"Dong! Dong!..."
The church bells rang out slow and heavy, their melodious peals echoing over Lisbon, where the morning mist had yet to disperse. Inside the Cathedral of Lisbon, the candles had already been lit, and the grand Mass began. In this Mass held to pray for the king, the most eye-catching figure was, without question, the twenty-six-year-old Duke Manuel, dressed in splendid purple robes and kneeling beneath the dome of the altar.
"Lord! Please save our king, my cousin, John II!..."
In the holy candlelight, the clergy joined in singing Latin hymns. Manuel slowly lowered his head, his fingertips interlaced, kneeling on the mat before the statue of the Holy Mother. Behind him, another figure shining beneath the dome was Bishop Diogo, the cathedral bishop, wearing a white-gold ceremonial hat as he chanted the benediction. In cadenced Latin, he intoned the sacred prayer until the long scripture ended, turning into a devout blessing.
"Por Sua Graça, se cumpra a vontade do Senhor."
"May the will of the Lord be fulfilled in grace."
"Amen!..."
The surrounding clergy recited aloud together, and dozens of great nobles of the Kingdom also bowed their heads in prayer. Duke Alvaro of Braganza's face was somewhat pale, as if he was worried about the king's illness. But the direction in which his gaze occasionally flicked betrayed what was truly in his heart.
Following his line of sight, the royal guards, wearing cuirasses and gripping spears, were standing strict watch at the entrance of the Church. And in places he could not see, even more royal guards, city defense troops, and naval soldiers had long since sealed off the entire Alfama Noble District so tightly that not even wind could pass through. In other words, if the gravely ill king suddenly rose up and struck at