Work Text:
Vatican Gardens, 1:30 in the morning
A shadow wandered in the garden. Under the moon, a vague silhouette stood out from the perfectly maintained gardens. The wind rose, sweeping with the man’s clothes. He walked aimlessly, his heart heavy, his vision clouded by tears, his brain clouded with a mixture of mourning, emptiness and fear. What was the use of a chaplain if the man he had to take care of had just died? What could he do? Get home? He has a title of archbishop, but to go where? To stay here? But why? His work as chaplain and confidant was finished. Enter the service of a cardinal as a secretary? No need, those who need it already have one. And what if we just must go home? But no one is waiting for him at home. Here there’s peoples to talk with every day, about everyone and nothing, like Cardinal Lawrence and Sister Agnès. There was always something going on here, stories, laughter and loud voices. He greatly prefers the laughter of the sisters to the outbursts of the cardinals, but conflicts also sometimes erupted. If he goes home, it would be silent; the house would still be empty.
He then heard footsteps behind him. Who could still be standing so late in the night? No, that question was stupid. Of course, many were still awake, the time when the throne is vacant is always a complicated one.
"Monsignor" called the voice behind him.
A woman’s voice? Oh no, what had he done? Had he awakened all the sisters of Charity by wandering outside at night? Oh no, he wasn’t allowed to do that to them, they were always kind to him. But if he woke them up, he should go apologize, he thought.
"Monsignor, gently say the voice, a hand resting on his arm, you should not stay outside so late, and without a coat, it’s November, you risk taking cold."
Finally, he recognized the voice, and the woman in front of him. It was Sister Agnès. He knew that she said what she thought that I was a woman who did not let go, but also that she could be gentle and care a lot about others.
"I... I’m sorry, my sister... I ... woke you up..." he stammered
"Come with me, you shouldn’t be wandering outside like that."
He followed the nun without a word, while she led him into the dining room of the Casa Santa Martha. He watched her in silence heating water in a kettle, before pouring the hot water into cups with tea.
"Please, sit down. Here, warm yourself up " she said, placing one of the two cups in front of the man.
He gently took the cup with his trembling and cold hands. He didn’t dare make the slightest noise, he didn’t drink tea, he was just looking at him, his ideas blurred.
"Something is bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?"
“I’m sorry, I woke you up.”
"Don’t worry, I was still awake, you know with what’s going on I don’t think many people can sleep."
Janusz nodded, looking down at his hands wrinkled by age. 73 years old, he was 73 years old, he thought. He found himself lucky that his health didn’t bother him, he was just a little slower than in his youth. Only his hands trembled from time to time, from age or from alcohol. Surprisingly, his liver was not a problem for him, even though he had problems with alcohol. Once he overheard Eminence Tremblay talking in French, saying that Janusz feared nothing because he was built like a Slavic. Janusz understood French but Eminence Tremblay never knew it.
"You haven’t even had dinner. At least have something warm," she said softly.
"Why can’t you get to sleep?" he asked.
He didn’t want to answer her questions, his sadness seemed stupid in his eyes.
"There are a lot of things to do, we have to prepare everything, and there’s a new sister who arrived only a few days ago, her name is Sister Shanumi, she comes from Nigeria, she doesn’t speak Italian."
«She will learn quickly, I’m sure of it. I remember when I arrived... that was... 25... 27 years ago I think... I lost count... but my Italian was also terrible at the beginning...”
"Yes, I remember we used to end up drawing the words you didn’t know."
"Yes, it was funny... he replied with a slight smile. I now feel like I can no longer speak my own language... it’s... so strange..."
“Come on, Monsignor, you can’t forget your own language, it’s impossible. I’m sure that if you go home even just a little bit, you’ll see you haven’t forgotten it.”
“I prefer to stay here... there is nothing left for me...”
"Don’t you have brothers and sisters?"
“No... and you?”
"I have an older brother, 10 years older, but it’s been a long time since I’ve heard from him. He took over the family estate and the name that goes with it. He has always been insolent and thought he’s above the others... we have never been close, and my ordination to emphasize it. For him I had gone crazy, I was going to lose my life to do humanitarian work on the other side of the world while I was born a daughter of the old French aristocracy, “née avec une cuillère en argent dans la bouche” as we say in French."
Janusz taken back, amazed "You... are you noble...?"
"In theory, in practice a title of nobility in France has no legal value, but families keep their traditions and their elitist side..."
Janusz remained there, silent. A noble... he had only known the fields almost all his life. She had much more grit and courage than he did, he thought, why would someone, even more a noble girl, help him, him, son of peasant who always had a lot of trouble memorizing his Latin correctly...
"Is everything okay? You don’t seem to be doing well, did you catch cold?"
Agnès’s words suddenly took him out of his thoughts.
“Sorry?”
"Is everything okay? You look very pale."
“Oo... uh... it’s okay, don’t worry, Sister.”
"It’s normal to worry. We all worry about others. Imagine if you had a woman, she would surely be even more worried."
“A woman.... Oh no, I don’t think I could have married... I surely would have made a poor husband... I’m not very good...”
"Yet you are wonderful here," she said, sitting next to him. "You are a great help to everyone. I am sure that the three holy fathers you served would all agree with me.”
Janusz looked into his cup. Were they really so happy with his work? They were no longer there to tell him. And gifted in what? It’s true that he used to help the sisters and tried to do them as little work as possible. He avoided being noisy and made sure not to leave a mess, even when drunk.
"You haven’t eaten anything, aren’t you hungry?"
"No."
“You have lost your appetite since the death of his Holiness. I know it’s hard, she said, placing her hand on his arm. It’s hard for everyone, even for me, but you can’t starve yourself. And no matter who gets the chalice, we’ll always need you. Even Adeyemi Tedesco and Tremblay cannot deny how much help you are here.”
He gently placed his hand on Agnès’s
"Thank you..., he replied with a tired smile, thank you..."
"You are exhausted, finish your tea and go to bed, you need it."
He nodded and silently drained the tea to cool down. Then he stood up and took Agnès’s two hands in his own.
"Thank you very much... I think this is what I needed."
"If you need anything, come see me."
Then he left in the corridor without making any noise, like a ghost.
Alone in the refectory, Agnes hoped that one thing, that Clement’s successor would be someone gentle, and someone young, so Janusz would never have to see anyone die ever again.