Balance of Power

THIRTY-SEVEN

Father Norberto had heard the unmistakable sound of the helicopter flying low over the palace courtyard. It was followed soon after by the equally unmistakable crack of gunfire. He listened with one ear as he continued reading from Matthew 26 to the small group of people seated around him. It wasn’t until one of the parishioners went out to check, then came running back, that the congregation learned that something dire was going on.

“There is gunfire outside,” the man shouted into the church. “Soldiers are shooting at people in the courtyard.”

The church was silent for a long moment after that. Then Father Francisco rose from the group he was counseling in the front of the nave. He raised his arms as though offering a blessing.

“Please remain calm,” Francisco said, smiling. “No harm will come to the church.”

“What about the General Superior?” someone shouted. “Is he safe?”

“The General Superior is at the palace,” Francisco replied calmly, “hoping to secure a role for the mother church in the new Spain. I’m sure that God is looking out for him.”

Father Norberto found something very unnerving about Francisco’s composure. Faith in God alone would not inspire such confidence. The feeling that Norberto had had earlier, that General Superior González was involved in the upheaval — that might be enough to give Francisco comfort. Especially if he had foreknowledge that there would be gunfire. But for what? There was only one thing Norberto could think of.

Executions.

The man ran back outside. The priests resumed counseling the people who sat before them, leading them in prayer or offering words of comfort. A few minutes later the man came back.

“There is yellow smoke coming from windows of the palace,” the man yelled. “And gunfire inside!”

This time, Father Francisco was not so composed. He left without a word, walking hurriedly toward the door behind the ambulatory, which opened into the courtyard of the Royal Palace.

Father Norberto watched him go. The silence of the church was even deeper now. Around them he could hear the crack of guns. Norberto looked down at the text then back toward the anxious faces before him. They needed him. But then he thought of Adolfo and of his dying need for absolution. Beyond these walls were times of trial and acts of sin. His place was with those who required the sacrament of penance, not comfort.

Norberto put his hand on the shoulder of a young woman who had come in with her two little girls. He smiled at the mother and asked if, for a while, she would not mind reading in his place. He said that he wanted to see if Father Francisco required any assistance.

Walking quickly down the aisle, Father Norberto made his way to the ambulatory and out the large door into the courtyard.