The small priest absently glanced at the large man seated across the desk. The priest took in the simple but well cut clothing, military haircut and austere comband, which was the man's only jewelry. His eyes returned to the pad display.
"Well Christopher I see you are almost ready to go."
"Yes, monseigneur."
"You've not had any luck finding a chaplain?"
"No , monseigneur. The journey is long and full of danger. I fear most priest on Fabury find their present duties, too ...ah ...vital."
"The bishop regrets that he has been called away. He has no priest he can assign to you, even for your trip to the border."
The big man sighed. "I understand, monseigneur."
"Don't look so glum, my friend. I will come myself tomorrow. You have a chapel aboard?"
"Of course."
"Good I will say Mass myself and consecrate enough host for a viaticum and reception during your journey. One of your companions is a deacon is he not?"
"Yes our doctor is a deacon of the Roman Rite."
"Good, he can provide for your crew from those Eucharistic hosts reserved in the chapel tabernacle when you are not able to attend liturgy at church or find a priest to offer Mass aboard." The priest pursed his lips. "I will also ask the bishop to send a hypercable message to the border to see if his fellow there can spare a priest to see you into the Midlands at least."
"Thank you monseigneur."
"It is only right, Christopher. You do a great service for the Church, she should attend to the souls of your crew."
No comments:
Post a Comment