Death of Pope John III
Pope John III lies on his deathbed in the Lateran Palace, surrounded by his deacon, physician, and a servant. The room is filled with murmured prayers and quiet sobs as the pontiff's life slips away,
Setting
The private chamber of Pope John III in the Lateran Palace, Rome. The room is adorned with religious icons and simple furnishings, a stark contrast to the grandeur typically associated with papal residences. The large wooden door is slightly ajar, allowing a glimpse of the corridor outside.
Characters
Pope John III
primary
An elderly man with thinning white hair and a deeply lined face, his pallor accentuated by illness. His sunken eyes still hold a spark of intelligence, though his frame is frail beneath the bed linens. His hands, resting atop the covers, are thin with prominent veins.
Deacon
primary
A senior cleric in his late 50s, with a gaunt face framed by closely cropped grey hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His deep-set eyes bear witness to years of devotion and service. His posture is slightly stooped from years of bowing in prayer, but his presence commands quiet authority.
Physician
secondary
A middle-aged man of Greek origin with a lean, wiry build. His olive skin is weathered from years of travel and study, with deep-set brown eyes that scrutinize with clinical precision. A neatly trimmed beard frames his face, streaked with grey, and his hands are long-fingered and calloused from preparing remedies.
Servant
background
A young female attendant in her late teens, with a slender build and delicate features. Her dark brown hair is tied back in a simple braid, and her olive skin is flushed from suppressed emotion. Her eyes are red-rimmed from silent weeping, and her hands tremble slightly as she works.
Dialog
Pope John III
Deacon... tell me again of the Psalm... the one where David speaks of the valley...
Deacon
Your Holiness, as David wrote: 'Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death...' Shall I recite it fully?
Physician
The humors... they do not balance as we might wish. The pulse weakens like an ebbing tide...
Pope John III
Non timebo mala... I shall fear no evil. The Lombards... they must not tear Christ's flock asunder when I am gone...
Deacon
Ecclesia Dei shall endure, Holy Father. As the prophet Isaiah says: 'The grass withers, but the word of our God stands forever.'