“I’ll do it for a Plenary Indulgence and a bag of crisps.  Oh, and a million dollars, I suppose.”

The assembled Bishops furrowed their brows and shot nervous glances amongst themselves, but the Cardinal remained stoic; no nervous glance, no hint of surprise.

“Get the Big Guy on the line,” he said as he waved his hand slightly in the air and one of the robed figures immediately scurried off and disappeared into a nearby dark recess, one of many about the place.

As he waited, the Cardinal settled even further down into the enormous and ornately decorated chair upon which he sat and he allowed his heavy eyelids to half-close.  He drew a deep breath in through his nose, his nostrils filling with the sickly sweet smell of incense and herbs given off by the various censers located around the perimeter of the vast hall.

Incoherent words spoken in a hushed and yet almost strident voice could be heard echoing lowly throughout the chamber; the space’s strange acoustics at play.  And then a long stretch of silence followed by a short reply followed by the sounds of padded sandals hurriedly approaching, scuffling and slapping the cold marble floor as they came closer, the form of the messenger coalescing into view as he emerged from the shadows.

The rushing man swept to a stop just beside the Cardinal’s chair, his trailing robes slicing the air before fluttering and falling into place, limp and hanging off the wiry frame of the man beneath, the man who leaned in close and whispered into the Cardinal’s large, cauliflowered ear before half bowing and stepping away once again to rejoin the others.

The Cardinal turned to the dark figure which had made its terms known.

“What flavor crisps?” he asked.