The saint and the sinner

On October 3rd, 1226, my favorite saint died at the age of 45, Francis of Assisi. Nearly 800 years later, the first Franciscan pope also became the first pope to take the name Francis. I think the saint would approve very much of his namesake, for they share much in common—kind hearts, generosity, and humility. We know St Francis loved animals and I strongly suspect that Pope Francis does, too. He has too much compassion not to extend it to all creatures, great and small.

Also on October 3rd, in 1283, Davydd ap Gruffydd, brother to Llywelyn ap Gruffydd and Prince of Wales since Llywelyn’s death, was executed in a truly barbaric manner—being dragged through the streets of Shrewsbury to the gallows where he was drawn and quartered. I will spare you the gory details. Unlike Francis, Davydd was no saint; I am not even sure we can say he was a good man, although he was undeniably a very charming one, for otherwise he could never have been forgiven so often for his betrayals. (Needless to say, he was great fun to write about.) But whatever his sins, he did not deserve to die like this. Sadly, the only monument to that death is a small plaque in Shrewsbury on the wall of Barclay’s Bank, the site of his execution.