The Best Intentions Read Free

because he didn’t know the Roman Catholic Church had held twenty assemblies, but that the Greek Orthodox Church only approved the first seven. Which assemblies did the Greeks approve?
    Henrik: Nicaea in 325 A.D ., Constantinople in 381 A.D ., Ephesus in 431, Chalcedon in 451. Constantinople again in 553 and in 680, and Nicaea in 787.
    Justus: Bravo, bravo. Gyllen failed, and the dreaded Sundelius threw him out. First question, wrong answer, out. We’re scared now, scared stiff.I have consumed far too much coffee or something called coffee. Can you lend me some tea? My stomach’s burning like Gehenna.
    Henrik: The cupboard, Justus. See you in ten minutes. At the bottom of the stairs. Fully conscious.
    Justus: Gyllen is wealthy. He’ll be chucked out by Sundelius in three minutes, will shrug his shoulders, and will take a summer holiday after the Spring Ball. Then he’ll scrape through church history at Christmas. Would you like to be . . . ?
    Henrik: No thanks. Amicus.
    Justus: What are those blue marks on your chest?
    Henrik: That’s Frida. She bites.
    Justus: See you in ten minutes.
    Henrik: Pax tecum.
    After Justus has left, Henrik stands naked for a moment in the bright sunlight, trying to breathe calmly, then says quietly: “Lord, are you going to help me? If it goes badly today, it’ll be a catastrophe. Old man Sundelius could be a little unwell, couldn’t he, and will send his kindly senior lecturer instead. It’s happened before.”
    But on this particular morning, the dreaded Professor Sundelius is not the slightest bit ill. At ten to eight, the three candidates are sitting and waiting in the spacious hall. The professor has married into money and lives in a handsome twelve-room apartment in Vaksala Square. The door to the dining room is open, and two servant girls in blue and white are clearing away breakfast. For a few moments, they glimpse the professor’s wife, handsome but lame. She briefly raises her lorgnette to the three young candidates and their pale faces. They rise to their feet and bow respectfully with ingratiating smiles — as if that would help. The salon clock dully strikes eight. “Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell that summons thee to heaven or to hell,” thinks Henrik, quoting Macbeth, act 2, scene 1. The secretary to the professor (he actually has a secretary, so he is very wealthy; it’s rumored he will be a minister in the next cabinet shuffle) is a fairly dusty creature with psoriasis and watery eyes, secretly enjoying the terror he is spreading as in humble tones he summons the three young men into the professor’s study.
    Professor Sundelius is an impressive man in his fifties, with an open face, ruddy complexion, thick hair, and beard streaked with gray. He is wearing a well-fitting frock coat, which enhances hiswell-proportioned figure. He walks swiftly across the oriental rug, smilingly holding out a muscular hand and heartily shaking the hands of the delinquents.
    His study is spacious though rather dark, for heavily draped curtains keep out the brilliant spring day. The fragrance of books and silence prevail. A desk, huge as a fortress. Leather upholstery. Three dark-stained chairs set out, with cane seats and straight backs; glittering armatures; dark pictures in gilt frames and faintly shimmering bodies of women.
    The professor sits down at his desk and invites the three of them to be seated on the proffered chairs. He chooses a cigar (first cigar after breakfast) from a silver cigar box, tops it carefully, and lights it.
    Professor Sundelius: Nothing as good as a breakfast cigar. With confidence, I can tell you that this is a genuine Cuban cigar. Look how nobly it glows. Look how the fine veins of the tobacco leaf absorb the fire and how gently they are turned to ash.
    For a few seconds, the professor and his candidates contemplate the beauty of cigar smoking, then, in silence, Sundelius leans forward and reaches