Magnificat (41 page)

“It’s thirteen-forty-eight,” said the chambermaid, after a swift glance at her watch. “Do you want anything for him?”

“He’ll order, when he gets here,” said Stelo, giving her a smile that was not reassuring. He reached into his pocket and brought out two crumpled notes. “Your tip. Put the rest on the bill.”

“You have to sign for it,” she said, holding out the receipt.

“A pleasure,” said Cardinal Pugno, who took the check and signed it with a flourish. He knew his title would impress the young woman.

She flushed as she read his signature, and curtsied to him. “I’m sorry, Eminence. I didn’t realize—”

“It is a private matter,” said Cardinal Pugno. “I hope you will not reveal my presence?”

“No, of course not.” She was blushing now. “I’ll…I’ll leave you alone. I don’t want to intrude.”

“Thank you,” said Cardinal Pugno, and watched while the chambermaid beat a hasty retreat. He then turned to Stelo. “Are they short of waiters, do you think, that they sent a maid to serve our lunch?”

Stelo blinked. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

“Neither do I,” said Cardinal Pugno. “Were I still practicing law, a detail such as this one might trouble me.”

Dionigi Stelo glared at the covered plates. “Do you think these are safe?”

“I don’t know,” the Cardinal answered.

The two men fell silent, caught in speculation, so that the tap on the door seemed loud to them.

Once again Stelo took up his position, ready for the worst. “Who is it?”

“I believe you’re expecting me,” said a smooth voice in English.

Cardinal Pugno gestured to Stelo. “Move away from the door.” When Stelo had done this, Pugno said, “Come in.”

Very natty in British tweeds, Dmitri Yvgeneivich Karodin strolled into the suite, both hands in sight. He closed the door behind him and turned to regard the two men. “Good afternoon,” he said gently.

Both Cardinal Pugno and Dionigi Stelo recognized him. Cardinal Pugno recovered first. “You aren’t…who I was expecting.”

“I don’t suppose so,” said Karodin. He looked at the covered platters. “The chambermaid did her work well, didn’t she?”

“You arranged that?” asked Stelo, more suspicious than before.

“I thought it best,” said Karodin, sitting down on one of the two satin-covered sofas. “I’m hungry.”

Cardinal Pugno regarded Karodin narrowly. “Why did you summon us? You could have arranged other luncheon companions.”

“Very good, Eminence,” said Karodin. “Very capable, like most attorneys.” He paused to be certain he had the Cardinal’s attention. “There have been two attempts on the life of your Pope since she was elevated.”

“Two?” Stelo demanded.

“One killed Jivin, Cardinal Tayibha; that one you know about. The other killed two men and injured five pedestrians. It appeared to be an unfortunate traffic accident. But it was not.”

Stelo looked at Cardinal Pugno. “The accident last week!”

Cardinal Pugno did not let any emotions show in his blue eyes. “Is that what you mean? The accident on the Borgo Santo Spirito?”

“Yes,” said Karodin calmly. “The two men in the car were killed. Because one of my men did his job properly.”

“What proof have we of that?” challenged Cardinal Pugno.

“Under the platter of chicken there are a number of photographs. I think you will find them interesting.” He rose, cocking his head toward the small dining table on the far side of the room. “You can examine them while we eat. I am very hungry. Truly.”

Cardinal Pugno could only admire Karodin’s aplomb. “Very well. We will eat, and while we do, you’ll tell us what you know about this accident and why you think it was an attempt on the life of Pope An.”

“Most certainly,” said Karodin. He waited while Stelo checked the covered platters, smiling a little as Stelo removed a packet of photographs from under the largest one. “There. Now you have something to look at while I break my fast. I haven’t eaten since last night, and that was in Moscow.” He laid out napery and silver for himself, and took his place at the middle of the table. “I hope you don’t mind?” he asked as he helped himself to a good portion of chicken.

Cardinal Pugno was staring at the photographs. “Where did you get these?”

“An agent of mine, working in Rome for the last six weeks.” He put vegetables on his plate and broke a roll in half. “We were aware of this group, do you see? And we felt that their coming to Rome could bode nothing good.”

In the first photograph there was a travel-bag, on casual inspection filled with dirty clothes and a few souvenirs. On closer inspection—which the second photograph provided—the souvenirs turned out to be coverings for plastic explosives, with a travel alarm for a timer. The third photograph showed four men, each with identical travel-bags. Four more photographs were devoted to two of these men on foot wandering through the open areas of the Vatican. One of them was busy making notes. Cardinal Pugno shook his head in disbelief. “This isn’t possible.” He held up the next two photos showing one of the men standing at the entrance to the Vatican motor pool.

“You mean that no tourist ever wandered into that part of the Vatican before?” asked Karodin in polite disbelief. “Never?”

“It happens very rarely,” Stelo conceded.

“If the intruder is like that one, it need only happen once.” He poured himself a little of the wine. “Fortunately that was a trial run. It seems they decided it was too risky to try to get close to Pope An that way. So they selected another.”

“The automobile?” Stelo asked, knowing the answer already.

“It was out of control, or that is what everyone thought. Ironically, thanks to my man, it
was
out of control those last crucial seconds.” He took a little of the chicken, chewed, then went on. “It was supposed to crash through the fence to the garden where the Pope walks most afternoons. It had two of those bags in the trunk, and the whole thing would have detonated inside the fence.” He cut more chicken.

“That can’t be right,” said Cardinal Pugno.

“If you bother to look at the Eurocops report, you will see mention of the size of the explosion—it was much greater than an automobile of that size ought to produce, even with a full tank of petrol.” He wiped his fingers before picking up the crystal wineglass. “My man put a small charge under the transmission. He blew it up by radio signal when the automobile reached a danger area. He hadn’t counted on the automobile flipping over the way it did.” He gave them a few minutes to examine the rest of the photographs. “It’s all there.”

“Very convenient,” said Stelo.

“You mean that you think we were responsible?” asked Karodin without rancor. “Why would I bother to show these to you if we were responsible. You were not aware of this attempt, and very likely you would not have been aware of it if I hadn’t brought it to your attention.”

“And you might have arranged the whole thing, in order to gain access to us, or sympathy,” said Cardinal Pugno.

“I might, if I had something to gain,” said Karodin. “But how could I benefit?” He helped himself to a portion of fish. “You ought to join me. This is very good.”

“Why should we believe these photographs, or you?” asked Stelo.

“Because I am not Catholic. If I wanted your Pope harmed, I would have kept this to myself. But it happens that I don’t want Magistrate Zhuang to be harmed. I am of the opinion that she is useful.” He saw the change in expression. “Oh, not the way you believe. We have greater concerns in Russia these days than what one Chinese woman does in Rome. But I think that what she does will matter to all of us. She is a woman of conscience. That, in itself, might be a refreshing change.”

Cardinal Pugno flushed. “How dare you, of all men, make such an accusation.”

“I made no accusation. It was a simple speculation, based on opinion.” He met Cardinal Pugno’s accusatory gaze with unruffled ease. “You’re a good enough attorney to know the difference, Eminence.”

“You’re toying with the Church, Mister Karodin,” warned Cardinal Pugno, “and that can be a very dangerous thing to do, even for you.”

“But I’m not toying with the Church,” said Karodin, putting down his knife and fork. “I am volunteering my assistance. The photographs were supplied to show good faith.”

“Good faith,” mocked Stelo, who had taken the photographs from Cardinal Pugno. “Why should we believe you? Your reputation is for disinformation and deliberate confusion. Who is to say that this is not some clever ruse? Your KGB is not known for defending the Church.”

“I am not offering to defend the Church,” said Karodin with precision, “I am offering to defend Pope An. You will allow that there is a difference?”

“Oh, yes, there is a difference,” said Cardinal Pugno. “But a Chinese woman? Why did you come to us?”

Dmitri Karodin buttered the remaining half of his roll. “I am not here to try to convince you of my sincerity. I came to you because one of you ought to be in the best position to protect Pope An, and clearly cannot; the other is an attorney and skeptical by profession, Cardinal or not. Between you, you ought to be able to decide how useful those photographs are.”

“If they are genuine, they’re valuable,” said Cardinal Pugno. “You will have to forgive me if I am not convinced.”

“Forgiveness isn’t my work, it’s yours.” Karodin took a sip of the wine and set the glass aside. “The photographs are genuine. The identities of the men involved will be provided to you when you leave here. You can check them out as you wish. When you do, you will be able to evaluate my usefulness to you. I am here to provide my help, if you are willing to accept it. My reasons are my own.” He ate his roll before adding, “She needs help, you realize that, don’t you?”

“If what you say is true,” said Cardinal Pugno. He regarded Karodin with respect. “Whatever your motives, I suppose we ought to thank you for your interest in Pope An.”

“Then make the most of what assistance I can provide,” Karodin recommended.

“There are good men in the Vatican whose job it is to protect her,” said Stelo, affronted once more.

“My point precisely,” said Karodin.

Chapter 22

Vitale, Cardinal Cadini was the first to laugh, and he laughed hugely, leaning back in his chair and wiping his eyes. “Oh, dear,” he said when he was able to speak. “You are going to cause an uproar, Your Holiness.”

Pope An surveyed the gathering of fifteen Cardinals. “Any more uproar than my selection for this position has caused already?”

“Yes, indeed,” said Cardinal Stevenson, who had not been able to bring himself to laugh along with Cardinal Cadini. He did his best to explain, all the while glaring at Cardinal Cadini from the corner of his eye. “Your election is within the purview of dogma and doctrine, but this…this strikes at the heart of all that—”

“A decision made more than a thousand years after the beginning of this Church,” said Pope An at her most reasonable. “It was a political decision made by a Pope. Jesus said nothing about it. And therefore the order is subject to reversal. We are not in those barbarian times and the Church need not bind itself to judgments from that day.” She glanced over at Willie Foot. “Did I say it right?”

Willie did his best to control his laughter. “Oh, you most certainly did, Your Holiness.”

“There will be shock, of course,” said Cardinal Bakony, his face set.

“That iconoclast Mendosa’s behind this,” muttered Cardinal Hetre, his hand to his brow; his head had been throbbing for hours. He made himself sit straighter in his chair. “Holiness,” he said tentatively, “do you think this is the time for such an announcement? We are in very difficult straits. The Protestants are merciless in their criticism of the Church, to say nothing of the Moslems and Jews. We must consider the ramifications of such a decree.” He saw a few of the other Cardinals nod in agreement.

“Aren’t you the Cardinal who advised me that the Church is losing priests at an unparalleled rate?” Pope An watched the Cardinals; most of them were wary. “According to what I have been told, the most prevalent reason for these men leaving the priesthood is their desire to marry. Since it is possible to establish a legal contract with a priest so that Church property would not be left to the children of the priest, there is no reason to continue to forbid marrying. I have been told that some of the Apostles were married. Weren’t they?”

“Apparently,” said Cardinal Bakony carefully.

“Then married men were accepted by your founder Jesus as worthy to serve him and spread his teaching. If He didn’t disdain them, there is no reason for us to do so now.” She smiled. “That is the first part of my message to the Catholic world.”

Two of the Cardinals crossed themselves.

“In the same light, I have been reviewing the petitions of nuns who seek to become priests,” Pope An went on, politely determined. “I cannot doubt their desire, what you call their vocation. Their arguments are sensible and their dedication cannot be doubted.”

“Our Lord did not have women as Apostles,” said Cardinal Ygnacio at once.

“Your Holiness…it isn’t.…” began Cardinal Hetre, then faltered with the realization that he could think of nothing more to say that would not make him physically ill.

“For those nuns wishing to attend proper instruction, as men do now when they enter the Church, I will open the door. If I can be elected Pope, it is clear that these women are entitled to serve as priests if that is their wish.” She clapped her hands twice for the servants waiting in the corridor outside. “The announcement will be made tomorrow morning. I have prepared a copy of my statement for each of you. It will be distributed to all Cardinals tonight, by messenger if necessary. My only request is that you make no comment until I have spoken to the Catholics of the world first myself. Then you may speak your mind if that is what you want to do.” She got to her feet and put her hand to the lapel pin she wore. “Do any of you have questions?”

“This is Mendosa’s work,” said Cardinal Hetre in utter condemnation. “And that British woman you’ve brought here.”

Pope An countered at once. “You know as well as every other man here that I have been at pains to speak to all of you. I have listened to the Curia and many others. I have consulted those who are Catholic and those who are not. Ultimately, my decisions are my own, not those of Cardinal Mendosa, or Dame Leonie Purcell, or any other person. I respect the opinion of everyone, even those who are not Catholics, since I am not one.” She regarded Cardinal Hetre coolly. “If you think Cardinal Mendosa is behind my Bull, you have only to call him in Houston and ask him. If you think it was Dame Leonie’s decision, I will arrange for her to speak with you before dinner.”

Cardinal Hetre blanched. “I didn’t…it wasn’t my intention.…” He had to hold his head in both hands to keep the ache from eating through his skull. His teeth hurt as he clenched them.

“Holiness,” said Cardinal Bradeston, paying little heed to his French-Canadian colleague, “do you have any idea how much turmoil this is going to cause?”

“No,” said Pope An. “And neither have you.” She read shock on several faces. “You know only that you dislike what I am doing. You have come to believe the things you tell yourselves. You have decided that if priests are allowed to marry, the Church will not be able to weather the upheaval it will cause. But that upheaval may be nothing more than the product of your own fears. Who can say that it will not simplify the position of priests, and help those who wish to remain with the Church be true to their priesthood and true to their humanity as well?” She was glad now that she had spent the extra hours with Willie Foot working to improve her English. Her Chinese accent was quite strong and would always be—just as she would always think in Chinese—but her vocabulary and usage were good enough for most dealings. She was now beginning to learn Italian by the same intensive methods that she studied English. “As to the women who wish to enter the priesthood, I hope that there are enough Christians in the Church who remember that without a woman Jesus would not have been able to come to earth. If Catholics address Mary for intercession, surely women can serve as priests for the same reason.”

“But Holiness,” protested Cardinal Tsukamara, “to change something so basic to Catholicism—”

“The role of priest is not a matter of sex, if the early Christians are to be believed,” said Pope An in the same tone she had used to hand down her Magisterial decisions. “The complaints that the Church has treated women unfairly are well-founded. It has. If we are to hold ourselves up as an example of what Christians should be, then we must change these antiquated ways and permit men and women of faith to practice their faith as they see fit.” She looked directly at Cardinal van Hooven. “Isn’t every other limitation unfair?”

“It would seem so, Holiness,” said Cardinal van Hooven, his eyes larger than ever in his pebble-thick lenses. His smile was as huge and innocent as a baby’s. “And long overdue.”

“Thank you for that, Cardinal van Hooven,” she said. She watched the young priests hand out copies of her first Papal Bull, observing the way the Cardinals reacted to what they read.

“You’re going…far with this, Holiness,” said Cardinal Lepescu.

“You wish to tell me it is too far?” asked Pope An.

“I think so, yes,” said Cardinal Lepescu. “I do not say that such reforms are not needed, but to do them properly we will need time. You make no provision for a gradual transfer in this…statement.”

Pope An nodded decisively. “I have seen how well gradual changes work, and it does not satisfy me. That way is the course of the timid who are without purpose. I think the Church is better served by one strong shock than a series of little ones. This way, it is all done at once, and we cannot be trapped in endless debate in which everyone tries to satisfy one particular group or perspective, and in the end no one is satisfied at all.” She put her hands on her writing table, leaning forward on them for emphasis. “The priests are not being
required
to marry, and no nun is being
required
to become a priest. I am only making it possible for those who wish to do these things to do them.”

Cardinal Hetre stumbled to his feet. “Your…Holiness. You must excuse me. I’m…not well.” He fumbled his way toward the door.

“One of you,” said Pope An, indicating the young priests who had passed out the copies of her Bull. “Attend to Cardinal Hetre. Be sure he is all right, and if he is not, summon his physician.”

“He has a history of headaches,” said Cardinal Bradeston, as the young priest guided Cardinal Hetre out of the room. “It hasn’t been easy for him.”

“True,” said Cardinal Cadini, who was beaming at the document he held. “You do not know how long I have prayed for this day. When I was younger I hoped John XXIII might have time enough to bring it about, but—” He made a resigned gesture. “I hoped it would come in God’s time, as everything must. At least it has happened while I’m alive to see it.”

Cardinal Ochoa glowered at him.

“What do you think?” said Cardinal Bakony, not bothering to address Pope An, but turning to his fellow-Cardinals. “Will this send our flocks scattering?”

“I hope not,” said Cardinal Tsukamara. “But I fear it might. The Church has not been in Japan as long has it has been in Europe. These changes will be felt more in the East than the West, I think.”

“The East has already survived me,” said Pope An with a slight chuckle.

“Women priests will not be…very welcome in Japan,” Cardinal Tsukamara said, taking care not to give offense.

Pope An restrained her first impulse, for the rivalry of China and Japan had no place in this meeting. She brought her feelings under control. “Possibly not at first, because they will be strange. But in time everyone will grow used to them, as they have grown used to women driving buses and running businesses.” Next she directed her gaze toward Cardinal Shumwoe. “What have you to say?”

Cardinal Shumwoe took a moment to answer. “There have been wise women among my people, but never priests. They have seen many women missionaries of all sorts, some of whom are ministers, but Protestants. Those who seek to be Christians and Catholics will have to decide if women priests can speak to God as well as men. Allowing priests to marry will be useful in Africa. It will trouble many Africans less if the priests are married. They do not understand men who do not have women.”

“Won’t this lead to complications for those priests who do not marry?” suggested Cardinal Lepescu. “There are already those who say that the priesthood attracts men who…are not attracted to women as men ought to be. I fear there are many who would be quick to assume an unmarried priest was homosexual.”

Cardinal van Hooven rose impatiently. “Good God in Heaven! Are we to forbid marriage to all priests so that those who prefer celibacy will not be branded homosexuals? What of the priests who
are
homosexuals? Are we to demand they leave the priesthood? What is the sense of that?”

“More of what we’ve been hearing for over a century, as supposed reasons for maintaining an iniquitous system,” said Cardinal Cadini. “Before they came up with other excuses.” He turned to Pope An, beaming at her and holding out one hand in his familiar gesture of approval. “I don’t care what the rest of them think: I am completely in favor of what you are doing, Holiness, and I will say so to the world, if you like.”

Pope An’s eyes met his. “Thank you, Cardinal Cadini,” she said.

“But what is the point of all this? It will only baffle our people and make them doubt the Church,” Cardinal Belleau proclaimed.

There were a few words of assent, and Cardinal Ygnacio made an angry fist.

Pope An looked at them. “You have brought me here. You were the ones who elected me. I did not come without invitation, or because I sought it. But since you were determined to have me, I have taken on the work of ridding your Church of those things which are not part of the teachings of your Jesus. That is what you expected me to do, isn’t it? You have said your faith is based on His word, and that my position is intended to preserve His Church according to His word. That is my guide for all I have decided and will decide in future.” She indicated her Bull once again. “Tomorrow when I speak to the newspeople, I hope you will see fit to withhold your questions until I am finished.”

“And when you are finished, I’ll endorse what you say wholeheartedly,” said Cardinal Cadini at once.

Cardinal Bakony got to his feet, approaching her carefully. “I wish you’d reconsider, Your Holiness. I think we all need time to reflect. I would like time to pray for guidance.”

“I have reflected, and I have the authority to guide you,” said Pope An. “I have read the various works that report what your Jesus said, including those that have been excluded from your Bible on the grounds that they are not appropriate to the Church. I have realized that there are many areas where the Church has drifted from the intentions of your Jesus.”

Cardinal Lepescu swore softly. “This is just the beginning, then?”

“The beginning? It could be the end,” said Cardinal Tsukamara darkly.

“It seems to me,” said Willie Foot suddenly from his place in the far corner of the room, “that most people will be relieved, Protestants as well as Catholics. Most Catholics think that the Church is unreceptive and uncaring, out of step with the world and unwilling to adapt. They depend on their priests, but fear that the priests themselves have been hampered by the hierarchy of the Church. This could change their minds.”

“Does it change yours?” demanded Cardinal Belleau.

“I don’t know,” said Willie candidly. “But lapsed Catholics are going to be the hardest group to reach, and I’m one of them.” He gave Pope An thumbs-up. “I don’t know why you think you still need me, Holiness. You’re doing just fine on your own.”

She answered him in Chinese, and he grew thoughtful.

“What did she say?” asked Cardinal Bakony as he started toward the door.

Willie looked at Pope An for permission; when she nodded, he translated, “She said—roughly—that chickens don’t fly into an empty cooking pot because the farmer is hungry.”

* * *

“Oh, my friends, I am filled with terrible foreboding,” Reverend Dean Marcus said to the camera that faced him in his walnut-paneled study. “I warned you when the Catholic Church brought that Communist Chinese woman to Rome that this was the beginning of the Last Days. In seventeen months the Second Millennium will be upon us, and we are warned that before Christ comes again, there will be the Antichrist. I see the danger before me as the fiery pit. It is in Revelations, and good men through the centuries have read those words with fear of the wrath of God. They saw what calamity the Catholic Church could bring to all of Christianity. And that time is come now. As we near the blessed year Two Thousand, when the Antichrist shall rise and fall and God will send the Second Coming.”