The Translation of Father Torturo (12 page)

“Cardinal Hojeda is a man of the most pure heart,” Gonzales said.

“There is no one more pious than Stewart,” was Grünwald’s blunt comment.

O’Malley, though part of the English faction, had a personal antipathy towards the North American candidate. He had met him once on a trip to New York, at an outdoor lawn party on Long Island. The two men were introduced. They shook hands and exchanged a few seemingly polite banalities. O’Malley, under the pretext of needing to get a glass of water, stepped behind a hedge to smoke a cigarette. However, while applying a match to a Lucky Strike, he overheard Stewart, stationed on the opposite side of the hedge, conversing with the third party who had introduced the two men. He made a few uncouth comments on O’Malley’s appearance, and complained of an unpleasant odour which the Irishman emitted. As if that were not enough, the American proceeded to give a very unjust imitation of O’Malley’s accent, a thing which the latter could hardly tolerate, particularly from an illiterate American. No man likes to hear that he smells and no man likes to be secretly mocked. Stewart was not only stupid, but it seemed that he was mean as well. It was no wonder that O’Malley did not want Cardinal Stewart to be the next Vicar of Christ upon Earth.

“Looking at the candidates put before us,” O’Malley said, “I cannot help but feel that not enough has been said in favour of Cardinal Torturo. Now, though he is both younger and less known than either Hojeda or Stewart, it does not mean that he is any less a man of God. Youth means vigour; newness, a freshness of heart. If we peruse his history, a picture comes before us; – A picture of a man working quietly, devotedly in the service of our Lord. Amongst his colleagues at the Seminary it was well known that, not only did he spend his days in constant study of biblical matters, but he spent the hours of darkness in near unceasing prayer. His time was equally divided between the library and the chapel, while the dining hall saw him for but minutes at a time. The whole of his days and nights he consecrated to prayer and labour, devotion and industry. Does anyone challenge his priestly virtues? Can anyone claim that he be without prudence, justice, moral uprightness, loyalty, sobriety, faith, obedience, humility and piety? His youth was a diamond template which we would do well to have all our young men follow.”

The cardinal, knowing well the art of oratory, paused. The Italians nodded their approval. The Latin Americans shifted uneasily in their seats. Licking his thin Irish lips O’Malley continued:

“This blessed Torturo it was who brought us back the tongue of Saint Anthony and the precious bones of our predecessors along this Catholic path of righteousness. We have, each one of us, heard whisperings of miracles and many here have seen with their own eyes things which they cannot explain away in mundane terms. – I speak of the tongue of Saint Anthony brought unscathed from flames. – Some of you might justly say that it was God who performed the miracle through the relic. Quite true: God performed the miracle through the relic using Cardinal Torturo, though then only a simple priest, as his conduit. Being a direct conduit to God, the Creator and Supreme Ruler of the Universe, is no small recommendation. I would go so far as to say it is the highest spiritual qualification. Cardinal Xaverio Torturo is certainly far more than just a superb scholar, he is a pious being without mitigation. Some have called for scholarship, others for more supramundane qualities. – Need a man know Greek for the office? We can suppose not, but it is obviously of advantage for one to comprehend the words of Saint Ignatius when he wrote, ‘
prokathemene tes agapes,’
since, after all, on such statements rest the entire validity of the Roman See. It seems obvious that we need a man who has not but one of these qualities, these qualities of Spirit and Intelligence, but a man whose cup runneth over with both. – Come, we each one of us know who that man is. In our heart of hearts we know. He has spent his life in obscurity, he has spent his life in poverty, he has spent his life in service to Our Lord. Let there be no mistake about it: This man, Xaverio Torturo, is the rightful successor of Saint Peter!”

The Cardinal Camerlengo called for the vote to be taken. The one hundred and seventeen cardinals all stared gravely before them, their backs to the brilliantly frescoed walls. The room was hot. Sweat rolled down from beneath their red caps. Ballot papers, on which were written “Eligo in suumum pontificem,” were distributed. The cardinals each wrote their choice on a ballot and, one at a time approached the chalice, dropping the ballots within, kneeling and intoning, “I call to witness Christ the Lord who will be my judge, that my vote is given to the one who before God I consider should be elected.”

The votes were counted by the Cardinal Camerlengo and his three assistants, or scrutineers. The first scrutineer read the name on each ballot aloud, wrote it down on a tally sheet and then passed the ballot to the next scrutineer who, in a steady voice that all could hear, confirmed the name and passed it to the third. The third, in his turn recited the name chosen, then ran a needle and thread through the centre of each ballot, through the word ‘eligo,’ to join them all together. After all the ballots were read, the ends of the thread were tied and the ballots thus joined placed in an empty receptacle. The scrutineers then added up the totals for each candidate. Three revisers then double-checked the count.

Hojeda held his breath when the Camerlengo stood up to read the results. Villefort, who already had done a mental tally, scowled. Stewart and Torturo both looked unperturbed, the former from stupidity, the latter from fact.

Villefort received nineteen votes, Hojeda forty-three, Torturo thirty and Stewart twenty-five. Hojeda had the most votes. But, to be elected Pope, a candidate must receive more than two thirds of the votes. Pope John Paul II made one slight variation to this rule, in order to free up deadlocks, which was to make it so that, if after thirty elections have taken place without any one Cardinal being elected Pope, then the Cardinals may elect by simple majority. – One thing was clear in the present match however: Villefort and Stewart were out – the battle was between Hojeda and Torturo.

The Italians would have loved to see one of their own blood crown the glory of their country; – Unfortunately the conclave was made up of only seventeen percent Italians, the lowest number in history. Contrariwise, there were a full twenty-four percent Latin Americans, by far the highest in history.

After a tea break in which there was much excited whispering, a second vote was taken. All of Villefort’s votes but one went to Hojeda, who also gained nine of Stewart’s, giving him seventy. Torturo received forty-seven. Hojeda had the majority, but once again he lacked the two-thirds necessary to win.

That evening the Domus Sanctae Marthae was buzzing like a college dormitory. Cardinals floated from room to room, stating their opinions in meaningful undertones, exchanging gossip. Hojeda and Gonzales slithered through the halls, their faces beaming with confidence. Hojeda, who was making optimum use of his oily smile, only needed to secure eight more votes in order to be the next Pope. Like vultures the two men circled around Torturo’s forty-seven, seeing which eight would be the easiest to pick away.

Meanwhile O’Malley, Zuccarelli and Di Quaglio spread out. O’Malley joked with the French cardinals, Di Quaglio whispered promises to the Germans and Americans, Zuccarelli threatened the South Americans and Africans.

The next day, when the conclave gathered in the Sistine Chapel, Gonzales winked at Hojeda, who responded by pursing his fat lips. Cardinal Velasquez from Spain saw this and found it distasteful. The vote was taken. Torturo received fifty-six votes and Hojeda sixty-one. Gonzales, upon hearing the outcome, grunted a few words of angry disappointment. O’Malley grinned with delight. Cardinal Velasquez, making his way out of the chapel, cut Gonzales.

During lunch, which consisted of fried fish and an artichoke salad, O’Malley, Zuccarelli and Di Quaglio worked the vote diligently. O’Malley charmed; Zuccarelli attempted to probe people’s conscience.

Cardinal Nunez of Peru, when rising from table, became violently ill. His face was pale, he walked a few uncertain steps, and then fell to the floor, heaving miserably. He was given immediate medical attention, but to no avail, and thus had to be removed from the Vatican City and taken to the Salvator Mundi International Hospital in Rome. Though most blamed the fish, and a few the artichokes, some whispered that the poor Peruvian had been poisoned.

When the conclave reassembled in the Sistine Chapel and voted, Hojeda came off with fifty-nine and Torturo fifty-seven. Hojeda had lost two votes: one, most likely, had been Nunez, the other was a defector. Hojeda’s position was visibly weakening.

The Camerlengo shrugged his shoulders and called for the vote to be taken again, for the third time that day. Hojeda had fifty-eight and Torturo had fifty-eight. Hojeda had lost yet another vote, bringing it to a dead draw. The next and fourth vote however, showed unchanged results. Each man had an exactly equal portion of the votes.

From this point on there was no change. Each man held his ground. Though each party struggled, grappled to snatch away a vote or two from their opponents, the result was always the same: a deadlock. The conclave voted four times a day for six days until, in total, the conclave had voted thirty times. The next vote would be ruled by simple majority, yet each man still had an identical number of votes. Hojeda locked himself in his room and prayed, on his hands and knees, that Nunez would revive and re-enter the conclave, but report had it that the Peruvian was still extremely unwell – too sick to be moved.

O’Malley, Zuccarelli and Di Quaglio worked with manly vigour in an attempt to lure one of Hojeda’s men over to their side, but Hojeda’s fifty-seven (fifty-eight including Hojeda himself) were loyalists and inclined to rebuff the Italian faction with fluent contempt.

There was much tension in the air when the conclave assembled for the first vote which would be decided by simple majority. Gonzales looked bitterly at O’Malley while O’Malley murmured sarcastic remarks about Gonzales to his neighbour. Zuccarelli gave Hojeda a look of cold indifference while ingratiating himself as much as he could to the rest of Hojeda’s faction, every man of which was in possession of that all precious deciding vote.

The Cardinal Camerlengo called for the vote to be taken. The ballot papers were being distributed when Torturo rose from his seat. “Cardinal Dean,” he said, “do you mind if I make a quick comment to the assembly prior to the vote?”

“Such a proceeding is not usual, and only allowable for the most grave and urgent reasons.”

“I fully realise this. What I desire to say is both grave and urgent, as it reflects on the whole validity of the process we are about to perform.”

There was a murmur amongst the assembly.

“Then it cannot wait to be said until after the vote?”

“No.”

“In that case, we have no choice I suppose. Speak, but be brief.”

“Thank you Cardinal Dean, I shall,” Torturo said, prowling out into the centre of the great hall. His gaze swept over the faces before him, settling on Cardinal Gonzales. “Cardinal,” he said. “We have now been at the assembly for nine days, correct?”

“That is correct,” Gonzales answered curtly, obviously annoyed.

“What is the date today?”

“April the third, I believe.”

“Believe indeed! You are absolutely correct.” Torturo smiled and stepped closer to the old man. “A very special day, is it not?”

“Considering it is the day we are likely to elect the Successor to Saint Peter, it certainly is, a most blessed day.”

“But for no other reason?”

Gonzales did not reply.

“Come sir. Is there no other reason?”

“Cardinal Torturo!” The Cardinal Camerlengo objected in a raised voice. “I certainly hope you have good reason for this line of questioning – this brow beating. Can you not see that you are aggravating the good cardinal?”

“I can.”

“Then what is your purpose; why do you proceed?”

“Because of the day Cardinal Dean; – Because of the day.”

“And what has the day anything to do with it?”

“It has everything to do with it when the day is April the third of the year ****.”

“Enlighten the assembly.”

“It has everything to do with it when the day is April the third of the year **** and the good Cardinal Gonzales was born on the April the third of the year ****.”

There was a moment of silence followed by murmurs of extreme agitation. Gonzales cringed.

“Yes,” Torturo continued ruthlessly. “The day has everything to do with it when it is the good Cardinal’s birthday, his eightieth birthday. He looks well for his age does he not? Unfortunately, that is of no moment. The rules are quite specific: Only cardinals
under
eighty years of age are allowed to vote. – Sir,” (turning to Gonzales.) “Sir, on behalf of the congregation I jointly wish you a happy birthday and request that you depart before the voting begins. – By law your vote can no longer be counted.”

Gonzales was flabbergasted. Many were mortified. The congregation was in an uproar. Cardinals, some with faces red with rage, others, all blood drained from their startled features, gestured and argued in uncontrolled agitation.

“Silence!” the Cardinal Dean demanded, in a raised voice. “Is this true,” he asked when relative calm had been restored. “Is this true Gonzales? Is today really your eightieth birthday?”

“I . . . I don’t rightly know,” the cardinal said with embarrassment. “I . . . I suppose it is – It had – It had slipped my mind, but . . . But I do believe it is.”

Hojeda rose to his feet. “What time were you born?” he demanded abruptly, looking at his watch. “It is now 9:30 a.m.; what time were you born?”

“I . . . I can’t exactly recollect.”

“It was in the afternoon probably. Was it not in the afternoon? You would not be eighty yet if it was in the afternoon.”

“Yes, possibly,” Gonzales mumbled. “It might have been in the afternoon.”

“No need to worry on that score,” Torturo said coolly, reaching in his pocket and producing a sheaf of papers. “I took the liberty of acquiring his birth certificate as well as affidavits from both his cousin and sister. The cousin is ten years older than the cardinal and his sister seven years older. Both distinctly remember the time of his birth as being in the early morning, which the birth certificate reaffirms, stating the hour to have been 4:45 a.m. He was born in Manizales, Columbia where, at this moment, it is 5:30 a.m. There can be no question about it: The man before us, though yesterday only seventy nine years of age and eligible to vote, is today eighty and not in the least eligible for such a privilege.”