The Hammer of God

Epilogue

H igh in the snow drenched mountains of Switzerland, an old man sat on the porch of his private retreat, rocking back and forth in his chair. He watched three boys playing in the snow, each of them snug and warm in new snowsuits; one wearing blue, one red, and the last green, making it easy for the Black Pope to identify them from a distance.

Already a year after coming to live with him, the boys showed even more promise than he first realized. Each of them had developed a special skill. One showed extreme depth of thought, one brilliant strategy, and the last, a magnificent writer and orator. All three picked up languages with ease. Math, history and science seemed like playthings in their hands.

But one of the boys, the child in the red snowsuit, now on his back making an angel in the white powder, possessed a trait that the Black Pope and his people had waited for over a decade to boast about.

The Black Pope had watched the child grow stronger each day, directing the other two boys as a general would his troops. Marvelous.

The leader, the boy in red will one day rule the world.

Samuel ran up the stairs. “Grandfather, come play with us. We’re going to build a snowman.”

The Black Pope smiled. “Let me sit for awhile and rest. I’ll play with you a little later.”

Samuel gave the old man a hug and jumped down the stairs. He headed back toward Eduardo and Felipe, then stopped and turned. “And thanks for the new snowsuit, Grandfather. Blue’s my favorite color,” he said.