Thus it was that evening, my walk through the castle-fortress of Peniscola, a bastion of someone who, at the beginning of the fifteenth century gave renown to Christianity a universal scale ...
It was dusk when the sun has already passed its zenith and is headed for its demise. I went to the small port to see the boats arrive loaded with sardines and other fish.
Each, at his arrival, incite to form circles of onlookers whose conversations creates a strong street buzz of commotion.
After the arrival of the fish browse and download from the auction, I decided to climb the castle-fortress, once the refuge of Don Pedro
I reached the front door or "Portal de San Pedro" and from there slowly climbed its steep streets bound with ramps and stairs, marked by narrow passages.
By the way, I saw the white houses of two stories that show, the visitor, not disdain simplicity to the majestic castle.
I arrived breathless and then, as if my soul were in the turbulent era of the papacy, looked at the wall surrounding the fort for several loopholes sectional surveillance defensive enclaves to protect people from terrorist attacks.
Connected to the main gate of the castle, I found the "Hall Stables. I felt the troops brushing the manes of the magnificent horses neighing and these with some grace, in a gesture of thanks for their riders.
When climbing stairs, I discovered the "Patio de Armas" and noticed there peering at Papa Luna, from the tower, the formation of his troops. Every day at six in the morning, punctual as the morning, without any laziness, despite his nearly ninety years, checks his battalion from his sedan chair.
Then with the dawn shimmering on the horizon, down to his little garden, located on a landing of the fortress, to pray his "breviary" with an eye toward the northeast, to figure in the distance, his beloved city of Avignon : cause of his woes and lamentations.
At the end of the recitation of the breviary goes to the shrine of the Virgin, before passing many hours telling his sorrows and glories.
Inside the castle, a room, now empty, but my imagination lets me see which was his library, with over a thousand books, theological, biblical, legal and even treatises on art. Finally, broke into the majestic "courtroom."
For two pointed arch windows, the sun's rays, already made fireball on the horizon, coloring the enclosure giving it a glowing. And there behold the Pope Luna, sitting in his chair, his whole conclave addressing very excited to tell you:
"Here I live by the blessing of the present King of Catalonia and Aragon (Martin I) that gave me shelter and favored me with their friendship, and though I find myself in this fortress protected, I am truly banished.
I was born to a noble family of Aragon and became first military and then a monk to learn the harsh discipline of compliance and obedience ..., now only three cardinals are subject to my precepts.
I studied civil and ecclesiastical law and I Ph.D. in canon law at the University of Montpellier. Advocates that is absolute papal sovereignty over even the councils, to prevent it in the "Constance" He took the papacy.
I participated in the election of Urban VI, and he was very accommodating, although it moved the papal seat to Rome after having been in Avignon over seventy years.
Later proclaimed Pope Clement VII, whom I happened to his death, with the acquiescence of the majority of the cardinals. But the king of France went against me to the point that I began to Avignon.
How sad that God decided that my guards were killed before me! Now, banished to the castle of Peniscola, I hope to consume the last days of my life.
I've been called a heretic, when I was and am the banner of Christianity, and even wanted to poison me because I have not agreed to lay down my papal sovereignty, but to have missed it because the Blessed Virgin Mary has protected me against such disgrace.
They are traitors, including Fernando de Antequera, who took my part in the "Compromise of Caspe" but then when he came to the throne, I despised and abandoned me to my fate. To all who have deserted me, I will anathematize Benedict XIII.
As I stood deep in thought in that great hall, I heard behind me the voice of a young woman told me, 'Lord, please, we must close. "
I resumed my steps toward the exit, I did it deliberately, as if unwilling to leave that room and wanted to continue seeing the picture, since old, but arrogant, Pope Benedict Moon.
With my departure, the old gates creaked in its closing movement, as an unequivocal expression of the echo of a deep regret.
Thus it was that evening, my walk through the castle-fortress of Peniscola, a bastion of someone who, at the beginning of the fifteenth century gave renown to Christianity a universal scale.