The Psalter (19 page)

“That’s not important. The one who did the shouting, did he speak with an accent?”

“Sure did, foreign. Well, foreign for Americans.”

“European?”

“No.”

“Middle Eastern?”

“Maybe, but different,” Romano said. “Definitely not Arabic, more like French. It might have been Farsi.”

“Iranian?”

“Persian is a European language,” not Semitic like Arabic, and Farsi is also spoken along the Iraq border.”

“Well, Father, you would make quite a detective. You have excellent powers of observation.”

“Why didn’t you ask these questions last night?”

“Witnesses recall more if they’re relaxed, and you seemed uncomfortable. You’re sure the one who attacked you said nothing?”

“He only spit on me as he left.”

The colonel almost jumped out of his seat. “Were you wearing this shirt and jacket?”

“The shirt, yes…”

“Father, we might have DNA.”

The priest shrugged. “I am afraid
Monsieur
Héber washed it this morning.”

“Damn. I thought we had him.”

The interrogation was not at all what Romano had imagined. He would have gladly offered the information, and Del Carlo had a knack for making one recall forgotten things, things which seemed insignificant. Of course the priest wanted to help. He wanted the culprits arrested. They murdered the Pope’s Secretary, his friend and counselor, as well as the Archive receptionist. But he feared the questioning because of the foolish part he played.

“What’s your opinion of Cardinal Keller?” Del Carlo stared intently at the priest.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you like him? Do you trust him?” The colonel emphasized the word
trust
.

“I think he’s…an honest man, but I don’t know him. I met him for the first time in your office.”

“You choose your words carefully, Father. If you just met him, how do you know he’s honest?”

“He’s a cardinal in the Holy Church.” What Romano didn’t say was that every priest in the church feared the Defender of the Faith on some level. He had been a hardline enforcer for the last twelve years. And while his title had been euphemized from the original Grand Inquisitor, the function of his office was the same: to discipline church dissidents and uphold official church policy against attempts at modernization and reform. Those at greatest risk were liberal and activist priests, especially those who published or advocated change. Even those who merely supported activists found themselves on shaky ground. Issues such as contraception, stem cell research, homosexuality, ordination of women, or opposition to celibacy polarized priests into camps. The ultra-conservative Keller used threats of sanctions to remind the clergy that only the Pope’s express policies would be tolerated. Of course, the modern Inquisition was nothing akin to the Middle Ages with imprisonment, torture, and burning at the stake. Nevertheless, sanctions still covered a broad range of punishments, from censure to defrocking or the ultimate penalty: excommunication. And every priest realized a simple censure could be career ending.

“I will share with you, Father, that I don’t trust him,” Del Carlo said. “In my office you were very open. The cardinal, on the other hand, measured every word as though he was hiding something.”

“I’m the one who kept something from you,
Colonelo
. You asked if I noticed anything peculiar about the Psalter and I lied to you.”

“Of course, Father. I read it on your face, but I operate on intuition. You have an honest face and I believed it was an honest lie.”

Romano couldn’t help but grin at the colonel’s oxymoron.

“You would have told me when you were ready.”

At Rome’s Leonardo da Vinci Airport—which Romans still called by its old name,
Fiumicino
— no one manned passport control. The anti-terrorist colonel shook his head in disgust. “All this European Union modernization caused a big hole in our security.” They passed into Terminal C, lined with boutiques and restaurants. “I would be happy to drop you off at the Vatican.”

Father Romano was just about to accept when he caught sight of a black cassock emblazoned with a bright red sash. A lump rose up in his throat. “Thank you for your kindness,
Colonelo
, but…”

The policeman turned instinctively toward the cardinal. “Why, your Eminence, what a pleasant surprise—and no coincidence, surely.”

“
Colonelo
,” the Grand Inquisitor said dryly.

“I would like to ask who informed you we’d be arriving, but I suspect you wouldn’t answer, not directly at least. Well, Father,” the colonel turned back to Romano and handed him a business card, “next time, please call me before you contemplate taking evidence out of the country. Cardinal…” He let his address trail as he spun on his heels and disappeared into the asymmetric weave of hurried airport travelers.

Romano met Keller’s icy glare for a moment, then lowered his gaze. Despite the twinge of humiliation from Del Carlo’s jab, he suspected the colonel had chastised him in front of Cardinal Keller to help somehow. The silence between the priest and the Defender of the Faith was more oppressive than the rebuke Romano knew was eminent.

“Are you ready to come home, Michael?”

Romano tried to read the Grand Inquisitor’s face, but it was an impenetrable mask. “Yes, Eminence.”

The chauffeur had been replaced by a Swiss Guard wearing a blue, work uniform, and a sergeant rode shotgun. The paleographer’s heart raced.
A show of force
? he wondered.

As though he could read Romano’s mind, the Grand Inquisitor said, “The Guards aren’t here to enforce my will. Obedience is for you to choose…or not.”

“Had I not chosen to submit to the church, I’d still be in Paris. I’ve come back to be judged.”

“Do I detect defiance in your voice, or pride? It doesn’t sound like contrition.”

The Librarian’s heart sank.
Here it comes
, he thought.

“It’s not for me to judge you, Father, although I wish it were. Others have already decided. I’m not sure I agree but, like you, I obey. Your return to the church’s authority does you credit, and I must say I’m surprised. I thought you might be more…independent minded. My job would be easier if all of our brethren followed the first tenet of the church, obedience.” Then Keller hesitated as though he measured the words which would decree the priest’s verdict and sentence.

Romano knew he was about to meet his fate, so the seconds while the Grand Inquisitor paused seemed like eons.
If the worst happens and I’m defrocked, I can always teach
, he thought. The Institute of Medieval Studies had begged him to stay on as the Professor of Paleography before his transfer to the Secret Archives. He could possibly regain his old job, if only as a Lay Professor. But Romano loved the church and prayed that if he was allowed to remain, he would accept whatever bitter pill was offered.
I’m about to receive my punishment
, he thought and closed his eyes to await sentencing.

“You’re being transferred to another position. The Library’s had a vacancy for a number of years and you are to fill it.”

The paleographer’s heart leapt. He would remain a priest. He wondered now what penalty the cardinal would levy, but whatever it was he would accept it, even if it was censure. He would start his career over at the bottom and would likely to amount to very little, but at least he would be in the Library.

“You’ll be working directly for the Cardinal of the Apostolic Library, Paolo Minissi.”

“Directly?” he asked, unbelieving.

“I pray his influence will keep you out of trouble.” The Grand Inquisitor didn’t smile. “You are to be co-Prefect of the Vatican Library in charge of Technical and Scientific Management, which includes security. As head of security, perhaps you can prevent our books from being stolen.”

Romano ignored the dig. “Prefect? Are you serious?”

“As I said, I don’t necessarily agree with the decision to promote you, second only to the Library Cardinal, but it was not mine to make.”

“What about the Psalter?”

The Grand Inquisitor shifted in the limousine seat to face Romano, looking more grave than stern. “Father, men are dead and a valuable codex was stolen. You’re not the one who committed these abominable sins. As far as I can tell, you transgressed neither against the church nor God. Still, you ran off unprotected without telling anyone, even your own cardinal, with a book so sought after that people have killed for it. The church doesn’t punish priests for stupidity, although perhaps we should.”

They rode in silence for long minutes along the twenty-five kilometers of freeway from the airport to Vatican City until the priest screwed up enough courage to speak again. “Do you want to know what I discovered about the Psalter?”

“No. I’ll leave that to you and the police.”

“But…” The glare from the Grand Inquisitor put an end to Romano’s reply, and he let his voice trail off into an uncomfortable silence. For some reason, the cardinal preferred to be left in the dark, as though he strategized to remain ignorant. On reflection, the priest felt relieved. He wanted to reveal everything, but telling the Grand Inquisitor about the contents of
Thomas
would have been excruciating.

The black Vatican limousine pulled up in front of the priest’s apartment in the Apostolic City. “I’ll drop you here, Father. Please meet with Cardinal Minissi in the morning. He’s expecting you.” Romano wanted to thank Cardinal Keller, but the Swiss Guard shut the door and the black Mercedes rolled off toward the
Palazzo del Sant’Uffizio
. The question Colonel Del Carlo had asked on the flight repeated itself in the priest’s mind:
do you trust him
?

Back in his apartment the paleographer had nothing to unpack. His backpack had been stolen. He mourned the loss of the Psalter, but more so that a young man with his whole life in front of him had been murdered. He realized he hadn’t caused the boy’s death. Nonetheless, it nauseated him that he had been involved in the sordid affair.

Seated at his desk, he unfolded the sheet of paper Pascal had penned. It was a copy of the single page written by Jesus’ twin brother, Thomas. Men killed for this page. The killers surely realized others existed. In the Vatican Library, many more prayer books waited to be investigated, and the priest resolved to do just that.

Romano fingered the perfect creases ironed on his black trousers as he draped them through a hanger. He wrapped his suit jacket around and hung them over the wooden dowel in his tiny closet. He thought of Pascal’s kindnesses, but as he turned down the covers on his spartan bed, it was thoughts of Isabelle that made his heart race.

19
Protector of the Vatican Library

Father Michael Romano passed under a Roman arch and through heavy red doors into the Vatican Library. Only yesterday, his career had been in shambles. Yet this morning, he found himself promoted to a single step beneath cardinal, a Prince of the Church, in the foremost museum library in the world. He hesitated a moment to reflect on the statue of Hippolytus, the third century Bishop of Rome, as Pascal’s words about Jacob and the Angel came to him. Then he walked into the foyer.

Broad, sweeping marble stairs led to reading rooms adorned with frescoed ceilings and walls. He visited the Library often because there was regular interaction between Library and Archive business, but he viewed its grandeur through new eyes. “Good morning, Father,” a voice spoke from behind. “The cardinal is expecting you.”

A young priest led Romano to Cardinal Minissi’s offices. A middle-aged secretary, whose dark face and graying hair Romano had seen often, welcomed him. “I’m Father Sabella, the Cardinal’s Secretary. Please go in.”

As Romano entered the office, Cardinal Minissi labored to push his frail body from the chair. He offered his trembling hand, and Romano bent to kiss the ring. “Your Eminence,” Romano greeted the
Protector of the Vatican Library
, the honorary title held by the cardinal. “Sit, Father, since an old man tires easily. I recognized your name, of course, when I was informed you would be the new prefect, but I couldn’t put a face with it. Now that I see you, I’m sure we’ve met.”

“Yes, Eminence, more than once in the Secret Archives. You came with Father Mackey.” Romano saw the pain that the mere mention of the Pope’s Secretary caused the
Protector of the Library
.

“Poor man, a tragic business. Of course, I remember now. You were the
custodes
of the Archives and Director of Paleography.”

“Yes,” Romano said.

“I once held the position.” Cardinal Minissi waved his hand in the air. “Many decades ago. I loved studying ancient manuscripts, my favorite job. Alas, His Holiness had other plans for me. Now my misfortune is to shuffle paper from inbox to outbox, a mere administrator. You must be sad to leave.”

“I would have been content to spend my career among the church’s secrets, but I never imagined I might be lucky enough to assist your Eminence at the Library. I had no idea I was being considered for the job.”

“You weren’t my first choice.” Minissi realized what he had said. “Oh, I am sorry, Father. I didn’t mean to impugn you, but Father Mackey was to have had the post.”

“He would have been a better prefect.”

“Oh no, you’re wrong, although I wished your position for him, even more than he did himself. I mentored him for most of his career until he became the Pope’s Secretary, and I loved him as though he were a son. Sentiment clouded my judgment, however. I read your file, several times, in fact. I had heard of your accomplishments in passing, but now God’s will is clear. You’re truly the man for the job.”

“You’re too kind, Eminence.” Romano felt the cardinal’s genuine warmth.

“It’s not my intent to flatter you. God in his grace has let an old priest get a peek at His will, and I’m a witness to the wisdom of His choice. Now tell me: Michael Romano isn’t your name, is it?”

“Of course it is.”

“Your school transcripts say Michael, yet the birth certificate says Peter.”