Magnificat (32 page)

“So much attention creates demands of its own,” said Zhuang Renxin, watching the Cardinals while listening to Willie translate for her. She did not want to appear as baffled as she felt, for she took Mendosa’s warning to heart—that any sign of weakness could be exploited by the Cardinals, and any appearance of confusion would be regarded as incompetence by many of them—and was at pains to reveal little of her growing consternation to any of them except to Mendosa himself, and that only in private.

“To say nothing of the controversy,” Willie added. “If this election were more regular, it would be nothing more than the usual hype.”

“There are many people who are waiting for an excuse to criticize you, Holiness, because they are upset at the changes taking place.” Cardinal Cadini met her steady gaze with a merry glint in his raisin eyes.

“There was the reason I requested as much material as you could provide in my language, so that I might have a better understanding of the nature of this Church.” Zhuang started to give him an answering smile; it faded quickly. “There is so much to know. I am very ignorant, and that must not continue. You are right: there are those who will challenge my position, just as I question it myself. But I have been reading, and I will shortly have many matters to ask you about.”

“You’re all gonna love this,” said Cardinal Mendosa softly.

“Especially since most of them will be directed at you, I suspect,” Willie observed. He nodded toward the window, indicating the voluptuous contours of the Tuscan hills and implying the world beyond. “They are the ones who will demand answers.”

Imperceptibly the train began to slow.

Zhuang looked sharply at Willie. “How can these people demand answers, when they are supposedly subjects of the Church, and as such must accept its teaching?” She leaned back against the deep sofa cushions; the tapestry upholstery made her simple blue-black garments seem out of place. She gave Willie the chance to turn her question into Italian and English; when she went on there was a slight smile on her mouth. “It is good that they demand answers, I think. Everything I have read tells me that they are entitled to answers, and that the Church has been remiss in providing them, too much like an autocratic parent.”

Cardinal Cadini laughed as Willie translated. “Very good, Holiness,” he approved.

“It’s a spanner in the works, right enough,” Willie confirmed.

“It is folly to let our flock mill about without guidance. If we permit endless questions, Catholics will lose confidence in what we say. Tell her that her parental analogy is apt: we must guide the children of the Church,” said Cardinal Ochoa, doing his best not to be indignant. “I doubt she can understand how important it is for the Church to guide her children. She is not from a country where such guidance is fostered.”

“There you are wrong,” said Zhuang Renxin when Willie finished translating. Her tone was firm and cordial at once, as it had been when she was announcing her magisterial decisions. “In China we are taught responsibility for the welfare of the people. Your Jesus spoke of the same thing. From what I have read, he asked the people to come to him if their burdens were too great and he would provide sustenance and comfort. He said nothing about making decisions for the people, but encouraged them to decide responsibly. Have I misunderstood?”

Cardinal Cadini grinned. “You have understood perfectly, Holiness,” he said. “Better than most of us do.”

Zhuang did not share his amusement. “I have been asked to take on a task. It was not a task I sought; nevertheless I will do it as well as I am able, because I believe that it is proper to serve the interests of the people. We may have learned the dictates of Chairman Mao and his illustrious successors in China, but we have also been taught the ways of Kung Futzu—”

“Confucius,” murmured Cardinal Mendosa.

“—and we know what is required for correct living. I will maintain my integrity, Worthy Officials, and I will not be turned from the purpose you have asked me to direct.” She raised her head, startled as she noticed the train slowing down. “What is this? Why are we stopping?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Cardinal Mendosa, who looked out the window and saw up ahead only a simple country crossing with vineyards to the east of the track and orchards to the west. Four police cars were blocking the road, two on either side of the crossing. “Our extra protection?”

Cardinal Cadini followed his glance. “Goodness. What now?”

The train was almost at a halt, the brakes groaning.

“What is this all about?” demanded Zhuang in heavily accented English.

“There are police cars,” said Cardinal Mendosa. “Interpol or Eurocops, I guess,” he said, using the standard nickname for the five-year-old European Economic Community Police Agency. “Blue stripes on white.” He said it with satisfaction. “Eurocops.”

Cardinal Ochoa shook his head. “What can they want with us?”

The train lurched and stopped.

“Whatever it is, we’ll find out shortly,” said Cardinal Cadini. He found the most comfortable chair and sat down, completely unruffled. “I have a grand-nephew who is in the EECPA; in the forgery division. He is a specialist in forged antiquities, mostly Etruscan.” He beamed. “Relax, Eminences. There is no reason to suppose we will be harassed.”

“You cannot be sure,” said Cardinal Ochoa darkly. “You are all aware of how quickly we could become enmeshed in legal problems. The police have stopped the train. It does not bode well. What if her”—he flung the word in the direction of Zhuang—“papers are not in order?”

“They would have noticed at Milan,” said Cardinal Mendosa quietly. “Or at Hong Kong. Don’t get your bowels in an uproar, Your Eminence. We went through all that protocol-and-papers crap before we left China.” He came away from the window and sat down opposite Zhuang. “Whatever the cause of this delay, Worthy Magistrate, they’ll let us know.”

“Good,” she said, and looked toward the service bar. “Is there tea?”

“There can be,” said Cardinal Mendosa at once, getting up. “Willie, do you want—”

“Coffee for me, if you please.” Willie fiddled with his tie. “Not to seem alarmist, but do you think there could be real trouble in Rome? You saw what the place looked like on the news.” He pointed to the small television set over the service bar. “What if it’s got worse?”

“Oh, there’s trouble in Rome, no doubt of it,” said Cardinal Mendosa as he went about the task of filling the teapot with water and popping it into the microwave, then putting loose tea leaves in a strainer. “But we’re prepared for that. We got plenty of warning. No, I think this is probably just a ploy, something to make sure no one gets caught with his ass hanging out.”

“You mean the cops?” Willie asked.

“I mean the whole bloody government, chum.” Cardinal Mendosa busied himself arranging two cups on a tray. “Anyone else?” he offered before taking the pot from the microwave with mittened hands.

“I would be honored,” said Cardinal Cadini as if Zhuang, not Cardinal Mendosa, had issued the invitation.

“If there’s plenty, I’ll have some,” said Cardinal van Hooven, straightening his glasses on his nose. “Is there any lemon?”

“Probably,” said Cardinal Mendosa. He opened the little refrigerator and peered into it. “Nope. Sorry. No lemon. There’s a lime in here, if you think it might do.”

“It might; I’ll try it.” Cardinal van Hooven got up and came over to the cluster of sofas around Zhuang Renxin.

Willie Foot looked over at Cardinal Mendosa. “Are you going to have some, or is this an exercise in complete humility.”

“Yes; I’m having some.” He was busy slicing a few wafers of lime. “But I tell you, right now I could use a stiff bourbon-and-branchwater.” He regarded Willie with sardonic amusement. “There’s a bottle of very old single-malt scotch back here. I can pour you a wee dram if you like.”

“Later,” Willie recommended. “Right now we need all our wits about us, or I’m round the bend.” He cocked his head toward the door. “I hope Gemme isn’t having too rough a time with the Eurocops.”

“Oh, he can handle ‘em,” said Cardinal Mendosa as he put the strainer of tea into the pot. “All right. Tea’s coming.” He made his way around the service bar with the tray. “Here it is.” He put the tray on the small coffee table and was about to resume his seat when the connecting door opened and Cardinal Gemme, looking flustered, came back into the car.

“What is wrong?” asked Zhuang, first in Chinese, then in English.

Cardinal Gemme frowned. “There seems to be…that is, I have been told that there are large crowds waiting at stations all along the line. The police are concerned for your safety, Holiness.”

Zhuang listened attentively to the translation. “What do they fear will happen on this account?” she asked.

“They don’t know; that’s the trouble. There could be riots.” Cardinal Gemme suddenly looked ashamed. “They have replaced our guards with their own, and they want their men to ride in the car with us.” He shook his head. “I tried to refuse them, Holiness, but they are very insistent.”

As this was explained to her, Zhuang’s expression darkened. “I am not some terrorist or criminal to have to arrive surrounded by guards and cordons of police,” she said, then looked to Cardinal Mendosa. “Or am I?”

“You are not,” said the Texan at once.

“They want to talk to us,” said Cardinal Gemme. “They want to make arrangements. Before we reach Rome.”

“Before we reach Orvieto,” Cardinal Mendosa interjected. “That’s the next big station.”

Cardinal Gemme gave a quick, hard sigh. “We’d better talk to them. If we don’t, they’ll keep the train here as long as the Ministry of Transport will let them.”

“Grand,” said Cardinal Mendosa, reaching forward to pour the tea. “And that gives a chance for frustration to build up in the crowds. Well, Worthy Magistrate, do you want to speak to these policemen? They are here to protect you, or so they will tell you. They are also curious and ambitious, but pay no attention to that.”

Willie translated for him, adding, “He’s right about the last. If you don’t see them, they might make things unpleasant for you.”

Zhuang took her cup, and stated, “I must accustom myself. I will see the two leaders. They must have two leaders, or a leader and his lieutenant.”

“All right,” said Cardinal Gemme when this was translated. “Anyone else?”

“Don’t be a fool,” said Cardinal Mendosa sharply. “She’s right. We’ll have every Eurocop from here to Naples stopping the train if we don’t impose some limits right now.” He poured out a cup of tea for Cardinal van Hooven. “The top two honchos, Cardinal Gemme, and no one else.”

“Since you insist,” said Cardinal Gemme as he prepared to leave the car, “I’ll let you handle them when they arrive.”

“Pleasure,” said Cardinal Mendosa, and looked over at Cardinal Cadini. “You’re keeping very quiet, Vitale.”

“Not precisely,” said Cardinal Cadini. “I am wondering how much protection the…Eurocops will be. They will come swarming, won’t they? Such activity attracts attention. This is as bad as a mob, in its way.” His eyes became distant. “You would think they have never seen a Chinese woman before.”

“Well,” said Cardinal Mendosa as he finished pouring the tea, “in a sense they haven’t. Not as Pope, at least.”

Cardinal Cadini took a long, slow breath. “What is better do you think? Do we send for Cardinal Pingari and Cardinal Shumwoe, or do we remain as we are? Would an African and a Filipino make our position better or worse?” He glanced at Willie Foot. “When I entered the priesthood, no one seriously supposed there would ever be a Japanese Cardinal. Pius XII was a man of very narrow views. The only reason for permitting Africans to advance in the Church was to justify our missionaries in Africa. How were we supposed to convert them if we did not allow them advancement in the Church?” He turned toward Cardinal van Hooven. “I remember the scandal there was when you became a Cardinal. You, a psychiatrist! Half the College thought Paul had lost his mind. Suddenly my anthropology degree was not nearly as shocking as it had been.”

Zhuang heard this out with interest, interest she knew was expected. “Is this another warning? You have few Asians in your Church who have advanced far, is that your concern?”

“Not exactly,” said Cardinal Cadini. “It is true that we have very few Asians above the rank of Bishop in the Church. More to the point, we have no women of any rank at all. Nuns take vows, but are granted no ordination in return for their dedication.” He would have gone on but the door opened again and Cardinal Gemme, his chin a little higher than usual, came into the car.

“Captains Hafen and Sigura of the European Economic Community Police Agency.” He stood aside quickly as the two men surged into the car. Both were tall, both were lean, both were fair, both wore dark, conservative suits and regimental ties.

“Ye gods and little fishes,” whispered Cardinal Mendosa so that only Willie could hear him. “Clones.”

One of the two men knelt, and the Cardinals rose, Cardinal Ochoa being the only one to extend his ring.

“He will serve for all,” said Cardinal Cadini pleasantly in Spanish, and was surprised when the kneeling man answered in Austrian-flavored German.

“Many thanks, Eminences,” he rose, crossed himself and continued in Italian, “I am Captain Hafen. Captain Sigura isn’t Catholic.” This was almost an apology. “I cannot tell you how great an honor it is for me to be able to serve the College of Cardinals and the Vatican.” He was looking directly at Zhuang Renxin with undisguised curiosity.

“Worthy Magistrate,” said Cardinal Mendosa in his awkward Chinese, “these are policemen. Hafen and Sigura.” His gestures cautioned her not to rise. “They are here to discuss your safety.”

Zhuang laughed aloud. “That is the wrong inflection, Mendosa,” she pointed out in Chinese. “I realize what you intended to say, but you did not—”

She bowed slightly as her laughter ceased and addressed the two Captains. “Thank you for coming,” she said to them in English.

The Eurocops goggled as if they had not expected her to speak any language at all. Captain Sigura recovered first. “It’s our job, Madame,” he told her somberly.