The Archdeacon Returns - Chapter Five

Chapter Five: Never Say Die

“Who the hell does she think she is, the Queen of England?” The Archbishop raged.  The Archdeacon had called him because the Bishop was now palliative. For some weeks she had been confined to her bed. She could no longer work and had named the Archdeacon her commissary, that is, her delegate with respect to all of her administrative functions. The Archdeacon could not, of course, confirm confirmands nor ordain ordinands, and there was an ordination of deacons coming up next month - thus, the purpose of his call to the Archbishop.  Until just a few weeks back, the Bishop had said she still intended to preside over the ordinations but it was now clear that this would not happen.  

The Archbishop was the bishop of a neighbouring diocese, and the senior bishop (or Metropolitan) of the Province.  Although he held a sort of spiritual and pastoral authority over the dioceses in the Province, he was much more a “first amongst equals” than our bishop’s boss.  In our polity, the diocesan bishop is king, or queen as the situation might be. And while the Archbishop chaired the provincial House of Bishops, and with the assistance of his brother and sister bishops consecrated new bishops, he did not hold much legislative or executive power in any individual diocese other than his own. It is true, that during the vacancy of a see that he would assume the responsibility for that diocese, but much of that work would be delegated to a commissary like the Archdeacon.  

Archbishop Stanley Primatus was the last son of an old clerical family that would die out upon his death. He had no children, and had never married. His father was a priest, as was his father before him. He had an uncle who was a bishop, and there were several other priests in his matrilineal lineage. He gave off the impression of a saintly old figure to his flock, but those who knew him knew that in private he was prone to fits of rage.  The Archdeacon was on the receiving end of this rage at the moment, for the old man’s patience with Bishop Verity had reached its end.

“When she told me about her diagnosis, I told her to resign…and then we could have held an election, but she’s holding the Church hostage with her pride.  It’s not the sixteenth century any more. Bishop’s don’t die in office. Can’t you talk any sense into her, Archdeacon? Won’t she consider the good of the Church?”

The Archdeacon certainly could not talk sense into her, and the old man knew that, he just needed an outlet for his frustration.  The Archdeacon knew that in her own way, she was trying to consider the good of the Church, in setting him up as her successor, and although he wanted no part of that scheme, he wasn’t going to share that with the old prelate. 

“So…” the Archdeacon proceeded tentatively, returning to the original purpose of his call, “will you be able to preside at the ordinations?”

“Of course. Of course…but I want you to talk to her again. I expect you’re the only person she would allow to advise her.”

It is true, the Archdeacon was probably her only real friend and confidant, in the way that she had friends confidants, at least, but he held no sway over her. She trusted him and he respected her. The Archbishop and Bishop Verity on the other hand had something of a mutual loathing. In spite of the Archdeacon’s closeness to the Bishop, she was single-minded and he did not harbour any illusion that he would be able to influence her. 

“I think her mind is made up,” the Archdeacon said. “At any rate, Your Grace, I don’t think it will be long. I fear she may not even make it through the next month or so.”

“I see.”

“Thank you to agreeing to take the ordinations.”

“It’s nothing…nothing at all,” the old prelate murmured dismissively.

“I will send you the order of service for approval…and I expect you will want to meet the ordinands beforehand?”

“Yes, yes, that’s fine. Have David coordinate with my office to set that up,” he replied and then returned to object of his obsession: “She’s a damned stubborn woman.”

“Yes, she is, Your Grace.”

After the phone call concluded, which was made from the dying bishop’s office, where the Archdeacon was working much more regularly these days, he asked David to arrange the meeting between the ordinands and the Archbishop. He then inquired if he had anything else on his calendar for the day. David indicated that although there were no more meetings that afternoon, that he had left some time in the Archdeacon’s schedule for a specific task.  David handed the Archdeacon a thin file, “I thought you had better look at this ahead of time, and given how things are progressing so quickly, I thought we had best not wait any longer to start thinking about this.”

“What is it?” The Archdeacon asked.

“It’s her directions for her funeral.”

...The Archdeacon Returns continues tomorrow...

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