A Future History of the United States
Crisis at the Archbishop’s House

The priests were awakened the next morning by a servant rapping lightly on their doors announcing, “Breakfast will be served in twenty minutes.”

After hurriedly washing face and hands, each stepped out into the hallway to meet with the others. Silently they proceeded to the dining room, unsure of what the day would bring. No one had the nerve to ask how the others had slept. Each wondered if he had been the only one to be awake most of the night. Had they opened up to each other, they would have found all had spent a very restless night.

Breakfast was a somber meal. The only words spoken were an occasional, “Please pass the bread,” or speaking to the servant, “I would like some more coffee, please.” Finally the last cup and saucer had been removed from the table. It was time to face the Archbishop in his office.

As they entered the office, he gave them a look that made their blood run cold. His face was crimson, his mouth set in a grim line, and his eyes blazed with angry fire. He spoke with a voice filled with venom, “Last night the statue of President Degan, the one that stood in front of the Cathedral, was torn down by a mob. I have been told there were probably over two hundred ruffians involved.

“Mark was looking out of his window and saw them coming. He tried to intervene gut one of their leaders told him to, ‘Get your ass back inside unless you want us to wipe up the street with it.’ This conduct cannot be condoned! I have sent word to the Governor, ordering him to provide men to protect all Church property within the city.

“You men know the people of your areas. I am depending on you to bring this uproar to an end. Yesterday, I told you to bring any uncooperative person to me for punishment. I have changed my mind. Go out two by two. Take your flogging rods with you. Anyone who disobeys you must be punished right then and there!”

The priests looked at each other. They knew that with the mood of the people of the city following this order would almost certainly mean death at the hands of a mob. If they refused to obey the order, the Archbishop would certainly condemn them to either life in prison or death by fire. They stood speechless, hoping he would calm down and see the impossibility of his instructions.

After a few moments he roared, “WHY ARE YOU STANDING THERE. GO! OBEY MY ORDER!” then turned and stalked away. As he reached the door he crumpled to the floor.

One of the priests ran to the fallen Archbishop. Arriving at his side the priest could see the Archbishop’s face was turned toward the wall. His eyes were open, staring unseeingly into the distance. No pulse could be found. The chest remained still, with no sign of breathing. It seemed clear, Archbishop Rand was dead!

“Somebody call Mark. He will know what to do,” one of the other priests said.

“Go get him yourself,” another replied.

In the confusion following the Archbishop’s collapse, several of the priests rushed off to locate Mark. Two others, unnoticed, slipped out the front door.

By the time Mark arrived they had carried Rand’s body to a couch along one of the walls. His eyes were still open and had already glazed over in death. Taking in the scene Mark asked, “What happened?”

Several voices started to respond. Holding up his hand to quiet them, Mark looked directly at Carl, “I need just one of you speaking at a time. Carl, what happened?”

“He had just told us about the destruction of President Degan’s statue. He was in a terrible mood because of that. He ordered us to go out into the city and question anyone we found. He told us to take our flogging rods so we could administer punishment immediately on anyone who refused to cooperate.

“With the mood of the city, it would have been suicide for us to follow that order. We stood looking at each other for almost a minute. He then screamed at us to get out and obey his order, As he started to walk out he collapsed right there by the door. I swear, that’s how it happened. None of us said anything. None of us touched him. It’s not our fault.”

Mark could tell the priests were concerned they would be blamed for the Archbishop’s death. Trying to console them and relieve their anxiety, he said, “I’ve been afraid of something like this ever since the trouble started last Sunday.

“Archbishop Rand was not in good health. He had been having severe headaches recently. Sometimes he would seem to black out for a few seconds. I kept telling him he should get this checked out, but he was stubborn and refused to do anything about these episodes. It looks like all the stress has caused a stroke.

“You may all be excused and return to your churches to wait further instructions. I will need to contact the Prelate and inform him of the situation here, but that will take some time. In the meantime, try to calm the people by telling them no one will be punished for the recent problems if they will just calm things down.

“Do not tell anyone about the Archbishop’s death,” he cautioned them.

The remaining priests quickly made their way out of the Archbishop’s residence. In all the confusion, the two who had left earlier had not been missed. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Once Mark was certain they had all departed, he sat down beside the Archbishop’s body. He sat quietly for some time trying to decide just what to do. No one else in the house was yet aware of the death. It was not unusual for the Archbishop to confine himself in his office for extended periods of time, with Mark being his only contact with the outside world.

Finally, deciding on his course of action, Mark left the body where it was. He carefully closed the door behind him as he exited the room. He must contact Bishop Leber. The bishop was a mystery to Mark, suddenly appearing, visiting with a few people, and then vanishing. Mark had no idea where he came from, or where he went.

The bishop once told him that he represented the head of the Church; saying that in this position he needed someone he could count on to keep him advised of the Archbishop’s condition and actions. It was during one of these visits that the bishop had given him a device he said would summon him whenever necessary.

This was certainly a situation where he needed the Bishop. Returning to his own office, Mark opened the bottom drawer of his desk. A light pressure at the correct point on the back of the drawer revealed a concealed compartment. Within that compartment was the device Leber had given him almost a year before.

Taking the small device in his hand, he looked at it carefully. It was a small cube. One side displayed a small red dot. Other than that, it was totally unremarkable.

Leber had told him to press the red spot whenever his assistance was needed. Mark had done this only twice. Once was when Tim had appeared before the Archbishop. The second time involved Tim’s wife and child.

On those two occasions, he had been given descriptions and told to use the cube if the individuals were brought before the Archbishop. On Tim’s first appearance he did not press the button as he was unsure if the man before the Archbishop was really the one they were looking for. He corrected his mistake when Tim was brought in the second time.

Placing the cube on his desk he said a brief prayer and pressed the spot. Nothing happened. Of course he had not expected any reaction from the cube. The previous two times he had pressed the dot nothing had seemed to happen, but each time a bishop had appeared as if from nowhere, and taken charge of the captives. Mark had no idea what had been done with the captives. All he could do now was wait.

Upon leaving the Archbishop’s estate, all of the priests except Carl hurried on their way. He remained behind and watched them go. Walking over to a bench near where President Degan’s statue had been, he sat down, pulled out a small cube with a single red dot, placed it on the bench beside him, and pressed on that dot.

Concealing the cube in his robe he sat back, closed his eyes, and waited.

The two priests who had departed early made their way to the Horse’s Ale Pub where the activities of last night had originated. The pub owner greeted them with a wave of his hand and escorted them to a back room. Closing the door, he returned to cleaning up the beer that had been spilled during last night’s meeting.

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