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374 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1958
Sharp as a blade, the Pope's mind put it all together. This beggar was a troubadour, a Minnesanger, as they called them in Germany, a "singer of love," but for once here was one who was singing in praise of the Love of God.What I felt after reading this book was Francis's joy in serving, his release from fear, his complete trust in God. I especially appreciated the way Francis connected Brother Sun and Sister Moon and all the other elements of his famous Canticle of the Sun with Jesus. It was that connection which made nature holy, the connection with our Lord in his Incarnation. Beautiful.
"I am the poor woman in the desert," Francis explained merrily. "And I trust my Lord, the King. he will look after my sons."
A jester and a dancer; a beggar and a troubadour; a preacher, a monk, a teller of parables, and perhaps a saint: there was no end to the man. If Satan could distort the minds of many to preach against the Church in the name of purity, here was one who could preach for the Church in the same name; here was, perhaps, the antidote against the poison in the veins of Europe, the man to give fresh life to a world grown cold. And therefore this man could be, nay, was the one who held up the falling walls of the Church. And that was all Innocent wanted to know.
"In that case, why not make a test?" Francis suggested. "Let a great fire be lighted before your tent, and these learned priests of yours and I will enter it. Then God may show which is the true faith."Did I wind up best friends with Francis of Assisi? No. But we can't be best friends with everyone. I did, however, wind up as more than a casual acquaintance with my own life enriched thanks to the story of the joyful beggar.
Roger gasped. If that was supposed to be a bluff, it was a very dangerous one. There were fanatics enough among Moslem priests, and at least some of them might accept the challenge.
The sultan glanced at his imams and mullahs. they looked a little vague, as if they had not understood the little dervish's words, and one of them, standing at the back, began to move with great dignity toward the exit of the tent.
"I don't think my priests are very likely to consent to this test of yours, little dervish," Al Kamil said, smiling.
He's got out of it, Roger thought, half relieved, half angry.
"Then I will enter the fire alone," Francis said quietly, "If you promise for yourself and for your people that you will worship Christ if I come out of the fire unhurt." After a little pause he added, "If I should be burned to death, it will be due only to my sins. But if God protects me, it is a clear sign of his holy will, and you must all accept Christ.
Now he has killed himself, Roger thought. This is too good a spectacle for the sultan to miss. The man is mad. He is a fanatic. He is magnificent. By all the angels and devils, he is the only crusader in the army. What a pity he is done for. Those priests will take him at his word, even if the sultan doesn't.