Cardinal George Pell Leaving the Melbourne Magistrates Court. Credit:Justin McManus It was placed upon his finger on October 21, 2003, by Pope John Paul II, at a ceremony elevating him to cardinal. The ring, portraying Christ's crucifixion in bas-relief, marks His Eminence George Pell as a Prince of the Catholic Church, and he wears it always. But here in a small courtroom on the ground floor of the Melbourne Magistrates Court, he was simply George Pell, a mere man in a black suit charged with a number of historical sexual offences of which he declares himself not guilty. The court was, unsurprisingly, packed. Most of the 60 or so crammed into public seating were journalists who would learn nothing more than what had been known for months. Pell, once he had shuffled in and taken a seat directly behind his barrister, Robert Richter, QC, would say not a word. He wasn't required to do so. The Bible resting upon the witness stand would not be used this day.

Cardinal George Pell, with his lawyer Robert Richter QC, leave court amid chaotic scenes. Credit:Jason South The magistrate refused requests by the media to issue details of charges, a date was set in September for evidence to be served on Pell's legal team and for a day in October when the cardinal would reappear, and Richter reasserted that his client maintained his innocence. And then it was over. After all the build-up, there was a great sense of anticlimax, though everyone knew it would be so. The entire proceeding before magistrate Duncan Reynolds took precisely six minutes. A sketch of Cardinal George Pell in the courtroom. Credit:Joe Benke Pell had already been forced to walk the gauntlet. Forests of microphones, a roiling sea of cameras - a pell mell of media, you might say - surrounded him as he arrived outside the court.

He was required to enter the front door like any other person called by the court, though he was not ordered to walk through the electronic scanner. Instead, a security guard submitted him to a wave of the wand that might detect metal objects, and he lumbered across the foyer, hundreds of eyes upon him. Julie Cameron holds a painting of the Virgin Mary and child outside the Melbourne Magistrates Cout. Credit:Justin McManus There was applause, someone cried out something uncomplimentary. Julie Cameron, no address given, came armed with a large picture of the Madonna and Child, and she held it aloft. It was, she said, to remind everyone that the job of the clergy was to "protect the children". The queue of mostly media - The New York Times was there, and The Times and CNN, and every media organisation of note in Australia was represented - extended 30 metres across the lobby. Most of those who would get to see the six minutes of a Prince of the Church appearing in court had got in line before the morning had brought light to Melbourne's streets.

There were too many reporters for little courtroom number 2. Upstairs, courtroom 20 with a video link was opened for the overflow. Pell is a big man, once signed as a ruckman for Richmond, though the church got to him before he played. But as he entered the court, he was stooped, looking straight ahead, his body slumping and almost too large for the chair he was allocated. He rested his black overcoat on one knee and the hand with the golden ecclesiastical episcopal ring, for that is what this gift from a Pope is called, on the other. The hand was steady Loading Six minutes later, he stood and walked the gauntlet again, cameras and reporters and microphones and strangers with uncomplimentary words to say, others crying out that anyone was innocent until proved guilty, another calling "God bless you", all of this surrounding him all the way to the entrance to Richter's chambers around the corner and down Lonsdale Street.

And all through it, the cardinal said not a word.