Beside him, Brother Timothy wrapped his coat tighter around his gaunt figure and strode out into the wind hardly feeling the cold. He had a plan for the Bishop's miracle and he wished to communicate his ideas to Monsignor Schrattenbach. Normally, communication between the Bishop's Palace and Napp's monastery was strictly limited to official business, and it was hard for Brother Timothy to find excuses to see or speak to the Monsignor. Today, however, Abbot Napp had solved that problem for him.
Leaving the streets of Brno and entering the warmth of the Bishop's Palace did not, on this occasion, leave the chilly climate behind. A dark cloud followed them into their monthly meeting. Bishop Schaffgotsche was particularly cold towards the Abbot and after making some pointed remarks about church finances, walked out of the meeting, leaving the rest of the day's business to his Vicar General.
"The problem is, Napp, that your monastery has not contributed a single guilder to the religious fund for thirty years," Monsignor Schrattenbach explained. "The Bishop is becoming particularly concerned about the 30,000 guilders you owe."
"Are the parish revenues that low?" Abbot Napp asked, innocently, or at least trying to act innocently. It didn't work.
"St. Thomas' assessment and cathedraticum are not what is in question here," the Monsignor said with some asperity, "what is in question is the revenue from the monastery, which is seriously in arrears."
"I beg to differ," said Abbot Napp calmly, he had been through these issues many times before and had always won. Since the revolutionary year of 1848, when so much of the governance structure in Austria had changed, Abbot Napp had become an important political figure, especially on local issues. He was a good friend of Herr Auspitz, the headmaster of the Realschule, who was also the publisher of the influential daily paper Tagesbote, which was generally considered the voice of the Brno Liberal Party. Although no one around the table knew it, in a few years the Liberal Party would form a new government and begin to initiate a whole range of policy reforms.
Napp's influence at the Ministry of Culture and Education was such that when ever the issue of the missing contributions to the religious fund arose (as they were doing now), he only had to speak with one or two well connected people in the provincial Diet to have the matter go away for another year.
These facts were well known to Monsignor Schrattenbach, and to the Bishop, which was why an alternative approach was being used. In a few weeks a 'miracle' would sweep the bones of St. Hugh out of St. Thomas' church and the revenue would go with it. In a harsher fiscal climate, Abbot Napp would have a much harder time resisting the required assessments.
Wisely Monsignor Schrattenbach dropped the matter for now, and the rest of the meeting was devoted to mundane but necessary dialog concerning their joint preparations for the Easter celebrations.
"This year we would like the monks from your monastery to chant before the alter during the Passion of St. John on Karfreitag," Schrattenbach said, bringing the discussion to a close with a reference to Good Friday and the special prayers and chanting that always took place after the silent protestation before the altar but preceding the "Oremus, dilectissimi nobis" and the Adoration of the Cross.
"Perhaps Brother Timothy could stay for a few moments and we will discuss it further. I understand that Prior Sembera is preparing an exceptional choir this year," Monsignor Schrattenbach concluded, coming to his feet as a way of indicating that their formal meeting was over. Abbot Napp took the hint, but his acute sense of the political detected less than honorable motives in the Vicar General's request that Brother Timothy stay behind.
"He will have to walk back to the monastery then," the Abbot said, not being able to find any reason to refuse the Monsignor.
"That is no hardship," Brother Timothy said, smugly, not coming to his feet, and watching the Abbot reluctantly leave. When the two conspirators were finally alone, the conversation turned very rapidly to the topic most on their minds.
"I have not yet received the Bishop's letter appointing me to the Synod," Brother Timothy began. The missing letter had been bothering him for the last few days.
"Final arrangements are being made," Schrattenbach said smoothly, "One or two matters arose late in the Bishop's calendar which have delayed the final composition of the Synod, but it is nothing for you to worry about."
"I thank the Bishop for his interest in me," Brother Timothy said, "I will look forward to receiving the letter."
"Of course."
Moving back behind his desk, Monsignor Schrattenbach looked meditatively at his guest. "Last week the Druer family agreed to moving Saint Hugh from St. Thomas' parish and into the care of St. Peter and St. Paul's," he said slowly, throwing out a tit-bit of information. "I also have Father Vitezslav's assurance that he will not object to the move, but the central issue remains the same; how will the devoted followers of St. Hugh feel about disturbing his resting place?"
"I have been speaking to a number of his devotees," Brother Timothy told him from behind hooded eyes. "Among the truly faithful there would be considerable resistance, unless the Saint himself gives an unequivocal sign that he favors such a change. Even the faintest suggestion that they might lose his continued blessing caused strong resentment."
"That is my assessment of the situation," Monsignor Schrattenbach reluctantly agreed, "so, what progress is there in providing the populace with the sign they need?"
"Have you ever seen inside the reliquary that holds the bones of the Saint?" Brother Timothy asked in reply.
"No, I never have," answered the Monsignor, "Why?"
"Then I think we had better take a look," his co-conspirator told him. "The miracle I have in mind depends on there being some mortal remains of the holy personage still in existence."