The Reversed Hierophant

They returned to the Orange Blossom Church before nightfall. Ferrante didn’t say a word along the way, as silent as a shadow. Rafael tolerantly accepted his silence, peacefully telling him some trivial matters, occasionally interspersing a little about Lia’s past—Ferrante’s attention was always unconsciously captured by the Pope. In fact, if Rafael intended for someone to like him, no one could escape his charm.

Everything was as usual in the Orange Blossom Church, and no one seems to have noticed the Pope’s short disappearance. Rafael took off his wide cloak, talking to Ferrante who was following closely behind him, and walked along the dark and narrow stone corridor. The church, converted from a monastery, was built with huge gray stones. These majestic and solemn buildings often had arched long corridors, high and narrow windows, and spires that seemed to pierce the sky. The interior was dimly lit and seemed to be perpetually cold. As soon as you stepped into that door, you could feel the sudden drop in temperature and the smell of candles burning for years.

Stepping from the still damp and warm outdoors, Rafael immediately felt a needle-like pain in his knees. The Orange Blossom Church was good in every way, except that the temperature wasn’t really suitable for him to live in. However, he did not raise any objection, although his opinion would always be considered as a primary factor.

Ferrante took the long cloak from him, slung it over his arm, and followed the Holy Father. Then he stopped at the corner of the corridor – because the noble person walking in front of him had suddenly stopped. Ferrante was glad that he wasn’t distracted, otherwise he would have bumped into him.

Around this bend was the Pope’s suite, Ferrante tilted his head and saw the reason the Pope stopped in his tracks.

A tall young man was standing at the door of the Pope’s room, wearing armor that had been wiped clean. He held his helmet in his hand, revealing his golden long hair, and his whole person was like an ancient knight who had just walked out of a statue, radiating the virtues of integrity, purity, and humility.

“Ah…damn it.” Rafael murmured.

Rafael’s eyes wandered for a moment, and for a moment he wanted to turn around, but he quickly reacted—why should I be afraid of him?!

When he turned to look directly at the other party again, Leshert also saw him and walked towards him.

The knight saluted him, and the forest green eyes under the golden hair were rich and transparent, purer than the finest emerald.

He was looking at Rafael with disapproval with his extremely beautiful eyes.

“Your Holiness, where have you been? I haven’t received a notice from the priest about you leaving, and you weren’t at your room. I apologise for not being able to conduct a widespread search. It’s very dangerous outside. If you didn’t come back when the bell rings, I have to consider blocking all the streets—”

Leshert said in a solemn tone. Rafael felt a little guilty, but his expression remained calm, and he simply avoided this dangerous topic: “What do you want to see me about?”

Leshert had a lot of things to do, and he wouldn’t come to see him often, which was why Rafael didn’t tell him. Being caught red-handed this time was a complete coincidence.

“The Secretary-General sent Dr. Polly in, alongside a letter from Rome.” The upright knight commander answered the Pope’s question obediently.

The letter, enclosed in a well-sized leather bag, still carried the knight’s body heat. Rafael took the letter, flipped it over and examined it. The letter was well sealed, and the wax seal was a gilded rose and long sword, the royal emblem of the Roman empire. The signature in cursive below was tall and beautiful, with a sharp sense of arrogance.

It was a letter from Sancha.

After the princess left Florence, she still maintained a certain amount of correspondence with Rafael. She seemed to regard Rafael as a trustworthy friend, discussing philosophy and art with him in her letters, or complaining to him about the annoying nobles in the Roman court. Sometimes she would also send some gifts alongside the letters.

According to the old royal rules, Sancha also had companions who grew up with her. These companions were all from the families of Rome’s powerful ministers and great nobles. Becoming the princess’s companion was very beneficial to their future marriages, especially since Sancha also had the title of Archduchess of Assyria and would be the Queen of Assyria in the future. But Sancha didn’t like these companions who came to her side for the sake of interests or rules.

She complained more than once in her letters, ‘If only they were willing to read something other than the ‘Holy Scripture’ and storybooks? I really don’t want to talk to them about how to capture the heart of a handsome knight, nor do I want to study how to use belladonna to make my pupils look bigger and more pitiful—history books are full of people who died from belladonna, but they don’t care at all!’

Rafael had to admit that he didn’t dislike this kind of correspondence, and he could even relax a little while corresponding with Sancha. Sancha was a very good conversationalist. The education she received gave her a rich knowledge reserve. The queen cultivated her into a humble and confident person. She was eager to know all kinds of new knowledge, and she was also willing to listen to the smallest troubles and accept opinions that were different from hers.

Rafael held the letter in his hand and thanked Leshert. The knight commander watched the Pope walk past him and said earnestly, “If Your Holiness must go out, for your own safety and that of Florence, please be sure to notify me.”

Rafael sighed, “I promise, Knight.”

After getting a satisfactory answer, Leshert smiled. This kind of pure handsomeness was enough to make all the ladies scream and faint.

Rafael pushed open the door and walked into the room expressionlessly. Polly was sitting in front of the fireplace, warming himself by the fire with a grin on his face. Seeing Rafael come in, the old man, who was still holding the poker to poke the fire, waved to him.

Rafael closed the door with his backhand, and Ferrante hid in the corner like a shadow. The young Pope walked over and bent down beside Polly. The old man, whose cheeks were flushed red by the flames, glanced at him, his eyes fell on his legs, and he snorted: “Feeling uncomfortable again?”

Rafael just smiled. The old man pressed hard on Rafael’s leg a few times and cursed several times. He pulled two soft and fluffy cushions from the sofa and threw them in front of the fireplace. Pointing at this simple ‘stool’, he said, “Sit.”

Rafael sat down obediently—of course, you can’t expect someone sitting on the ground to have any manners. He curled up one leg, and the other was held in Polly’s arms, kneaded and rubbed hard, like a lump of dead dough that was roughly rubbed back and forth by him.

While rubbing, Polly didn’t forget to hand Rafael the poker he had just been holding: “It’s almost cooked, hurry up and take it out.”

Rafael obediently took the poker and poked it in the fireplace a few times. In the gap below the stacked firewood, he saw what Polly had buried: a few eggs, a cabbage, and a piece of roast meat.

Rafael stretched out his hand and pulled a few sheets of parchment from the nearby table, put them on the ground, and carefully scooped the hot eggs one by one onto the paper, then the roast meat and cabbage. The surface of the cabbage was covered with ash, and the outer leaves were burnt and blackened, looking a bit disgusting.

Poli made a tutting sound: “When I was in the East, people there would roast chickens covered in clay, wrapped in big leaves, and they could also stuff other dishes in the chicken belly. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to find a whole chicken in the kitchen—oh oh oh, wrap the meat in cabbage for me. Yes, thank you, dear.”

Rafael tore off the charred outer part of the cabbage, revealing the crisp and juicy leaves underneath. He tore off a few leaves, cut off the roast meat with a knife, rolled it in the leaves, and stuffed it into Polly’s wide open mouth.

Incidentally, the knife he used to cut the meat was the one that Sancha, on behalf of the Queen of Assyria, had given him at the coronation ceremony.

Polly chewed the meat contentedly and nodded repeatedly. Rafael cracked the eggs with a knife and lazily peeled the eggshells. The eggs just taken out of the fire were scalding hot, and his fingertips quickly turned red. Rafael only occasionally stopped to shake his hand, and when he felt the pain pass, he continued to peel the eggs.

“I told Julius that you should just stay in the Papal Palace. Why did you come over again? It’s not safe here.” The fire in the fireplace jumped, illuminating the pope’s light golden long hair, and the side seemed to be covered with a layer of gorgeous gauze.

Polly chewed the roast meat and rolled his eyes: “Unsafe?! Hmph, so you do know it’s unsafe?! A doctor’s place is where the sick are. Even if it means dying, I’ll be the last one standing.”

Rafael wanted to say something, but in the end he just smiled helplessly.

Those words were harsh, but he hoped deep down that it was true.

Many doctors in the lower city had already died, including the priests and nuns who assisted in treatment and nursed the patients. These dedicated clergy who did their best to help people were the truly devout. They did everything they could to reduce people’s suffering, but all their efforts only delayed their journey to death and couldn’t save them from the shadow of death.

As Pope, Rafael couldn’t stop their continued efforts and sacrifices. He even had to encourage such behavior and call on more people to help others.

“So why are you here this time? Have you found any results in your research on this disease?” Rafael peeled a boiled egg, held it up in front of him, examined it, and took a small bite. Without hearing Polly’s answer, he nodded knowingly, “—There are results, but the results are very bad, or you think I can’t accept it?”

Polly’s face twisted and he swallowed the meat in his mouth forcefully, complaining secretly that the meat was really too hard to chew, and opened his mouth to scold: “You’re like a charlatan!”

Rafael smiled helplessly and corrected him: “In a sense, I am the biggest charlatan on this continent.”

“I really hate people like you,” Polly complained, frowning, “Nothing could be hidden from you—yes, I thought of a way, but it’s a bit bad.”

“Please tell me. Doctors only need to find a way to treat it, and I will bear the consequences.” Rafael said calmly. He took another bite of the egg and was satisfied to find that the egg was now at the right temperature and the yolk was not too dry.

“This method, well, it can’t be called treatment. We’ve been studying it for a long time and can’t find any way to treat it. Any ill person would simply die. It’s a fatal disease, so we changed our minds—this idea was provided by Sir Julius, he asked us to think about how to stop the disease from spreading instead of finding a cure.” Polly licked his lips. When it came to professional issues, this eccentric old man suddenly became reliable.

Rafael didn’t say a word, just focused on eating the egg, but Polly knew he was listening.

“We… we tried many methods, and we found that maybe fire could stop it,” Polly said, moving uneasily. This was a great blasphemy to believers. The doctrine believed that fire was a punishment from God, and only those who committed great sins and were defiled by the devil needed the purification of fire. The children of God should be buried in the earth with their bodies intact so that they could obtain peace after death¹.

“People who died from the disease should be cremated, including the items they used during their lifetime, and the houses they lived in should also be thoroughly cleansed with vinegar…”

Rafael listened to this shocking statement without any reaction and continued to eat the egg attentively, as if the egg in his hand suddenly possessed some kind of magical power, attracting the Pope to taste it carefully.

“The sick must be completely isolated from the healthy people². Sir Julius’ suggestion is to open a special church to accommodate them. This church will also be thoroughly cleaned and sealed afterwards, and the dead will be sent to a designated place for cremation and later buried in the church cemetery…”

Polly stopped talking and showed a look of despair: “Oh God, I can’t imagine… it’s crazy, but we really have no other way, Rafa, I know this is unacceptable, but but…”

He couldn’t go on. As someone who had been influenced by the doctrine since childhood, he couldn’t so easily say such a suggestion.

The young Pope stuffed the last bite of egg white into his mouth and carefully wiped the dust off his fingers. He looked down with a very gentle and peaceful expression, but this quietness only made Polly more uneasy: “Listen, I know that this idea is terrible, and that people won’t accept this, but we have to find a way to save those who haven’t gotten sick yet, we can’t cure…”

“Then let’s do it.” After wiping the last finger, the golden-haired Pope raised his eyes and said lightly.

“Ah?” Polly, who had prepared a long speech to persuade Rafael, stopped abruptly, his eyes widened, and his mind hadn’t turned around yet.

Rafael smiled at him: “You didn’t need to say so much, and your persuasion skills are atrocious.”

Polly was so annoyed by this that his nose twisted: “What did you say?!”

Rafael’s expression was calm, as if making such a big decision was just a trivial matter for him: “I will issue a papal edict to appease them, and the Knights Templar will be on standby at all times. Within three days, all the dead will be cremated and buried in the Holy See cemetery.”

His words were cold. Although it was Polly who proposed this suggestion, when he heard such a clear and serious statement, Polly still felt an inexplicable chill in his heart.

He remembered that when he first proposed this suggestion, all the doctors were devastated. They tried their best to find a better way to no avail, and had no choice but to submit this plan to Julius.

The Portia family head reacted similarly to Rafael. He listened carefully, thought about it, and then agreed.

Polly was of course happy to see a decision being made with such efficiency, but it was undeniable that as a human being, he also felt fear.

They seemed to have stripped themselves of all human emotions, just weighing, considering, thinking, and then deciding.

They skipped all the processes of sadness, struggle, and sorrow, and went directly to the end result.

“That’s why I really dislike people like you.” Polly muttered in complaint.

It made him feel hate, fear, and pity at the same time.

It was unclear whether Rafael understood the meaning of his words or not. The Pope didn’t say anything about this obvious act of disrespect. He lowered his head, peeled another egg, and handed it to Polly. There was a flawless smile on his face: “Eat?”

Polly looked at his indifferent reaction, gnashed his teeth in anger, and shouted viciously: “…Eat!”

Author’s Note

Sistine I’s diary: …The eggs are choking and hot.

Translator’s Note

I find it pretty realistic that Rafa and the doctors were unable to find a cure for the plague. Even basic hygiene was still abysmal during that period let alone the discovery of something such as germ theory. Rafa was a person of the times who experienced rebirth not some transmigrator. Pretty brutal way of containing the spread of disease but definitely something expected of the Medieval period.

Just a fun fact, the causative bacterium of plague was first described and cultured by Alexandre Yersin in Hong Kong in 1894, after which transmission of bacteria from rodents by flea bites was discovered by Jean-Paul Simond in 1898. Effective treatment with antiserum was initiated in 1896, but this therapy was supplanted by sulphonamides in the 1930s and by streptomycin starting in 1947. It can be seen that the cure for the plague has only been known in the last 200 years.

1 Cremation – Resurrection of the body is central to the beliefs and teachings of Catholicism and Christianity. Because of this belief, the Roman Catholic Church had a ban on cremation for most of its history. In the Middle Ages, cremation was sometimes used by Catholic authorities as part of punishment for accused heretics, which included burning at the stake. However, in 1963, Pope Paul VI lifted this ban, stating that cremation does not affect a person’s soul, and does not prevent God from resurrecting the deceased’s body to new life.

2 Quarantine – The word quarantine comes from quarantena or quarantaine, meaning “forty days”, used in the Venetian language in the 14th and 15th centuries and also in France. The word is designated in the period during which all ships were required to be isolated for 40 days before passengers and crew could go ashore during the Black Death plague.

The forty-day quarantine proved to be an effective formula for handling outbreaks of the plague. According to current estimates, the bubonic plague had a 37-day period from infection to death; therefore, the European quarantines would have been highly successful in determining the health of crews from potential trading and supply ships.

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