Florence had slept badly, but managed to wake up on time the next morning. To Calixtus’ astonishment, Florence was the second monk into the scriptorium, and he diligently began his work. I will not let yesterday happen again…
Indeed, Florence did far better that day, having only to throw out two manuscripts; one with two spelling errors, and the second with errors of a more serious nature. The second erroneous manuscript again contained some of his less-than-pure thoughts, with regards to the nun named Sylvia who had visited the monastery briefly three years past. Like the last time, Florence slipped the parchment into his habit and continued working.
Even with these setbacks – which were not abnormal, as each monk typically had to redo one or two pages every sitting – Florence was the third to finish his five. As he waited for the lunch hour to arrive, he pretended to do as he should and pray – while he really thought about what had changed in his life of late. Why is it that my quill no longer obeys my will? Has it a mind of its own?
Don’t be ridiculous, said the voice in his head. Quills are not alive – they can’t just go ahead and talk, can they?
I suppose not, Florence replied. Although… when did I start talking to myself inside my own head?
There was no answer.
It happened on the way back from lunch, during which Brother Florence had enjoyed his first “full” meal in quite a while. Father Calixtus was leading the column of monks back to the scriptorium when there was a noticeable rise in temperature. The line halted, and as the air grew brighter and hotter, the monks all looked up and gasped in horror.
Descending from the sky, whistling down from the heavens, was a great ball of fire, shaped like the Almighty Fist of God. The monks, abandoning their faith in the protection of their Lord God for just an instant, scattered to the four winds – all save Father Calixtus, who was held in place by a horrid fear and terror. From his hiding place back inside the dining cell, peering around the door, Florence knew with a growing dread that the ball of fire was headed directly for Calixtus; the Father was its target.
And, indeed, the fiery Fist of God impacted the Father, igniting him instantly. Screams of agony echoed across the monastery as Florence watched Calixtus’ flesh melt and twist as it burned, the ball of fire retaining its shape as it pulsed disturbingly above the ground. As the form of Father Calixtus dissipated, the ball of flame did as well, sinking into the earth below. The grass remained unscathed.
It was a good half-hour before anyone had the courage to step back into that grassy field between the dining cell and the scriptorium. Father Paterias led the way, the Father Abbot close behind him, as they approached the spot of Calixtus’ last stand. The pair stood in silence for a while, and then conferred. The monastery bells rang, and the monks all gathered in the clearing to hear the Father Abbot’s words.
“Our Lord God, the Father in Heaven Above and Divine, has seen fit to remove Father Calixtus from our ranks. The Lord God’s disapproval is clear; we must consider Calixtus hereafter as a flawed man who abandoned his ways. We must not seek to emulate him. Therefore, then, edicts will be issued to fix the flaws he introduced – more rations and less harsh punishments shall begin these measures.” No one cheered or smiled – not even Florence.
“The Council of Fathers will seek the Lord’s holy wisdom in selecting Calixtus’ replacement,” the Father Abbot continued. “Until then, return to your cells and meditate upon this occurrence and how you can be better servants of God.”
In silence, the Father Abbot was obeyed. Brother Florence returned to his cell and thought deeply about what had occurred. They were my words…I wrote that! How could it have come to be?
Afflatus Divine, came the voice in the back of his head. Inspiration from God – you were his vehicle. You passed judgment upon Calixtus, and he was punished.
Florence was both appalled and elated by this revelation. I… am the chosen of God? Then who are you?
I am his representative on Earth, came the voice.
So you are not the voice in the back of my mind?
Who is to say that that voice is not the voice of God?
Brother Florence had no answer.
So then, it is my duty to pass judgment on my Brothers?
It is the divine will of God.
A faint smile touched Florence’s lips. Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven.