“Of course, Eminence,” said Carlo, and waited until Cardinal van Hooven was out of the room to issue his orders to the rest of his staff.
Cardinal van Hooven reached his quarters less than two minutes later, and was surprised to find that Brother Crispino was not there. After looking into his sitting room, he frowned, wondering where the monk could be. He called out once and when he was not answered, he attempted to dismiss his questions from his mind, and went to review the latest information from Antwerp where there had been a riot the day before.
He was just finishing that report when Brother Gilpin arrived. “Eminence,” he said, blinking as if against sudden light.
“Brother Gilpin,” said Cardinal van Hooven as he put down the report. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Nothing of the kind, Eminence,” said Brother Gilpin.
Cardinal van Hooven was about to dismiss Brother Gilpin when it occurred to him to ask, “Have you seen Brother Crispino?”
“Brother Crispino?” Brother Gilpin repeated as if he did not know the word; he recovered quickly. “Not recently, no. An hour ago, a little more. He was just leaving here on an errand. He was going to the library to speak with Carlo Urbi about the refreshments for this afternoon. He ought to be there—”
“He has been there and gone,” said Cardinal van Hooven, wondering if Brother Crispino had taken it into his head to do more penance that afternoon; lately the Franciscan had been spending long hours in prayer and meditation as the time of Zhuang’s coronation grew near. “Has Father Maius mentioned Brother Crispino to you?” Father Maius, the chief of the Cardinal’s staff, was recovering from cataract surgery and had not been able to do much the last two weeks.
“Father Maius said nothing about Brother Crispino, not today,” said Brother Gilpin, who seemed more puzzled than before.
“Did either Brother Crispino or Father Maius mention any engagements to you?” Cardinal van Hooven asked. “With the coronation so soon, there are many things he might need to do.”
“Yes,” said Brother Gilpin, seizing on the remark. “Of course, you’re right. Brother Crispino must have another chore to do before he returns. He must have overlooked informing me. If he said anything to Father Maius, well.…” He indicated the room as a way to change the subject. “I’ll attend to things here, if you must attend the meeting with the…new Pope.”
“Her Holiness,” Cardinal van Hooven corrected gently. “You might as well get used to saying it.”
“Her Holiness,” Brother Gilpin repeated dutifully, though his throat pinched and his breath did not have enough air in it.
Cardinal van Hooven indicated his approval. “In a week or two it will seem quite natural. Practice it a few times and you will not find it too difficult to say.” He started toward the door. “I will be with the Cardinals in the library. Please don’t disturb me unless it is essential.”
“I won’t,” Brother Gilpin assured him, glad not to have to speak of Zhuang any longer.
“Thank you,” said Cardinal van Hooven. He left his quarters and retraced his path to the library, his attention already on the problems that had to be discussed during the afternoon.
As he reached the library, he found Cardinal Cadini and Cardinal Tayibha already there. Cardinal Cadini was dressed secularly and casually; Cardinal Tayibha wore clerical garb. The two were engrossed in a discussion about chocolate.
“I prefer a trace of bitterness, just the merest trace,” said Cardinal Cadini. “Otherwise the taste can be too overwhelming. I think it is the bitterness that makes the richness so satisfying.” His smile was delighted, and he indicated the tray of truffles Carlo Urbi had just set out. “If we cannot resolve our differences, at least we can enjoy comparing examples.”
“Certainly,” said Cardinal Tayibha, apparently unsure how to take Cardinal Cadini’s remarks. “Those are all bittersweet, aren’t they?”
“Yes, on the outside, but those first two rows have sweet fillings.” said Cardinal Cadini, looking up as Cardinal van Hooven approached. “There you are. I was beginning to think that everyone else might have decided to avoid this meeting. Most aren’t very pleased about it.”
“Most haven’t been pleased since we elected Zhuang,” said Cardinal van Hooven with tremendous neutrality.
“And Zhuang? She’ll be here, too?” asked Cardinal Tayibha.
“She’ll come a little later. Right now she’s closeted with Willie Foot about her first address to the people after her coronation. She wants to be certain she has everything right. She says she does not want to be misunderstood by anyone.” Cardinal van Hooven glanced at the table. “I see that Carlo has done his usual splendid job.”
“That he has,” said Cardinal Cadini, with an appreciative twinkle. “Not that I ought to have any of it, but.…” His shrug was philosophical. “At my age, there are not many pleasures left, and I like to make the most out of the few that remain.”
“Do you say such things to your physician?” asked Cardinal Tayibha, doing his unsuccessful best to conceal his shock.
“Naturally. If I did not, they would be more concerned than they are.” He looked back at Cardinal van Hooven. “You should be the one we speak to. Do you think that bittersweet chocolate is better than the rest? You Dutch are famous for your chocolates.”
Cardinal van Hooven shrugged. “I never really developed an opinion. I prefer gelato, myself.”
Cardinal Cadini laughed good-naturedly. “Very deft,” he approved, then turned to a more serious matter. “What about Cardinal Mendosa? Is he back yet?”
“Sometime this evening,” said Cardinal van Hooven. “I called Father Viernes earlier, to confirm the time he left Houston. The plane was delayed over an hour.”
“That must have delighted Charles,” said Cardinal Cadini with a wicked little smile. “I am pleased to hear he is returning. We need him with us.”
Cardinal Tayibha nodded emphatically. “It may be galling to some of the others, but Her Holiness relies on him, and without him she becomes apprehensive. We are not the only ones who take note of this. Many are aware of the…regard they have for one another, and they make assumptions.” He looked again at the lavish spread. “It is not wise for those of us in our position to have particular friendships.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s what’s going on,” said Cardinal Cadini. “They are friends, but there is nothing incorrect in that. They do not have a particular friendship, not the way you imply.” He looked toward the door as Cardinal Llanos and Cardinal Bakony came into the library. He inclined his head as a greeting and went on to Cardinal Tayibha, “It’s no great secret that Cardinal Mendosa likes women, but he is not one to compromise the Pope because she is a woman. He has too much feeling for her to do that.”
“How can you be sure?” Cardinal Tayibha persisted.
“Because Charles does not harm those he cares for,” said Cardinal Cadini, his small, bright eyes taking on an unexpected sternness.
Cardinal Tayibha made a gesture to indicate he would accept Cardinal Cadini’s judgment. “The people still have doubts about the two of them.”
“The people have doubts about everything concerning this woman,” said Cardinal van Hooven. “That is why we are having this meeting.”
“Yes. I have many reservations about her, but I do not dispute the need for agreement. We have many questions yet to answer.” Cardinal Tayibha did not protest his mild reprimand. “I pray that we all receive wisdom from what we do here.”
“May God hear your prayer,” said Cardinal Cadini before going to greet Cardinal Sclamonde, who hesitated in the doorway, reluctant to come in.
Cardinal Nkomo and Cardinal Durand arrived next, and Carlo Urbi decided it was time to begin serving coffee and tea and wine. By the time Cardinal Mnientek, Cardinal Hauptberger, Cardinal Gemme, and Cardinal Sinclair joined them, the staff was busy filling cups and glasses and passing trays of sweets.
“I must say,” remarked Cardinal O’Higgins as he enter
ed the library behind Cardinal Jung, “if we have to deal with so unpleasant a dilemma as our present one, this is the way to do it.”
“You make light of a tragedy,” said Cardinal Jung in his most portentous accents. “I cannot help but fear that the direst predictions of our enemies will prove minor compared to what we will have to endure at the hands of this foreign woman.”
Cardinal Cadini had heard Cardinal Jung’s orotund tone from across the room. He hastened over to the condemning Swiss and offered him a cup of coffee. “Unless you prefer the wine? There is an excellent Pinot Grigio and a very nice shooting sherry,” he recommended. “The pastry is very light except for the Napoleons. And the truffles are superb.”
This did not mollify Cardinal Jung, who shook his head heavily. “I am nearly in accord with those who say that it is our love of indulgence and excess that has brought us to this terrible state. We are reaping the harvest of our luxury and dissipation.”
Cardinal Cadini did not quite laugh, but he could not suppress a smile as he said, “Nevertheless, it is a shame to let such excellent fare go to waste now we have served it. If you are concerned, we can distribute what is left over to the prisons. Or you can fast for a day or two in compensation. That might be sensible for us both; my physician is always encouraging me to fast. But in the meantime, Cardinal van Hooven would be offended if you did not taste anything at all.”
“I find your flippancy distasteful,” said Cardinal Jung. “This is not the occasion for humor or celebration, but mourning.”
“No, of course not celebration,” said Cardinal Cadini, clearly unconvinced. He sighed once as Cardinal Jung surged away from him.
“There is nothing to do about him,” said Cardinal van Hooven as he came up beside Cardinal Cadini.
“Possibly. No one is past praying for,” corrected Cardinal Cadini gently. “Still, I suspect His Jungian Eminence is a harder case than most.” He swung around as Cardinal Montebranco came through the door. “Who hasn’t arrived yet?” he asked Cardinal van Hooven.
“Tsukamara and Tondocello,” said Cardinal van Hooven. “I won’t be surprised if Cardinal Tondocello doesn’t come. He’s not feeling very well; the stress makes his kidneys worse, if that’s possible.”
“Poor man,” said Cardinal Cadini with sympathy.
“Indeed,” said Cardinal van Hooven, then turned as Carlo Urbi tapped him on the shoulder. “Yes? What is it?”
“Pardon, Eminence, but we have a request from Cardinal Tayibha for China tea.” He looked uncomfortable, which was rare for him. “This is very awkward. I would rather save the tea, but.… We have some for the woman, but if you think it would be all right.…”
“How much do you have?” asked Cardinal van Hooven.
“Oh, the quantity is no problem. But would it be proper to serve it to Cardinal Tayibha before it is served to the Chinese woman? Perhaps if I made some fresh.…”
“I am certain Her Holiness would not consider it improper of you to serve Cardinal Tayibha first,” said Cardinal van Hooven with great patience. “In fact, she might well insist upon it.”
Carlo made another one of his not-quite-bows. “Thank you, Eminence,” he said and withdrew at once.
“Sometimes I marvel that anything can get done around here,” said Cardinal Cadini as he watched the retreating figure of Carlo Urbi. “We’ve become entirely too hide-bound, my friend. When the chief caterer needs permission to serve a cup of tea, things have gone too far. The more I think about it, the more I believe it is a good thing that Zhuang is here.”
Cardinal van Hooven considered his answer. “There are many reasons to be thankful that we have been able to bring her to Rome.”
“How very diplomatic,” said Cardinal Cadini, then noticed that Cardinal Gemme was scowling at Cardinal O’Higgins. “I suppose I’d better break that up before it turns ugly.”
“I would appreciate it,” said Cardinal van Hooven. “The last thing we need is more of us taking sides. Her Holiness is supposed to be here in ten minutes, and we need to achieve reasonable accord by then. If those two can’t be calmed down, who knows what kind of reception she’ll have?”
Cardinal Cadini offered Cardinal van Hooven a jaunty salute. “My pleasure, Piet,” he said, and sauntered off toward the elegant Cardinal Gemme, smiling affably at everyone he saw.
Cardinal van Hooven took advantage of the moment to leave the library to relieve himself; it was going to be a long afternoon and he did not want to miss any of the meeting. As he was washing his hands, Cardinal Llanos came into the lavatory.
“It’s a good thing you’re doing this, Eminence,” said the Cardinal from Managua. “So few of us are as sensible.”
“You’re very gracious to say so,” Cardinal van Hooven responded; in the mirror over the sink his thick glasses made his eyes appear to be suspended in front of his face.
“I thought I ought to warn you,” Cardinal Llanos went on in the same tone. “I received a note today that said Zhuang would not leave this meeting alive.”
“Oh?” Cardinal van Hooven stopped in the act of drying his hands.
“Yes. It was unsigned, of course.” He stepped into the cubicle protecting the urinal.
“Of course,” said Cardinal van Hooven. “But we have all heard of threats against her.”
Cardinal Llanos did not answer until he had left the cubicle. “That may be. But this one came from inside the Vatican. I thought I should mention it to you for that reason.” He went to the sink. “You may want to take precautions.”
“Thank you, I already have.” He started to open the door, but decided to explain. “Half of Carlo’s staff are Vatican security.”
“Um.” Cardinal Llanos reached for the soap. “Let us hope they are sufficient.”
Cardinal van Hooven nodded once as he left the lavatory. As he hurried down the corridor toward the library he frowned, trying to interpret the message contained in Cardinal Llanos’ warning. Little as he wanted to recognize it, he had been anticipating trouble. Now it seemed that trouble might arrive.
Carlo Urbi was waiting for him as he came through the door. “Eminence, we have just received word that the Chinese woman and Mister Foot are waiting for permission to come here. What would you like me to tell them?”
“Tell them we require another ten minutes to prepare. Then I will welcome them both.” He was sharper with Carlo than he had intended to be, and he made himself add, “You are being very careful, and I appreciate all you are doing.”
“Thank you, Eminence,” said Carlo.
“There’s no reason for thanks, not under the circumstances, except mine to you.” Cardinal van Hooven favored Carlo with a sketched blessing before he made his way toward Cardinal Hauptberger, who stood near the tray of candied fruit.
“Are we about to start? They’re getting restive, aren’t they?” asked the tall Austrian. “At least Gemme isn’t holding forth any more.”
“No; the Dutch are about to do that,” said Cardinal van Hooven with a faint, fatalistic smile.
“Just as well,” said Cardinal Hauptberger. “Better sound a gong to get their attention.” He picked up another piece of candied pineapple.
“You’re probably right,” said Cardinal van Hooven as he continued to the center of the room; he stood there a few seconds, then coughed once. “Eminences,” he said, raising his voice a little. “Eminences, please.”
The babble faded slightly. A few other voices could be heard asking for quiet. Then there was silence.
“I am pleased,” said Cardinal van Hooven as the rest turned toward him, “that you were all willing to come to this meeting. It is one of our last opportunities to prepare ourselves for the onslaught of public reaction that is certain to follow the elevation of Zhuang Renxin, who will reign as Pope An.”
“You mean it is our last opportunity to choose a single position to express for the Vatican,” said Cardinal Bakony with undisguised scorn.
“No, that is precisely what I do not mean,�
� corrected Cardinal van Hooven with uncharacteristic heat. “That is the last thing we ought to do. We need to find the most flexible approach. You, Eminence,” he went on, singling out Cardinal Bakony because of his challenge, “cannot expect Hungarians to accept the same answers that Cardinal Sclamonde expects of the Belgians, or Cardinal O’Higgins expects of the Mexicans. We must determine a course that will not compromise anyone who—”
He was interrupted by the sound of a breaking cup.
As the gathered Cardinals stared, Jivin, Cardinal Tayibha, slipped from the chair where he sat, tea darkening the front of his black cassock.
Chapter 20
Every bell in Rome was ringing. The clamor was so enormous that even the steady drone of traffic was lost in it.
On the balcony overlooking Saint Peter’s Square, Zhuang Renxin, dressed in a plain white satin cassock, stood with her arms upraised as she faced the mass of humanity crammed into the piazza below. She wore no tiara but she carried a tall crucifix, her only concession to the symbols of Papal authority. Five Cardinals stood beside her, all in finery greater than hers. At her side, Willie Foot waited in a cut-away coat and striped trousers, for all the world like a groom on a wedding cake. In deference to Pope An, he carried his silk hat instead of wearing it.
"I am asked,” said Pope An in Chinese, pausing so that Willie and a dozen or so others could translate, “to pronounce God’s blessing on the city of Rome and the world. Because it is a tradition, I will do it, but reluctantly, for nowhere in the writings about Jesus does it say He ever pronounced such a blessing.” She looked over at Cardinal Cadini and saw his happy smile. “But it is recorded that Jesus said that we are all children of God, and so I offer blessing, in that spirit, on the city and the world.”
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