Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
"We should always be disposed to believe that that which appears white is really black, if the hierarchy of the Church so decides."
-Saint Ignatius of Loyola, founder of the Society of Jesus
"Dear Lord...why Paraguay?" Father Ignatius muttered to himself as he passed the millionth acre of uninhabited scrub that day. He crossed himself, and continued to walk up the hill. The priest tried to take comfort in his namesake, the true soldier of God, St. Ignatius. At least he would be in Asuncion soon.
This whole thing was perplexing. Father Ignatius had passed into difficult times. The pastor of a small church in western Catalonia, he had been taken completely by surprise by the chaos that swept the region. After royalist troops and Catalan rebels had clashed for days, the tide of battle in the area turned in favor of the Spaniards. However, Father Ignatius hid a small number of Catalan fighters and their families in his church, at their request.
Even though he supported the King at the time, he could not deny sanctuary to fellow Christians.
Of course, the Spanish Army was quite less accomodating. Soon enough troops arrived, and demanded that Ignatius hand over the rebels. They set fire to the church when he refused. Despite being badly burned on his legs, he escaped to the church's cellar in time, which had a passageway to the parsonage. The Catalans were not so lucky.
Perhaps his Jesuit superiors (God bless and protect them) were right in recalling him to Paraguay...which was now the center of all their activity in the New World. The King did not rule here, oh no...only God did. At least it would keep him away from the chaos in Spain. But there were rumors of many Jesuits being called to South America...very unsettling rumors.
At the least, he would be safe in Asuncion.
Poor Father Ignatius. The last thing he expected was the rioting. This peaceful, provincial headquarters of the religious order had been turned into a madhouse. Mestizos and rabble-rousers made bonfires in the streets, and piled wood (and several Spanish flags, it seemed) on the flames. Not a militiaman in sight...or at least, the ones he saw had joined the rioters.
"Jesu Maria, is no place safe?"
"Apparently not, Father. No place is safe from a people desiring freedom."
Ignatius whirled around, to confront a tall man, wearing the broad-rimmed hat of a clergyman.
"Who..."
"The same as you, Father. Recalled, from Mexico City in my case. Father Angelo, your obedient servant."
The tall, darkish priest swept into a bow.
"Angelo, why is this happening? Why have all the Jesuits been brought to Asuncion?"
"More arrive every day, my friend. They are being gathered by our superiors (God bless and protect them) for something momentous."
"So it seems...but what, exactly?"
"Perhaps, Father, this declaration may enlighten you."
Angelo withdrew a folded piece of paper, and handed it to Ignatius. The priest's creased brow furrowed as he read...as his eyes grew wide with shock. As he looked at the crest at the proclamation's base...the Keys of St. Peter no less, he bowed his head in sadness.
"Angelo...why has the pope excommunicated us?"
"There are several reasons, all complicated. But this will be the greatest schism since the Reformation, my friend. We may even need to take Loyola's metaphor literally."
As Ignatius pondered this, the strange, tall priest dipped his hat.
"I suggest you head to the capital. The Bishop is there. I am your obedient servant, Father Ignatius. Good luck."
And he walked away. As the chaos of the street swirled around him, the simple man scratched his head, confusedly.
"How did he know my name...?"
Why THayli, why not Mexico or something
? An enemy is so much more reliable than than an ally...
