Joan of the Sword Hand

by S. R. Crockett

  CHAPTER LIII

  THE HEAD OF THE CHURCH VISIBLE

  "So," said Pope Sixtus amicably, "your brother was killed by the greatexplosion of Friar Roger's powder in the camp of the enemy! Truly, as Ihave often said, God is not with the Greek Church. They are schismaticsif not plain heretics!"

  He was a little bored with this young man from the North, and began toremember the various distractions which were waiting for him in his ownprivate wing of the Vatican. Still, the Church needed such youngwar-gods as this Prince Conrad. There were signs, too, that in a littleshe might need them even more.

  The Pope's mind travelled fast. He had a way of murmuring brokensentences to himself which to his intimates showed how far his thoughtshad wandered.

  It was the Vatican garden in the month of April. Holy Week was past, andthe mind of the Vicar of Christ dwelt contentedly upon the great giftsand offerings which had flowed into his treasury. Conrad could not havearrived more opportunely. Beneath, the eye travelled over the hundredchurches of Rome and the red roofs of her palaces--to the Tiber nolonger tawny, but well-nigh as blue as the Alla itself; then furtherstill to the grey Campagna and the blue Alban Hills. But the Pope's eyewas directed to something nearer at hand.

  In an elevated platform garden they sat in a bower sipping theirafter-dinner wine. Beyond answering questions Conrad said little. Hewas too greatly astonished. He had expected a saint, and he had foundhimself quietly talking politics and scandal with an Italian Prince. TheHoly Father's face was placid. His lips moved. Now and then a word ortwo escaped him. Yet he seemed to be listening to something else.

  That which he looked at was an excavation over which thousands of mencrawled, thick as ants about a mound when you thrust your stick amongtheir piled pine-needles on Isle Rugen. Already at more than one pointmassive walls began to rise. Architects with parchment rolls in theirhands went to and fro talking to overseers and foremen. These were cladin black coats reaching below the waist, which made inky blots on thewhite earth-glare and contrasted with the striped blouses of theoverseers and the naked bodies and red loin-cloths of the workmen.

  Conrad blessed his former sojourns in Italy which enabled him to followthe fast-running river of the Pontiff's half-unconscious meditation,which was couched not in crabbed monkish Latin, but in the free Italicto which as a boy the Head of the Church had been accustomed.

  "So your brother is dead!--(Yes, yes, he told me so before.) And ablessing of God, too. I never liked my brothers. Nephews and nieces arebetter, so be they are handsome. What, you have none? Then you are theheir to the kingdom--you must marry--you must marry!"

  Conrad suddenly flushed fiery red.

  "Holy Father," he said nervously, his eyes on the Alban Hills, "it wasconcerning this that I made pilgrimage to Rome--that I might consultyour Holiness!"

  The Pontiff nodded amicably and looked about him. At the far end of thegarden, in a second creeper-enclosed arbour similar to that in whichthey sat, the Pope's personal attendants congregated. These were mostlygay young men in parti-coloured raiment, who jested and laughed withoutmuch regard for appearances, or at all fearing the displeasure of theChurch's Head. As Conrad looked, one of them stood up and tossed overthe wall a delicately folded missive, winged like a dart and tied with aribbon of fluttering blue. Then, the moment afterwards, from beneathcame the sound of girlish laughter, whereat all the young men, save one,craned their necks over the wall and shouted jests down to the unseenladies on the balcony below.

  All save one--and he, a tall stern-faced dark young man in a plain blacksoutane, walked up and down in the sun, with his eyes on the ground andhis hands knotting themselves behind his back. The fingers were twistingnervously, and he pursed his lips in meditation. He did not waste evenone contemptuous glance on the riotous crew in the arbour.

  "Aha--you came to consult me about your marriage," chuckled the HolyFather. "Well, what have you been doing? Young blood--young blood! OnceI was young myself. But young blood must pay. I am your fatherconfessor. Now, proceed. (This may be useful--better, better, better!)"

  And with a wholly different air of interest, the Pope poured himself aglass of the rich wine and leaned back, contemplating the young man nowwith a sort of paternal kindliness. The thought that he had certainpeccadillos to confess was a relish to the rich Sicilian vintage, andcreated, as it were, a common interest between them. For the first timePope Sixtus felt thoroughly at ease with his guest.

  "I have, indeed, much to confess, Holy Father, much I could not pourinto any ears but thine."

  "Yes--yes--I am all attention," murmured the Pontiff, his ears prickingand twitching with anticipation, and the famous likeness to a goatcoming out in his face. "Go on! Go on, my son. Confession is thebreathing health of the soul! (If this young man can tell me aught I donot know--by Peter, I will make him my private chaplain!)."

  Then Conrad summoned up all his courage and put his soul's sickness intothe sentence which he had been conning all the way from the city ofCourtland.

  "My father," he said, very low, his head bent down, "I, who am a priest,have loved the Lady Joan, my brother's wife!"

  "Ha," said Sixtus, pursing his lips, "that is bad--very bad. (Bones ofSaint Anthony! I did not think he had the spirit!) Penance must bedone--yes, penance and payment! But hath the matter been secret? Therehas, I hope, been no open scandal; and of course it cannot continue nowthat your brother is dead. While he was alive all was well; butdead--oh, that is different! You have now no cloak for your sin! Theseopen sores do the Church much harm! I have always avoided such myself!"

  The young man listened with a swiftly lowering brow.

  "Holy Father," he said; "I think you mistake me. I spoke not of sincommitted. The Princess Joan is pure as an angel, unstained by evil orthe thought of it! She sits above the reach of scandalous tongues!"

  ("Humph--what, then, is the man talking about? Some cold northernsnowdrift! Strange, strange! I thought he had been a lad of spirit!")

  But aloud Sixtus said, with a surprised accent, "Then why do you come tome?"

  "Sire, I am a priest, and even the thought of love is sin!"

  "Tut-tut; you are a prince-cardinal. In Rome at least that is a verydifferent thing!"

  He turned half round in his seat and looked with a certain indulgentfondness upon the gay young men who were conducting a battle of flowerswith the laughing girls beneath them. Two of them had laid hold ofanother by the legs and were holding him over the trellised flowers thathe might kiss a girl whom her companions were elevating from below for alike purpose. As their young lips met the Pontiff slapped the purplesilk on his thigh and laughed aloud.

  "Ah, rascals, merry rascals!" (here he sighed). "What it is to beyoung! Take an old man's advice, Live while you are young. Yes, live andleave penance, for old age is sufficient penance in itself. (Tut--whatam I saying? Let his pocket do penance!) He who kissed was my nephewGirolamo, ever the flower of the flock, my dear Girolamo. I think yousaid, Prince Conrad, that you were a cardinal. Well, most of these youngmen are cardinals (or will be, so soon as I can get the gold to set themup. They spend too much money, the rascals)."

  "These are cardinals? And priests?" queried Conrad, vastly astonished.

  The Holy Father nodded and took another sip of the perfumed Sicilian.

  "To be a cardinal is nothing," he said calmly. "It is a step--nothingmore. The high road of advancement, the spirit of the time. When I haveprincedoms for them all, why, they must marry and settle--raisedynasties, found princely houses. So it shall be with you, son Conrad.Your brother was alive, Prince of Courtland, married to this fair lady(what was her name? Yes, yes, Joanna). You, a younger son, must beprovided for, the Church supported. Therefore you received that whichwas the hereditary right of your family--the usual payments to HolyChurch being made. You were Archbishop, Cardinal, Prince of the Church.In time you would have been Elector of the Empire and my assessor at theImperial Diet. That was your course. What harm, then, that you shouldmake love to your brother
's wife? Natural--perfectly natural. Fortunate,indeed, that you had a brother so complaisant----"

  "Sir," said Conrad, half rising from his seat, "I have already had thehonour of informing you----"

  "Yes, yes, I forgot--pardon an old man. (Ah, the rascal, would he?Served him right! Ha, ha, well smitten--a good girl!)"

  Another had tried the trick of being held over the balcony, but thistime the maiden below was coy, and, instead of a kiss, the youth hadreceived only a sound smack on the cheek fairly struck with the palm ofa willing hand.

  "Yes, I remember. It was but a sin of the soul. (Stupid fellow! stupidfellow! Girolamo is a true Delia Rovere. He would not have been servedso.) Yes, a sin of the soul. And now you wish to marry? Well, I willreceive back your hat. I will annul your orders--the usual paymentsbeing made to Holy Church. I have so many expenses--my building, thedecorations of my chapel, these young rascals--ah, little do you knowthe difficulties of a Pope. But whom do you wish to marry? What, yourbrother's widow? Ah, that is bad--why could you not be content----?Pardon, your pardon, my mind is again wandering."

  "Tsut--tsut--this is a sad business, a matter infinitely more difficult,forbidden by the Church. What? They parted at the church door? A wenchof spirit, I declare. I doubt not like that one who smote Pietro justnow. I wonder not at you, save at your moderation--that is, if you speakthe truth."

  "I do speak the truth!" said Conrad, with northern directness, beginningto flush again.

  "Gently--gently," said Sixtus; "there are many minutes in a year, manypeople go to make a world. I have never seen a man like you before. Bepatient, then, with me. I am giving you a great deal of my time. It willbe difficult, this marriage--difficult, but not impossible. Peter'scoffers are very empty, my son."

  The Pontiff paused to give Conrad time to speak.

  "I will pay into the treasury of the Holy Father on the day of mymarriage a hundred thousand ducats," said Conrad, blushing deeply. Itseemed like bribing God.

  The Vicegerent of Christ stretched out a smooth white hand, and hissmile was almost as gracious as when he turned it upon his nephewGirolamo.

  "Spoken like a true prince," he cried, "a son of the Church indeed. Herworks--the propagation of the Faith, the Holy Office--these shallbenefit by your generosity."

  He turned about again and beckoned to the tall young man in the blacksoutane.

  "Guliano, come hither!" he cried, and as he came he explained in his lowtones, "My nephew, between ourselves, a dull dog, but will be great. Hechoked a ruffian who attacked him on the street; so, one day, he willchoke this Italy between his hands. He will sit in this chair. Ah, thereis one thing that I am thankful for, and it is that I shall be dead whenour Julian is Pope. I know not where I shall be--but anything werepreferable to being in Rome under Julian--purgatory or----Yes, my dearnephew, Prince Conrad of Courtland! You are to go and prepare documentsconcerning this noble prince. I will instruct you as to their naturepresently. Await me in the hither library."

  The young man had been looking steadily at Conrad while his uncle wasspeaking. It was a firm and manly look, but there was cruelty lurking inthe curve of the upper lip. Guliano della Rovere looked more_condottiere_ than priest. Nevertheless, without a word he bowed andretired.

  When he was gone the Pope sat a moment absorbed in thought.

  "I will send him to Courtland with you. (Yes, yes, he is staunch and tobe trusted with money.) He will marry you and bring backthe--the--benefaction. Your hand, my son. I am an old man and need help.May you be happy! Live well and honour Holy Church. Be not too nice. Thecommons like not a precisian. And, besides, you cannot live your youthover. Girolamo! Girolamo! Where is that rascal? Ah, there you are. I sawyou kiss yonder pretty minx! Shame, sir, shame! You shall do penance--Imyself will prescribe it. What kept you so long when I called you? Somefresh rascality, I will wager!"

  "No, my father," said Girolamo readily. "I went to the dungeons of theHoly Office to see if they had finished off that ranting philosopher whostirred up the people yesterday!"

  "Well, and have they?" asked the Pontiff.

  "Yes, the fellow has confessed that six thousand pieces are hidden underthe hearthstone of his country house. So all is well ended. He is to beburned to-morrow."

  "Good--good. So perish all Jews, heretics, and enemies of Holy Church!"said Pope Sixtus piously. "And now I bid you adieu, son Conrad! You setout to-morrow. The papers shall be ready. A hundred thousand ducats, Ithink you said--_and_ the fees for secularisation. These will amount tofifty thousand more. Is it not so, my son?"

  Conrad bowed assent. He thought it was well that Courtland was rich andhis brother Louis a careful man.

  "Good--good, my son. You are a true standard-bearer of the Church. Iwill throw in a perpetual indulgence--with blanks which you may fill up.No, do not refuse! You think that you will never want it, because you donot want it now. But you may--you may!"

  He stretched out his hand. The blessed ring of Saint Peter shone uponit. Conrad fell on his knees.

  "_Pater Domini nostri Jesu Christi benedicat te in omni benedictionespirituali. Amen!_"