Magyar Egyház, 1964 (43. évfolyam, 3-9. szám)
1964-11-01 / 9. szám
14 MAGYAR EGYHÁZ the Emperor. But Otto knew who alone could be such a man: Gerbert. And Gerbert rose swiftly to great honors in spite of obstacles, humiliations, intrigues. He had a dream and he belived in it. In the year 999 he finally sat on the throne of the Apostle Peter; Gerbert became Pope Sylvester II. He sent a message to Emperor Otto: “Now we can go ahead...” “Can we?” — Otto asked himself now on the throne in the cathedral surrounded by the fear-stricken multitude. “That Roman Peace, won’t it be the peace of death?” 0 yes, it would have been wonderful — but now it was late. There fust wasn’t enough time anymore. He remembered the day the new pope’s message reached him. As he glanced out the palace window he noticed a monk in front of the castle gates surrounded by a large crowd. The monk was preaching, his hands were outstretched and the faces in the crowd indicated that he must have spoken terrible things. “Find out what that monk is saying!” — the Emperor ordered his chamberlain. Swiftly came the report: “The monk says, Sire, that the world will come to an end next year. He says that the sins of mankind have cried to God and God will not hold His wrath any longer. The monk speaks the words of Saint John’s Revelation. It’s terrible, Sire... He says ‘Fallen fallen is Babylon the great. She has become a dwelling of demons, a haunt for every unclean spirit... For all nations have drunk deep of the wine of her impure passion...’” — The chamberlain covered his face with his hand. “He even accused you, Sire. And he calls to repentance with the words of the Apostle John: ‘Come out of her, o my people, lest you take part in her sins and share in her plagues. For her sins are piled high as heaven, and God has not forgotten her crimes.’ Isn’t it horrible, Sire? I shall order to have the monk thrown to the dungeon at once.” “No. Don’t let him be harmed”’ — the Emperor commanded. And as if he said it only to himself: “He may be right. Thousand years have passed since the Savior came into this world. Mankind had a thousand years to become children of God. IFe deserve the judgment and the doom. If we had only a few more years, Gerbert, my teacher, my father, we are late ...” — it was no more than a whisper, a tearful whisper. Emperor Otto lifted his head and looked around as if he’d have to realize where he was. 0 yes, it was the cathedral at Aix-la-Chapelle. He came here with his court to visit the tomb of Charlemagne. He came as a humble pilgrim, garbed as a monk like all the other preachers of doom. He found the body of the great Emperor intact. But there was something miraculous about it: his was not lying down as is the manner with the bodies of other dead men, but sat on a chair as though he lived. And through the gloves of his hands newly grown nails pierced through. And after almost 200 years none of his members were corrupted. “But what good can miracles do when the world will come to an end tonight?” — Otto asked himself. There was no doubt about it. The Emperor’s chancery produced the pronouncement of a synod almost ldO years old which called this the final century of history and people better prepare themselves for the Last Judgment. Nobedy paid attention then but now — now the prophecy will be fulfilled. Love waxed cold, iniquity abounds among men that are lovers but of their own selves. And the words of another terrible prophecy sounded in Otto’s ears: “Woe to thee, o land, when thy king is a child!” “0 God, why hath Thou not let me grow up faster so I could have made the world anew” — he prayed. By now it has grown dark in the cathedral. The Eve of Christmas of the year 1000 drew near. But it won’t be the Christmas of the birth of a Savior; it will be the birth of the world’s end. “What a terrible way for God to celebrate the birthday of His Holy Son” — the Emperor found himself saying. Smoking torches dimly lit the front of the cathedral, the huge pillars’ shadows were like exclamation marks lost in the darkness above. “Is there heaven there at all?” — Otto wondered. Rude words of cursing soldiers and the whimpering of a female voice roused the Emperor from his solitary conversation: “Out with you, impertinent female... How dare you...” — the soldiers shouted. The Emperor saw a young woman stumbling in front of two soldiers and a monk who tried to seize her. “What is this? Who is this woman?” — The Emperor wanted to know. “Mercy, Sire! We’ve been watching her since morning. She insisted she had to see you. She was put under guard but she slipped out of our hands like an eel. The young woman was lying at the foot of the throne. She raised her head — ashes and tears made her face dirty, her hair was disheveled. But her eyes shone beautifully. “Sire ...” — she began, panting. “Don’t listen to her” — the monk snapped. — “Her sins and her fear drove her mad. Don’t listen to her, Sire!” The Emperor bade him silence with a gesture. “Speak up, woman! What do you want to tell me?” “Sire .. .all this is crazy... there will be no end to the world tonight.” She tossed out the words, gasping. “Repent!” the monk thundered. “Yes, repent” — the woman repeated the cry. She rose to her feet and the Emperor saw that she was with child. — “Yes, repent!” — the woman pointed at the monk — “you repent who preach doom, the end of the world on Christmas Eve instead of preaching the love of God!” She turned to the Emperor: “Sire, / am the wife of Willigis, your knight. I am going to have my child tonight, on Christmas night. And my husband promised me he will be here with us. I know he will be here and he will bring you good tidings. Believe me, Sire...” “Simple woman” — the Emperor said with a sad smile. “How can you contradict all the prophesies? Tonight comes the end of the world.” “No, Sire! No! There is no such prophesy! The Word of God is love, not doom! Tonight is Christmas, not judgment day!” The Emperor wanted to say he wished she was right when a sudden draft made the torches flicker. In a flash of a moment a man stood in front of the throne. Snow on his coat, helmet under his arm. “Willigis!” — the Emperor and the woman cried at the same instant. She flew into his arms, the Emperor jumped up from his throne. “Sire”, Willigis blurted out his report, “the Northern border is safe, your knights have put your enemies to flight. And .. . please, forgive my wife, you can understand ...” “Of course, I do”, the Emperor’s voice was suddenly that of a ruler. “And what’s with the Hungarians?” “Pope Sylvester is about to send a golden crown to their prince. Stephen will be crowned a Christian king.” From the embrace of her husband the happy words of the young woman came forth: “I told you, Sire, he would bring good tidings. Remember, it is the night of Christmas.”
