Chapter 882 Holy Light on the Rack
Jean Madeleine quietly closed the door. He put his ear against the crack of the door and listened with bated breath. He didn't hear any sound in the room for a long time, and then he breathed a sigh of relief:
"fine……"
He subconsciously drew a circle on his chest and connected seven dots outside the circle to symbolize the sacred power of the Lord of Glory.
As for the teachings now that have been changed, there should be nine points or something...
Sorry, a low-level servant like him has formed a habit for more than ten years and has not changed it yet.
Jean stood on tiptoes, quietly. Go to the back door of the church and open the door a crack. Before anyone outside could say anything, he had already put his index finger on his lips and said "shhhh" forcefully:
"My Lord Bishop is asleep. Don't make any sound and follow me!"
A group of wet farmers walked in with him on tiptoes and holding their breath. Gene took them to a side room, settled them in, and brought over a few coarse towels:
"You guys stay here for one night first. The Bishop has been busy all day today and has just fallen asleep. Don't wake him up!"
"Don't wake anyone?"
Behind him, a kind voice asked with a smile. Gene turned around in surprise. At the same time, all the farmers stood up and saluted unevenly:
"Your Majesty Bishop."
"Your Majesty Bishop."
"Bishop Miria."
Bishop Miria is an old man in his sixties or seventies, with a white beard and white hair, a thin face, and the white cassock on his body is almost transparent after washing. He held a candlestick with his left hand, stretched his right hand flat, and raised it upward to prevent the farmers from saluting:
"Sit down, sit down, my children. You have worked hard to come here in the rain on such a cold day. - Gene, go and heat up a bowl of oatmeal to keep everyone warm."
"Your Majesty Bishop——"
"go!"
Jean lowered his head silently and quickly walked out of the room without saying a word. Bishop Miria looked around and said harmoniously:
"The Lord says, you should listen to the suffering of the lambs and lend a helping hand to them. - Children, what happened to make you come to see me in such a hurry?"
The crowd fell silent for a moment. The farmers looked at me and I looked at you without saying a word. After a long time, the farmer with the oldest age and the most wrinkles on his face spoke tremblingly:
"Master Bishop, we want to beg you... we want to beg you..."
"Please save our food!"
a young man blurted out. He clenched his fists tightly, and the muscles on his strong arms bulged one by one:
"The royal army robbed, the Inquisition robbed, the Inquisition robbed, and the nearby knights robbed again. If you don't surrender, you are disloyal to the Lord of Glory. If you are not loyal to the Lord of Glory, you will be burned on the rack!"
"The grain stored in the warehouse is empty, the chickens, ducks, pigs and sheep in the pen are gone, and even the seeds on the rafters have been taken away! There was a big disaster last year and there was no harvest, and this year even the seeds are taken away!"
With a plop, another farmer fell to his knees. He stretched out his rough and cracked hands, palms upward, and stretched out the black and red chilblains in front of the bishop:
"Master Bishop, does the Lord of Glory mean to let us all starve to death?!"
"Don't doubt the mercy of the Lord." Bishop Miria was taken aback and retorted subconsciously. He reflexively drew a circle on his chest, dotted seven dots, paused, and dotted two more:
"The Lord says: Whoever believes in me sincerely, I will give him eternal blessings. I will take him into my kingdom of heaven, where there will never be hunger, there will never be cold, there will never be pain, and the rivers will flow with milk and honey..."
The farmers followed him in praying together. In the midst of the prayers, white light flows slowly, rippling gently on the bishop's vestments, candlesticks, and rosary beads on his wrists.
The farmers who participated in the prayer were also enveloped in a faint white light. For a time, the pain subsided, the wounds healed, and the whole person felt a little more energetic.
"Thank you, Lord of Light, for your grace."
"Thank you for the grace of the Lord of Glory..."
The farmers' expressions became more relaxed and relaxed. After a long prayer, Gene happened to bring a tray over with a large pot and seven or eight pottery bowls on it:
"Come on, let's all have a bowl, have a bowl." He reluctantly picked up the copper spoon and poured oatmeal into the pottery bowl one by one. The porridge water was turbid, and in a large spoonful of porridge, only a few grains floated up.
Even if it is such porridge and soup, the farmers hold it carefully in their hands and drink it carefully. Take a few sips and swirl the ceramic bowl:
Try to make the grains inside stir up as much as possible to avoid sticking to the bottom of the bowl. You need to stick out your tongue to lick the bowl in front of the bishop.
"Why so few?"
Bishop Miria frowned. Gene lowered his head silently and stubbornly pressed his lips into a straight line. Bishop Miria looked at him carefully and sighed:
"Forget it, bring the bread from the cupboard."
"Bishop! That's your day tomorrow..."
"It's rare for everyone to come here once, and we can't let them spend the night hungry. Go ahead."
Bishop Miria said softly. After this question and answer, the farmers in the room all reacted and stopped one after another:
"No, no, no!"
"We're not hungry!"
"Look, I'm full!" The young man who was the first to complain pushed his belly up hard and slapped it twice. Bishop Miria lowered his gaze and sighed silently:
Besides a bag of water, what else could be in this belly?
He subconsciously marked the holy symbol again, without noticing that this time his finger only clicked seven points. The farmer raised his eyes and looked around the room:
"How much food do you want to store?"
The farmers looked relaxed. The old farmer who took the lead in speaking took a step forward, bowed and said:
"Master Bishop, we don't dare to be greedy. Each family only needs to save two bags of grain! Two bags! As long as next year's grain seeds can be saved, the harder it is, the harder it is. Picking acorns, digging grass roots, and peeling bark, you can always succeed. Live..."
Bishop Miria was silent, silent. After a long silence, he showed determination and nodded heavily.
Dozens of bags of grain were carried into the church. Bishop Miria personally led the way, leading them into the cellar and around to the deepest corner. He knelt down and prayed a few words, a faint white light glowed on his palms, and he reached out and pushed:
"This is it. Put them all in."
The farmers left with great gratitude. Bishop Miria sent them to the back door, watched them disappear into the dark rainy night, frowned and sighed:
"How did it become like this... How could it be like this... Merciful Lord of Glory, please let your light shine on all things, please have mercy on your people and save your people..."
He was so worried that he fell down before the icon that night and prayed all night. On the icon and the altar, the faint light lasts for a long time.
"This church still has holy power."
"Yes, the holy power reserve is quite good."
In the rainy night, two magicians flew down on the wall silently. One of the two waved his hand to activate [Detection Magic], and the other opened the instrument and skillfully measured and recorded:
"Peripheral holy power reaction... red, 57..."
"The central building's holy power response...orange, 32..."
"The reaction of the holy power of the icon and the altar...why doesn't this old man leave?"
The magician came and went without disturbing anyone. The place was peaceful for seven or eight days, and then, a wave of iron hooves broke the peace around the church.
"According to the order of the General, this parish must raise 8,000 pounds of food and deliver it to the military camp in three days!" The messenger did not dismount at all, but arrogantly threw down a document:
"If there is any delay, shortage, or shoddy quality, it will be considered as deliberately delaying the military flight and being disloyal to the Lord of Glory!"
He knocked the horse's belly, turned around and left. There was a loud noise in the inner hall, and Bishop Miria rushed out holding his robe:
"Wait a minute!—eight thousand pounds will definitely not do it! There are only a thousand people in this parish, and food has been collected three times! Three times!"
"This is the general's order!" The messenger raised his whip and pointed at the document on the ground:
"The tribunal also signed it! Remember, three days, only three days!"
Bishop Miria stayed at the door. He picked up the paperwork with trembling hands, read it again, and then read it again. Finally, he pressed the document tightly to his chest and raised his head to the sky:
"Merciful Lord..."
He ran for three days and begged for three days. Three days later, the old bishop led the villagers and dragged five wooden carts to the military camp.
"Why is this so?"
The counting clerk glanced at it and frowned. This kind of wooden cart can carry a maximum of 500 pounds, and it will not weigh more than 600 pounds if it is crushed. Five cars, 2,500 pounds, less than 3,000 pounds to hold up——
The military order requires eight thousand pounds! Less than half was delivered. What does this mean? !
He wanted to rebuke, but seeing the bishop's white beard and white hair, thin clothes, and trembling in the cold wind, he couldn't bear to speak. After a pause, he whispered:
"Hurry back and collect money to make up for it. I'll write down part of it for you first and won't report it to you. Send the rest before tonight! Don't hurt me!"
"There are only so many." Bishop Miria smiled bitterly. He spread his hands and took a few shots from top to bottom:
"Candlesticks, dishes, rosary beads, furniture, I took out everything I could. I only raised this little food - our diocese is really out of food..."
"what happened?!"
The horse's hooves were heard behind him, and someone raised his voice and asked. Bishop Miria turned his head and saluted quickly:
"archbishop……"
"What are the tasks of their diocese?" The archbishop frowned and stretched out his hand. The clerk hurriedly delivered the document. The archbishop unfolded the document and his face darkened as soon as he saw it:
"This is military rations! Do you want the soldiers of the Lord of Glory to fight hungry? - Can't raise it? Why are you the only one who can't raise it when everyone else has raised it? Someone, go and search!"
As soon as the order was given, a black knight rushed out from a distance like the wind and lightning. Bishop Miria was taken to a tent and ordered not to wander around. Within half a day, a horseman returned and reported to the archbishop:
"We found food! It's in the cellar of the church. There are dozens of bags! It's also covered with a magic circle. If Brother Adam hadn't been careful, he wouldn't have been able to find it!"
The Archbishop looked over with a stern face. Bishop Miria was immediately anxious!
"You can't drag this away! This is seed food! It's the seed food they entrusted to me! With the seeds, we won't starve to death next year, and the people will have hope!"
"So soldiers can starve to death?"
The archbishop retorted. Without waiting for his answer, he waved his hand and another group of men rushed out, obviously dragging the seeds.
"You can't do this! You can't do this!" Bishop Miria stopped one person and another, but he was alone and could not stop anyone. In desperation, he suddenly fell to his knees and prayed loudly:
"O Lord, your light shines all-seeing, and your holy wisdom sees all things...please have mercy on your people and save your people..."
A flash of white light lit up from his body, vigorously illuminating the entire camp. The white light was like substance, blocking the entrance to the entire tent and all the knights who wanted to rush out. The archbishop was furious:
"Presumptuous! Are you going to disobey our Lord's will?"
"This is not our Lord's will!" Bishop Miria raised his head and said:
"The authority of the Holy See comes from our Lord, and we are herding His lambs on our Lord's behalf! We should listen to their pain and comfort their sorrow, instead of robbing their food and watching them starve to death!"
As he spoke, the holy light condensed and faintly formed the shapes of the holy emblem and the holy sword. The archbishop's face darkened:
"Miriya, in consideration of your many years of contribution, I will give you another chance. Get out of the way and wait for the punishment - otherwise, do you think the tribunal will not execute you!"
"Impossible!" The old bishop raised his head high, with white beard and white hair, and said automatically in the absence of wind.
"I have been taking care of the Lamb of the Lord for more than sixty years according to the will of our Lord and the assignment of the Holy See. Unless I die today, otherwise, if you want to harm the people of my diocese, you have to step on my body first! Even if I die, I You are also returning to my Lord’s Kingdom of God, I’m waiting for you to go to hell!”
"Very good, you are going to rebel." The archbishop nodded solemnly:
"——Come here! Bishop Miria has violated the will of the Holy See, deprived of his membership, and sentenced to death at the stake!"
He raised his hand and pointed. A sharp white light shot out of his hand, beating Bishop Miria until he vomited blood on the spot and flew backwards in the air. The knights swarmed forward, raising their hands and feet, and tied him to the stake.
Thick smoke rose and flames rolled. And among the rising flames, the pure white holy light continued for a long time.
****
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