The Parchment (28 page)

“His Eminence Cardinal Reysin was not present at the last conclave. If he had been, he might be less enthusiastic about technology. When that conclave was over, the Swiss Guards found listening devices hidden in almost every room and chapel in the conclave area. They even discovered a small device in one of the candlesticks in the Sistine Chapel. Luckily, it had malfunctioned. It seems the Russians wanted detailed information about each step of the process. The camerlengo has assured me that Vatican security will sweep the conclave rooms twice a day. But this will only uncover listening devices hidden inside the conclave. If we bring computers or cell phones into the conclave and send messages to our offices or staff, they can be listened to by monitors set up outside the conclave. The Swiss Guards cannot discover them so easily.”

When Chavez had finished, Cardinal Vaggio, the Archbishop of Florence, asked to be recognized. “Cardinal Reysin comes from a rich and powerful country. I can understand his fascination with technology. Who would deny its usefulness? But there are limits. We turn off our cell phones during dinner with our family and friends. Why? Because dinner is a time to reflect and listen to others. It is the same with a conclave. It is a time to put aside the distractions of daily life and listen to one another and to the Holy Spirit. An old nun from Sicily once told me ‘Eminence, the Holy Spirit doesn't fly in a thunderstorm.’ What a wise woman! Given this, no elector except Cardinal Lawrence, the Major Penitentiary of the Church, should be permitted to communicate with anyone outside the conclave. We make an exception for the Major Penitentiary because he oversees papal dispensations. God's mercy cannot be interrupted even for a conclave. Who else among us could claim such a privilege?”

“I agree with Vaggio,” Cardinal Muñoz spoke from his seat. “Let me remind my brothers that the Latin roots of the word
conclave
are
‘cum’
and
‘clavus.’
Together, the words mean ‘with a key.’ We are locked into the area of the conclave so that we are cut off from the noise of the outside world.”

Cardinal Reysin bridled with anger. The crusty old archbishop had once grumbled that he knew only five words of Latin and was proud of it. He could not help but think that Muñoz waspatronizing him by explaining the Latin derivation of the word conclave.

Muñoz continued. “But, Cardinal Reysin, I have more fundamental objections than Latin roots for prohibiting cell phones and laptops in the conclave. They are a near occasion of sin. The less noble-minded among us might begin using email to campaign for support. More troublesome still would be the temptation to use a cell phone to leak the name of the new pope before the formal announcement in St. Peter's Square. The best defense against temptation is to remove its source.”

A hush fell over the room as Cardinal Diefenbacher rose to speak. Cardinal Cabrillo from Manila unobtrusively turned up the volume on his hearing aid.

“These are extraordinary times, my brothers. Pope Benedict's abdication has left a great void in the Church. He was truly a man chosen by the Holy Spirit. Today we begin the search for his successor. As at the time of the Reformation, our Church faces grave problems — problems that, without exaggeration, threaten its very survival as an institution. Many Catholics challenge the teaching authority of Rome. Others say that the structure of the Church has become fossilized and that national episcopal conferences and local bishops must have more say. The celibacy of the priesthood and the place of women in the Church are divisive issues in some areas of the world. When I began my remarks, I addressed this assembly with the words ‘My brothers’ — someday a future cardinal will stand here where I do and open with ‘My Brothers and Sisters.’ This is not an opinion; it is a fact.

“The Sacred College has the responsibility to save the Church. Two thousand years ago, the Romans mastered the art of knowing when to be rigid and when to be flexible. With that skill they built the greatest empire then known to man. So as not to forget the need for balance, the Romans put a statue of the god Janus in their holiest Temple. Janus has two faces — one looks to the rising sun of challenge and opportunity, and the other is turned to the evening sun of tradition and experience.

“Cardinal Reysin's laptop is not the real issue here. What is at issue here is medievalism versus modernity. When we sit in the Sistine Chapel to ballot for Benedict's successor, look up to Michelangelo's magnificent frescoes. Unless they had been restored with the best of modern science, they would have long since fallen into decay. We must embrace tradition but be willing to change it when necessary. If not, the Church will become an institution frozen in time. Even if one of us deliberately emailed the name of the new pope to the Associated Press before Cardinal Marini announced it in St. Peter's Square, would that be so terrible? Would it dim the excitement of seeing the new pope impart his first blessing? No! Would it dim the feeling of pride and unity that will sweep through the square when the new pope appears? No! We hold too tightly to medievalism.”

The vote in the General Congregation was close, but a three-vote majority banned all forms of electronic and computer communication equipment from the conclave.

As the cardinals left the General Congregation, Barbo walked over to where Reysin was seated, still angry over being outvoted by his colleagues.

Barbo sat down next to him. “Cardinal Vaggio was sending you a message.”

“What message?” Reysin was not in the mood for conversation, even with the secretary of state.

“Talk to the Major Penitentiary. Cardinal Lawrence's job is to allow exceptions to rules.”

“Why didn't Vaggio come out and say it?”

“That's not the way here in Rome. Footnotes and cross-references are more important than text. You Americans are more direct.”

Reysin look relieved. “Thank you, Francesco. I will speak with Cardinal Lawrence.”

Father Alessandri handed a package to Barbo. “Your Eminence, this just arrived from Avignon. Bishop Pellent sent it by air courier.”

“Hold my calls unless it is from Sister Consuela.”

When Barbo opened the package, he saw it contained an ancient diary. A one-line note from Pellent accompanied the book. “Your Eminence, I think you will find this a disturbing tale.”

Barbo opened the diary to its first page.

THE DEATH
F A P
PE

N THIS NINETEENTH
day of March in the year of Our Lord 1314,1, Ricard de Treden, Abbot of the Cistercian Monastery of Valmagne, have decided to reduce my private thoughts to writing. I must begin with the events of yesterday in Paris.

“Jacques de Molay, Grand Master of the Order of the Temple, I condemn you to death as a heretic and as a blasphemer. In the name of Jesus Christ and His Holy Church, repent of your sins. If you do, I can save you from the stake.”

De Molay spat at his executioner. “You will never find what you seek.”

“It is finished then. May God have mercy on your soul.”

Cardinal Pierre de Saone, camerlengo of the Church, stood on the small lie des Javaux in the middle of the River Seine. Thousands of Parisians milled sullenly along both banks of the river to witness the death of the grand master. De Saone signaled an inquisitor to light the pyre. The flames and smoke quickly engulfed de Molay's body. Then for a moment the wind blew the smoke away. The grand master, his skin blistered and scorched by the heat, glared defiantly at the cardinal.

“I curse you, de Saone — and with you King Philip and Pope Clement. Before the year is out, God's holy angels will bring you three before His Judgment seat to answer for what you have done to the Church and to the Knights of the Temple.”

The cardinal nervously lifted his pectoral cross as if to shield himself against de Molay's words and the angry stares of the crowds. The smoke blew back over de Molay's face. The sound of the fire drowned out his words. Then out of the smoke came one
final terrible cry of pain. “De Saone, remember we will meet again before the year is out!”

As the ashes of the grand master were being gathered for burial, the crowds that had remained silent during the execution now became unruly. Bystanders hurled rocks and clumps of manure at Cardinal de Saone. French soldiers had to hurry the cardinal into Notre Dame Cathedral to avoid injury.

On the night of April 20, 1314, the people of Avignon stood vigil for the pope. There were rumors that Clement was near death and would not last until morning. As the night wore on, women left marzipan candies in front of the Palais where the pope lay dying. According to ancient folklore, the marzipan candies,
gateaux de Saint-Pierre
, would bribe St. Peter to open the gates of heaven.

A cold wind blew down from the north, forcing the boats along the Rhône to be doubly secured. Near St. Bénézet Bridge, a large crowd of merchants and tradesmen huddled around fires to keep warm. An old woman, bent from years of carrying water kettles on her back, moved slowly through the crowd selling hot tea. “We should all light candles. They will help guide the angels to find Clement's soul and bring it to heaven.”

An old blacksmith, his hands bruised by years of heavy work, angrily pointed a bony finger at the woman. “I will light no candle for Clement. The pope allowed the Templars to be tortured and killed as heretics. For thirty years I worked for the order at their commanderie across St. Benezet Bridge in Villenueve. They were not heretics but good and god-fearing men.”

“And don't forget, my friends, the Templars were good for business.” The speaker was a heavy-set merchant who lived in the center of Avignon near the Palais. Well dressed in a fur-trimmed jacket and velvet hat, he exuded the brash swagger of the recently established mercantile guilds in Avignon. “Some days as I walked along the harbor, I used to count the boats flying a Templar standard. I could easily count six or seven.”

“Son of Satan.” The old woman hissed at the merchant. “Clement is the pope, our Holy Father—the successor of St. Peter. The Templars were heretics and the world is well rid of them.”

Smirking with contempt, the merchant pulled out a scented handkerchief and waived it theatrically in front of his face. “Toll your beads, old crone. You will not pollute the air of Avignon much longer.”

A tanner broke into the conversation. “You are wrong, merchant. The pope, not the Templars, brought prosperity to Avignon. Since Clement came, our docks are filled with goods from all over Europe — wool from Flanders, leather from Florence, spices from Damascus. Yesterday I even found a small piece of lapis from Persia for my wife. It was not always this way. I will light a candle for Pope Clement.”

“I was a confrater of the Order of the Temple.” A tall gaunt man pushed his way to the center of the crowd. “I took a vow to help the Templars in whatever way I could. God has given me the ability to paint. Every month I donated part of my income to the order. The Templars fought to defend the Church. Their reward is to be tortured as heretics. I hope Jesus casts Clement into hellfire for what he did to them.”

A student from the university tried to turn the conversation away from the Templars. “It is rumored that King Philip bought enough cardinals' votes to make Clement pope.”