Three

The old man lighted a pipe, the smell and aroma blending so perfectly with that of the coffee. Agustin was observing The Professor as the old man sat quietly there, looking at the marvel of nature in front of them. For those who do not know Invictus well enough, they would say that he has not changed at all, at least physically, except for the fact that he is thirty two years older now. But in the eyes of Agustin, there was something different with his mentor. He's still trying to figure out what it is, when a cool breeze brought his attention somewhere else. He found himself looking at the hill far away... he can't seem to resist focusing on that hill. Wait... he noticed something... was that someone sitting on top of the hill? A human being? A brute?

"How does it feel to be a bishop?", the old man asked again. Agustin let out a sigh. He was still and quiet for some time. Now, he's just staring at his cup of coffee, trying to collect his thoughts.

Agustin: "I wish to answer you with a THEN AND NOW, sir. I was elated then... ecstatic, euphoric, proud... fame and power, influence and might in my whole being... energetic... unstoppable... a feeling of vindication, too. But that was then."

Invictus was looking at Agustin, whose eyes were focused on his cup of coffee while talking. The old man sat quietly there, waiting if and when his former student would go on.

Agustin: "Now, I feel empty... tired - or better - exhausted... disappointed... guilty... angry... helpless... hopeless... spiritually and mentally numb and dry... even bitter and lonely. It's a long story, Sir Invictus".

"I'm all ears, son. Take your time. You can stay for a couple of days if you want. My house is yours", said the old man. "If you don't feel like talking today or, perhaps, not at all, don't feel obliged. Your mere presence is a pleasure already. Sitting here quietly and enjoying each other's company is more than what I would wish for. In silence, there could be a lot of wisdom. Still remember what I told you before? If ever one opens his mouth, then it should be voluntary and out of free will. Never out of obligation or under pressure. Only then could one be pretty sure that the words genuinely come from an open heart... from a sound mind... from a free spirit... authentic and well thought of... systematic if needed... and perhaps, just perhaps, wisdom might be the special guest during such talks, speeches or conversations. But then again, I have always added that when it comes to truth... to naked truth... I myself would be the first one to oblige and to put pressure. When it comes to truth, one is obliged to speak".

Agustin felt a great relief. He was not in a proper disposition to talk about matters that momentarily burden him. Glad was he, too, that Invictus offered him to stay for a couple of days. He needed the kind of atmosphere that the old man's place offers. Everything seems so serene, so relaxing, so rejuvenating. And - he wished that the old man would do more of the talking. He misses listening to Invictus. Whether in the form of chats, formal lectures, sermons, conferences or even just a thought or two, the words of the old man had always been challenging, soothing, enlightening, thought-provoking, soul-penetrating, heart-warming, and, because Invictus is merciless when it comes to naked truth, his words can be devastating to many. But that is precisely what Agustin misses. So many things that The Professor had said in the past truly happened in his case. He regretted having neglected the regular contact that he promised before he left for further studies abroad.

Agustin was quiet for some time. Invictus was observing him. The bishop was obviously carrying a big burden within himself. A quarter of an hour and still no word from Agustin. Then he looked at Invictus in the eyes...

Agustin: "Sir, why is there suffering? Why is there evil? Why does God allow them?"

Invictus sat quietly, yet looking intently at Agustin. The latter was distracted by a strong gush of cold breeze again, while the dogs suddenly gave alarm in front of the house. The old man excused himself and slowly stood up to see what's up. Agustin remained seated and looked at the hill intently. There is something or someone on top of the hill. He can't be mistaken. "Does Invictus know about the boy? About that 'thing' on the hill? Or is it just my imagination?", thought Agustin. "But it can't be! I saw the boy several times, as well as the being on the hill! I must ask Invictus. I must tell Invictus", he said to himself.