The Reversed Hierophant

Young Tondolo led the new Pope through the long corridor covered with thick carpet and stopped outside a room. The smell of frankincense¹ wafted through the crack of the tightly closed door. Legend has it that when Saint Leah was born, fragrant resin dripped from the trees nearby, which emitted a pungent and exotic fragrance after being burned by fire. This expensive incense from the East became a hallmark of the Holy See. During every major celebration, huge copper basins would be erected in the square, and barrels of incense would be poured into them. Thousands of florins worth of incense would be burned in a single day.

For example, in today’s Miracle Square, several large copper basins were continuously burning frankincense and myrrh. The entire city of Florence was filled with this heavy, solemn fragrance, and Rafael’s money was also being burned away like water.

Rafael sniffed and discerned a pungent mixture of pepper and laurel leaves in addition to the frankincense and myrrh. This was used to stimulate the patient’s mind. Usually, only patients who were completely unable to wake up before dying would be forced to use this method of stimulating the nerves – to allow him enough time to leave a last testament.

He glanced at Young Tondolo and pushed opened the door.

Palazzo Riccardi was originally the residence of Pope Riccardi III. In order to be elected Pope, he had donated all his wealth to the cardinals, including this palace, which had only recently been completed. After Cardinal Tondolo obtained Palazzo Riccardi, he did not make many renovations, so the palace still retained the square and regular style of the period of Pope Riccardi III.

The bedroom was not large, with purple velvet curtains covering the floor-to-ceiling windows tightly. Slender, classical columns supported a high ceiling. The rise and fall of the figure on the four-poster bed with curtains drawn was barely visible. Incense burned in the stove in front of the bed, but its peak had passed, and the smoke now drifted lazily outward.

Rafael’s brow furrowed briefly, then smoothed out.

Julius also carried the scent of myrrh and laurel leaves, indicating that he had spent a considerable amount of time in this room. What did he want to hear from Cardinal Tondolo? Was it really, as he had said, merely to learn what unfulfilled wishes Tondolo had?

Rafael was reluctant to maliciously speculate about his mentor, his guide, and the man who had sheltered him for so long in his youth, but…

He had long entrusted the patrol shifts of the guards outside the Pope’s chambers to Julius. He knew Julius’s mind and methods all too well. Yet, on the night of his death, there was no one outside the Pope’s bedroom. The assassin had boldly pushed open the door and walked right up to his bed.

Until he solved this mystery, he couldn’t give his precious trust to anyone.

Not even Julius.

Especially Julius.

Betrayal from someone close to you was more bitter than any wine in the world.

Rafael was unwilling to taste that bitterness again.

“Father, father, the Pope is here to visit you, father, wake up…” Young Tondolo stood behind the curtain, softly calling out to the sleeping Cardinal Tondolo. The old man in the bed had white hair and beard, his face was full of old wrinkles, and his body was thin and sunken into the fluffy down quilt, like a dry branch falling into cotton. If you didn’t look closely, you couldn’t even see that there was a person there.

Cardinal Tondolo, though barely in his early fifties, appeared as frail as an octogenarian. The wealth and splendor of Florence gave him a better life than most people, but it also drained the nutrients from his body in the last stage of his life.

Constant streams of visitors roused him from his slumber, large doses of spices and medicines dragged his life on a thread, while his relatives tried to squeeze more wealth from him. The resources in the hands of a cardinal were so huge that ordinary people could hardly imagine. While he had not yet been called by the Lord Almighty, everyone wanted to grab the greatest benefit for themselves.

Cardinal Tondolo’s face was gray and deathly pale, his cheeks sunken. He lay in a long slumber, his mind constantly wandering back to his youth, a time filled with vigor and vitality. Alas it’s great to be young. You had a flexible mind and quick thinking. He could wield a sword against bandits, debate endlessly with others over a single issue for days on end, and throw himself wholeheartedly into any task.

His life was neither long nor short, yet to him it felt like an eternity. His dearest friends had long passed, his wife had abandoned him, and none of his brothers and sisters survived. He had taken on the responsibility of carrying on their bloodline, caring for his nieces and nephews as if they were his own children. He educated them, arranged their marriages, managed their wealth, and elevated them to higher positions, all to ensure the prosperity and continuity of the Tondolo family. For this, he had even chosen to sell his soul…

‘Lord, is it possible for this soul to find salvation …’

A voice, distant and then near, pulled at his clouded consciousness. With a hazy awareness, he recognized it as his son’s.

Piano, oh Piano, this overly naive and foolish child. Before his father had even drawn his last breath, he had already been manipulated by others. He even brought that venomous snake, Julius, to my bedside. When I am gone, what will become of that foolish boy? And what of the Tondolo family?

‘So, who is it this time?’

With a sense of weariness and disgust, Cardinal Tondolo forced his eyelids open. Through the dim, flickering light of the room, he saw a figure standing at his bedside.

Struggling to keep his eyes open, he could only make out a head of long, radiant golden hair. A familiar white-gold robe swirled closer as the figure leaned over him. The scent of green myrrh and spikenard, exclusive to the Pope, filled his nostrils. He had been surrounded by this fragrance day and night, and he could always count on seeing this familiar robe as soon as he opened his eyes.

Through his blurred vision, he saw a pair of purple eyes staring at him, with their ends narrow and long, as sharp as a knife.

He was very familiar with these eyes.

Could it be that his old friend had come back to pick him up?

Yes, yes, that’s right, he was the Pope, God’s representative on earth. After being called by the Lord, he would surely join the ranks of the angels. It was not strange for him to come to the mortal world to guide the souls of the dying…

Young Tondolo watched in horror as his father, the dying Cardinal Tondolo, suddenly burst into tears. From somewhere, the cardinal found the strength to raise his trembling hands towards the young Pope, his chest heaving as if in supplication.

“Delacroix… Derek! Derek! Please – Oh God, I’m so sorry you had to come…”

He mumbled incoherently, repeating a name over and over: “Derek, Derek… Have you forgiven me? You’ve come, have you forgiven me?”

Delacroix was the secular name of Pope Vitalian III, who had passed away more than five years ago.

Little Tondolo suddenly remembered that his father and Pope Vitalian III had been close friends for many years. But after Pope Vitalian III’s death, his father seemed to never mention him again, as if the man had never existed in his life.

What did he mean by calling the new Pope by that name? Were they very similar?

Young Tondolo’s scalp tingled. So was that rumor true? Was the new Pope the illegitimate son of Pope Vitalian III?

Rafael, who had been mistaken for someone else, showed no displeasure. He gently said to the restless young Tondolo, “Could you give me and Cardinal Tondolo some time?”

“Of course, Your Holiness,” Tondolo bowed politely and left the gloomy room.

The young Pope stood by the bed, the smile he had worn all day fading. An unmistakable weariness and coldness leaked out from the corners of his eyes and brows, making his expression seem almost inhumanly cold, almost identical with the portrait of the Pope hanging on the wall.

“Cardinal Tondolo, please take a good look at me. Who am I?” He leaned closer to the bed, his gaze cold. The confused old man became even more certain, repeating “Derek” over and over in a dazed manner.

Rafael frowned irritably and stared at him for a moment before asking, “What did Julius say to you?”

The name “Julius” briefly awakened the cardinal’s reason. The face of the head of Portia crashed through his mind, and Cardinal Tondolo was forced to pull himself out of his fantasy.

“You are not Derek…” Tondolo finally saw the face clearly. he murky light in his eyes changed, and Rafael’s face overlapped with his fading memories. Another emotion surged up, “You’re Rafael… You…”

He seemed to realize belatedly that Rafael was wearing the papal tiara².

“Ah… you’ve succeeded?” He recalled with difficulty. It seemed that this was indeed the case. The papal election and coronation took place around this time, and Rafael was also one of the candidates, but he didn’t expect that Rafael would actually succeed.

This was really an incredible thing.

“You’re very similar to your father, he–” As people aged, they would love to reminisce about the past. Tondolo subconsciously began to think about Delacroix’s coronation, but found that he could not remember it at all. It had indeed been a long time ago, but how could he have forgotten?

“I appreciate you remembering my father, but I’m not here for that.” Rafael wasn’t interested in his father’s affairs at all and cut Tondolo off abruptly.

“Among the votes I received, there was one from Tondolo. I came here for this reason. As a token of my gratitude, I promise to do whatever within my power for you.”

“The election³…” Tondolo vaguely remembered, oh, it seems like that had happened, “Someone has already paid the corresponding price for you, I was just fulfilling the agreement.”

Rafael nodded. “Then, if you have nothing else to say, I’ll take my leave.”

He turned around without any hesitation. Although the old man, Tondolo, was sick and confused, and spoke incoherently, Rafael noticed his vigilant attitude – the old man still retained his sharp nature, and it was impossible to get anything out of him. He would probably rather take those secrets to the grave.

“I beg you to protect the Tondolo family, or at least my children, Holy Father.” Tondolo murmured.

Rafael nodded to him with his back turned: “It’s within my ability.”

“I’m sorry, child, I’m so sorry,” the old man’s weak voice came from the bed, “I didn’t take good care of you these years. Derek actually loves you very much. I’m sorry…”

Rafael pursed his lips.

“Your birth was unexpected for Derek, but he was never unhappy about it. He was really happy to find you…”

“Happy?! Happy enough to send assassins to kill me?” Rafael suddenly became furious, turning around abruptly and growling softly.

Cardinal Tondolo moved his lips and mumbled painfully: “That wasn’t his intention…”

Rafael’s anger came and went quickly. He realized in an instant that such an argument was meaningless. The focus of the topic had long been dead, and it was boring to explore the original intentions of a dead man.

“Please get some rest.” Rafael left coldly.

“He was really looking forward to it…” The old man seemed to be crushed by an unknown guilt. He began to mutter Delacroix’s name again, begging for his forgiveness.

Rafael pushed open the door and went out. As he closed the door behind him, the dying man on the bed suddenly let out a desperate cry, “Derek! Forgive me! I beg you—”

“—Beware of Portia!”

Rafael was startled and instinctively tried to listen, but the man on the bed had already fallen silent.

Young Tondolo, who was guarding the door, went in, and within moments, the room was filled with sorrowful cries.

“Father——!”

Rafael stood at the door, his mind racing with thoughts, but in the end they all turned into Cardinal Tondolo’s cry before his death.

Beware of Portia⁴.

Who was he talking to?

Was it himself, or the Delacroix he imagined?

Why should he be careful of Portia? Was it someone with the last name Portia, or was it a metaphor for something else?

Delacroix came from the Portia family, and Portia was his strongest supporter. There should be no disagreement between the two.

Or perhaps these words were meant for him?

In his previous life, he hadn’t visited Tondolo, so he had never heard these words. If he had, perhaps…

Perhaps what? Rafael smiled self-deprecatingly. He wasn’t the type to be suspicious over just a few words, but—

He had never felt so deeply that he was surrounded by so much fog.

Portia, Tondolo, Delacroix…

There seemed to be many intertwined secrets in the past that he could not reach.

The servants began to prepare for the funeral in an orderly manner. As a cardinal, Tondolo’s funeral could be held in the Angel Hall of the Holy Cross Cathedral, and the Pope could be invited to preside over the funeral. Rafael would naturally not refuse this invitation, but that was a matter for a few days later. The Palazzo Riccardi was in chaos due to the death of its master. Rafael was politely sent out by Tondolo to the carriage back to the Papal Palace, waiting for the messenger from the Palazzo Riccardi to officially deliver the obituary.

As soon as he returned to the Papal Palace, the deacon guarding the door came to report that Julius Portia, the Duke of Rhine, had been waiting in the Papal Palace for a long time.

Rafael, pressing down on his right knee which was aching more and more severely, stood up with the help of a deacon. Hearing the name “Portia” again at this moment, he was almost sick of it.

“Please ask him to leave,” the young Pope said expressionlessly, for the first time turning his mentor away. “It’s very late. His Grace the Duke needs to go back and rest. Anything else can wait till tomorrow.”

The handsome young man in a platinum robe said this and walked straight in. The Pope’s carriage had drove straight into the Papal Palace. The head of the Portia family, standing behind the Roman column, heard the whole conversation and the smile on his face gradually faded.

Author’s Note

The uncle calling his nephew ‘Holy Father’, the subtle feeling brought by the age difference and the reversed status difference….I really like this kind of strangeness.

The surname Portia/Boeotia comes from the city-state of Thebes, which is equally famous alongside Athens and Sparta. Thebes is located in the Boeotia region so I used it as a name. It sounds very similar to the famous Borgia⁵ family, but my inspiration for designing this setting is the Medici⁶ family….But there could be similarities later….

Translator’s Note

1 Frankincense – Frankincense, also known as olibanum, is an aromatic resin used in incense and perfumes, originating from Africa, India, and the Middle East. The word is from Old French franc encens (‘high-quality incense’) and is commonly used in church services.

2 Papal tiara – A crown that is worn by popes of the Catholic Church from as early as the 8th century to the mid–20th century. It was last used by Pope Paul VI in 1963.

3 Papal Conclave – a gathering of the College of Cardinals convened to elect a bishop of Rome, also known as the pope. Catholics consider the pope to be the apostolic successor of Saint Peter and the earthly head of the Catholic Church.

4 Portia – Originally, the author was referencing Boeotia, one of the regional units of Greece since before the 6th century BC. It is part of the region of Central Greece. Its capital is Livadeia, and its largest city is Thebes. I decided to continue using Portia for the family name for easier translations.

5 House of Borgia – a Spanish noble family, which rose to prominence during the Italian Renaissance. The Borgias became prominent in ecclesiastical and political affairs in the 15th and 16th centuries, producing two popes, the most infamous being Rodrigo Borgia/Pope Alexander VI.

6 House of Medici – was an Italian banking family and political dynasty that founded the Medici Bank. This bank was the largest in Europe during the 15th century, facilitating the Medicis’ rise to political power in Florence and made the Medici family the wealthiest in Europe for a time.

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