Papal Decree (12 page)

‘What’s interesting?’ Gavache interrupted with a cigarette between his lips.

‘This church. It’s based entirely on the Church of the Gesù in Rome. Even the facade outside. The Jesuits are indeed exemplary.’

‘It’s a Jesuit church, anyway,’ Gavache offered, looking at Rafael. ‘Do you think they’ll give up one of their own?’

‘We’ll see,’ Rafael replied, sitting down in a pew next to Jean-Paul. ‘That isn’t the idea.’

‘What makes the Jesuits so special?’ Gavache asked Jacopo.

‘They’re extremely intelligent. They know how to think about the church. You could say they’re specialists in marketing religion.’

Rafael smiled. What an absurd idea.

‘They always turn to preaching. Unlike the Benedictines, for example, who live in communities and follow daily rituals together, the Jesuits think more about society than community. To convert people after preaching, spread the word of God through the world. Loyola was a very good strategist,’ Jacopo said, warming to his subject.

‘You talk a lot about this Loyola,’ Gavache noted.

‘Naturally. Saint Ignatius of Loyola was the founder of the Society of Jesus. This church, like many others, is due to the work that he initiated. It’s the largest Catholic religious order in the world. And everything began here in Paris.’

‘That’s enough of a history lesson for now,’ Rafael said, saturated. He knew what Jacopo was going to say backward and forward.

‘Sorry, Rafael, but the subject interests me,’ Gavache interjected, then looked at Jacopo. ‘Please, continue.’

That a French inspector was interested in what he had to teach about the Jesuits made Jacopo feel very important.

‘Okay, you can always recognize a Jesuit church from its symbol. We’re talking about the sixteenth century, and they already had a notion of a sign.’ He pointed to the altar and to the acronym above the image of Christ. ‘IHS. You’ll find those letters on the facade, too.’

‘IHS?’

‘Yes, it signifies Jesus in Greek, composed of the letters
iota, eta, sigma. Iota
and
eta
are the same in Greek and Latin.
Sigma
was transliterated as
S
, and in some cases
C
, because they have the same sound. They also interpret the acronym in Latin as
Iesus Hominum Salvator,
which means Jesus Savior of Men. If until the Council of Trent the Benedictines were the ones to follow in the matter of ritual, afterward the Jesuits revolutionized everything. Do you see that pulpit?’ He pointed to a kind of marble veranda on top of a carved cap on a column supporting them.

‘I’m looking at it.’

‘The Jesuits were adept at preaching, as opposed to turning their backs on the people. Don’t forget, we’re talking about the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Mass was celebrated in Latin, but the Jesuit fathers made a point of preaching facing the faithful, very close to them, in a way they understood.’ Jacopo was silent for a few moments. Many priests had preached their sermons from those pulpits. ‘And for me one of the most inspired inventions of the church: the confession,’ Jacopo added.

‘The confession? How so?’ Gavache looked perplexed.

‘It was the Jesuits who invented confession as we know it today. I know we grew up thinking that these things existed forever, but it’s not true. Everything has a beginning.’

Gavache had to think about that.

‘Marriage …,’ Jacopo proceeded.

‘Don’t tell me that was one of their inventions also?’ Gavache cut him off.

‘No, marriage was before them, but the ritual as we know it today comes from the twelfth century. I mention it to illustrate how things aren’t as we think they are. Someone thought them up, someone created them … men, not God.’

Jacopo let the idea sink in. It was a theory that made people, especially laypeople, think.

‘You’re a sensationalist, Jacopo,’ Rafael accused.

‘Am I lying?’

‘You put things in a very simple way. As if they’d tried to think up ways to exploit the faithful,’ Rafael argued. Gunter was really taking a long time.

‘And didn’t they? What was confession?’

‘You tell me.’

‘What better way to create the omnipresence of God,’ Jacopo said, his face flushed. The subject was dear to his heart.

‘Please, Jacopo. That’s absurd.’

‘I don’t think it’s absurd,’ Gavache put in.

‘You see?’ Jacopo agreed. ‘Any person with any sense agrees. Confession was a pleasant procedure for getting to know the lives of everyone around you. Even today a Jesuit priest hears confession from the pope every Friday. I tip my hat. It was ingenious.’

‘The confession is protected by secrecy on the part of the confessor,’ Rafael replied, tired of the conversation.

‘What does that matter? As soon as you tell me your secret, even in confession, I have power over you because I know something no one else does. Besides, a superior can oblige a confessor to divulge the confession, as you know very well. There’s a reason they call the superior general of the society the black pope.’

‘The black pope?’ Gavache inquired.

‘Yes, because the Jesuit suit is black,’ Jacopo explained. ‘There are some who claim that the black pope has more power than the pope himself.’

‘Interesting.’ Gavache was visibly intrigued.

‘It’s the society’s mission to serve the Supreme Pontiff wherever he desires, without question, fulfilling his will, always, but it’s said that whoever opposes the society finds himself in a war that can end very badly, even for the pope himself. There are rumors that some popes died at the hands of the society.’

‘That is outrageous,’ said a thundering voice behind them. It was Gunter, who crossed the nave from the altar with firm steps. ‘The Jesuits answer only to the pope and carry out what His Holiness wants, when he wants, without question. We preach the word of the Lord all over the world – love, understanding, tolerance – and we help society progress down a good path. We never put a life at risk,’ he added. ‘I’m sorry I made you wait. My name is Gunter.’ He introduced himself to Gavache with a handshake. When he came to Rafael, he embraced him. Two friends separated by distance. He did not greet Jacopo.

Gunter appeared to be in his forties and in great shape, emanating energy through every pore.

‘To what do I owe this visit at such an inopportune hour for the servants of God?’ Gunter asked.

‘I’m sorry for the late call, Father Gunter, but servants have been assassinated and others need your help,’ Gavache said in his nasal tone, not caring if he seemed sarcastic. Gavache was Gavache. Who could blame him?

‘I’m not sure I understand.’

‘We need your help, Gunter. Show him the recording, Inspector,’ Rafael said. It would be easier if Gunter was informed about what has happened as quickly as possible. Tell him everything, or almost everything, and show him the recording. Gunter remained pensive. A phrase went though his mind.
Ad maiorem Dei gloriam.
Saint Ignatius uttered these same words in the sixteenth century, in the same city of Montmartre, where he founded the Society of Jesus with Peter Faber, Francis Xavier, Alfonso Salmeron, Diego Laynez, Nicholas Bobadilla, and Simão Rodrigues, on August 15, 1534. It was one of the rules that governed the Society.
For the greater glory of God
. For Loyola this was the most important thing. Gunter listened and watched everything in silence and then went on thinking.

‘Did you know the archaeologist or theologian?’ Gavache proceeded. He needed to start putting the pieces of the puzzle together.

‘I don’t believe so.’

‘Jean-Paul, show the photos of the victims to the father,’ the inspector ordered.

Jean-Paul did so promptly, handing over the photos he was carrying. Gunter carefully examined the faces but not one was familiar.

‘I don’t recognize anyone. Sorry, Inspector.’

‘Do you think it could be the work of a Jesuit father?’ Gavache continued.

‘It doesn’t seem believable to me that priests, Jesuits or not, would go around killing people. We preach love, the way of God, the good. Having said that, anything is possible.’

‘Let us suppose that these guys’ – Gavache pointed at the photos of Yaman Zafer and Sigfried Hammal – ‘were enemies of the church. The reason doesn’t matter. Imagine they knew a secret that could bring down the church. Would you be the people to get to resolve the problem?’

Gunter chuckled, ‘For the love of God, Inspector. The church doesn’t do these things, much less the Jesuits.’

‘Bullshit,’ Jacopo stammered.

Gunter didn’t respond.

‘We’re not going to get anything here, Jean-Paul,’ Gavache muttered, turning his back on the conversation.

‘Well, no, Inspector.’

‘Paris has nothing, Marseille nothing. We have nothing.’ Gavache was thinking out loud. ‘Where are we going to start over, Jean-Paul?’

‘At the beginning, Inspector. Always at the beginning.’

Rafael took advantage of the moment to get close to Gunter so that no one would hear them. ‘Do you have something for me? You can fool the inspector, but I know it was a Jesuit priest. I want to know who it was and who gave the order.’

‘Are you crazy?’ Gunter whispered. ‘Bringing a cop with you. Where’s your common sense?’

‘My common sense ended when Zafer died at the hands of a Jesuit priest,’ Rafael replied coldly.

‘I can’t help you, Rafael.’

‘This Loyola,’ Gavache mentioned with a quizzical expression.

‘Who?’ Gunter and Rafael answered simultaneously.

‘The Loyola the historian was talking about.’

‘Saint Ignatius,’ Jacopo explained.

‘What about him?’

‘What was he all about?’

Rafael and Gunter looked at each other.

‘I don’t understand what you’re asking.’ Gunter was confused.

‘What was he doing? Why did he found the Society of Jesus? What was the purpose? Do you have to take some special course to join the society? Is it enough to know someone? No one does anything for free, right, Jean-Paul?’

‘Nobody, Inspector.’

‘What was his deal?’ Gavache insisted.

Gunter didn’t know how to answer. It was a very strange question.

‘Saint Ignatius was a Spaniard and –’ Jacopo was ready to give another history lesson.

‘Please, Mr. Jacopo,’ Gavache interrupted, lighting a cigarette and exhaling smoke into the holy air of the church. ‘We have a Jesuit here. I’d prefer some inside information, if you don’t mind.’

According to Father Gunter, Ignatius Loyola was born in 1491 in the town of Loyola, near San Sebastián, in Basque country. He became a soldier and was seriously wounded in the Battle of Pamplona, which occurred during the Italian War when Francis the First of France and Charles the Fifth of Spain were fighting over the Holy Roman Empire. This was in 1521. Loyola spent months recovering and began to read books about Jesus, saints, the road to God. These readings influenced him greatly.

‘Books have always been a bad influence,’ Gavache added, sending a cloud of smoke into the air.

When Loyola recovered his health, he secretly left his father’s house and dedicated his life to God. First in the Monastery of Montserrat, where he confessed over the course of three days. Then he abandoned his elegant clothes and decided to live a life of poverty in the monastery of Manresa. He wasn’t a monk; he only occupied one of the cells as a guest. He supported himself by begging and not eating meat or drinking wine, and visited the hospital, and brought food to those who suffered. He underwent tests of his soul, visions, and spiritual experiences. In 1523 he decided to ask permission from the pope to go to the Holy Land to convert the infidels. He obtained a pontifical passport and, once in Venice, headed for Jerusalem. He planned to live there, but the Franciscans would not permit it, so he returned to Europe, to Barcelona.

‘When was that?’ Gavache asked.

‘In 1524.’

‘How could someone so resolute, who asks for a passport from the pope and wants to live in the Holy Land, be convinced to return so quickly?’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘What I said. Deciding to live his life someplace and only staying a few months, simply because somebody didn’t want him there …’ He let the question hang over them. ‘Not a good story.’

‘That’s your opinion.’

‘Why didn’t the Franciscans want him there?’

‘We don’t know.’

‘Well, then.’

‘He entered the University of Alcalá de Henares on the outskirts of Madrid, founded by Cardinal Cisneros in the sixteenth century and known today as the Complutense of Madrid. He studied Latin, but his preaching and begging brought him to the attention of the Holy Inquisition.’

Gavache smiled at the mention of the
Holy
Inquisition.

‘He was a prisoner for a month and a half, but they found nothing bad in his writings or what he preached. They freed him, but he was forbidden to preach and had to dress better. He appealed to the archbishop of Toledo, who upheld the prohibition, but let him enroll in the University of Salamanca. Again, he was arrested by the Inquisition. He decided to leave for Paris, where he entered the university in 1528. He studied theology and literature, becoming a teacher in 1533. In 1534 he founded the society with six followers. The intention was to go to Jerusalem, but first he needed the permission of the pope. Paul the Third approved his voyage and consented to ordain them priests. The war that broke out between the Papal States, Venice, and the Turks delayed the journey to the Holy Land, so Ignatius remained in Rome. Paul the Third, who needed missionaries for the Americas and the Orient, verbally approved the new order on September 3, 1539, and a year later confirmed it with the papal
Regimini militantis Ecclesiae
, which contained the statutes of the Society of Jesus. Thus it was officially born.’

‘And what happened to the saint?’

‘He was named first superior general of the Society of Jesus. His work continued. He founded the Roman College, on donations alone, with the purpose of offering free education. Paul the Sixth made his life a little difficult, and he found himself in economic difficulties, but Gregory the Thirteenth, twenty-five years after the death of Loyola, maintained and supported the project, and that’s why today we call the ancient Roman College the Pontifical Gregorian University. Ignatius died in Rome on July 31, 1556. He left one thousand Jesuits in one hundred and ten places with thirty-five colleges. He was canonized in 1622 by Gregory the Fifteenth.’