace. They’re going to rebel!”

The Holy Father in the Papal Palace did not, as people imagined, wait comfortably for the evacuation of Florence. The cardinals and nobles in the council chamber were already arguing. Each of them had a look of fear on their faces, and they were divided into two distinct factions, arguing fiercely about whether or not to withdraw the Holy See from Florence.

As Rafael and Julius had anticipated, the news of the plague in the lower city quickly reached the desks of the cardinals and the great nobles of Florence. The Papal Palace’s bailiff, wielding a staff decorated with the Holy Thorn, knocked on their doors and, in the name of the Holy Father, invited them to a meeting in the council chamber. Everyone knew full well that the topic of discussion was whether the Holy See should leave.

Since Saint Leah had established his throne in Florence over a thousand years ago, the Holy See had never left. Under the threat of the plague, the Pope fleeing his own territory would be a huge blow to the Church’s prestige. Wouldn’t it prove that the Holy Church had been abandoned by God, and that divine punishment had even fallen on the papal throne? And the Pope, as God’s representative on Earth, fleeing in disgrace, would forever nail the Church to the pillar of shame.

The kings would be ecstatic about the decline of the Church’s authority. They had long been eager to free the crown from the scepter of God, completely stripping the Pope of his influence over the people. Wasn’t this a golden opportunity?

Those who insisted that the Holy See should hold its ground in Florence argued forcefully, almost pointing their noses at the opposition and calling them demons who had abandoned the glory of God. Those who demanded that the Holy See withdraw were even more righteous, arguing that the disease could completely destroy the Holy See, and that it was acceptable to suffer a loss of prestige rather than face an empty Holy See.

They asked again, was it their piety to watch cardinals, bishops, priests, and even those noble people die one after another? As they said this, they glanced at the Pope in the main seat. Everyone knew that the ‘noble person’ he most wanted to say but omitted was the Pope himself, but he had not said it out of courtesy.

The two sides argued fiercely in the council chamber. An archbishop of the pro-migration faction was waving the report in his hand and shouting at the opposite side while standing on a stool. On the other side, an archbishop of the conservative faction immediately jumped onto the table and hit him right in the nose – his movements were so fast that Rafael didn’t even have time to ask the deacon to stop him. The two gray-haired clergymen soon started to reenact a Florentine version of gladiatorial combat on the long table, panting like bulls.

The people around them stood up to pull them apart, and of course, there were inevitable physical conflicts. Rafael watched the scene of chaos that was gradually turning into a full-scale brawl and calmly turned to his secretary, “How is the lockdown of the lower city going? – No, let the gentlemen vent their anger. They will know when to be quiet.”

His last words were addressed to the nervous-looking deacon.

Julius smiled. “The city guard has gone to the lower city. If they’re quick, they’ll report back soon.”

He was right. Almost the next second after he finished speaking, a young man in a city guard uniform was led in hurriedly by the guard at the door. He stared dumbfounded at the scene of bishops and nobles in fine clothes fighting in the hall, his expression as if he had seen a god holding a roasted leg of lamb suddenly appear at his door and invite him to dance the samba.

They walked through the flying papers and robes torn from someone, carefully tiptoeing to avoid stepping on broken glass ink bottles, like Saint Moriah coming to seek help from God after going through nine tribulations, and finally came before the Pope.

“Your Holiness.” The city guard knelt on one knee before Rafael and kissed the lily and thorn embroidery on his robe.

Rafael looked at him gently: “Please rise, sir. What do you have to tell me?”

——”You evil big-nosed freak! You’re a fool whose brain has been clouded by the devil! Do you want the entire church to be destroyed along with you!”

——”Bah! Even Mysis, who tempted the saint would not be more evil than you! The moment the Church leaves Florence, it will be condemned by God. You have betrayed the holy seat of God, and you want us to betray our highest faith with you! I spit on thee!”

The Pope’s gentle voice was mixed with the archbishops’ verbal attacks. They were quick-witted, and in an instant, they all turned into eloquent ancient Greek philosophers, using allusions from the scriptures and various slangs at will, making anyone who came here think they had come to the debate hall of a theological seminary.

In such chaos, the Pope had his own quiet world around him. All the noise and chaos could not affect him at all. The city guard looked uneasily at a book that had just flown over his head and said hesitantly, “Uh… the people in the lower city seem to be out of control. More and more people are gathering there, and unless we use force, our defenses will collapse at anytime.”

“Oh,” the Pope’s smile remained unchanged, “Thank you, sir, for bringing me this timely news. Please go and rest.”

“Your Holiness!” the soldier suddenly raised his voice. He took a deep breath and stammered, “I… I’m sorry, but, but I want to know, will you abandon us? Will you leave Florence?”

He had heard what the protagonists were arguing about. He admitted that what they said made sense. Precisely because they all made sense, he was now confused about what to think. As for himself, of course he wanted to stay far away from the plague, but he also had some relatives and friends, and it was impossible for all of them to leave.

“Of course I won’t abandon you.” The golden-haired Pope lowered his eyes and looked at him, his tone steady and powerful. “I am your Holy Father. Is there any father in this world who abandons his children?”

His words were not so forceful, but the young man’s heart suddenly settled down. He bowed deeply to the Pope, “Thank you, Holy Father.”

Rafael watched him leave the council chamber and turned to the attendant beside him, “Alright, calm the gentlemen down.”

The attendant pulled on a bell rope nearby, and the rapid and crisp bells rang continuously, symbolizing that the spokesperson of God was about to speak.

The people who had been arguing fiercely quieted down in an instant, almost as if they had been waiting for this bell.

They quickly tidied up their robes that had been pulled apart, picked up belts from the ground that they didn’t know who belonged to, and tied them around themselves casually, glaring at the people on the opposite side of the table like bulls.

“My brothers,” the Lord of Florence turned a blind eye to their previous quarrel, “I am grateful for your careful consideration for the Holy See, and I have also felt your deep love for Florence. I have just received some news.”

The clergy and nobles pricked up their ears and listened intently.

“The Florentine city guard I sent to seal off the lower city told me that the people in the lower city are already showing signs of chaos. If we don’t use force, they won’t be able to control the situation.”

Immediately, someone raised their voice: “Then just use force!”

The speaker was a richly dressed nobleman who sat on the side of the migration faction. He had obviously exerted a lot of effort in the previous struggle, and his carefully curled mustache was drooping over his mouth. He was trying hard to fix his beautiful mustache with his fingers.

A bishop immediately glared at him: “They are also children of God! How can you say such cruel words!”

“Gentlemen, you can have a wonderful debate in the grand lecture hall of the Florentine Theological Seminary,” Sistine I said coldly. “What I need is a solution. Tell me how to calm the anxious and suffering people.”

“If none of you can come up with a feasible solution, then I have a way.”

People looked at each other for a while, then lowered their heads towards the end of the long table: “Please, Holy Father, enlighten us.”

Sistine I rested his hands on the armrests, his expression calm and relaxed: “I will enter the lower city and stay with the people there until the epidemic is over. All affairs of the Papal Palace will be fully handled by my loyal and devout secretary, Sir Julius Portia.”

Everyone had their mouths wide open, their expressions as comical as if they had swallowed a raw egg, and their faces were as colorful as a paint shop.

Several people exchanged glances secretly, and their interactions, which they thought were hidden, fell into Julius’s eyes. The Secretary-General stroked the ring on his thumb and wrote the names of these people into the blacklist.

“I don’t need any objections,” Rafael blocked their words before they could speak, “This is the result of my careful consideration. You can either stay with me or leave Florence – I forgive you for all your self-preservation behaviors, and I forgive you on behalf of God.”

Many people immediately swallowed what they were about to say and began to consider their choices.

“At your will, Your Holiness.”

The most conservative group who reacted the fastest were already overjoyed and loudly agreed. As for the Pope’s statement that he would enter the lower city… there would always be a way to make him change his mind.

What they didn’t expect was that after Pope Sistine I walked out of the council hall, the Knights Templar were already standing at the door in solemn and orderly formation. He boarded the carriage, and the knights surrounded the Pope, escorting the carriage straight west.

The bishops who were left behind looked at the direction of the Pope’s carriage in confusion. After a while, their faces turned pale. “That’s… that’s the direction of the lower city! He was actually serious!”

Of course he was serious.

The decisive Sistine I, escorted by the Papal Guard and the Knights Templar, passed through the upper city and, under the watchful eyes of countless people, stopped in front of the layers of fences in the lower city.

The people there were still in a standoff with the city guard. There were already remnants of a fence at their feet, and the city guard members, holding spears and flintlock guns, were nervously and anxiously confronting them at a distance.

“His Holiness the pious and great Pope Sistine I, has arrived!”

The Pope’s herald rode ahead on horseback and solemnly proclaimed the Pope’s arrival.

The arrival of the Pope stunned everyone. Even the angriest people couldn’t overcome their long-standing respect and faith in the Pope. When they saw the silver light armor of the Knights Templar and the snow-white uniforms of the Papal Guard, they knelt down one after another, mumbling the Pope’s title and praying for his protection.

The carriage stopped, and a tall and slender young man jumped out of the carriage. He looked around, and the Knights Templar quickly found their guard positions. The young man with black curly hair tilted his head, revealing a handsome and somewhat enchanting profile, and reached out a hand towards the carriage.

The thin Pope in the carriage lowered his head slightly and walked out. He stood on the carriage step, overlooking the vast crowd of people. Sunlight shone from behind him, and the messy, dirty, and depressing low-rise slums lined up on both sides of him. Everything was so suffocating. Standing in the sunlight, the Pope was like a saint descending from heaven, bringing the grace of God to this long-forgotten land.

“My people,” the golden-haired, purple-eyed Pope was tall and slender, and his snow-white robe and golden chasuble wrapped around his body. He looked like the messenger of God that people imagined in their impoverished imagination. God had sent him to the earth to face the suffering of the world, so he could reach out to lift up the helpless and sinking souls.

“I, Sistine I, as your protector whom you call upon for help, your Holy Father, the incarnation of God have sworn to save you. My children, my brothers and sisters, you have entrusted me with your precious faith, and I will be with you until the devil retreats from this sacred land under the glory of God.”

His words were very brief, and after he finished speaking, he slowly got off the carriage with the help of the young man, tidied his clothes, and walked steadily towards the fence.

“Oh my God… Your Holiness!” The city guard didn’t know whether to be amazed or shocked. The statue-like Knights Templar immediately moved. They strode forward, quickly dismantled the fences entangled with barbed wire, and cleared away the wooden boards, stones, and debris, opening a path for people to pass through.

Sistine I didn’t hesitate for a moment. Under the almost silent gaze of everyone, he raised his foot and stepped onto this rotten land that was flowing with pus and covered with scars.

“Seal off the lower city.”

He gave the order as he passed through the fence.

This time, no one expressed anger at the city guard who moved. The fence closed again behind the Pope, and the creaking sound seemed like a meaningful declaration.

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