Berardo dies as a Martyr
The small harbour of Figueira overflowed with people. It seemed that the entire population of the reign would have gathered there. There flowed processions guided by Parish Priests. The people in the processions were holding images, sacred statues, standards and garlands. All this was to render honour to the return of the corpses of the Friars minor martyred in Marocco.
Nobody doubted that those five disciples of Francis of Assisi suffered death as martyrs.
It was prince Don Diego who ransomed the bodies and sent them with all honours in Portugal. The Sultan didn`t oppose that. He was frightened of what he had done.
The queen had come to the harbour of the capital along with the court. There was a voice that the Friars killed, before they left for their expedition, had been received by her, and at her question if they would live for a long time, they had assured her that she would have seen their martyrdom.
As soon as the news of their death reached the queen, the queen expressed the desire that the bodies would rest in the abbey of Saint Cross. The desire of the queen was granted even if the martyr belonged to another Order.
Along to the queen procession there was also a group of the canonical, and amongst them, Fernando. For him the event of the death of Friars was very emotional.
From the day in which he received the news of the death of Berardo, Fernando would wake up during the night and meditate for long hours with no sleep. The will to offer his life to God had awoken in him. The conviction that he needed science in order to serve God was now staggering. Up to now, before the death of his dear friend, his conviction was that to serve God totally he needed to impart the teachings. But now he understood that Berardo`s way to follow God was simpler and more effective.
They had wanted to die. They, themselves had searched death. And now they are martyrs. They have conquered heaven. They have conquered holiness…
"I, instead? I have searched for refuge in a cell of the monastery. For years I have lived concentrating serenely on the books. I haven’t conquered anything! While Berardo has left, he has suffered death, and now he is finally in heaven. So, to act in this way is better than to live far away from temptations and from perils. Does Jesus really need our knowledge? Who was right: he or those ragged disciples of Francis?"
The coffins were unloaded from the ship between hymns and were placed in front of the altar. The bishop came in to celebrate Mass, accompanied by the clergy. The red chasuble of the celebrant alluded to the blood shed by the martyrs.
After the ceremony the coffins were situated on the hearse ornated by flowers. The funeral train moved on the road of Coimbra. The procession had to last four days. It was foreseen that there would be standstills at Majorca, Montenor, Tertugal and Geria. The regal court had left first, to attend the procession under the walls of the capital.
Behind the court hastened the canonicals to prepare the Church at the arrival of the coffins.
In the church of the Saint Cross they were doing the last retouches to the sepulchre. Till the moment in which the funeral train arrived, there were daily masses in suffrage of the souls of the martyrs.
Fernando continued not to be able to sleep at all or nearly. He went around as bewildered. He had the sensation of being a tree torn off from the earth with all its roots. He felt that he would not be more able to root again in the ground. His feelings were subordinate to incessant contrast. Now exploded in him the anger against that buffoon that had taken away his friend and had sent to meet a suicidal death. Now again he was prey of the dismay in finding himself in front of something that had cancelled the way he had been living till that moment, and compelled him to recognise that, the buffoon was right; that he had found an infallible way of sending his followers to heaven.
Lying in the night with open eyes, he recalled in the memory the words of the Gospel as if they were beads that followed one another on the thread of that rosary that he had learned from Dominick, the old canonical regular of Osma, who was the superior of the order of the travelling preachers, when he has sojourned in Coimbra. The event of the martyrdom of the Friars minor bared the roots of the life that he had lived till now:
"Could I" he continued to question himself "go back to my cell, if it is possible with such a quick jump, to conquer heaven?"
It was still far from being dawn when he raised suddenly from his pallet.
He silently abandoned the monastery; he ran through the sleeping roads of Coimbra. He went beyond the city door; he entered the road that conducted to the olive grove. He arrived there before the sun raised up in the sky. Three huts surrounded the chapel, re-built by the Friars minor. The number of the Friars had increased, they were now six.
They were still asleep, when Fernando called them. From one of the huts came out the head of one of them that had awakened. On the face, covered with beard, there was a smile. He seemed blessed by the fact that he had been suddenly awakened from his sleep.
"Praised be Jesus Christ. Welcome, venerable Father" he said. Even in his voice there was gladness. He wanted to kiss Fernando`s hand, but Fernando took it away with impatience.
"How happy that you, reverend Father, wanted to visit us." he continued.
"Maybe, Reverend Father, you would want to celebrate the Mass here? O, what joy would be for us!"
"I will celebrate the Mass" he said.
He hadn`t thought about it, while he was running here, but now he had decided.
"Have you what it is needed for the mass? I haven’t brought anything with me."
"Certainly, we have everything!" The Friar minor leaped as a happy child and he clapped his hands.
"What joy! Friars, get up! We are very lucky this morning! A most reverent Father of the canonical priests has come to celebrate the Mass for us in our small Chapel!" From the huts ran out the Friars. Fernando was surrounded by bearded faces, but filled with joy.
The Friars clapped their callous and cracked hands. In front of everyone came Friar Simao.
Fernando had met him previously; he knew that he was the Superior, that is, as the Friars would call him, the guardian of the small group that lived at Olivares. Bending deeply down he said:
"I do not know how to thank you, reverend Father, for this grace..."
"Let’s enter the Chapel" he interrupted with impatience.
"And after Mass I would want to speak to you..."
The Chapel was so small that hardly contained all of them. The Friars prepared hurriedly a modest chalice with the wine and the paten with the wafer. The small community didn’t have not the surplice neither the chasuble.
With only the stole on his shoulders he began the mass.
"Introibo ad altare Dei..."
On the poor altar there was a Crucifix that the Friars had received by the chaplain of the queen, and it came from the Holy Land. Burned two candles, certainly received in alms by some merchant. How different it was from the abbey of the Saint Cross! When he celebrated the Mass there, he was surrounded by marbles and golden decorations; splendid statues of Saints; the chalice was gold, with precious gems set on it; burned a long line of candles. The liturgical habits had been embroidered by threads of gold by the hands of noble ladies. Through the polychrome glass of the windows penetrated the light of the sun and placed itself in coloured spots on the walls of the snowy tablecloth.
Here the windows didn’t have any glass, while from outside one could hear the chirp of the sparrows and the rustle of the leaves.
"Confiteor Deo Omnipotenti..." he was saying kneeling down.
He heard at his shoulders those who bit their breast with strength. From their threadbare and stained clothes emanated an unpleasant odour.
At the Saint Cross he could smell the aroma of the balms with which the ladies of the court perfumed themselves and raised the scent of the incense.
Tinkled the chains and the gold bracelets, re-ringed the swords of the knights. Here, he was hearing the rubbing of the barefeet…
He raised his hand up high and sang:
"Qui ascendens super omnes caelos sedensque to dexteram tuam promissum Spiritum Santum…"
At the Saint Cross the song of the Preface seemed to acquire strength, when it was raised under the high vaults. It was pleasant to spread and modulate the voice, lowering mysteriously while pronouncing the words "una voce dicentes", because then immediately exploded with the magnificent music of the choir of the novices and of the pupils, singing at full throat: "Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus...".
Here there was only the screeching of the birds and the beating of the twigs of the trees beat on the wall…
He bowed deeply on the wafer murmuring:
"Qui pridie quam pateretur..."
God that because of his words had to incarnate himself in the wafer, arrived as to fortify him. It had been Jesus, he was certain, to call him. To the torn off tree was shown the sod in which the tree could take root again.
"Ite missa est..." The mass had ended. He prayed for a while longer, then the came out of the Chapel. The Friars surrounded him. They were holding him by his arms trying to kiss his hands that a while before had held Christ. He couldn’t refuse. Then however he raised his hands and exclaimed:
"Listen to me! I want to say something to you. They were immediately silent. They stepped back and looked at him with respect.
"Friars..." he started to say. But the voice started to break. He said with difficulty the words:
"Friars... I have decided... I want to become like of one of you... I want... I want, as your Friars, to shed the blood... For a moment they kept silent incredulous, then the exploded in a big cry of joy.
"Father! How happy are we... Become one of us... "
"Yes I want to become one of you." he repeated. They tightened close to him with admiration. They held their arms towards him, they hugged him, and they patted on his back.
"Will you accept me?" he asked.
"Yes, yes" they exclaimed.
"Remain with us."
"We are very happy!"
"We will have our own priest!"
"You will celebrated our Masses."
"What a joy! What a joy!"
"We have a new Friar..."
"And this Friar is a Priest..."
"How happy will be Friar Francis, when he will learn about it!"
He was so deafened from their shouts. He raised again his hands, indicating in such a way, that he had something more to say.
"Friars... Another word." The were hardly able to dominate their loud joy.
"Speak..."
"I want to be one of you... But you have to send me to the Saracens, because I can, as the other Friars, offer my life..." Everyone turned towards Friar Simao. The Guardian was scratching embarassely his head.
"What can I say to you, Friar? I do not know if it is in my power to give you permission of leaving in a mission. Only Friar Francis gives the permission among us.
But he has said that the minister has to ascertain that the person who wants to go in a mission is capable of that, and if he acts indeed by inspiration of the Holy Spirit. I am only a Guardian, so that I will have to address the matter to the Minister of our Friars in Spain. Perhaps he will have the faculty of granting you such permission…
"What should I do?"
"First of all you must have the consent of your order so that you can become one of us."
"It is true.." In the enthusiasm he had not thought of this. In order to get out for the canonical regular there was the need not only the consent of the Prior, but of all the other Friars.
"Very well" he said "I will ask for the consent. As you know, Friar Berardo was my friend. I would like to imitate him...
"Splendid example, Friar" continued to say the Guardian. "But between our Friars is in force the principle of obedience. If you desire to enter our group you must swear obedience to the Holy Father, the Pope, and to friar Francis in the same spirit with which our Lord Jesus was obedient to his Father. The poverty and the Saint Obedience are the foundation of our life. And for this you cannot have the condition that you will enter our Order only if you can go to the Saracens. You will go, if so decides the Minister. Because that Friar that maintains himself loyal to the Saint Obedience, teaches Friar Francis, gives his life for the Friars, while he has placed his body and his soul in the hands of the superior..."
Fernando bent his head. He had the feeling that the man that aroused in him the impression of being rough, dressed with patched habit, informed him of things that were perfectly known to him.
Chapter 8
The small harbour of Figueira overflowed with people. It seemed that the entire population of the reign would have gathered there. There flowed processions guided by Parish Priests. The people in the processions were holding images, sacred statues, standards and garlands. All this was to render honour to the return of the corpses of the Friars minor martyred in Marocco.
Nobody doubted that those five disciples of Francis of Assisi suffered death as martyrs.
It was prince Don Diego who ransomed the bodies and sent them with all honours in Portugal. The Sultan didn`t oppose that. He was frightened of what he had done.
The queen had come to the harbour of the capital along with the court. There was a voice that the Friars killed, before they left for their expedition, had been received by her, and at her question if they would live for a long time, they had assured her that she would have seen their martyrdom.
As soon as the news of their death reached the queen, the queen expressed the desire that the bodies would rest in the abbey of Saint Cross. The desire of the queen was granted even if the martyr belonged to another Order.
Along to the queen procession there was also a group of the canonical, and amongst them, Fernando. For him the event of the death of Friars was very emotional.
From the day in which he received the news of the death of Berardo, Fernando would wake up during the night and meditate for long hours with no sleep. The will to offer his life to God had awoken in him. The conviction that he needed science in order to serve God was now staggering. Up to now, before the death of his dear friend, his conviction was that to serve God totally he needed to impart the teachings. But now he understood that Berardo`s way to follow God was simpler and more effective.
They had wanted to die. They, themselves had searched death. And now they are martyrs. They have conquered heaven. They have conquered holiness…
"I, instead? I have searched for refuge in a cell of the monastery. For years I have lived concentrating serenely on the books. I haven’t conquered anything! While Berardo has left, he has suffered death, and now he is finally in heaven. So, to act in this way is better than to live far away from temptations and from perils. Does Jesus really need our knowledge? Who was right: he or those ragged disciples of Francis?"
The coffins were unloaded from the ship between hymns and were placed in front of the altar. The bishop came in to celebrate Mass, accompanied by the clergy. The red chasuble of the celebrant alluded to the blood shed by the martyrs.
After the ceremony the coffins were situated on the hearse ornated by flowers. The funeral train moved on the road of Coimbra. The procession had to last four days. It was foreseen that there would be standstills at Majorca, Montenor, Tertugal and Geria. The regal court had left first, to attend the procession under the walls of the capital.
Behind the court hastened the canonicals to prepare the Church at the arrival of the coffins.
In the church of the Saint Cross they were doing the last retouches to the sepulchre. Till the moment in which the funeral train arrived, there were daily masses in suffrage of the souls of the martyrs.
Fernando continued not to be able to sleep at all or nearly. He went around as bewildered. He had the sensation of being a tree torn off from the earth with all its roots. He felt that he would not be more able to root again in the ground. His feelings were subordinate to incessant contrast. Now exploded in him the anger against that buffoon that had taken away his friend and had sent to meet a suicidal death. Now again he was prey of the dismay in finding himself in front of something that had cancelled the way he had been living till that moment, and compelled him to recognise that, the buffoon was right; that he had found an infallible way of sending his followers to heaven.
Lying in the night with open eyes, he recalled in the memory the words of the Gospel as if they were beads that followed one another on the thread of that rosary that he had learned from Dominick, the old canonical regular of Osma, who was the superior of the order of the travelling preachers, when he has sojourned in Coimbra. The event of the martyrdom of the Friars minor bared the roots of the life that he had lived till now:
"Could I" he continued to question himself "go back to my cell, if it is possible with such a quick jump, to conquer heaven?"
It was still far from being dawn when he raised suddenly from his pallet.
He silently abandoned the monastery; he ran through the sleeping roads of Coimbra. He went beyond the city door; he entered the road that conducted to the olive grove. He arrived there before the sun raised up in the sky. Three huts surrounded the chapel, re-built by the Friars minor. The number of the Friars had increased, they were now six.
They were still asleep, when Fernando called them. From one of the huts came out the head of one of them that had awakened. On the face, covered with beard, there was a smile. He seemed blessed by the fact that he had been suddenly awakened from his sleep.
"Praised be Jesus Christ. Welcome, venerable Father" he said. Even in his voice there was gladness. He wanted to kiss Fernando`s hand, but Fernando took it away with impatience.
"How happy that you, reverend Father, wanted to visit us." he continued.
"Maybe, Reverend Father, you would want to celebrate the Mass here? O, what joy would be for us!"
"I will celebrate the Mass" he said.
He hadn`t thought about it, while he was running here, but now he had decided.
"Have you what it is needed for the mass? I haven’t brought anything with me."
"Certainly, we have everything!" The Friar minor leaped as a happy child and he clapped his hands.
"What joy! Friars, get up! We are very lucky this morning! A most reverent Father of the canonical priests has come to celebrate the Mass for us in our small Chapel!" From the huts ran out the Friars. Fernando was surrounded by bearded faces, but filled with joy.
The Friars clapped their callous and cracked hands. In front of everyone came Friar Simao.
Fernando had met him previously; he knew that he was the Superior, that is, as the Friars would call him, the guardian of the small group that lived at Olivares. Bending deeply down he said:
"I do not know how to thank you, reverend Father, for this grace..."
"Let’s enter the Chapel" he interrupted with impatience.
"And after Mass I would want to speak to you..."
The Chapel was so small that hardly contained all of them. The Friars prepared hurriedly a modest chalice with the wine and the paten with the wafer. The small community didn’t have not the surplice neither the chasuble.
With only the stole on his shoulders he began the mass.
"Introibo ad altare Dei..."
On the poor altar there was a Crucifix that the Friars had received by the chaplain of the queen, and it came from the Holy Land. Burned two candles, certainly received in alms by some merchant. How different it was from the abbey of the Saint Cross! When he celebrated the Mass there, he was surrounded by marbles and golden decorations; splendid statues of Saints; the chalice was gold, with precious gems set on it; burned a long line of candles. The liturgical habits had been embroidered by threads of gold by the hands of noble ladies. Through the polychrome glass of the windows penetrated the light of the sun and placed itself in coloured spots on the walls of the snowy tablecloth.
Here the windows didn’t have any glass, while from outside one could hear the chirp of the sparrows and the rustle of the leaves.
"Confiteor Deo Omnipotenti..." he was saying kneeling down.
He heard at his shoulders those who bit their breast with strength. From their threadbare and stained clothes emanated an unpleasant odour.
At the Saint Cross he could smell the aroma of the balms with which the ladies of the court perfumed themselves and raised the scent of the incense.
Tinkled the chains and the gold bracelets, re-ringed the swords of the knights. Here, he was hearing the rubbing of the barefeet…
He raised his hand up high and sang:
"Qui ascendens super omnes caelos sedensque to dexteram tuam promissum Spiritum Santum…"
At the Saint Cross the song of the Preface seemed to acquire strength, when it was raised under the high vaults. It was pleasant to spread and modulate the voice, lowering mysteriously while pronouncing the words "una voce dicentes", because then immediately exploded with the magnificent music of the choir of the novices and of the pupils, singing at full throat: "Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus...".
Here there was only the screeching of the birds and the beating of the twigs of the trees beat on the wall…
He bowed deeply on the wafer murmuring:
"Qui pridie quam pateretur..."
God that because of his words had to incarnate himself in the wafer, arrived as to fortify him. It had been Jesus, he was certain, to call him. To the torn off tree was shown the sod in which the tree could take root again.
"Ite missa est..." The mass had ended. He prayed for a while longer, then the came out of the Chapel. The Friars surrounded him. They were holding him by his arms trying to kiss his hands that a while before had held Christ. He couldn’t refuse. Then however he raised his hands and exclaimed:
"Listen to me! I want to say something to you. They were immediately silent. They stepped back and looked at him with respect.
"Friars..." he started to say. But the voice started to break. He said with difficulty the words:
"Friars... I have decided... I want to become like of one of you... I want... I want, as your Friars, to shed the blood... For a moment they kept silent incredulous, then the exploded in a big cry of joy.
"Father! How happy are we... Become one of us... "
"Yes I want to become one of you." he repeated. They tightened close to him with admiration. They held their arms towards him, they hugged him, and they patted on his back.
"Will you accept me?" he asked.
"Yes, yes" they exclaimed.
"Remain with us."
"We are very happy!"
"We will have our own priest!"
"You will celebrated our Masses."
"What a joy! What a joy!"
"We have a new Friar..."
"And this Friar is a Priest..."
"How happy will be Friar Francis, when he will learn about it!"
He was so deafened from their shouts. He raised again his hands, indicating in such a way, that he had something more to say.
"Friars... Another word." The were hardly able to dominate their loud joy.
"Speak..."
"I want to be one of you... But you have to send me to the Saracens, because I can, as the other Friars, offer my life..." Everyone turned towards Friar Simao. The Guardian was scratching embarassely his head.
"What can I say to you, Friar? I do not know if it is in my power to give you permission of leaving in a mission. Only Friar Francis gives the permission among us.
But he has said that the minister has to ascertain that the person who wants to go in a mission is capable of that, and if he acts indeed by inspiration of the Holy Spirit. I am only a Guardian, so that I will have to address the matter to the Minister of our Friars in Spain. Perhaps he will have the faculty of granting you such permission…
"What should I do?"
"First of all you must have the consent of your order so that you can become one of us."
"It is true.." In the enthusiasm he had not thought of this. In order to get out for the canonical regular there was the need not only the consent of the Prior, but of all the other Friars.
"Very well" he said "I will ask for the consent. As you know, Friar Berardo was my friend. I would like to imitate him...
"Splendid example, Friar" continued to say the Guardian. "But between our Friars is in force the principle of obedience. If you desire to enter our group you must swear obedience to the Holy Father, the Pope, and to friar Francis in the same spirit with which our Lord Jesus was obedient to his Father. The poverty and the Saint Obedience are the foundation of our life. And for this you cannot have the condition that you will enter our Order only if you can go to the Saracens. You will go, if so decides the Minister. Because that Friar that maintains himself loyal to the Saint Obedience, teaches Friar Francis, gives his life for the Friars, while he has placed his body and his soul in the hands of the superior..."
Fernando bent his head. He had the feeling that the man that aroused in him the impression of being rough, dressed with patched habit, informed him of things that were perfectly known to him.
