Chapter 5: Misty Rose (V)
◎Tang Dole◎
Young Dondol led the new Pope through a corridor covered with thick carpets and stopped outside a room. The smell of frankincense overflowed through the crack of the tightly closed door. Legend has it that when Saint Leah was born, the tree beside her dripped fragrant ointment, which emitted a tangy fragrance after being burned by fire. This expensive spice produced in the East became the iconic object of the Holy See. During every major celebration, a huge copper basin was erected in the square and barrels of spices were poured into it, and thousands of gold florins were burned in a day.
For example, in the Piazza dei Miracoli today, frankincense and myrrh were burning continuously in several large copper basins. The whole of Florence was filled with this heavy and solemn fragrance, and Raphael's money was also burning in it like water.
Raphael sniffed it and discerned that in addition to frankincense and myrrh, there was also a pungent scent of pepper and laurel. This was used to refresh 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 word.
He glanced at Don Dollar Jr. and pushed open the door.
Palazzo Riccardi was originally the residence of Pope Saint Riccardi III. In order to be elected Pope, he gave all his property to the cardinals, including this palace which had just been built. After Cardinal Dondol obtained Palazzo Riccardi, he did not make many renovations, so the style of Palazzo Riccardi continued the square and regular style of the period of Saint Riccardi III.
The bedroom was not large, with purple velvet curtains covering the floor-to-ceiling windows tightly. Slender classical columns held up the dome very high, and the rise and fall of human figures on the four-poster bed with curtains hanging down was almost invisible. Spices were burning in the stove in front of the bed, but the most intense period had passed, and the smoke was only faintly and weakly emitting out.
Raphael's brows frowned briefly and then relaxed.
Julius also had the scent of myrrh and laurel on him. He must have stayed in this room for quite some time, using pepper and laurel. What exactly did he want to hear Cardinal Dondol say? Is it really as he said? I just want to know if Tang Doler has any unfulfilled wishes?
Raphael did not want to make malicious assumptions about his mentor, his guide, and his long-time patron during his youth, but...
He had long ago handed over the patrol group of the guards outside the Pope's bedroom to Julius. He was very clear about Julius's methods and mentality, but on the night of his death, there was no one outside the Pope's bedroom. The assassin pushed open his door and walked to his bed.
Before solving this puzzle
, he couldn't entrust his precious trust to anyone.
Even Julius.
Especially Julius.
Betrayal from someone close to you is more bitter than any wine in the world, and Raphael doesn't want to taste this bitterness again.
"Father, father, the Pope is here to visit you, father, wake up..." Little Dondol stood behind the curtain, calling out to the sleeping Cardinal Dondol in a low voice. The old man in the quilt had white hair and beard, his face was full of old wrinkles, his body was thin, and he was sunken in the fluffy down quilt, just like a reed stick dropped into cotton. If you didn't look carefully, you couldn't see that there was a person there.
Cardinal Dondol is only in his early fifties this year, but he looks as old as an octogenarian. The wealth and splendor of Florence gave him a better life than ordinary people, but it also drained the nutrients from his body in the last stage of his life.
The guests who came and went woke him up from his sleep again and again, large doses of spices and drugs dragged his life on the thread, and 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, everyone wanted to grab the greatest benefit for themselves.
Cardinal Dandol's face was filled with a gray deathly look, and his cheeks were shriveled. He slept for a long time, but in his dreams he kept recalling his youth, when he was high-spirited and full of energy. Oh, it's great to be young. You have a flexible mind and quick thinking. You can hold a sword and fight robbers, you can debate with people about a problem day after day, and you can do things with passion.
His life was neither long nor short, but it was indeed too long for him. His best friend had long passed away, his wife had also abandoned him, and none of his brothers and sisters survived. He took care of their bloodline, looked after his nephews and nieces like his own children, educated them, married them off, collected wealth for them, and promoted them to better positions, making the Tangdol family stronger and more sustainable. For this, he even chose to sell his soul...
Lord, if possible, can his soul be saved...
The voice came from far away, like a spider thread pulling at his drowsy mind. He vaguely recognized it and recognized it as his son's voice.
Piano, ah, Piano, this overly naive and stupid child. Before his old father died, he had been played around by others, and even brought Julius, the poisonous snake, to his bedside. When he died, what would happen to this stupid child, and what would happen to the Tandor family?
So who is it this time?
Feeling so tired and exhausted, Cardinal Dandol raised his eyelids with difficulty, and in the dim light that was swaying in the room, he saw a figure standing beside the bed.
He tried hard to open his eyes wide and saw only long, shining golden hair. The extremely familiar platinum robe came closer to him as the other party leaned over. The scent of green frankincense and spikenard flowers that belonged exclusively to the Pope filled his nostrils. He had been accompanied by this fragrance day and night, and he could see this familiar robe as soon as he opened his eyes.
In his blurry vision, there was a pair of purple eyes staring at him, the tails of the eyes were narrow and long, as sharp as a knife.
He was very familiar with these eyes.
Could it be that an old friend came back to pick him up?
Yes, yes, that's right, he is the Pope, God's representative on earth, and after being called by the Lord, he should be a saint listed among the angels. It is not strange for him to come to the secular world to guide the souls of the dying...
Then young Dondol saw in horror that his father, the dying Cardinal Dondol, suddenly burst into tears. He didn't know where he got the strength from, but raised his hands and stretched them towards the young Pope, his chest heaving violently as if begging.
"Delacroix... Derek! Derek! Please - God, I'm so sorry you came..."
He mumbled incoherently, just repeating a name over and over again: "Derrick, Derek... Have you forgiven me? You come, have you forgiven me?"
Delacroix was the secular name of Saint Vitalian III, who had been dead for more than five years.
Little Dondol suddenly remembered that his father and St. Vitalian III had been close friends for many years, but after the death of St. Vitalian III, his father seemed to have never mentioned him again, as if this person had never appeared in his life.
What did he mean by shouting this name at the new Pope? Do they look alike?
Little Don Doler's scalp tingled, so was the rumor really true? Is the new pope the illegitimate son of Saint Vitalian III?
Raphael, who was mistaken, showed no displeasure on his face. He gently said to the fidgeting Dondol, "Can you please give me and Cardinal Dondol a little time?"
"Of course, Pope." Little Dondol bent down tactfully and left the dull room.
The young Pope stood by the bed, the smile that had been on his face for the day fell off, and the unconcealable fatigue and indifference flowed from the corners of his eyes and eyebrows, making his expression seem somewhat inhuman and cold, almost overlapping with the portrait of the Pope hanging on the wall.
"Cardinal Dondol, please take another good look at who I am." He leaned close to the bed with a stern look in his eyes. The confused old man became even more certain. He kept repeating "Derrick" in his mouth, looking drowsy.
Raphael frowned irritably, stared at him for a while, and suddenly asked: "What did Julius say to you?"
The name "Julius" briefly awakened the cardinal's reason. The face of the head of Portia opened a path in his mind, and Cardinal Tandol was forced to break out of his fantasy.
"You are not Derek..." Dondol finally saw the face clearly. The light in his cloudy eyes changed. Raphael's face overlapped with his almost fragmented memories. Another emotion surged in his heart, "You are Raphael...you..."
He seemed to realize belatedly that Raphael was wearing the Pope's tiara.
"Ah... you succeeded?" He recalled with difficulty. It seemed that this was indeed the case. The election and coronation of the Pope took place during this period, and Raphael was also one of the candidates, but he did not expect that Raphael would really succeed.
This is really too incredible.
"You are very similar to your father, he--" When people get old, they like to reminisce about the past. Dandol subconsciously began to think about Delacroix's coronation, but found that he could not remember it at all. It was indeed a long time ago, but how could he have forgotten it?
"Thank you for remembering my father, but that's not why I'm here today." Raphael was not interested in his father's affairs at all and interrupted Don Doler bluntly.
"Among the votes I received, there was one for Dondoler. I came here for this reason. To express my gratitude, I promise to do something within my power for you."
"The ballot..." Tang Doler vaguely remembered, oh, it seems like this is true, "someone has already paid the corresponding price for you, I am just doing what was agreed."
Raphael nodded. "Well, if you have nothing else to say, I'll take my leave."
He turned around without any hesitation. Although the old man, Dondol, was sick and confused, and spoke incoherently, Raphael 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 go to hell with those secrets.
"I ask you to protect the Dondole family, or just my children, Holy Father." Dondole murmured.
Raphael nodded with his back to him: "It's within my ability."
"I'm sorry, child, I'm sorry," the old man's weak voice came from the bed, "I didn't take good care of you in the past few years. Derek actually loves you very much. I'm sorry..."
Raphael pursed his lips.
"Your birth was unexpected to Derek, but he never felt unhappy about it. He was really happy to find you..."
"Happy?! So happy that you send assassins to kill me?" Raphael suddenly became furious, turned around and growled softly.
Cardinal Dondol moved his lips and whispered in pain: "That was not his intention..."
Raphael'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 intention of a dead person.
"Please have a good rest." Raphael threw down a cold remark.
"He was really looking forward to it..." The old man seemed to be defeated by unknown guilt. He began to mutter Delacroix's name again, begging for his forgiveness.
Raphael pushed the door open and walked out. At the last moment when he closed the door, the dying man on the bed suddenly let out a desperate cry: "Derek! Forgive me! I beg you--"
"—Watch out Portia!"
Raphael was startled and instinctively tried to concentrate and listen, but the person on the bed was silent.
Little Dondoler, who was guarding the door, walked in, and within a moment, the room erupted with sad cries.
"Father--!"
Raphael stood at the door, with many thoughts running through his mind, but in the end they all turned into the cry of Dandol before his death.
Be careful Portia.
Who is he talking to?
Is it himself, or the Delacroix in his imagination?
Why should we be careful of Portia? Is it someone with the last name Portia, or is 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 was this said to him?
In his previous life, he had never visited Tang Duole, so he had never heard this sentence. If he had heard it, perhaps...
What are the maybes? Raphael laughed at himself. He was not the kind of person who would become suspicious because of a single sentence, but -
He had never felt so deeply that there was so much fog around him.
Portia, Tandolier, 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, Dondole's funeral could be held in the Angelus Hall of the Basilica of the Holy Cross, and the Pope could be invited to preside over the funeral. Raphael would certainly not refuse this invitation, but that was a few days later. The Riccardi Palace was in chaos because of the death of its master. Raphael was politely sent by Dondole to the carriage back to the Papal Palace, waiting for the messenger from the Riccardi Palace to officially deliver the obituary.
As soon as they returned to the Papal Palace, the monk guarding the door came to report that Julius Portia, Duke of the Rhine, had been waiting in the Papal Palace for a long time.
Raphael held his right knee, which was in increasing pain, and stood firm with the help of the deacon. At this time, he heard the name "Portia" again, which almost made him sick to death.
"Please ask him to leave," the young Pope said expressionlessly, rejecting his mentor for the first time. "It's already late, Your Excellency the Duke needs to go back and have a good rest. We can talk about anything tomorrow."
The handsome young man in a platinum robe said this and walked straight in. He noticed that the Pope's carriage drove into the Papal Palace. The head of the Portia family, who was standing behind the Roman column, heard the whole sentence and the smile on his face slowly disappeared.
The author has something to say:
This chapter reveals a little bit about Raphael's background.
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