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#4
DEC 12 |
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“Superman vs. The Spanish Civil War” Part Two
A young man dressed like a monk had been sitting on a stool and leaning on the wall of his room, almost asleep, but jumped up with alarm when the door opened. The young monk looked terrified but did not cry out. Instead, he turned and fled down the corridor outside the bedroom as fast as he could. Superman decided to simply follow him. The flight of the monk led Superman through the turning corridors to the central chamber, faster than Superman would have found it on his own. The room was a huge, ornate chapel with a tall, vaulted, painted ceiling, wall paintings and a checkerboard marble floor below. Superman was on the second floor of the room, taking in the details as the young monk fled down steps to the floor below were two older monks stood by an archway. The young monk, out of breath, tried to compose himself before his two superiors, who quietly looked up to greet Superman.
“Where am I?” Superman asked.
“This is the Monastery of San Lorenzo El Escorial,” one of the older monks said in accented English.
Superman was not familiar with the name, but since no one had started shooting at him, he decided to accept that he was welcome here. He started down the stairs to their level. “How did I come to be here?” he asked in transit.
“You stumbled practically onto our doorstep,” the monk continued to answer for the others, waiting patiently where he was for Superman to reach him. “Your clothes were in shreds and you were badly bruised all over. You spoke, but we could not make out what you were saying, so we just assumed you were asking for sanctuary, especially when the army turned up looking for you soon after.”
Superman joined them in close proximity. Having made no display of his superpowers, and certainly not dressed to impress, Superman had only his personal charisma and the curious nature of his arrival there to command their attention. “What day is it?” he asked.
“Today is the 18th.”
“I lost two days? That's impossible!” Superman shot back defiantly. “I shouldn't have needed nearly that long to heal.”
“You do appear to be much better than when we took you in. I can't imagine what country your clothes were fashionable in before you came here, but we have sewn them up as well as possible.” The older monk then gave some short commands to the young monk in Spanish and the young monk raced off to obey them. “I am Bishop Rodrigo. And you are…?”
“…a friend,” Superman decided to answer cautiously.
“Is that so? Then surely you were not involved in the massacre at Madrid.”
“That depends on which side was massacred,” Superman responded, still cautious, but emboldened by the bishop's hint of being on one side of the conflict.
“Please, walk with me,” Bishop Rodrigo said. Superman complied and they walked past an archway that led to the altar room, to an archway that led to a side gallery. They walked side-by-side through the gallery. “The art showcased here represents Spain's history,” Rodrigo continued. “It is not a bloodless history, I know. The death of 50 soldiers in Madrid is just a drop compared to all the blood that has been spilled forging the nation we have today. But the time for bloodshed should have been past. The armed forces outside Madrid were not unexpected and not entirely unwelcome. The transfer of power to the Nationalists should have been a peaceful one.”
“There were still those in Madrid who wanted to fight. I just gave them an example to follow.”
“Their cause is lost. The war is over. It is time for both sides to lay down arms and become a united Spain again.”
“A united Spain that quashes the voice of dissidence. Peace without choice is a peace undesirable.”
“You seem very confident in your position, confident in yourself. Then I wonder what you will decide to do about this,” the humbly-dressed bishop said calmly as he walked to an outside window and pointed to the ground below.
Outside, on the monastery grounds, hundreds of Nationalist troops were standing on guard.
“They are here for you, you know,” Bishop Rodrigo continued. “They wait for you. But why make them wait? You could go out and attack them right now. Carry on your one-man crusade for the old Republic.”
Superman just stood there at the window, looking out.
“Or does something else make you hesitate?” Rodrigo continued. “You are physically well, you know. You healed before our eyes almost as soon as we laid you down. We assumed it was a miracle at first. But then we learned about what you had done, and…”
“You don't know if God is on my side?” Superman asked.
“No, we don't.”
“Neither do I.”
March 18, 1939
Saturday evening
Superman was sitting in a library of the grand monastery, relaxing in a comfortable chair, with his feet propped up, while leafing through a medieval copy of the Bible and wearing his full costume. It would have been quite a surprise if the monks had not become accustomed to seeing him hanging around.
“Can you read Latin?” Bishop Rodrigo asked. He had exchanged his monk robes for more comfortable robes more befitting his station.
“My reading comprehension in Latin is pretty basic,” Superman confessed, “but I was admiring this as a work of art.”
“Then you have good taste in art,” Rodrigo remarked with an appreciative nod. “Would it be wrong for me to ask if you are Roman Catholic?”
“I'm not sure what I believe,” Superman answered, sitting the Bible down and standing up. “I've been asking many questions of who I am and how I can do the things that I do, but I don't find answers to those questions anywhere I look.”
“God must have a plan for you. Some need of your great strength.”
“And the one thing I've always been sure about is that I knew my purpose. To help the poor, the downtrodden, the victims who need a champion. But when that cause means I'm killing soldiers whose only crime is doing what their government told them to do…I'm not sure I can do this anymore.”
Bishop Rodrigo looked like he was about to say something else when they were interrupted. A nun in full habit had walked into the room with two monks, but Superman immediately recognized who the ‘nun’ really was.
“What do you think you're doing, Lois?” he asked.
“Getting the inside story on your capture, Superman,” Lois replied, taking off her hood.
“The army let her through, believing her disguise,” one of the monks told his superior, “but we recognized that she did not belong here. Instead of letting us turn her over to the authorities, she insisted on seeing you first, Bishop.”
“She has had her audience,” Bishop Rodrigo said angrily. “Now take her away.”
“Wait!” Superman said. “Let her stay.”
Lois ran to Superman's side. “Superman,” she said, “what happened to you? Why did you let yourself get captured and taken here?”
“It's wasn't entirely by choice,” Superman began to explain.
“Superman,” Rodrigo said, “you should not let yourself be distracted from your spiritual reclamation. There are more important matters at hand.”
“What is he talking about?” Lois asked Superman.
“Lois…” Superman said, as meekly as Clark Kent would have sounded, “I may have lost my way.”
“What are YOU talking about?” Lois asked. “You can't lose your way anymore than you could fail to lift an automobile over your head.”
“Superman has much to answer for in the eyes of God,” the Bishop said.
“Look, Superman,” Lois said, ignoring everyone else and just looking up into Superman's eyes. “You said a few days ago that you know how I operate, but I know how you operate too. You're never corrupted by power, greed, avarice or anything else that would make you like an ordinary man. That's why you're Superman. You always do the right thing.”
“But I've killed people…” Superman said.
“Then that was the right thing to do. Or the only thing you could do to make a difference. And you did that. The Nationalist government is finally talking again to the Republicans holding out in Madrid. They'll give the Republicans a minority voice in the new government, because they're afraid if they don't, you'll stick around and kick their butts. And this guy,” she said, pointing to the bishop, “is desperate to make you switch sides before that happens. The Church is a huge supporter of the Nationalists.”
“Superman,” Bishop Rodrigo said imploringly. “Look to your heart—”
An icy stare from Superman froze him in mid-sentence. “I see how my heart is just fine now,” he said. “For the last two days I only thought I was suffering from self-doubt, when you were actually encouraging me to wallow in self-pity. I may wind up hating some of the things I have to do as Superman, but that is always who I'll be and I won't shirk from the responsibilities that brings.”
Lois was so relieved to hear his speech that she gave Superman a hug.
“Does that mean you will continue your one-man crusade against our country?” Bishop Rodrigo asked.
“…No,” Superman answered, surprising everyone. “I came here, like Lois said, to make a difference, not to win a war. And right now I'm too deep into this to see objectively if I am still needed here or not. So I'll return to the U.S., monitor your progress at peace over here and, if peace fails to take hold, you can believe I'll be back. Ready to go, Lois?”
No one tried to stop Superman and Lois as they made their way to the open air of the monastery grounds. Superman picked up and held Lois, still in her nun disguise.
“Let's try not to make a ‘habit’ of this?” he joked.
“Oh, har, har,” she said. And then she held on tight as Superman took a running start at the curtain wall of the compound and vaulted way up over it. They soared like a plane over the troops massed outside. The troops were caught off-guard by the abruptness of Superman's reappearance and only managed to fire a few dozen times in his direction, all without aim or accuracy. Superman spun in mid-air to keep Lois facing up and his back facing down as a shield, but the precaution proved unnecessary. Soon, they were both home free.
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Next: In Golden Age Action Comics #5: Superman returns in an all-new adventure featuring the return of the Ultra-Humanite! Don't miss "The Chase"!
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