Mystery Writers of America Presents the Prosecution Rests

by Inc. Mystery Writers of America

  “Would it mean torture?”

  “Only if the Cardinals felt reason to doubt your abjuration. You will be advised of that liability in advance. If your renunciation is deemed sincere, you will yet likely be called upon to face some term of imprisonment and penance.”

  “A trial”—the prisoner’s lips scarcely moved—“without the possibility of an acquittal.”

  “You will have ten judges,” Maculano persisted. “The Lord Prosecutor and I have done our sums. We can find perhaps four who will regard you sympathetically. Three, or even two, is a more likely number.”

  “Cardinal Barberini, the Pope’s nephew, will be one of my judges, will he not? Francesco was my pupil. He will not abandon me.”

  “Barberini, we believe, is in your favor. He resides even now with his uncle at Gandolfo. But were his influence sufficient to protect you, it follows you would not still be here. Sant’ Onofrio, the Pope’s brother, who summoned you to Rome to appear before the Inquisition, is also among your judges.”

  “Onofrio hates me,” the prisoner grimly affirmed. “So… if His Holiness will not accept a lesser arrangement, and my cause goes before the Cardinals… even with my abjuration, it’s your sense my imprisonment will continue.”

  “For some term, I fear, yes.” Maculano stared down at the stones of the floor. “I believe that would be the worst case.”

  The old man pressed his face into his hands. “God forgive me, Reverend Father, for what I’ve done. I swear I meant no harm.”

  “God, my son, is all-forgiving. That is the one truth by which each of us may feel reassured.”

  For such solace as it may give you, Maculano thought. Were their situations reversed, the priest wondered if even he could have believed it.

  ____

  “TWO DAYS AGO, I wrote to Barberini,” Maculano announced. “I’m trusting my fate he believes as we do. I pray my confidence isn’t misplaced.”

  “The Cardinal has always been our best hope.” Sinceri leaned back in his chair and folded his hands across the dome of his stomach. “He has a long-held affection for the accused. His voice is not one that His Holiness, even in his most rancorous mood, can brush aside with a simple ascription of enmity. Barberini is young. Amenable to new ideas, even if he remains unfree to hold them openly. What construction did you put on your note?”

  “A delicate one, to put the best face on it. I could not, of course, address it to the Cardinal. Had His Holiness become aware of such a letter, as he almost surely would have, he would have regarded it as another conspiracy against him, thus discrediting us while bringing the Cardinal into disrepute by association. So, instead, I dispatched the correspondence to His Holiness directly, feeling confident that Urban would seek the counsel of a trusted nephew and that the document would thus find its seemingly inadvertent way to the Cardinal’s attention by the hand of Urban himself.”

  “Were you to lose your office in Rome, you could always find outlet for your talents in the warrens of Byzantium,” Sinceri reflected.

  “I painted the matter darkly,” Maculano replied, choosing to ignore Sinceri’s observation. “I outlined each difficulty I could find in making the prosecution’s case, as well as the catalogue of bureaucratic bungles that allowed the manuscript to reach publication in the first place. If your case against the accused succeeds, my Lord Prosecutor, you may thank me for illuminating your accomplishment. I did not, in actual fact, propose a bargain, but at several junctures left the suggestion that a half loaf of bread is better than none.”

  “Allowing the Cardinal to consider the invitation to a compromise, even if Urban, on his own, surely will not.”

  “Just so,” Maculano acknowledged. “Though I feel safe in saying that Barberini has already foreseen that possibility. From the note, he will know, at least, that others have seen it too.”

  “When do they return from Gandolfo to Rome?”

  “I chose not to ask, fearing the question might be taken for an encouragement of haste. I’m trusting that Francesco, who is not without the legendary Barberini sagacity, will intuit our curiosity concerning the date and inform us by such means as he finds appropriate. Meanwhile, I hope we can still hold to a temperate speed, allowing for a thorough exploration of the many nuances the prosecution involves.”

  “Oh, dear Reverend Father! Tell me how a man of God becomes so adept in the ways of the swindler.” Sinceri muffled a laugh into a mostly covered smile. “How much time do you estimate?”

  “With good fortune, enough to permit a third session. Tomorrow is the first of May. Let’s say toward the middle of the month. I think that’s as much as we can hope for.”

  Sinceri’s expression became concerned. “I have not been to the prison, Father Commissary. I have not seen the condition of the accused. I have, however, heard stories.”

  “They’re true,” Maculano attested. “Which is why I plan, at the conclusion of today’s interview, to place a petition before my Lord Prosecutor. I shall cite the age of the accused and his health, as well as the openness and piety he exhibited in our first session and which he shall exhibit again today. I will suggest we are more likely to receive his cooperation and thus learn the truth of this matter if we show some modest compassion. I will propose that, instead of continuing his incarceration under the direct supervision of the Holy Office, it would be in the interest of all to return him to his previous state of house arrest at the Villa d’Medici.”

  “I fear, should I consent to the Commissary General’s petition,” Sinceri mused, “that I shall lose the high regard that I presently enjoy from His Holiness.”

  “Pray, do not let it concern you, Father Carlo. I’m sure you shall regain it when you achieve the conviction you seek.”

  “Yes. Thank you, Fra Maculano. I’m sure I shall.” The prosecutor’s grin became sardonic. “Even if only you and I will know the price we will pay for my success.”

  ____

  “WHAT DID YOU think?”

  Sinceri cocked his head to one side in a manner that suggested he was trying to pick some harmonic or other from the ether. “I’ve rarely seen such joy in a man’s face,” he decided. “He’ll sleep at the Medici villa tonight in such comfort as he’s never known. Don’t you find it ironic, Father, the way the world is fulfilled by its opposites? The accused’s whole life, until this circumstance, has been spent in relative abundance. Tonight he’ll find that luxury again. But he’ll treasure it with a gratitude as never before.”

  “I was thinking of what he conveyed in his testimony.”

  “Yes. That too. Being deprived of his high regard has stripped away much of his arrogance. The intended result, assuredly, and yet, in a man of such greatness, I admit I find it disturbing. How he clings to the new learning, to the empiricism of his Dialogue! He thinks, if he just makes some amendments…” Sinceri stared out at the late afternoon. “He hasn’t yet come to realize the work is dead. That it will be placed upon the Index no matter what changes he consents to.”

  “Sustaining that optimism was in our interest—and also in his,” Maculano confessed. “Still, I don’t see how the result you predict can be avoided.”

  A tentative knock fell on the door.

  Maculano gave the instruction to enter.

  “Excuse me, Reverend Fathers.” The cleric bowed formally. “I am commissioned to deliver this to Father Maculano personally.”

  “Very well, then.” Maculano accepted the envelope and sat again as the bearer left and closed the door. “It carries no indication of the sender,” he announced for Sinceri’s benefit.

  “Which suggests an obvious possibility.”

  Maculano opened the parcel with a small blade he drew from his robe. “Barberini,” he confirmed, looking up from the signature. His eyes returned to the page.

  “He tells us that Urban remains displeased with my tentativeness. He reiterates that His Holiness believes he has been depicted scandalously and feels deeply betrayed.”

  “His Holiness h
as received the submissions of the Dialogue’s supplementary critics?”

  “I’m coming to that. He has, almost a month ago. The Pope finds them persuasive. Inchofer’s most of all. He believes that, once the Court has considered them, the outcome will be assured. Moreover, Barberini reports that some of the judges have also seen the documents or else have been made aware of their substance, and that the reactions of those judges have further bolstered His Holiness’s confidence. Francesco says that he’ll seek more definite knowledge, including a head tally, if he can obtain one.”

  “When will we know what he finds?”

  “He plans to return to Rome the second week in June. Urban knows this and is at ease that the affair should come to its end at that time.” Maculano looked up at Sinceri. “So a third appearance of the accused is permitted, and even some weeks beyond that. But with the Cardinals’ arrival, events will move quickly. By the middle of June at the latest, all will be over.”

  For a moment, Sinceri held his silence; then, “I see a darker horizon in this, Reverend Father. I’ve the sense that all chance for a bargain has passed. That a formal hearing cannot be averted. Barberini has nothing to say regarding an alternative?”

  “Nothing.” The Commissary General rose stiffly from his chair and, on his way across the room, picked up a tray from a table. He looked for a final time at the envelope and its contents, then subjected both to the flame of a candle and consigned their burning remnants to the tray.

  When he was satisfied with the conflagration, Maculano turned back to the Lord Prosecutor.

  “At the Cardinal’s order,” Maculano explained. “He says that, as I value his friendship, so should I honor his confidences.”

  ____

  “YOU SET A modest table, Fra Maculano. Modest, but delectable in every morsel.” Francesco Cardinal Barberini patted his mouth with his napkin. “I’ve a fondness for basic cooking, the kind done by women in simple kitchens. It’s one of the reasons I tolerate travel. Country inns serve the same variety of fare.”

  “I’m pleased you enjoyed it, Your Eminence.” Maculano tilted his head to acknowledge the compliment.

  “I cannot pretend to draw the Cardinal’s distinctions.” Sinceri laughed at himself. “I’m afraid I am, in every meaningful sense of the word, omnivorous.”

  “Truly?” Barberini glanced toward the prosecutor’s nearly full plate. “From tonight, I would not have suspected it, Father.”

  Sinceri’s eyes narrowed as the Cardinal’s skepticism moved the focus to the reason for their meeting. His lips parted slightly. “Well, let us say that tonight there’s a matter we all have on our minds. Your presence in Rome brings with it the prospect of a final curtain. Can it ever be said that the man condemned honestly enjoyed his last meal?”

  “You make your point, Father Sinceri.” Barberini paused to tip the edge of his glass toward his host. “A good wine, also, Father Maculano. But with regard to the man our Lord Prosecutor speaks of… So that our minds may be as one, let me review for you the case against the accused as I have been privy to hear it discussed. Its substance comes to three parts:

  “First, the science. Whether the Ptolemaic or Copernican system is correct? The question is decided. The Ptolemaic is correct. The Copernican is heresy. Were I, myself, to weigh the matter, I might conclude that the question remains too contentious for final disposal, while, at the same time, giving the advantage to Ptolemy. But what I think is not an issue. The Church has settled the argument for me.

  “Second, the instructions. Fifteen years ago, when seeking permission to write about the two systems, the accused was informed of the Church’s determination regarding the Copernican heresy and told that he could neither hold nor teach the doctrine. So much is written and not in dispute. What is not written anywhere, as the testimony that you have taken has exposed, is whether the accused was also advised that he could not write about the alternative theory even in the context of a hypothesis to be refuted. Although others insist he was so told orally, the author claims to have no memory of such a prohibition. A convenience? I leave it to you. Which brings us to the context he has chosen for his writing, as the framing relates to his intent.

  “Put simply, in the Dialogue, the Copernican advocate wins at every mark. Moreover—and greatly complicating the difficulty—the Copernican’s Aristotelian opponent is shown to be a brainless incompetent, a buffoon—who uses precisely the same arguments that Urban himself used in discussions with the author all those years ago.

  “My uncle, good Fathers, is a stubborn and arrogant man. Yet, it is only fair to say he has been grievously provoked.”

  “Well stated, Francesco,” Sinceri acknowledged. “You draw up the case like a noose.”

  “As you have cause to know, I wish it were otherwise,” Barberini replied. “Not because I feel the accused is innocent. I regret to say that, despite my affection for my former teacher, I cannot bring myself to find him so. But I also believe, as do you, that his conviction may well create for our Church a looming disaster. I know enough of dogma to be wary of it. Even the straightest road has an unexpected turn somewhere ahead. It may be so in the matter of Copernicus, from whom the accused has taken the substance of his text. If it is, the cause of the Church will not be served by its conviction and incarceration of the astronomer’s most eloquent advocate.”

  “We thank you for advising us,” Maculano said.

  Barberini’s expression remained grave. “I wish, too, I could leave having done no more than underscore the challenge before you.

  “Tomorrow you have a fourth appointment scheduled for testimony by the accused. It will be his last opportunity. On Wednesday, the day after, at their regular meeting, the Court of Cardinals will fulfill its formal role. The prisoner will attend. His Holiness has rendered his decision.”

  “The affair has reached that point, then.” Maculano exhaled. “We, both of us, owe a great debt to Your Eminence for your supreme efforts.”

  “Thank me for nothing, Fathers. The matter is out of your hands. And out of mine.”

  “The accused is charged; the Cardinals will sit to hear his abjuration and deliver sentence?” Sinceri had not been sure whether to frame the sentence as a statement or a question. The indecision had shown in his voice.

  Baberini answered: “All I can tell you with certainty is that at least seven of the Cardinals will attend Wednesday’s session. I can tell you also that I will not be among them, for the simple and absurdly self-contradictory reason that, in the absence of a compromise resolution, I cannot bring myself to hold for or against the accused. I can tell you that Borgia will probably not be there either. Of Zacchia, I remain unsure. Though whether either chooses to appear is of no consequence.

  “As to the Court’s proceedings, you each know the law better than I. The heretic, so adjudged by His Holiness, will appear in the white robe of submission and contrition and be provided the opportunity to enter a written statement, which he may also read, swearing his renunciation of the heresy and freely accepting any and all penalties the Court may prescribe.”

  “These penalties will include… ?” Maculano asked.

  “What you will have guessed,” the Cardinal affirmed. “Assuming the judges accept the abjuration, they will follow His Holiness’s recommendations and condemn the offender to imprisonment within the Holy Office for a term to be sustained at the Court’s pleasure, plus the performance of associated penances. The entirety of the Dialogue will be placed on the Index of forbidden books and prohibited from being read or further published. Should the heretic’s statement or demeanor, in any way, prove unsatisfactory…”

  “It couldn’t be worse,” Maculano muttered harshly. He hurled his cup across the room.

  “I agree with you, Father,” Barberini conceded. “It could not be worse.”

  ____

  “HE IS FREE.”

  Maculano and Sinceri sat over lunch at a prepared table in Maculano’s apartments.

  “How can it
be?” Sinceri asked in astonishment.

  “You’re correct, Father. I exaggerate,” Maculano conceded. “Barberini’s work is with us still. The sentence remains unaltered, except that Urban has agreed that the venue of incarceration be changed from the cells of the Holy Office to the residence of the Tuscan Ambassador.”

  “Thanks be to God,” Sinceri breathed.

  “Thanks be, as much I think, to mortal pride.” Maculano’s lip curled. “Gloating in the completeness of his victory, Urban feels he can afford to be magnanimous. Even so, Ambassador Niccolini has attempted to press the matter further. He’s asked His Holiness to pardon the prisoner because of his repentance and his continuing great works of charity, and to permit his return to Florence. So far Urban has refused, but Niccolini is prepared with a second proposal, under which the sentence would be limited to a period of five months to be served in the residence of the Archbishop of Siena. For his part, the Archbishop has already consented to the arrangement. Niccolini has hopes that since this variation involves no repudiation of the conviction itself, it may yet gain His Holiness’s favor.”

  “I pray it will,” Sinceri replied. “For the good it will do the man for what remains of his earthly life.” The prosecutor looked across at his host. “Our greater cause, the one in which we began, however, remains undone beyond any pretense of resurrection.”

  “But a good fight, Carlo. Worth the effort.”

  “A needless fight, Fra Vincenzo.” Sinceri’s expression clouded. “The price we pay for a failure of faith.”

  “That’s bitterness speaking. You pronounce too harsh a judgment, my friend.”

  “Do I?” Sinceri contemplated a slice of bread he held between his fingers. His voice was quiet. “I’ll tell you what I know. Don’t fear, because it’s very little. Our Faith is what it claims to be, a thing to be believed. As long as we remember that, for those who choose to accept it, it remains an impregnable bulwark. But when we feel the need to prove our Faith by imposing on it human logic, we employ a man-made tool that carries with it the pathway to a thousand human errors. Worse, when we then try to use that flawed concoction to account for the endless subtleties of the natural world, we multiply the chances of error by another thousandfold.”