Magnificat (16 page)

Magistrate Zhuang frowned. “Absurd!” she cried out, and then she started to laugh. “How clever. You are very persuasive, you American.” Her laughter increased. “I was nearly prepared to believe you.” There were tears at the corners of her eyes and she rocked where she sat. “Amazing, amazing,” she said between more bursts.

“You’re losing her,” Willie added when he had relayed all this to Mendosa.

“No kidding.” Mendosa could hardly move. It took a great effort for him to continue evenly, neither irate nor surly in manner. “It is no joke. It is the truth. Twice the College of Cardinals of the Roman Catholic Church have elected her Pope.
Twice
! Tell her that, Willie.” He wanted to shout at her, to shake her so that she would not laugh any more, so that she would know he had spoken the truth. What made it terrible for him was the certainty that this woman was the one he had seen in his visions, the Pope mandated by the Holy Spirit. “She has to serve, since we elected her twice.”

Willie responded at once, adding his own observation. “Worthy Magistrate, what my friend says may seem ridiculous, but I assure you that it is the truth, a dangerous truth for everyone, you as well as Cardinal Mendosa and me. Without your cooperation, there are millions of people in the world who will be without guidance when they need it most, and that most especially includes those in religious Orders. You do not share Cardinal Mendosa’s religion, but you can appreciate how important good rule is to people, and how conduct must be guided by wisdom. He is asking you to consider making yourself an example, as you do here as Magistrate. Those who practice that religion, if they are guided by those who do not teach wisely, will fail. Never mind the Church, it is the people who follow its teaching who are in danger. Without wisdom—which they call the Holy Spirit—they will lose their way. They will be at the mercy of a Church that is not always responsi—”

“Such guidance is corrupt; you admit it,” she said, bringing herself under control. She looked at her three visitors in turn, her voice still not quite steady. “How remarkable. I don’t think I’ve laughed like that since I was a child.” She wiped the tears from her face. “Excuse me. I did not.…” It was touch and go for another round of laughter, but finally she stilled the impulse.

“I did not come to amuse you, Holiness,” said Mendosa, his face set. “Without you the Church is a fraud. Worse than a fraud. No one else can be elevated without deliberate misrepresentation and total denial of the will of the Holy Spirit. There is a…law in the Church, that if someone is elected Pope once, he…or she, has the option to refuse, and someone else may be elected. But when someone is elected twice, that person must serve. Any subsequent election without the service of the person elected twice is not valid. The Succession is broken. We tried to put someone else on Saint Peter’s Throne, and the man we chose died quickly. If we do it again, another man will die, and undoubtedly we will elect you again a third time. With you—for reasons none of us knows—there is a chance to regain what we will have lost if we choose another in your place.” He leaned forward. “I’ve got one last thing to say to you, Worthy Magistrate, and then I’ll get out of your house if you like. We’ve trespassed on your goodwill too long, and we won’t continue.” He listened to Willie turning what he had said into Chinese.

“All right: what is this thing?” Magistrate Zhuang asked, doing her best to be polite.

It was the final argument, and he hoped it would be sufficient. “You say that you think the Church is deceptive and corrupt, and I largely agree with you. You tell me that the Church has advocated oppression, and I agree with you there, too. You say that the Church is rich and venal, and there I concur completely. The Church is all those despicable things and more.” He put one hand on the low table and held her eyes with his own. “And only the Pope, Worthy Magistrate, can change that.”

Chapter 9

Shortly before dawn a telephone call on his private line woke Zuo Nangkao in his Beijing home. He moved away from his sleeping wife and lifted the receiver.

In Hongya the monitor from the People’s Cooperative Fire Emergency Resources peered over his notes. “I took pictures and—”

“Do you know what was said?” Premier Zuo interrupted, aware that his field agent was good at his job. “Could you get close enough?”

“No, but they talked well into the night. Magistrate Zhuang made sure there was a chaperon, of course. She is a very prudent woman.” He cleared his throat and lit another cigarette. “The driver left for a while in the evening and returned with food.”

“There are places in Hongya where he must have gone,” said Premier Zuo, unwilling to be drawn into useless speculation. “What more can you tell me?”

“The foreigners are going to sleep at her neighbor’s house. They are supposed to leave in the morning. Probably not too early because they were up so very late.” He chuckled unpleasantly. “If the Magistrate is dealing with the West, she is being very foolish.”

“Magistrate Zhuang, for all I have learned of her, is no fool,” Premier Zuo said, the warning clear. “I have to know what they said to her. And I want it confirmed that the American is an official of the Catholic Church.” He reached over and picked up his glasses, settling them onto his nose and watching the world come into focus.

“That is being tended to,” said the monitor. “There are others better qualified than I to discover that.”

“Very true,” said Premier Zuo. “If he is here as an American, that is one thing, but if he is here as a Cardinal, it’s something else.” He thought that he had been ill-advised to ignore the reports of the Vatican wanting to locate this Chinese Magistrate. Ludicrous as they seemed a few days ago, the reports might turn out to be accurate. “I want to know when the foreigners leave and where they go. They ought not to be aware they are under observation. Do not use the arms convoy again, for that will make them suspicious.”

“As you wish, Worthy Premier.” The Monitor’s voice was rougher, from fatigue, or cigarettes, or displeasure, Premier Zuo was uncertain.

“Thank you, my trusted servant,” answered the Premier of China, thinking that he might as well get up, for he would not be able to get back to sleep before it would be time to rise.

“I will report again when they have gone,” said the monitor.

“On the line to my private office, if you please. Sun Tienxiao will speak with you if I am not available.” He slid from under the covers and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Learn what you can from the neighbors, but do not be too obvious about it.”

“I know the way,” said the monitor, faintly annoyed that his skill should be questioned. “I’ve already contacted Chongqing, so that they will be covered. I wasn’t able to reach the telephone in Magistrate Zhuang’s house. If there were calls made.…”

“There will be a record of them; you need not concern yourself,” said Premier Zuo, reaching for his robe. “I did not expect the Magistrate to speak with them so long or I would have asked for a few listening devices to be installed before they arrived. But there is no point in being concerned with that now.” He smiled to himself in the pre-dawn gloom. “You have done well. I will add a commendation to your file, so when Sun reviews it, you will be promoted.”

“And some other operative can sit in this concrete block,” said the monitor bitterly. “Waiting for things to happen in Hongya.”

“Of course,” said Premier Zuo in a tone of voice that did not permit more discontent from the monitor. “All men who do their work well advance, Gai Ruwei, even if it’s from the pigpen to the palace.” As he said it, he remembered his grandmother repeating it to him through his youth, and he thought she would take his advancement as proof of the saying.

Monitor Gai knew it was sensible to laugh, so he produced a single, insincere cackle. “True enough,” he said, and yawned.

“Yes, you need your rest after so much work,” said Premier Zuo, who was not deceived by the ploy. “My commendation will be entered in your file today. Keep me informed.”

“Most certainly,” said Monitor Gai, hoping that Sun Tienxiao would not attempt to claim the work for himself. He heard the Premier hang up before he lowered the receiver. His head felt stuffy and he thought too slowly. Surely, he thought, the same is true of Magistrate Zhuang and the foreigners. Confident that nothing more of interest could happen before sunrise, he went off to bed.

* * *

In the dim light, Willie fought off dozing as Magistrate Zhuang and Cardinal Mendosa continued their discussions.

“I am not saying it would be easy, or that these men will accept you,” Mendosa told her emphatically. “If it were that easy there would be no reason to come all the way to China to find a candidate for the job. Sorry. The fact is that you are not the most welcome Pope the College has ever elected, and the Cardinals resent how it came about. You were…foisted on them by an experience they do not and can not understand. These men are used to being masters of the Church; they despise interference, even from God. Most of them will resist you with all their might. I don’t want you to think otherwise. You’d be leaving yourself open for some pretty terrible trouble if you don’t prepare yourself.”

Magistrate Zhuang listened critically. “But why should it be necessary? If the Holy Spirit—assuming for the time being that such a thing exists—has named me, what possible objection can any of these men have, if they are truly servants of the Church?”

Willie watched Mendosa with interest, wondering what kind of answer the Texan would give. “It’s quite a challenge for such an hour.”

“Shut up, Willie,” said Mendosa cordially. “Tell her that there are men who have advanced through favor and power-brokering who have no more knowledge of the Holy Spirit than a gnat. They seek their own advancement and would not want to see it given to anyone but themselves, or their close colleagues.”

“It is ever this way,” said Magistrate Zhuang, and cocked her head as she thought. “What of the Holy Spirit, then? You said that all these men wrote my name, that all of them did it, although only a few knew that they were writing Chinese. I find that last hardest to believe.” She was looking tired, and there was a tightness at the corners of her eyes that warned Mendosa she would not rest until she was satisfied that she had the answers she sought.

“They found it hard to believe, too,” said Mendosa with a disappointed smirk. “Some of them thought it was sabotage, or trickery. A few of them suspected other Cardinals of influencing them with drugs or hypnosis. You should have been there to see the reaction the first time. I was as bad as most of them, I’m sorry to say. It was a great shock to all of us.”

“How was it a shock?” she demanded.

Willie yawned but offered no apology for it. He continued to translate, his voice a monotone.

“I tell you again, these are men who love power, Worthy Magistrate, and they are not used to having it taken from them. Even if the loss is brought about by the force they purport to serve, they dislike it. They have their will and they do not like anyone to dispute their right to exercise it. Some of them have tried to claim that they did not know what they were doing, or that they were being influenced somehow. As I’ve told you, there are others who say it was a mistake and will not concede that they might have experienced the presence of God.” He crossed himself out of habit. “You would find yourself having to be very careful, for all these men will want to control what you do.”

“And you, Cardinal Mendosa, what about you? Are you here in the hope that you will control me?” Her eyes narrowed as she listened to Willie translate his answer.

“I would like to think that my dedication to your Papacy would mean you might trust me a little, but I don’t expect it. Frankly, Holiness, I haven’t done anything to earn it, and you’re not the sort to accept my assurance without anything to back it up. I suppose it would not be wise of you to trust me unless you are satisfied that I am trustworthy. You see, Worthy Magistrate, I am an oddity among my exalted colleagues. I am still very much a believer; not many Cardinals are, not really. I am convinced that God is present in the world; I think that God is part of every human being on this poor old planet. And I think that God seeks to reach every single one of us. But most of the time people need a structure, a frame of reference, to allow them to pay attention to God. That’s where the Church and the Pope come in, and that’s what I have come to accept that they’re good for.” He wanted to tell her the rest, to describe the visions and his long experience of them, but he held his tongue.

“But even supposing that this is the case,” said Zhuang Renxin when Willie was through, “why should God select me when he has men such as you to choose from? You—by which I mean all the Cardinals—are prepared to deal with the pressures of the Papacy. Why should you need me? It is beyond caprice, Mendosa.” Her face was stern again, but as she concealed what was probably a yawn, her expression softened.

“God is beyond all understanding. That’s part of the teaching of the Church. It’s a part that we clergy all too often forget.” He was tired of drinking tea and he had declined the rice wine offered earlier, but now his throat was dry and he wished he had something to soothe it. He coughed once. “I’ll tell you what I think might be the reason why you were the choice of the Holy Spirit, but you had best keep in mind that it is only a guess.”

She heard Willie out and said. “I want to hear this, but I will have Missus Jing make us some tea.”

“She’s asleep,” Willie pointed out.

“It will do her good to be up,” said Magistrate Zhuang. “She will keep the rest of the country awake with her tales of this visit for months to come, if I know her as well as I think I do.” She motioned to Willie. “Have her make us tea.”

Willie shrugged, and found his way into the hall, then toward the first bedroom, calling to Missus Jing as he went. He hoped he would not awaken Nigel No; he wanted their driver rested for the long trek back to Chongqing.

Missus Jing was over fifty and genial. She heard this request with great good humor and told Willie that she would get to work at once, adding that she thought Magistrate Zhuang was a wise woman to make the most of this remarkable and unprecendented visit.

“You’re probably right,” said Willie, and went back to the office where he found Mendosa and Zhuang Renxin staring at each other with that determined look of people who share no common language but are nonetheless determined to make themselves understood. “Tea in a few minutes,” he said, as much for Missus Jing as for himself.

“Good,” said Magistrate Zhuang. “Now, tell Mendosa to continue. I want to hear this.”

Mendosa pursed his lips, then launched on his attempt at explanation. “You see, it has always been men who ruled the Church, from the first. There have been a few women who were noted for their holiness, but not in the same way men were. They were never given the opportunity to take part in the governing of the Church, and they were never allowed to oppose the hierarchy and remain within the Church, not even as penitents.” He paused to let Willie catch up with him. “All Christian women know this, to a greater or lesser extent. They are used to a teaching that places them second, so even if the Holy Spirit should advance a capable and strong-willed Christian woman, she would still be held accountable to the demands of men. And she would probably comply, no matter what she might believe in her heart, because it is what she was taught all her life. There would be the authority of the Church to wield against her. No matter what her conscience said, her training would bend her, and the men would use her for their own ends.” Again he let Willie translate. “So electing a Christian woman, Catholic or Baptist or Unitarian, for that matter, would probably not mean very much. Certainly there would be few changes within the Church; there would probably be a general backlash against women, as there was in the eighties against the feminism of the seventies in America.”

Willie translated this, and looked toward Mendosa. “That about sums up the problem, I’d agree.”

“Exactly.” Mendosa leaned back and turned to face the Magistrate. “But you are not a Christian woman, and you have not been taught Christian rules from the time of your birth. Oh, I know that China is not always a place of enlightenment for females, but I recall that there have been times when the oldest surviving female was made head of the clan, so the exercise of authority over males is not unknown in the heritage of China. And the methods of Christian manipulation are not familiar to you.” He saw that she was startled at his remarks as Willie translated them. “I’m not a complete ignoramus, Worthy Magistrate. I do know a few things about how the rest of the world operates.”

“I have been guilty of making assumptions about you, Mendosa,” she said through Willie. “I ask your pardon.”

“I’ve had a few assumptions about you, too, Holiness,” he said seriously. “Anyway, that’s probably just what the Holy Spirit thought you could accomplish, if you will forgive my pride in assuming I can second-guess the Holy Spirit about this. You can look at the Church without blinders. You can see our mistakes that we cannot see because we’re too close, or too caught up in it to be able to act.” He waited for Willie once more. “And you will not be awed by these men, or bullied by them. You will see what it is we must do to make the Church what God intended it to be, and which it very rarely is now.”

“Do you think any single person could do such a thing?” asked Magistrate Zhuang as Missus Jing came in with fresh tea and some hot pork rolls.

“I do, if that person has the endorsement of the Holy Spirit, and if that person is Pope,” said Mendosa, stretching once as he tried to work the kinks out of his spine.

“Which you believe I am,” said Magistrate Zhuang.

“Yes, I truly and wholeheartedly believe you are,” said Mendosa somberly. “It may not make any sense at all to you, but I do believe it.”

She nodded as Willie translated. “All right. Let us suppose that I do the work you tell me I am called to do. I have no knowledge of the rites of the Church, and I have no patience with them anyway.”