Magnificat (17 page)

Mendosa heard this with a gesture of agreement. “We are too top-heavy with ritual, no doubt. But it doesn’t have to be that way. You know, the Mass really consists only of one thing: the elevation of the Host. That’s it. It even says so in the text of the Mass:
ita Missa est
. This is the Mass. But almost no one believes that any more. They need all the pomp and ceremony or they think they haven’t had a Mass. Perhaps it’s time we got back to basics. We’re never going to do that on our own, Worthy Magistrate. Still, if you took the job, we might have a chance.”

“But why should that matter?” asked Magistrate Zhuang.

“I don’t know,” said Mendosa. “But I am certain that the Holy Spirit knows why.”

When Willie had changed Mendosa’s words to Chinese, he added, “I think Mendosa could be right, Worthy Magistrate. I know that the Church has lost many of its members. I’m one of them. And some of the reasons are that the Church has turned away from its sense of connectedness to the people who make it up. I don’t think it can endure that way, not in this world, not when the poorest kid in India can see the Pope in jewels and satin on satellite television.”

“In India the gods are expected to be very grand and fine,” said Magistrate Zhuang. “They give garlands to statues and put gold leaf on them.”

“Yes, but that is not the same. The Pope is a man, and he lives in a palace.” Willie did not bother to relay this to Mendosa. “I don’t want to admit this to the Cardinal, but I think that the Catholic Church can do the world much good, if it’s allowed to. The way things are now, most of the time it isn’t possible. But if you were Pope, there might be a chance. I don’t care if the high-ranking churchmen are not pleased. But there are millions of people in the world who would suffer less if the Church could be made to change.”

“You are preaching altruism, Mister Foot?” asked Zhuang with amusement.

“Maybe,” said Willie.

“And you think that I could bring altruism to such a corrupt body as the Catholic Church?” she persisted.

“I think you have a shot at it, and that you’re the only one who has,” Willie said candidly. “Aside from Cardinals Cadini and van Hooven, I don’t see anyone in the College of Cardinals who might get elected who would attempt any real changes in the Church, and even they aren’t prepared to buck the whole system. But you can, if you decide you want to take it on. And if you want my opinion, you’ll find Mendosa the best ally you’ll ever have. You see, he means it, that he believes in the choice of the Holy Spirit. And because of that, he will be fully dedicated to you, because the Holy Spirit chose you, and because he likes you.”

“I wish,” said Mendosa with heavy politeness, “that someone would tell me what’s going on.” He had taken some tea and his throat felt a bit better.

“You don’t need to know, Charles,” said Willie with a mercurial, exhausted smile.

“I don’t like the sound of that one little bit,” Mendosa informed him, and had more tea.

* * *

“And they spoke with her for
how
long?” Cardinal van Hooven asked Metropolitan Gosteshenko. In Rome it was a few minutes after two in the morning and the Cardinal had retired two hours before.

“The report I just received says that Cardinal Mendosa and his party were with Magistrate Zhuang for not quite ten hours. When they left off their discussion it was quiet late—after four in the morning. Magistrate Zhuang had sent for her neighbor’s wife some hours before to prevent any scandal, though the plan might backfire if the woman gossips.” The Metropolitan paused, stifling a yawn. “She’ll probably talk about it for years to come, or so I’m told.”

“By another one of the neighbors, perhaps?” He did not give Metropolitan Gosteshenko a chance to answer. “Are they still in Hongya, do you know? Where are they now?” asked Cardinal van Hooven, hoping for the first time that Cardinal Mendosa’s venture might not have been in vain.

“So far as I know, they are still with the Magistrate. My information indicated they had not yet left Hongya, but it is still fairly early there.” Metropolitan Gosteshenko hesitated. “I decided to call you in spite of the hour.”

“I do not sleep as much as I used to, and you have piqued my interest.”

The Metropolitan wanted to draw the Cardinal out. “Perhaps what you tell me now will explain what it is about this Chinese Magistrate that will guide the Church? ”

“Soon, Pavel, you have my word on it.” He paused minutely. “Not on this phone, perhaps. But first I have to speak with Cardinal Mendosa. Until I know what he has learned, I am as much in the dark as you are, and everyone else.” He forced himself to admit that he had been jumping to conclusions because he wanted the rangy Texan to have succeeded. “By the time you have supper, my friend, I ought to be able to tell you something, if Mendosa can get through.”

Metropolitan Gosteshenko did not question this. “I will do what I can, Piet, to keep you informed. As I expect to be informed. My sources are not many, but two of them are very reliable now that the Orthodox Church has some power again in Russia.” He paused to be sure Cardinal van Hooven understood him.

“Naturally,” said Cardinal van Hooven. “I am pleased to do this for you, in return for the many times you have given timely advice to me.”

“Good,” said the Metropolitan. “Your puzzle grows more fascinating by the hour.” He was silent again for an instant. “Will the conclave resume, then, now that Mendosa has found this Chinese woman? Is it necessary?”

“I sincerely hope it is all resolved,” said Cardinal van Hooven, who was feeling old tonight. “We cannot continue to vacillate much longer.”

“Emphatically, that is the case,” Metropolitan Gosteshenko agreed, and added, “Is Cardinal Tondocello any better? I have heard nothing regarding his condition for several days.”

“I regret to say he is not,” Cardinal van Hooven told him. “He was improving a little but now his physicians are very concerned. He has not shown any indication of returning strength. This is a bad sign.”

“That is unfortunate; he is a capable man.” His tone changed slightly. “And Cardinal Cadini? How is he?”

“He improves steadily and cheerfully,” said Cardinal van Hooven, relieved to offer better news. “He is no longer in hospital and he will be resuming a few of his duties in a matter of days. His spirits are excellent, he is reading two mystery novels a day, and claims he is becoming bored. All his nurses are half in love with him, and he has charmed the doctors into doing precisely what he wants. He will probably out-live us all.” Earlier that evening, when he had visited Cardinal Cadini in his private apartments, he had discovered the nurse and the cook sitting in the study with Cardinal Cadini, enthralled by his stories about his days as a young priest at the end of the Second World War.

“I will continue to pray for him, and for your Church,” said Metropolitan Gosteshenko.

“And I for you and your Church, Pavel,” replied Cardinal van Hooven. “And for the world.” He paused a moment. “And particularly for this Chinese woman.”

“Yes, especially for her,” said Metropolitan Gosteshenko.

* * *

In Chongqing, Mendosa asked his host—the same man they had stayed with the night before last—if he could call Europe, and was assured that it was possible, but costly. Mendosa offered a choice of four currencies and five credit cards, and added an extra gratuity for the privilege of privacy. Then he took a little electronic patch and put it on the receiver as he punched in the number he wanted. While the patch would not properly scramble the message, it would distort it enough for his purposes.

It was just over twenty-four hours since he met Magistrate Zhuang Renxin.

The call, beeping and warbling its electronic way to Rome picked up several eavesdroppers, which Mendosa had anticipated. When the phone in Cardinal Bradeston’s quarters rang, it was answered by the man himself, and without flourish.

“Alex,” said Mendosa, speaking in excellent and rapid Italian, “it’s Charles. I’ve had a most interesting meeting with the Magistrate I came here to see. She heard me out and I did my best to explain it all to her. She has promised to give me an answer in three days. Will you inform the others for me? We’re on our way back. Expect us in two days.”

“Two days?” Cardinal Bradeston asked with some surprise.

“If all goes well, yes, two. Nigel’s arranged for us to fly south tonight, and Willie’s friend will take care of all the rest. He’s told me we can bank on it.” He hesitated, his tone shifting to one a thought less confident. “How’s everything there? How’s Cadini?”

“Cadini’s fine,” said Cardinal Bradeston, who was not willing to make it easier for anyone listening to their conversation to sort it out. “But otherwise there are a few snags we ought to go over. Call me when you reach Willie’s friend and I’ll bring you up to date. Have a safe flight. And don’t worry.”

“
Mille grazie
,” said Mendosa, with a hint of sarcasm, and hung up quickly. He stood very still, his pulse racing again. Now it is started, he thought, and knelt by the desk in the library to pray.

* * *

In Hongya, two officials met over tea lunch to review what they had learned. “I don’t know what to advise,” said the younger, who out-ranked the older but was also his nephew.

“It is a very difficult situation,” said the uncle, shaking his head. “And it must be attended to.”

“One of us could speak to her,” suggested the nephew.

“She would become suspicious, and if she reports us, there would be trouble for all of us.”

“Sadly, that is true,” said the nephew.

“And if we try to influence her and fail, or worse, cause her to go in the opposite direction to the one we desire.…” He gestured to show how dangerous it all was. “We would have to answer for what she had done, and that could mean much disfavor for both of us.”

“She is a relative only through her marriage,” said the nephew as he ate a rice-dumpling stuffed with sweet bean paste. “Her husband is dead. She is not truly part of us.”

“There is Tibetan blood in her family,” said the uncle, as if this exonerated him from any responsibility for what Zhuang Renxin decided to do. “We had better remain silent,” said the nephew. “Yes,” the uncle concurred. “I think that would be best.”

Chapter 10

By the time Cardinal Mendosa’s plane was leaving Hong Kong, word had spread through the upper echelons of the Catholic Church with the determination of a wildfire in a garbage dump—the infuriating Texan had actually done what he had set out to do.

“And he was not stopped or questioned or detained? The Chinese authorities actually let him approach this woman?” demanded Cardinal Jung when he heard the news. “Why didn’t they forbid him to speak with her? Why wasn’t he turned back at the border? He’s a Cardinal! He’s an enemy of the People, in their eyes. They’re probably right, in his case.”

“No,” said Cardinal Bradeston when he could get a word in. “Aside from some routine questions given to foreigners, they let him go. I spoke to him earlier today, on scrambler. They were not bothered coming or going.” Around them the small, Asian-style garden was coming in full growth, the newest addition to the Vatican gardens.

“Then she will be questioned. You may be sure of it. Small wonder.” He gave a short, scoffing laugh: his satin cassock set him off in these surroundings, and from time to time a red-clad student would wander through and stare. “How foolish, to put that woman in danger, and for nothing.”

“She is considering the request,” said Cardinal Bradeston, doing his best not to let his irritation with his companion show. Unlike Cardinal Jung he wore a dark, conservative business suit; his lapel pins were in place and there was an antique crucifix under his dark foulard tie. “And we must pray that she will accept, or wish another Cardinal dead.”

“I did not realize Bostonians went in for such histrionic statements,” said Cardinal Jung, preparing to leave. “It’s a travesty, this entire recess. I do not blame the press for the circus they are making of it, given the temptation presented to them: I blame you, and those with you, for creating the circus in the first place.” With that, he started to walk away along the cypress-bordered path.

“Your Eminence,” Cardinal Bradeston called after him, “what if she says yes?”

Cardinal Jung barely glanced over his shoulder; he did not slow down. “She will not.”

“But if she does?” Cardinal Bradeston persisted. “What then?” He watched Cardinal Jung depart, his mouth set in a hard line. Only when Cardinal Jung was out of sight did Cardinal Bradeston rise and leave.

By the time he reached Cardinal Cadini’s apartments, he had brought his temper back under control. There were more than thirty other Cardinals who needed to be informed of Cardinal Mendosa’s achievements, and Cardinal Cadini had volunteered to provide the neutral ground.

“Welcome, welcome,” said Vitale, Cardinal Cadini as Cardinal Bradeston stepped into his sitting room. “As you see, Tayibha and Pingari are here ahead of you. We’re expecting Llanos, Montebranco, and Tsukamara. They should be here shortly.” He summoned his nurse, a middle-aged nun whose severe expression melted for Cardinal Cadini. “Sherry, given the hour, and something tasty. If that would suit you, Eminences?” He looked around at his guests.

“I would prefer tea,” said Cardinal Tayibha. He ducked his head apologetically. “I never learned to like sherry.”

“I’ve never learned to like tea,” said Cardinal Pingari, doing his best to make his quip humorous.

“Poor fellow. Tayibha, that is, not Pingari,” said Cardinal Cadini with unruffled good humor. “Well, then, tea you shall have. If you will tell my cook, Sister Fabiola? And yes, I will take those horrible little pills you are always presenting to me. Provide me a glass of water, if you would be good enough.” He held out his hand to her. “Come on; hand them over.”

Sister Fabiola gave him a little paper cup. “I can offer you water or you may wait for your sherry.” She had a voice that was deep but very tiny, an arresting combination. “Which shall it be?”

“Oh, the sherry, most certainly the sherry.” He stared down into the paper cup. “Why do they make these things in such hideous colors?” He looked at the nun, waiting for her explanation.

“So that you will not confuse them, or so I was taught,” she answered. “Oh, there was a call for you earlier; a Professor Bell. I told him you would return his call tomorrow.”

Cardinal Cadini nodded. “Poor Martin. He probably thinks I’m about to die. I’ll let him know I’ll be all right for a while longer. Thank you for taking the message, Sister.” He looked at his guests. “I’m sorry this has intruded on our meeting.”

“Your health isn’t an intrusion,” said Cardinal Bradeston. “Your offer for us to meet here is more generous than anyone expects, considering what you have had to endure recently.” He tried to catch the nun’s eye, but without success. “I’d be pleased to act as your deputy and bring the sherry. Tell me where it is.”

“By all means,” said Cardinal Cadini, his smile not as high-voltage as usual, but still charismatic. “Very good of you. Eminences, if you will wait, Cardinal Bradeston will tend to you shortly.”

“You do us all a great favor,” said Cardinal Pingari, for form’s sake. He was more interested in what Cardinal Bradeston had to report—if all the rumors were right—than hospitality. If Cardinal Mendosa had succeeded the announcement would call for something more than sherry.

“Actually, Your Eminences,” said Sister Fabiola more quietly than before, “it would be best if you leave the task to me. They are already speculating that Cardinal Cadini was poisoned, which caused his collapse. If anything more should happen to him, it could be thought that one of you had something to do with it.”

“That’s nonsense!” Cardinal Cadini declared merrily. “Cardinal Bradeston and I are on the same side. Why should he poison me?”

Sister Fabiola turned and stared hard at him. “Why should he not? Cardinals are as capable of duplicity as anyone else.” Her habit was modern—a nurse’s uniform with a half-veil behind her cap—but she was as formidable as one of the old-style Mother Superiors in full sail. “I do not wish to speak against anyone in this room, or in the Vatican, but we have had two Popes die in the last few months. Cardinal Tondocello has been ailing, and now Cardinal Cadini has suffered a thoracic seizure. The assumption of wrong-doing has been inferred from less.”

“Very suspicious, old men like us taking ill,” said Cardinal Cadini with a wink.

“All right,” said Cardinal Bradeston, ignoring Cardinal Cadini’s aside. “Then come with me and we’ll tend to this together, Sister. I won’t answer questions until Cardinals Montebranco, Llanos, and Tsukamara arrive, in any case.”

The nun bowed her head to show her submission, but there was a set to her chin that showed she would not have acquiesced had she disapproved of his intentions. “Very good, Eminence.” But as soon as they were into the corridor, she said, “I must tell you that I find your conduct most offensive.”

Cardinal Bradeston looked at her, startled at this flat announcement. He did his best to give her a polite response. “Why is that, Sister? In what way have I offended you? It wasn’t my intention, I assure you.”

She stopped and looked directly at him. “Prince of the Church or not, I do not wish to be called a poisoner, either directly or by implication.” At that, she lowered her eyes. “If Your Eminence will forgive my outburst.”

“Sister,” said Cardinal Bradeston with his best diplomatic cough, “I thought the implication was that
I
would poison Cardinal Cadini and you would be blamed. Have I inferred the wrong thing?” They had almost reached the kitchen at the end of the oak-paneled hall. “I assumed that the reason you did not want me to handle his medication or his wine was that I could be accused of poisoning him if he grew worse.”

“Such things have happened,” Sister Fabiola allowed quietly.

“Indeed they have,” said Cardinal Bradeston. He stopped and looked at the nun once more. “I am certain I would never do anything to hurt Cardinal Cadini, who is my friend and ally. But I know nothing of you.”

She nodded. “A reasonable observation: Cardinal Cadini saved my father’s life in the Second World War. He was shot himself rather than let my father die. The Cardinal carries the scars to this day. The least I owe him is my life.” She lifted her chin.

“Then we might both spend our time more usefully taking care of him.” Cardinal Bradeston permitted her to open the kitchen door for him, and waited while Sister Fabiola spoke to the cook. He would have to find out if what the nun said was true, and if her father was still alive.

When Cardinal Bradeston and Sister Fabiola returned to the sitting room, Cardinals Montebranco and Llanos had arrived, along with Cardinal Ochoa of Asuncion.

“Another member for our party,” said Cardinal Cadini, waving his nurse and Cardinal Bradeston to the butler’s table at the center of the room. “We’ll need another glass and plate, if you would. Where’s that sherry, Sister Fabiola? I might as well get this over with. Cardinal Tsukamara will be here shortly; he has been on the telephone to Tokyo.” He held out his hand. “Come on.”

Sister Fabiola poured the sherry and handed the small crystal glass to Cardinal Cadini. “Take all the pills, Eminence. No cheating.”

“If you insist. She’s a dragon, this one. I reckon my physician sent her to me so I would have to obey his instructions.” He patted the arm of his chair with a trace of amused annoyance. “Which keeps me in this for a few days longer, more’s the pity.”

The other Cardinals made brief sympathetic remarks, and one asked, “Will this make it difficult for you to participate in the conclave?”

“Not at all.” He offered a silent toast to Sister Fabiola and took the pills she had given him. “I have arranged for a wheelchair if it is necessary, but more to the point, I would have to be in an irreversible coma before I would not attend the conclave.”

There was a single rap at the door and Tokuyu, Cardinal Tsukamara came into the sitting room. He bowed to those assembled and said, “I apologize for being late. It is regrettable but unavoidable.”

“Hardly regrettable,” said Cardinal Cadini, indicating one of the three remaining chairs. “Make yourself comfortable. Let Cardinal Bradeston pour you some sherry, or wait for tea with Tayibha.” He was in good form, though Cardinal Bradeston saw that he was too pale.

When the sherry had been passed around and a brief prayer spoken, Cardinal Bradeston rose. Given the kind of room it was, he went to the fireplace and rested his arm on the mantlepiece. “You’ve all heard by now that Cardinal Mendosa found the Chinese Magistrate Zhuang Renxin, haven’t you?” He paused long enough to permit anyone who had not had this news to speak up. When there were no questions, he went on. “He informed her of the elections, and she has promised her answer by midnight tomorrow. That, incidentally, will be midnight her time.” He smiled quickly, though none of the Cardinals found him funny. “Cardinal Mendosa told me that she has indicated she may be willing to take up the duties the Holy Spirit has imposed upon her.”

“It would be very difficult,” said Cardinal Pingari, who had learned long ago that dealing with China was a tricky business. “Suppose she agrees to the elevation, what then? The People’s Republic of China will not want one of their officials to be associated with the Church. Their official policy still forbids any alliances with the Church for anyone in China, and this is surely an alliance. The government of the PRC does not recognize the Church, or any of its functions.” He locked his hands together.

“Something can be arranged,” said Cardinal Tsukamara. “Many things can be arranged, if you are patient and put your trust in God.” The Japanese Cardinal’s father had died three years after his son was born, one of the hundreds of idealistic kamikaze pilots whose fiery suicides had wrought such naval destruction in World War II. His mother’s conversion had taken place when he was eight, and he had been devout ever since.

“Patience might be necessary, even virtuous, but just at present it isn’t desirable,” said Cardinal Cadini unexpectedly. “We cannot wait for a year or two while all the diplomats decide on the shape of table they can tolerate for negotiations. We must make our arrangements swiftly if Magistrate Zhuang agrees to reign. There is going to be shock enough without drawn-out arrangements to cloud the whole issue.”

“How can she refuse if the Holy Spirit commands it?” asked Cardinal Montebranco.

“According to Cardinal Mendosa, she does not accept the Holy Spirit, or religion in general.” Cardinal Bradeston did not go on until the mutter of consternation was over. “She is a Communist, gentlemen, and in these days, that world and party still hold power in the PRC.… She does not like the Church and she disapproves of our methods and distrusts our motives. But if she decides her duty lies here, then she will come here to do it.” He stared down at the fancy parquetry floor. “This is nothing like we expected.”

“The whole election is nothing like we expected,” said Cardinal Ochoa, folding his arms so that the pectoral cross he wore rested against his forearms.

“Cardinal Jung has said he will oppose the election,” said Cardinal Cadini, and was greeted by the hard expressions he had expected. “He does not want her here because she is Asian and non-Catholic, and worst of all, female. He has said he will prove that a woman cannot serve as Pope, in spite of the legend of Pope Joan. He is convinced that her election is part of an elaborate conspiracy.” He started to cough, and took a swig of his sherry. “Pay no attention. It’s the last of my condition, nothing worse than that.”

“Cardinal Jung has many who support him. Cardinal Lepescu has already stated that he cannot accept a Pope who is not a priest.” Cardinal Llanos took one of the almond cookies. “They are important men, those who stand against her. So is Cardinal Gemme, and he is refusing to be counted on either side.”

“Cardinal Gemme wants to make it appear he is the kingmaker,” said Cardinal Tsukamara with great care. “He intends to gain power no matter which way the conclave decides. If he hesitates, he can make it seem he is being courted for support, and that would serve his purposes very well.”

Cardinal Cadini clapped. “Bravo,
amico
.”

“He’s not the only one,” said Cardinal Bradeston. “Cardinal Hetre is up to something, too. He is opposed to the woman on principle, but he has said that he intends to review the voting, to be certain that all the ballots are genuine.”