Magnificat (22 page)

Daniel Crane gave a steady, piercing look to the camera, and began. “Announcements from the Vatican and the Roman Catholic Church over the last few days have been the most startling of any I can recall, and may be unique in the history of the Church. The revelation that an Asian non-Catholic has been elected Pope of the Church was so completely unexpected that apparently no specific plans have been put into motion to bring the new Pope to Rome. Marc-Luc, Cardinal Gemme, can you tell me why this is?”

Cardinal Gemme was not fooled by the innocence of the question. He gathered his wits and reminded himself he would have to be very careful how he answered Crane if his remarks were not to backfire. “Well, as you have so accurately pointed out, Mister Crane, we have never had to make such arrangements before. The election of this Pope is without precedence, but not contrary to our theology and dogma. Certainly there have been times in history when the election went to someone who was not a Cardinal, or even a priest, for that matter. And there have been times when the Pope elected was not in Rome and could not easily return there.” He hesitated. “But those elections are long in the past, many hundreds of years ago. This time we have elected someone wholly unknown to us. Finding her and bringing her here is of the highest priority, but we lack the diplomatic means to do this.”

“The person elected Pope is a Chinese woman, is that right?” Daniel Crane asked politely.

“Yes; she lives in Szechwan Province near the town of Hongya. She is a Magistrate there, a widow, forty-one years old.” He had been saying this so many times recently that the words made no sense to him now: they had become a litany of sorts.

“And Cardinal Mendosa of Houston, Texas, has actually met and spoken with this woman?” Daniel Crane let a note of doubt creep into his delivery, as if he thought the whole story might be a tall tale, or a new public relations trick to be foisted on the unsuspecting public.

“Yes,” said Cardinal Gemme, ignoring the sub-text in the question. “He sought her out and told her of the election. He spent many hours with her and their translator, explaining what had happened and what the office entailed. He asked her if she would be willing to serve, then left to permit her to make her decision; she sent her answer a little over three days ago.” He was used to studio lights, but today they seemed unusually hot. Cardinal Gemme wished he had had the foresight to bring a small handkerchief to blot his upper lip. “As you know, she has accepted.”

“And what have you been doing about her acceptance?” Daniel Crane asked.

“We are trying to establish diplomatic corridors to arrange for her to come to Rome. We have made requests of many different agencies in the hope that the government of the People’s Republic of China will be willing to permit Zhuang Renxin to travel.” How ineffective he sounded in his own ears, how lacking in purpose and direction. He sensed that Daniel Crane was storing all this up, preparing to exploit his apparent laxness.

“That sounds like it could be difficult,” said Daniel Crane.

“It is, especially since the People’s Republic of China does not recognize the Roman Catholic Church. In very real terms, we do not exist, which makes dealing with the Chinese government difficult and complex.” He saw that his knuckles were turning white; he unfolded his hands.

“What success have you had, Your Eminence?”

When Daniel Crane used a title it was a bad sign. Cardinal Gemme steeled himself. “Nothing specific so far,” he said and went on before Crane could slip in another question. “But that’s only to be expected, when you realize that all our dealings are at least a two-stage process. The Church asks a government which has diplomatic relations with China to speak to the Chinese government on behalf of the Church, and when we must wait for what the Chinese government says to the government assisting us, you can see how it would take a great deal of time. And we must do this before we can start to arrange any sort of transfer.”

Daniel Crane nodded once, as if taking a sighting on a target. “Sounds like things could go wrong real easily.”

“Yes, which is why we cannot rush into these negotiations. We have to tread very carefully—”

This time Daniel Crane did not wait for an opening. “Is that why Cardinal Mendosa took off for Hong Kong this morning?”

So much for Cardinal Mendosa’s conviction that he could get to Hong Kong before the press knew he was out of Rome. Cardinal Gemme’s hands felt slick. “Cardinal Mendosa spoke with Magistrate Zhuang. He intends to serve as liaison between the Chinese government and the Holy See if Beijing is willing to allow it.” He wanted to say a word or two of apology to Cardinal Mendosa, for now the Texan would be mobbed when he arrived in Hong Kong, and might be hounded no matter where he went in China. Cardinal Gemme did not dislike Cardinal Mendosa—certainly not as much as some of the others did—but he felt that Cardinal Mendosa was not the best choice for a diplomatic mission of such magnitude.

“And what is the response from Beijing?” asked Daniel Crane smoothly.

“We have not established official contact as we would like yet; I’ve already explained the difficulties there. It is a priority of the highest order that we do, but when these dealings have to be established from the ground up, so to speak, it takes time, and it requires expert diplomacy.” He felt a little better now, for he had been over these issues thoroughly in the last two days and was fully abreast of current developments. “We do not want to compromise our position or embarrass our Pope by rushing through an ill-conceived approach to the People’s Republic.”

Daniel Crane looked grave. “What about the riots in Paris and Chicago and Manila? Our reporters there say that the people have vowed they will not accept a Pope who has any association with Communism.”

“It was my impression that Communism was less of a bogey-man than it used to be, but I gather that’s not the case.” He made a sound between a cough and a laugh. “Those riots are most unfortunate, and we in the Church are very much concerned that Catholics would be so un-Christian as to condemn anyone without any true knowledge of that person’s convictions or real beliefs.” This interview was not going well; he felt as if he were coming down with a fever. “We do not yet know to what degree this Magistrate Zhuang feels allegiance to the philosophy of Communism. We know she must belong to the Party to occupy her position, but as we have seen in recent years, that can mean many things. This Magistrate is spoken of as a just person, who strives to render fair decisions and uphold the law.”

“The law as it is promulgated from Beijing,” said Daniel Crane.

“I am not personally privy to her decisions, so I do not know. Just as I cannot explain to you or anyone else how Magistrate Zhuang regards Communism, which is being practiced a number of ways throughout the world in manners that would not be incompatible with the tenets of the Church.”

“But not in China,” said Daniel Crane.

“So it appears; but access to the Chinese people has been limited for most of us, and therefore I hesitate to make a judgment on her position as a Communist. We simply haven’t enough information yet to address the matter.” He saw the feral light in Crane’s eyes. “And whatever her political position, I must respect it.”

“And what do you say to those rioters?” Behind him, clips of the riot in Manila—the bloodiest of the three—appeared; police clubbing demonstrators at the gates of the palace of the Papal Nuncio. “They are risking their lives and their freedom to do this; how can you defend the decision of the Cardinals in the face of that?”

Cardinal Gemme stared down at his hands so that he would not have to look at the screen. “A cousin of mine was hurt in Paris, during that riot. You need not tell me how passionately Catholics are concerned about this new Pope, or how deep their allegiance to the Church is. But I cannot defend the Cardinals. The Cardinals did not choose Magistrate Zhuang—God did.”

This was the opportunity Daniel Crane had been waiting for. He pounced. “Washing your hands of it, Your Eminence? How do you justify your power if you will—”

“Excuse me, Mister Crane,” said Cardinal Gemme, resigned to botching the interview, “but I don’t think you understood me. I said that God chose Magistrate Zhuang. That is the entire basis for the doctrine of the Apostolic Succession. If the Pope were not the choice of God, the whole structure of the Church would be a deception. In this election, there could be no doubt, for we elected her unanimously twice. Had there been a less conclusive indication, we Cardinals, of all people in the Church, would be inclined to doubt the election: God moved each and every one of the Cardinals to write the name of this unknown Chinese woman, not once, but twice. None of us knew her. None of us knew
of
her. Very few of us write Chinese. Yet there was her name from every Cardinal. Twice.”

“That’s unbelievable,” Daniel Crane scoffed, revving up for another go at Cardinal Gemme.

“No,” said Cardinal Gemme quietly. “Technically, it’s a miracle.”

* * *

Dame Leonie held out her hand to Cardinal Mendosa after bestowing a warm smile on Willie Foot. Here at the edge of the walled garden there was still enough sunlight left to give the fading day a soft, preternaturally blue glow; the evening was going to be warm and close. “It is a pleasure to have you visit again so soon, Your Eminence.”

“I doubt it, but you’re a sweetheart for saying it,” Mendosa responded; he was feeling his jet-lag more keenly now than he had on the previous trip. He hardly noticed the two Scottish servants who took his bags and Willie’s rumpled jacket into the building. “I fixed my watch at the airport, but I still don’t believe the time. Any word from Beijing?”

She indicated a path at the edge of the garden leading toward the lanai; Mendosa and Willie followed her along it. “Officially not yet, but unofficially I’ve spoken with Premier Zuo, just yesterday, and he informed me that he would not prohibit your visit to his country, seeing you have been there already. No matter what ignorance he claims, he’s been following this very closely.” She was too experienced to laugh aloud, but there was a sharper glint in her eyes. “He is planning to play you like a trout on a line.”

“Oh?” said Mendosa as if this were of no interest to him whatsoever. “Why do you think so?”

“Because he’s being too gracious and asking too few questions. That’s a dangerous pattern with him. Where Premier Zuo Nangkao is most concerned, he asks the least at first where he intends to garner the most in the long run. He likes to go slowly, when he thinks there’s a prize to be had. So if I were you, Your Eminence, I would—”

“You don’t need to use my title. My name’s fine while I’m here,” said Mendosa with an exhausted smile. “The way we did before.”

She nodded but was not distracted. “—be very careful how you deal with him. He’ll try to lull you into forgetting caution, or he’ll attempt to block you without being obvious about it, so that you will reveal more than you intended as a means of speeding things up.” She had led them to the lanai of the embassy compound; she slid back the huge glass doors and motioned them to come inside. “I don’t expect he will have word for us tomorrow or the next day. You might as well take advantage of the time and—”

“And learn a little Chinese,” said Mendosa. “I’ve already arranged for a short intensive, so I won’t be completely useless when we see Magistrate Zhuang again. I won’t be able to discuss metaphysics, perhaps, but I’ll be able to find out if her crops are doing well.” He caught the look of unexpected approval on Dame Leonie’s face. “Well, I do speak other languages than English, Latin, and Italian, Madame Ambassadress.”

“Spanish?” she ventured.

“A safe bet with a name like Mendosa,” he said. “Yes, Spanish, a smattering of French and German, and passable modern Greek. A little Russian, but not enough to do more than order a meal. I can swear some in Turkish. Does that surprise you?”

“Somewhat,” she said, and changed the subject. “I feel I’d better warn you that the press corps have been staking out the embassy for the last three hours. That’s one of the reasons we brought you in the back way. It is going to be difficult to get you out of here without someone noticing.” She lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry. We’ve been refusing commentary, but the fact of the matter is they know you’re here.”

“Do they?” said Mendosa. “Well, that will keep them all in one place, which is something.” He glanced over at Willie. “Falling asleep?”

“I did that a couple of hours ago,” said Willie, his eyes on Dame Leonie, his passion unhidden. “But I can fake passable conversation, if that’s necessary.”

Cardinal Mendosa shook his head. “Better wake up, then. I don’t think faked conversation is on the lady’s mind,” he said with faint, amused resignation. “You two go ahead and…catch up if you want to. I’m going to get some shuteye. You put me in the same room I had before, Ma’am? The one at the end of the hall on the left?”

If Dame Leonie was flustered, she concealed it very well. “Yes. And I’ve assigned Chi Xiyao to you when you wake. He’s had over twenty years as a valet; I think you’ll find him quite useful.”

“If I can try my Chinese out on him as the tutor works on me, fine,” said Mendosa. “Sounds like a good arrangement.” He started toward the hall, then stopped. “Speaking of tutors, this one’s named Wei Shenju. Brother Shenju, actually. He’s a Franciscan. He’s coming over from Macao. Should be here by the time I get up.” He concealed a yawn. “Well, thanks again, Dame Leonie.”

Willie stared at the parquetry floor of the enormous entry hall as Mendosa walked away from them. “I really appreciate you doing this for us,” he said, knowing they were observed.

“It’s all in a good cause,” she said lightly, slipping her hand through the curve of his elbow. “Before the sunset fades completely, let me show you something I think you’ll like. There’s an orchid in the greenhouse at the back of the garden that’s just coming into bloom.”

No longer sleepy, Willie met her eyes with delight. “You know how I love orchids,” he said, thinking that to him their code sounded so obvious, so transparent, that he marveled they had nerve enough to use it at all. He walked beside her out into the garden. As they hurried along the darkening path, he said, “Isn’t this place lit at night, or patrolled?”