Chapter 2197 - 1582: Comet, This Is an Omen!
"Dong! Dong!..."
The church bells toll solemnly, and as the morning mist lingers over Lisbon, the melodious sound echoes through the sky. Inside the main church of Lisbon, the candles have been lit, and the grand mass has begun. The most prominent figure in this mass held for the well-being of the King is undoubtedly the 26-year-old Duke Manuel, dressed in purple finery, kneeling beneath the dome of the altar.
"Lord! Please save our King, my cousin, Joao II!..."
In the holy candlelight, the clerics chant the Latin hymns in harmony. Manuel slowly bows his head, fingers intertwined, as he kneels on the mat before the statue of the Holy Mother. Behind him, another figure under the dome’s light is Bishop Diogo, wearing a platinum mitre and reciting the benediction. He intones the sacred prayers with a rhythmic cadence, until the long scripture ends, transforming into one devout prayer.
"Por Sua Graça, se cumpra a vontade do Senhor."
"May the Lord’s will be fulfilled in grace."
"Amen!..."
The surrounding clerics recite loudly together, and dozens of the kingdom’s great nobility bow their heads in prayer. Duke Alvaro of Braganza looks somewhat pale, seemingly worried about the King’s illness. However, the direction of his occasional glances reveals his inner thoughts.
Following his gaze, the Royal Guard, clad in breastplates and holding spears, stands vigilantly at the gate of the Holy See. Meanwhile, in places he cannot see, more Royal Guards, City Defense Army, and navy soldiers have already sealed off the entire Alfama Noble District airtight. In other words, if the ailing King were to suddenly take action, none of the great nobility, without exception, would be able to escape!
Fortunately, the worries of the Duke of Braganza do not materialize into reality. The sword dangling above the King seems only to serve as protection, without bringing any terrible bloodshed. As the most important prayer ceremony concludes, the Church’s Mass goes on, but the nobility can now move freely. Bishop Diogo then steps forward, smiling gently as he advises the young Duke Manuel.
"Respected Duke Manuel, please take care of yourself, do not grieve excessively...The most important prayer has ended, you can go to the resting room of the Priest at the back to rest..."
"Hmm, thank you! Respected Bishop Diogo...Thank you for holding this ceremony! I wish to express heartfelt gratitude on behalf of my cousin Joao to you!..."
"The Holy Mother blesses! This is what I should do..."
Bishop Diogo nods with a smile, having a good impression of the young Duke Manuel. In fact, it was he who arranged for people to bring him from the fief, step by step bringing him closer to the King’s throne. And now, he is just one step away from the King’s position...
With this thought, Bishop Diogo moves his steps, approaching the Chief of Foreign Affairs, Vasco, and smilingly greets him.
"Praise the Almighty! Chief Vasco, about the other prayer you mentioned before... Could we discuss it in the room behind the cathedral?..."
Then, Bishop Diogo turns his head to Chief of Internal Affairs, Nuno.
"Would you like to join us as well?"
"Hmm."
Chief Nuno nods, exchanging a glance with Vasco, then they both follow Diogo away. As for Chief of Military Affairs Duarte, he naturally stays outside with the Royal Guard. There must always be a sword kept outside for the discussions to proceed smoothly and successfully.
"..."
Seeing the three leaving, Duke Alvaro of Braganza’s expression flickers, revealing a hint of anger. These hypocritical bishops, full of the Almighty’s mercy, are never reliable allies!
Unfortunately, the Church, along with their great nobility, forces the Royalists into a choice. Then the Royalists find the Church, casting aside the great nobility. Such shifts in alliances during power struggles are so unexpectedly abrupt. At this moment, the great nobility’s hope of restoring autonomy seems hard to fully achieve. At most, just a slight easing... whereas the Church’s objective of restoring ecclesiastical authority will be fully realized with the coronation of the new King!...
"Damn! Vendido! A bunch of traitors!..."
The bright spears standing outside the church, Duke Alvaro of Braganza’s curses are hidden in his heart, yet he is helpless.
In the following days, the Kingdom’s power shift is like a tide, following the course agreed upon by all parties, flowing grandly towards the distant destiny. And when the Church, great nobility, and Royalist Party reach a compromise, the only thing left to wait for is the Almighty’s summons. The great, perfect present monarch has long heard the voice from Heaven, with only the final...
"The King urgently summons!!"
"Quick! To the Royal Palace!!..."
The dome of Sintra Palace stands high, retaining the style left by the Moorish Palace, even bearing the emblem of the Alawi Dynasty. In past days, this dome seemed every bit as radiant as the spire of the Lisbon Church, if not more so. But at this very moment, the last rays of the setting sun fall from the dome, illuminating the face of the King lying on his bed, like the glow before the departure of the Holy Spirit.
"Cough...cough..."
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!..."
The three chiefs are tear-stricken, kneeling by the bedside of Joao II. The man, once like a lion, now emaciated like dry wood. He tilts his head, looking at the relief of ancestors on the dome, an abnormal flush on his face. Then, as if empowered by the ancestors, he slowly props himself up with one hand, transitioning from a lying position to sitting. And merely sitting like this brings his long-lost majesty back to the palace, making the gathered nobility bow their heads in unison.