… Vladyka Palladius asked the driver:
— Listen, Alexander Pavlovich, why have we never gone there beyond these hills?
— There, Vladyka, is a beautiful oak grove.
“Let’s go there,” the bishop ordered.
Right in front of them was a high hill. It was a steep road up to him, but it was immediately noticeable that few people drove along it.
Measuring the road with the eye, Alexander Pavlovich proposed:
— Come on, Vladyka, to the detour, there will be fifteen-twenty kilometers, the rise is protracted and very steep, we can not stretch here, the engine is worn out, weak.
“Well, here’s your vaunted car,” the metropolitan began to tease.
“I bless you directly,” said the wounded Archbishop Palladius.
“How bless you, Vladyka,” Aleksandr Pavlovich sighed obediently.
«Ouazik» roared and rushed uphill, but with every minute his confident move became quieter. Alexander Pavlovich switched to the first speed, fifty meters remained to the saving peak, when a herd of sheep came on the road. The car stalled and stopped, rolling back. Alexander Pavlovich pressed the brake pedal to failure, but the car continued to roll backwards gaining speed. The driver pulled the handbag and sharply turned to the left. The car, swinging to the right, still resisted and stopped across the road. Alexander Pavlovich, jumping out of the car, looked under the bottom and immediately understood the reason: the brake hose burst.
They began to descend, slowing down the speed of the car. The engine roared like a wounded beast, the car shook, but still it rushed down with acceleration. Already at the end of the descent, somehow gently rolled along the rolled track.
“Everyone, Vladyka, it seems, has arrived,” Aleksandr Pavlovich said sadly.
The bishops were walking around the car, while Alexander Pavlovich, lying under it, unscrewed something. At last he got out from under the car and said with a crush:
— Well, as I assumed, the clutch disc crumbled, we ourselves, Vladyka, will not be able to go, only in tow. If you bless me, I will go to the nearest village and bring help.
The archbishop shrugged his hands, and the metropolitan laughed:
— Well, as Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin said: «Wouldn’t you be chasing cheapness, pop?» I would take a new «Niva» and now I would not know the troubles, but bragged: military, not afraid of anything. Yes, because the military wrote off her that she is not afraid of anything, and it is already scary to drive.
He stopped laughing and asked Alexander Pavlovich:
— Where’s the nearest village?
On the way to that direction, three or four kilometers — Grace will be, I will quickly go.
— No, brother, you stay here, and your bishop and I will take a walk, the weather is good, and a walk will be useful, or the whole world can only see from the window of a personal car, and we will learn to walk.
Vladyka Palladius somehow sluggishly agreed.
— Well, if you want, let’s go.
And the two hierarchs, putting on garters and girding them with their belts, without haste, stepped in the indicated direction. On one side of the road, wheat was pounding, and on the other, hilly, grass and wildflowers. Long ago it was over noon, the sun did not burn so much, a slight breeze blew out the travelers, and the quiet rustle of grass and the chirping of grasshoppers delighted the hearing. For a while they walked silently, each immersed in his own thoughts. Then suddenly the Metropolitan laughed:
— You know, I remembered how as students I, you and Kolka Terentyev stole the rector’s «ZIM» to ride, and it broke down on the road, so pale we had a look. Everything, I think, should be collected at home, kicked out, how to drink.
If it wasn’t for Nicholas, he would have taken the blame.
— It’s noble, of course, but I didn’t ask him to, he wanted to. By the way, where is he now, do you know anything about him?
— I don’t know! He serves in my diocese, and by coincidence we are now walking directly to him, to the village of Blagodatovka.
The Metropolitan stopped abruptly:
— It can’t be.
— Why can’t he, if he does.
Yes, the ways of the Lord are inscrutable, well, so please God, and somehow darkened, the metropolitan resolutely stepped further.
— What’s wrong with you, aren’t you happy to see your friend? We, like the three Musketeers, were inseparable friends in the seminary.
“They were, so fate divided,” the Metropolitan said sadly.
— Well, now be glad it connects again.
The metropolitan answered nothing, only somehow soaked and accelerated his step, so that Palladius, barely keeping up with him, prayed:
— Where did you let that go? We’re not students, it’s been over sixty years, I’m gonna suffocate.
The metropolitan slowed down. Suddenly stopping, he grabbed his left side, turned his pale face to Palladius, saying almost in a whisper:
— Vanya, I’m not feeling well, and I’m dizzy.
Palladia has long since no one called him a worldly name and, hearing him, he suddenly saw not a formidable metropolitan, a permanent member of the Synod, but his close and now such a dear friend — Mishka Korotkov. Tears rolled from his eyes and, picking up the falling metropolitan, he exclaimed:
Misha, my friend, what’s wrong with you, honey, I’m coming.
Grabbing under his arms the exhausted body of the metropolitan, he began to drag him to a nearby stack of freshly cut hay.
Having pinned the metropolitan to the stack, he, having fallen next to him, began frantically scooping around in the deep pockets of the garter. Finally, he pulled out a metal cone.
— Here, Misha, Validol, I always carry it with me, put it under my tongue.
The metropolitan lay silently in the hay, looking, clouded with tears, into the bottomless blue sky, through which rare fluffy white clouds ran. He suddenly remembered how in his childhood he loved to lie on the grass and watch the movement of clouds, imagining that angels and saints live on these clouds. How many years have passed since that time, and he caught himself thinking that he had never looked up at the sky like this since that time. And now he realized that he had to look at the sky more often. My whole life is in a constant state. There she went, this life, and he didn’t notice.
— Vanya, did you notice how life went?
What you talk about, why you passed, what pessimism, you have always been an optimist.
— That’s not what I mean, Vanya.
— What about? How’s that for you?
Palladius did not take a disturbing look from the face of his friend, on whose cheek a tear froze.
«I have always feared to die without repentance,» said the metropolitan, «it is good that you are here, accept my confession and allow me from my sin.»
“I have no epitrachili with me,” Palladius was confused.
— Eh, Vanya, in your old age you fell into childhood, friend. Why have you been given the grace of such high rank, or have you forgotten the lessons in the liturgy of Professor Georgievsky? Bless any rope or towel, put it on your neck — here is your epitrachil.
“Where will I get the rope,” the archbishop explained. The metropolitan pulled the belt from his garter.
— Here’s your epitrachil, I’m sorry that there is no omophorion, — he could not resist not to sulk him. Seeing his friend’s confusion, he shouted:
— God, do you want some holy water? So I will sprinkle it with my tears, and having lost the belt of my eye, I threw it around the neck of Palladius.
The archbishop began to say prayers, and the metropolitan repeated them after him, looking up to the sky and often overshadowing himself with a broad sign of the cross.
Looking at the sky, he spoke as if to himself.
In addition to my many sins, in which I confess regularly before my confessor, there is one sin that has weighed on me for many years. In one word it can be called: cowardice and betrayal of a friend. When I was ordained bishop, Nikolai Terentiev came to Moscow. I came for help and support. He was then deprived of registration, and he came to me to help him get a parish service. I saw him during the All-Night in the Patriarchal Cathedral. He came to me under the anointing in an old cloak, in boots, all wet with the rain, and his appearance was kind of pathetic. I didn’t even recognize him right away. When I found out, I was glad, I said:
Nikolai, what wind are you doing?
He says,
— We must, Vladyka, meet and talk. I’m out of place right now, what can you do for me?
I said,
— Of course, what conversation between friends? Today, I say, I can’t, dinner at the Dutch Embassy, and tomorrow, come to the DECR by 14 o’clock.
The next day I wait for him in my office, Archimandrite Photius comes to me and says:
— There, Vladyka, priest Nikolai Terentyev is waiting for you. I do not recommend you to take it.
— Why is that? — I was surprised.
And Photius says,
I made inquiries about him through the Council for Religious Affairs, he was fired for anti-Soviet activities.
— What anti-Soviet activities? — I was completely confused.
He studied with youth, led, so to speak, an underground circle for the study of Holy Scripture.
“I do not understand,” I say, “Sacred Scripture is anti-Soviet literature?”
You all understand, Lord, I wish you well. You are going to be sent to serve in America, and this can greatly spoil you, but do as you like.
Of course, I thought everything, weighed it and did not accept Nicholas. He was told that I had left at the call of the Patriarch. He is not stupid, understood everything and never came to me again.
«This is my grave sin,» after a little silence, he added: «But the fact that I am a metropolitan, I owe it to him — Nicholas.
— I don’t understand Palladius.
So I was going to get married, I fell in love with Olga Agapova, and Nikolai took her away from me. At first I resented him, and then I think: it is good that I did not marry, family life is not for me, and I went to become a monk, therefore the metropolitan is now. How is she now, by the way, Mother Olga?
“It’s been five years since I died of cancer,” said Palladius, and suddenly he sobbed.
“The Kingdom of Heaven to her,” the metropolitan crossed. — God has her soul now. Why are you killing yourself?
— I’m weeping for my sins. Confess me too, brother, and with trembling hands he took off his belts from his neck and, shaking with sobs, handed it to Meliton.
Calm down, my friend, and lighten your soul with repentance.
Besides you and Nicholas, there was a third person who fell in love with Olga.
— Are you too? — The Metropolitan was surprised.
— Yes, I, only when I confessed to her, she also confessed to me that she fell in love with Nicholas, and loves me like a brother. I was sad, but at the same time I was glad that they had such mutual love, and I began to prepare myself for monasticism. After you, I was ordained a bishop five years later. All this time, Father Nikolai and Mother Olga were wandering somewhere, he worked either as a watchman or as a fireman. And when I became a bishop, they came to my diocese. Then I personally went to the commissioner to work for Nicholas, took with me a hefty envelope of one hundredth. The ombudsman accepted the envelope with joy, but the next day he says: “I can’t help, the committees do not miss.” Really, there’s a way out. The Obkom proposes to give the cathedral to the needs of the city, and you will be given another temple, where the state archive is now, they say, almost the same size, but not in the center.
Of course, I rejected this offer with indignation. In the evening my mother came to me, all in tears. He says: “Vladyka, the doctors found cancer in me, I do not know how long I will live, but Nicholas without serving at the throne of God will die even earlier from longing, he became very bad the last time.” I fell on my knees, I cried, I knelt, I cried. He let her go, promising to do something. He prayed all night, and in the morning he came to the commissioner and agreed to close the cathedral and move to another church. Father Nicholas sent to serve in Grace. And then I was so annoyed for his action took that just some kind of hostility to Father Nicholas appeared. He never came to him to serve, nor did he invite him to visit him. These are my grave sins. Will God forgive?
— God has mercy. He may have brought us here for forgiveness. You know, your Validol worked amazingly on me. Get up, old man, let’s go to Kolka, he will forgive us, and then God will forgive us.
At this time in front of the stack stopped a horse harnessed in the cart. When he got off the cart, a man approached them and said hello,
Honest fathers, where are you going?
Yes, we are going to Grace to Father Nicholas.
— Oh, honest mother, and I’m there, to agree with the father bread to consecrate, because the beast often began to get sick. I’ll give you a ride.
He threw hay on the cart and helped the Lords to sit down. Then, smacking loudly, he shook the reins:
— No, dear, and the horse dutifully walked, snorting on the move.
The man turned out to be talkative. He told how good their father Nicholas and how everyone loves him not only in Grace, but also in Chernivka.
His mother was very good, so kind, affectionate with everyone. But she was sick, and the Lord had mercy on her: on Easter she took communion, heartfelt, and died. They say that after communion, and on the Bright died, then straight to paradise. Is that true?
Well, well, Palladius confirmed.
Behind the crossing opened a view of the village of Blagodatovka. In the middle of the village stood a single-domed wooden temple with a bell tower. Around him, like orphans, huddled about fifty peasant households. Near the village ran a small river, and immediately behind the village began a birch grove.
What a beauty, the Metropolitan admired.
— Yes, beauty, — the man gave in. — But still the young man runs into the city. Here we have no entertainment, and the work of the peasant is hard. What’s in town? I worked my shift and my feet on the couch.
The man took them to the church fence and, landing, said:
— I’ll stop by the coom, my mistress told me to pass something. Then I will come to Father, we must arrange to go to Chernivka.
The bishops thanked the peasant and, having opened the gate, entered the church fence, being baptized at the temple. In the back of the yard, near the barn, they saw a man chopping wood. Nearby, the priest in a short old cassock collected logs and carried them to the barn. Having gained another arm, he turned to the creak of the wicket and froze in surprise, looking at the two bishops coming to him. Then the wood fell from his hands to the ground, and Father Nicholas almost rushed to meet the masters. Both hierarchs at his approach fell on their knees. Father Nikolai paused, muttering:
“Lord, this is happening to me,” and he overshadowed himself with the sign of the cross: “May God rise again, and they will be scattered at Him.”
— Well, Vanya, we’re not friends with him now, we’re enemies. We come to you, Nicholas, with repentance. Forgive us for Christ’s sake.
Father Nikolai ran to them, drunk on his knees:
Bless me, Lords, I am a sinner; I thought I was a demonic delusion.
He hugged them both. Three graying heads joined together. So, huddled together, they stood for five minutes in silence. Then Father Nicholas jumped up and helped the bishops rise. Everyone started laughing, patting each other on the shoulders, saying something in joyful excitement. They all talked at once, no one heard anyone, but everyone was happy. Then together we went to the village cemetery and served lithium at the grave of Mother Olga. When we got to the house, there was dinner. By this time, by order of Father Nikolai, the «oisek» was dragged in tow. They sat at the table for a long time, remembering the past and rejoicing that they are now together, as they once were in their student youth. The three friends became younger not only with their souls — their eyes were burning with a young shine and their wrinkles were broken.
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