4
I sat rigid in my seat. Did his dislike of me stem from such prejudice, when we were all of us sworn to
the service of Christ?
“Was not Peter a fisherman?” Iacopo Larroca asked, spreading out his hands. “And his brother
Andrew, as well as John, and James?”
My superior ignored the question, still frowning over the Monsignore’s earlier words. Then he said,
“That you say I lack ‘facts’ for points where I have told you what I know is to doubt the integrity of
my words.”
“Very well, then,” the Monsignore said, clenching his hands, “I doubt the integrity of your words.”
Both the Monsignore and Father Angelico lapsed into a deep silence. The papal messenger sat,
adjusting his notes. If there ever was a chance for me to speak, it was now.
“I believe that I should be sent. I accept that, in this regard, I am biased, but I think I am a better
choice than Father Adalberto. He is a good man, but old, and I am young. We are coming into winter,
and it is colder in the north. He is, not that I would wish, these could lead to problems...”
I stumbled over my words and my thoughts went sprawling with my tangled tongue. My argument
was valid, at least to me, but I could not find the words to express it.
“You see, Monsignore?” Angelico said, spitefully. “Father Cosimo cannot make a coherent argument.
He has no chance of persuading the farmer to give his land to us.”
“I was under the impression that the old man had all but agreed already.”
“There is still a chance he could donate his land to a different order. Look, even the effort of
agreeing with you overexcites Cosimo. Not like Adalberto.
While the two men argued, I took a breath and focused. The twin points were that I should be given
a chance to prove myself, and that I was physically fitter than my rival for the role. But how was I to
express that? I breathed again, and again. It was clear to me, and I suspect to the Monsignore, that
5
Angelico’s opposition to me was based on nothing more substantial than snobbery. I took another
breath, calming myself, and began to speak once more.
“I assure you I can argue as well as Father Adalberto. It is auspicious that you propose this journey
on St Allucio’s feast day, when he is remembered for building shelters in the mountain passes, but in
truth, there is no guarantee of shelter. I would not wish to endanger my brother Adalberto. I am
physically more fit than he, and I have a longer life ahead of me. He is too old, I fear, for this
journey.”
“The Bible says you should respect your elders!” Father Angelico shot back.
This put our argument on more uncomfortable terrain. Using the bible to support him gave great
weight to Angelico’s position, but it also opened the door for me to use quotes that suited my
argument.
“Proverbs 20:29 says that ‘the glory of young men is their strength,” I said, “and the honour of old
men is their grey hair.’”
“The Holy Bible, in God’s wisdom, says many things,” Monsignore Iacopo Larroca said with a sigh. “It
is full of wisdom, but I do not think that the Holy Bible’s words will help us in this instance.”
“Your quote is drawn from the Proverbs,” Angelico criticised me, ignoring Iacopo’s rebuke.
“It is still part of the Holy book,” I answered. “Tell me, what is the chapter and verse of your
authority?”
“All parts,” my superior growled. “It is widely accepted. Leviticus 19:32 'You shall rise up before the
grey headed and honour the aged.’ Job 12:12 ‘Wisdom is with aged men, with long life is
understanding.’ Titus 2:2 ‘Older men are to be temperate, dignified, sensible, sound in faith, in love,
in perseverance.’”
He threw the quotes at me like weapons, and I bowed my head, accepting them.
6
“Clearly, there is weight behind your case,” I said. “But, on a more practical side, Father Adalberto is
old and he is tired. I am young and fit. The Bible says to honour the old, but to honour someone does
not mean to send them out into the snow to freeze.”
“But I am... I mean he is, he is more experienced, and well-spoken...”
“And I am the fitter monk. He has not left Rome in years.” I glanced at the Monsignore and saw he
had a slight smile tugging at his lips. Emboldened, I went on. “Father Adalberto’s fine city manners
will not stand him in good stead with a farmer in the north. He may have more years under his belt,
but I am younger, fitter, and with a better knowledge of the world beyond the city walls.”
“You’ve also got a much bigger belt,” Angelico said, folding his arms and looking at me with disgust.
“So that’s all you have left to argue with? The size of my belt?” I rose to my feet, and I worried
briefly, that they might think me too quick to anger. “This is a mark of my village traditions. It is of no
bearing on our work. If your only arguments are that your chosen one is older and that I have a big
belt, you have lost.”
My superior sat in silence, glaring at me. The Monsignore also rose from his chair.
“Then it is settled. Father Cosimo will be tasked with convincing Attaviano Strozza of Montello del
Lanzigo to gift the Order his land when he dies, that we might build a seminary for the training of
priests for the Society of Jesus in the Brughescia Valley. Cosimo will also be responsible for what the
Holy Father asks of him.”
I accepted the scroll from the papal messenger with as much calm as I could muster, and forced
myself to walk down the stairs without breaking into cheers. Finally, I was to go out and work for the
Order, not just copying out manuscripts for others to use, but with an assignment that would echo
for years to come.
As the day drew on, I worked, ensuring I would have a horse for the morning, some money for my
expenses, a map so I knew where I might find berths along the road, and every other need for the
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