“You can do that, Eminence. And I will speak with your secretary to work out the prompt transfer of the tapes. Would diplomatic pouch suit you?” She hesitated. “I don’t envy you, having to give this news to the world.”
Cardinal Mendosa did not respond at once, and when he did there was a lilt of mischief under his drawl. “You mean all those Bishops and Archbishops and Cardinals who voted against women in the priesthood having to swallow a woman Pope? Well, I kind of think it’s going to be fun. It’s been a hoot so far.”
This time Dame Leonie laughed outright. “Good luck, Mendosa,” she said when she stopped.
“Thanks, Ma’am,” said Cardinal Mendosa, signaling to his secretary. “You arrange things with Father Viernes here. Be patient with him. He’s new.” With that he handed the receiver to Father Viernes, who had been hovering in the door. As he started out of the room, Cardinal Mendosa said quietly, “Habemus Papam, son, and this one’s going to knock your socks off,” and paid no attention to the sudden, shocked look Father Viernes shot him.
As he hurried toward the Vatican library, Cardinal Mendosa considered all the ways he could make the announcement. In the end, he did the most simple thing: he entered the reading room quietly, hoping for a break in the continuing dispute that would permit him to speak.
But Cardinal Tayibha caught sight of him and nudged Cardinal Pingari, who signaled to Cardinal Hetre, and very shortly the room fell silent.
Cardinal Mendosa remained where he was. “I’ve had a call,” he said in a low voice. “And the answer is yes.” He did not linger to hear all the exclamations and discussion, but withdrew from the room. He wanted to visit the Sistine Chapel, to gaze at Michelangelo’s enormous vision where he could lose himself for a short time in all the grandeur. But he started back to his office to begin the complicated process of bringing the new Pope to Rome, and to inform the world that something extraordinary had happened.
* * *
“Oh, Jesus-bloody-Christ!” President Carey swore, then looked at Cardinal Bradeston. “Pardon, Your Eminence.”
Cardinal Bradeston, in full scarlet finery, smiled tolerantly, his offence modified by his own ambivalent reaction to the news. “I do understand the feeling. Some of the Cardinals share it, though they don’t express it quite the same way.” He hoped the President would not be so put out that he would cut their interview short. “I am sure others will share your sentiments.”
“I can just bet.” Houghton Carey sat down; behind him the windows were dark. He had come from a formal dinner, and he unfastened his black velvet tie as he went on. “Well, it’s certainly unexpected, I’ll say that for it. You tell me a woman’s been elected Pope, not two years after the Church decided that women could not be priests. When you asked for help getting someone out of China, I didn’t think this was the reason.”
“What did you think it was?” asked Alexander, Cardinal Bradeston, curious to know which of the various rumors the President believed.
“I thought she had some information about those priests who disappeared in China during the Sixties. I assumed that there was a move to elect one of them, but you needed to find someone who could tell you if any of them were still alive and sane. Or something like that.” He stared down at the glossy surface of his desk. “A Chinese woman Pope. Now that’s pretty amazing.”
“It’ll be in the media in the next thirty minutes,” said Cardinal Bradeston with a fatalistic sigh. “We’re trying to prepare major world leaders, give them a little time to come up with a comment.” He hesitated. “And we need help getting her out.”
“I said you ought to talk to the Secretary of State. I don’t want to get mixed up directly in this.” He almost added mess but bit it off in time.
“Certainly; Cardinal Durand and I have an appointment with her tomorrow morning. But you understand that we do not want to talk with her until you are aware of what we intend to ask, and the reason we must ask it. It would not be proper to do it any other way, would it?” The corners of his mouth twitched but it was far from a smile.
Houghton Carey’s eyes filled with ironic humor. “Don’t miss a trick. It’s sixteen hundred years’ practice, I guess.” He held up his hand. “Don’t dispute the time; the Church didn’t swing much weight until then, and you know it.”
“Conceded,” said Cardinal Bradeston, going on with more emphasis. “You’ll allow us to ask the Secretary of State to act—”
“Let me call Abby and find out what she has to say. Right now. You stay right here, so you’ll know what I tell her, okay?” He said it genially enough but it was clearly an order, and Cardinal Bradeston, who disliked being ordered about, nodded grudgingly.
“Sandy,” said the President to his secretary in the outer office, “Will you get Abigail Corleon for me? Thank you.” He put his phone on mute and regarded the Bostonian Cardinal speculatively. “Pope. I…I can’t get over it. You sure about this?”
“It hardly matters if I’m sure,” said Cardinal Bradeston stiffly. “We’ve elected her twice.”
“Is that important?” asked the President.
“Yes,” said Cardinal Bradeston. “We think so.”
The phone buzzed and President Carey motioned to Cardinal Bradeston to silence. “Abby, Tony. Sorry to disturb you when you have guests; it’s urgent. I’ve got Cardinal Bradeston here.… Yeah, I know you’re seeing him tomorrow.… He’s just told me something you better know about in advance: that Chinese woman we heard about? Well, the College of Cardinals somehow or other elected her Pope.… You’re telling me. Anyhow, they have to get her out of China and they think we might be able to help. There’re a lot of Catholics in this country. Maybe we better do something.”
“Mister President.…” Cardinal Bradeston began.
But President Carey was answering a question from his Secretary of State. “I think we better have a statement for the media. We won’t mention the problem of getting her out yet; we’ll say just the usual blather, how surprised we are, the changes it will bring to the world—which for once is the truth—how we’ll have to wait and see how Catholics respond to this new development—” He laughed. “Well, you’ll handle it right.” He listened again, nodded. “I’ll be glad to. And thanks. It’s a pain in the ass to be interrupted by this kind of news.… Yeah, there’s lots of worse news to be interrupted with.” This time he chuckled, then thanked her and hung up. “She’s asking you to arrange to come to the rear entrance at State in the morning. She’s certain the streets will be crawling with reporters looking for anything in a cassock.”
“She’s probably right,” said Cardinal Bradeston sourly.
“No doubt about it. You’ll have The Washington Post on one side and CBS News on the other and all the international services bringing up the rear if you try to go in the front.” He studied Cardinal Bradeston. “How long have you known about this?”
“A few hours; not very long,” answered Cardinal Bradeston. “I was told of her acceptance when I arrived at Dulles. There was a call waiting for me. I got in at nine-forty. Word came in Rome a little after two a.m., relayed through Hong Kong.”
“So it’s getting known. The morning news will be full of it. That’s something.” He pursed his lips speculatively. “Well, at least it’s night in Europe. That’ll give you Cardinals a little time to put yourselves in order. And there’s a lot to get in order. Any idea when she’ll arrive in Rome?”
“None,” said Cardinal Bradeston. “That’s why I’m here.”
“Right,” said President Carey.
* * *
It was almost four in the morning when Cardinal van Hooven placed his call to Metropolitan Gosteshenko in Moscow. He knew that the Russian rose at six for morning prayers. “Good day, old friend,” he said when Pavel Gosteshenko growled at him.
“Ah, Piet. Good day to you as well,” he said, his voice sharpening as sleep left him. “What are you doing up at this hour?”
“We have had word from China,” said Cardinal van Hoove
n.
“Ah,” said Metropolitan Gosteshenko warily.
“Truly,” said Cardinal van Hooven. “She has agreed.”
“Ah,” said Metropolitan Gosteshenko again.
“We are about to approach the Premier of China—not directly, of course—to request she be allowed to leave China for the Vatican.” He said it as if this were the most ordinary situation in the world.
“And who is going to make this approach?” asked Metropolitan Gosteshenko. “I fear I will not be of any assistance to you.”
“We were hoping to find a Protestant or someone who isn’t Christian at all,” said Cardinal van Hooven. “The People’s Republic of China would probably like it if we could find an atheistic diplomat from a Third World country with a degree in theology and thirty years’ experience in international relations. Since we haven’t found one of those yet, we’re doing what we can. We are going to the United Nations for assistance, at least to begin with, and the major powers. We also have contacts with those who have some ties to China and Premier Zuo.” He spoke with the serene confidence that might be nothing more than sleepiness.
“Then what do you need of me?” asked Metropolitan Gosteshenko.
This time Cardinal van Hooven hesitated. “I would appreciate it if you would be willing to speak with the authorities there, in Russia, to request that no action be taken that might interfere with our negotiations. I realize that this is a tremendous thing to ask of you; and I know that you do not necessarily have any say in what happens at such levels in the government, but I must do what I can. Your country could make this very difficult for us, especially if your intelligence community becomes determined to…to create obstacles for us. We may be the opiate of the masses, but sniping at us for recreation doesn’t help when we’re trying to resolve a delicate situation, such as this one.” He waited for Metropolitan Gosteshenko to speak; when no comment came, he went on. “You can appreciate why such action concerns us, I am certain. You know what it is like for those of us in the Church, attempting to reach a government that does not recognize us at all. It would take very little for that lack of recognition to become an insurmountable barrier to all our efforts.”
“True enough,” said Metropolitan Gosteshenko. “Very well, Piet. I will do what I can, but that might not be very much.”
“Anything will have my thanks and my prayers,” said Cardinal van Hooven. He looked out through the curtains at the darkness, imagining the bulk of Saint Peter’s. “I would provide more if I could.”
“That day may come,” said Metropolitan Gosteshenko. “These are very uncertain times, my friend.”
“They are,” agreed Cardinal van Hooven. “I will keep you informed of our progress, if you like.”
“Do, whether I like it or not,” said Metropolitan Gosteshenko, doing his best to laugh so that Cardinal van Hooven would understand he was making a joke. “I would rather be upset than off-guard on this occasion. There are too many unknowns where your new Pope is concerned.”
“There are many hazards for all of us,” said Cardinal van Hooven. “That is why we need that woman here.”
Metropolitan Gosteshenko gave Cardinal van Hooven a Russian blessing before he hung up.
* * *
Her quarters in the guest house in Xi’an were small; Zhuang Renxin was not dismayed to find she had only two rooms, for that seemed more than reasonable, given the reason for her presence. She had been driven there from the airport almost an hour ago, then left with the assurance that she was a guest of the People. The summons that had brought her here had arrived less than an hour after her call to Dame Leonie, and she had been surprised only because it had taken so long to reach her.
She stood before the mirror in her cramped little bathroom and combed her hair. There would be another twenty minutes before the car arrived to take her to her private and unofficial interview with Premier Zuo. Ordinarily she would not have been nervous, but today she was jittery; her hands would not remain still, and the slight, constant trembling embarrassed her as much as the occasion for her presence. She examined her jacket, worried that stains might have appeared on it in the last few minutes. As she chided herself for this foolishness, she peered at her face to be certain there was no blemish on her chin or cheek. Then she combed her hair again.
The driver was not in uniform, but his bearing was military and the way in which he greeted her was perilously close to a salute. He made no comments about the city as he drove the short distance to the cluster of governmental buildings, confining his remarks to occasional warnings about the traffic. Only when he stopped the car did he tell her anything about her visit, though it was little enough. “It is the third door on the left. They are expecting you, Worthy Magistrate.”
“You are most helpful,” said Magistrate Zhuang as she closed the door. While she was not frightened, her apprehension increased as she walked up the short flight of stairs and found the third door on the left.
A guard requested her name and admitted her, escorting her along a narrow, doorless, tunnel-like hallway. He showed her into a small sitting room at the end of the corridor and told her to wait. Then he left her alone.
Premier Zuo let Magistrate Zhuang sit for almost fifteen minutes before he came through the interior door, bowing slightly to her as he did. “Worthy Magistrate.”
She rose at once and offered him a formal bow, proud that her parents had drilled her in the correct show of deference to all stations of persons. “Premier,” she said respectfully, a little awed that so august a person would actually be willing to speak with her. Until this moment she had not been wholly certain the meeting would truly occur. But the last few days had been filled with unanticipated events, she told herself, hoping that she would not behave improperly.
He sat down, but did not gesture for her to do the same; he began without preamble. “I have seen the report of your visitors, and I have been informed of their requests.”
Magistrate Zhuang bowed again but said nothing. She knew it would be incorrect to volunteer information until it was requested.
“It is quite an unusual event, Worthy Magistrate, if my information is accurate. According to the report, a Cardinal of the Roman Catholic Church has informed you of your election as Pope. I understand you have accepted the post.” He looked at her at last. “Is this true?”
She bowed a third time. “Yes.”
“Will you please tell me how this came about?” Premier Zuo requested in a voice that warned her of the danger of refusing.
Magistrate Zhuang had to restrain her desire to assure Premier Zuo that she would never defy the leader of China. Prudently all she did was incline her head. “I was visited by Charles Ruy Mendosa, who came to tell me that the College of Cardinals, of which he is a member, has elected me to that position. I did not believe him at first, but he has convinced me. I questioned him most thoroughly, Worthy Premier.”
“You spoke with him for some considerable time,” said Premier Zuo, neither accusation nor praise in the statement.
“Yes. He, a British journalist, and their Chinese driver came to my house. I arranged for my neighbor’s wife to serve as chaperon. Cardinal Mendosa explained to me how the election is done and what had happened on two separate occasions. He said it would not be fitting for them to proceed until I had been located and given the opportunity to serve. They are obliged to do this because I was elected twice, and that creates certain demands.” She repeated this as if she were reciting a lesson, but as the words came, she began to realize how unlikely it all sounded. “He was very persuasive.”
“He must have been,” said Premier Zuo. “You have agreed to do this, I have been told.”
“Yes,” she said. “If what Cardinal Mendosa says is true, I have a duty to the Church to direct it, since the authority has, apparently, been given to me.” Her eyes met his.
Premier Zuo indicated the chair opposite his own. “We must talk.”
Magistrate Zhuang sat down very carefully, moving
as if she expected Premier Zuo to change his mind and keep her standing; her back was very straight. “Of what do you wish to talk, Worthy Premier?”
“Your decision. And before you go on, I want you to understand that you are not to tell anyone anything of what we say. In fact, I want you to deny that this meeting ever took place. If you are asked why you were flown to Xi’an, you are to say that certain government officials had questions to ask you about the foreigners who visited you. Nothing more. No one is to be identified. You must not reveal we have spoken. Is that clear?”
“Yes. I will certainly do as you wish, Worthy Premier,” she responded quickly. “I am gratified to do this for you.”
“Very good,” said Premier Zuo. He reached down and lifted a small brass bell. As he rang it, he said, “I want to know about this man, the Cardinal. How did he describe the Church to you?”
“He described it as corrupt and venal, filled with deceptions and abuses,” Magistrate Zhuang answered at once. “He said that the only person who has the power to end this venality is the Pope, and that it would be a difficult task even for her. He said that if I condemn what the Church is, I am obliged to bring about its change if I am given the opportunity. He believes that there is a religious reason that I have been selected.” She ducked her head.
“Religious?” Did he tell you about the political nature of the Church?” asked Premier Zuo, a bit startled. He had not anticipated that Cardinal Mendosa might be candid with Magistrate Zhuang.
Once again she answered promptly. “He said that he did not have time to unravel it all. He told me that men have devoted the studies of lifetimes to Vatican politics and never comprehended them. It is very complicated, involving many countries and peoples, and many organizations within and without the Church. There is also a great deal of money controlled by the Church, and that is one of the most important issues in the world today.”
“Your Cardinal Mendosa is a very direct man, it appears.” Premier Zuo looked up as a young man discreetly presented himself. “We will take tea in the courtyard in half an hour.” He motioned the young man away.
Magnificat Page 20
