The Simeon Scroll

by Neil Howarth

  “Joseph, if these people from your past life are somehow involved in this, do you not think you should get as far away from here as possible?”

  “It’s not about me. I’m afraid for you, Holy Father. These are dangerous times. Your Reach-Out program has brought you dangerous enemies.”

  “God has chosen my path. I can only walk it. But don’t worry about me, I am in safe hands with Julio and his men.”

  “Holy Father, I can’t walk away. I have to pursue this. I don’t believe I have any choice.”

  For a moment there was silence in the chamber.

  “Very well Joseph, but I fear I cannot interfere any further. I have already agreed your future with Cardinal Vogler, I cannot go back on that.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll manage that, but I do need your help.”

  “Joseph, if you are set on this path, if you are determined to find out the truth, I will help you all I can. If someone killed these people, I also think we must know why. But remember, this is not about retribution. We’ll leave that to Him. And the proper process of the law.” The pontiff paused. “No one is asking you to do that, to be that man, and no one will. Do you hear me, Joseph?”

  “I hear you, Holy Father.”

  “But please, take great care. I have already lost two friends, I will not lose another.”

  “I’ll watch my back.” Fagan clung on to the ladder, wondering if that was possible. “Now, please, tell me about Brother Thomas.”

  The Pontiff was silent for a moment, then spoke in a low, steady voice.

  “Thomas was a dreamer. He was always going to save the world, bring it finally to God. In seminary, we were inseparable, the three of us, myself, Luca, and Thomas. Thomas was easily the smartest of all of us. We would have these long and elaborate theological arguments. He always won. I learned so much from him. But in the end, he wanted to pursue historical research, academia. The truth he called it. He was always convinced that one day he would find it. He told me I would have a great career in politics. He had no illusions about this place, but he always said the church would be safe in my hands.”

  “He was right about that.”

  “Some days I’m not so sure. Though every day I try to live up to his faith in me.”

  “So what happened?”

  “You have to understand about Thomas. He had been chasing a legend, a myth, for more than twenty years. I often think it was just a dream. Back then he discovered a document in the scriptorium at the Abbaye de Sainte Bernadette. It was written by a monk who described himself as The Keeper of the Secret. In it, he stated, that which he protected held the truth to the gospels themselves. Thomas became very excited about this, though as you probably know yourself, there have been hundreds of myths and tales with a similar theme. But with Thomas, it became an obsession to track down this secret. It was quite normal to receive some missive from him. Usually telling us, he had found this or that discovery, which was going to prove to the world that God did indeed exist, that the Gospels were really true. And then he would go quiet for a while. I used to tell him, we have faith for that, but it never seemed to deter him.”

  “So what changed?”

  “Thomas sent me a letter. Well, he sent it to Luca. In many ways it was like lots of letters he had sent in the past, only this time, he said he had actually found it.”

  “Found what?” Fagan found himself almost shouting in the confines of the chamber.

  “He didn’t say, only that once he had the final proof, he would contact me again.” The Holy Father paused. “He never did.”

  Fagan was about to ask a question when the Holy Father interrupted him. “Don’t say a word. Cardinal Vogler is coming. I must go.” The Pontiff’s final words echoed around the dome, reverberating in the confined space. “Joseph, take great care.”

  The Supreme Pontiff climbed to his feet as Cardinal Vogler approached. Commissario Di Mateo hurried behind him, shaking his head.

  “Cardinal Vogler, this is my confessional.” He held an outstretched finger towards the heavens, the gold, papal ring clearly visible. “This is my time to confess to him. How dare you violate it?”

  “Holy Father, my sincerest apologies. But something has happened, something of the most profound importance. I must speak with you, immediately.”

  22

  The Vatican.

  Fagan made his way back through the aqueduct. He had a heap of questions he still wanted to ask the Holy Father. If Thomas has discovered some ancient secret, what was it? Did Luca know about it?

  Did it get him killed?

  He stepped out of the service door.

  “Father Fagan.” A deep, commanding voice called out.

  What did Vogler want now? He took a breath and turned around.

  Walter’s grinning face stood further down the corridor. Walter was an excellent mimic. He claimed he could imitate the voice of most of the Curia. His Pope John Paul was legendary.

  “Moonlighting in the boiler room?” He asked as Fagan approached.

  Walter stood with another priest. Fagan didn’t recognize him. He was a tall, well set man, good looking in a priestly kind of way. He was probably in his early forties, with dark curly hair showing the first flecks of grey.

  “Just saying goodbye, to Luigi,” Fagan said. “He always fixed our radiator in the winter when it iced up.”

  Walter gave him a strange look. “Can I introduce Father Paul Brennan?” He gestured towards the priest who broke into a broad smile.

  “Father Joseph, I’ve heard much about you.” He spoke with an American accent.

  “Father Paul,” Walter continued, “is over here on secondment. He has been working as Cardinal Vogler’s assistant.”

  Fagan looked at the man’s face again. “I’m sure Cardinal Vogler has filled you in on every detail.”

  Father Paul broke into a genial laugh. “Oh don’t judge him too harshly. He is doing a tough job, and what he thinks is best for the church.” He paused. “Even if at times, he is a little outdated.” The priest’s face became serious. “I had the good fortune to have dinner on a couple of occasions with Father Luca Baldini. I’m truly sorry to hear of his passing. In my short time knowing him, I could see he was a good man of God.” He looked directly into Fagan’s eyes. “He talked about you. He was very proud of you.”

  Fagan nodded but didn’t trust himself to speak.

  “Actually,” Father Paul glanced around then continued. “I’m glad I have the two of you together, I wanted to have a word with you about a rather delicate matter.”

  Walter gave Fagan a nervous glance.

  “What matter is that?” Fagan asked.

  “Let’s see, how can I put this? The modern church has many enemies both out there and within. The Holy Father’s Reach-Out program is not popular, but he feels it’s necessary to move forward.”

  “The Holy Father knows what’s best for us all,” Walter said.

  “Unfortunately not everyone agrees with you on that. My being seconded here was no accident. These are dangerous times, and there are many like me, who are looking out for the Holy Father. But there are those, even in this place who would not like any of the Holy Father’s proposals to become a reality. Which brings me to a rather delicate point.” His eyes flicked between the two of them. “Father Luca was well aware of the Holy Father’s problem. He acted as his man outside the circle, outside the Curia. Someone who could communicate on his behalf and bring him information that he would not otherwise be able to obtain. I believe that someone may have seen that as a problem.” Father Brennan glanced around, as if double checking they were alone. “I’m worried that Father Luca’s death was not an accident.”

  Fagan almost choked, luckily Walter butted in.

  “My God. Why do you think that?”

  “Let’s just say that I was afraid it would happen. I even warned Father Luca to take extra care.” Father Brennan set is eyes on Fagan. “Did he tell you, anything? Anything that might have led to someone d
oing this?”

  Fagan studied the priest. Was he an ally, or a Vatican insider on a fishing expedition? “No,” he said. “But then Luca was never a great one for revealing his thoughts.”

  “Father Luca sent you to France. I hear that was something of a debacle.”

  “Something of.”

  “What was that about?”

  “A close friend of the Holy Father died in an automobile accident. He wanted an account of what happened. Tragically while I was there, one of the young monks committed suicide.” Fagan realized that Luca was not the only one who didn’t reveal his thoughts.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Father Paul seemed to consider him for a long time. “Well if you think of anything let me know. I’ll be here for another couple of days, then I’m heading back to Chicago. But don’t worry, others will take my place. You won’t know who they are, but you can sleep soundly knowing they are there.” He glanced at his watch. “Unfortunately I must leave you. I have an appointment with Cardinal Vogler, and I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side.”

  Fagan and Walter watched him go.

  “Well that was a revelation,” Walter said.

  “Somewhat. What do you know about him?”

  “He’s one of the golden boys of the modern church. A man destined for big things. But I’ve met him a couple of times. He seems a nice guy. I’ll forgive him for being a Jesuit. He’s heading back to Chicago as the Bishop’s assistant. Rumor has it the Bishop has been called back to head office. Word is, he’ll not last the year. And the smart money is on Father Brennan as a shoo-in to take his place.”

  “Isn’t he a bit young to become a bishop?”

  “The face of the modern church, my boy. Mark my words, it will not be long before we see him back here wearing a red hat.” Walter studied Fagan’s face. “I noticed you didn’t tell him anything.”

  “What’s to tell?”

  “That’s what I was wondering. Before our high flying friend sidetracked us, I was about to ask you what you’ve been up to in the basement? And who, in the name of Saint Aloysius, is Luigi?”

  “First name that came into my head.”

  “Joseph, what have you been up to?”

  “Trust me. You don’t want to know.”

  “Why do you make me nervous when you say things like that?”

  “Someone has to find out who killed Luca.”

  “Joseph, there you go again. First we agree that it was an accident and now? Is it what Father Paul said?”

  “Let’s just say it came as no surprise.”

  “I thought you were clearing your desk and catching a plane.”

  Fagan regarded his friend. “I’m not going.”

  “Oh dear,” Walter shook his head. “There’ll be trouble.”

  “I’ve spoken to the Holy Father.”

  “What, how did you do that?”

  “Luca showed me a way.”

  “Hence the visit to the boiler room.” Walter’s face broke into a broad grin. “Wow, I’ve heard the rumors of course, well the folklore really. You must tell me all about it.”

  Fagan raised his eyebrows. “Later.”

  “So the Holy Father said you don’t have to go back to Africa.”

  “Well, not exactly.”

  “Well what, exactly?”

  “He supports what I have to do. It’s just that his support. . .”

  Walter held open his chubby hands in a tell-me-all gesture.

  Fagan gave a shrug. “It’s a secret.”

  “Oh great, you have the secret support of the Holy Father, but meanwhile the Inquisition wants you on a plane to Africa.”

  “That’s about it. Are you going to help me?”

  Walter shook his head. “Well, I suppose someone has to look after you.”

  “Plotting something, Father Walter?” A voice called out.

  Fagan and Walter looked up as Father Julius Mengen approached. “Slinking about in corners when I’m sure you have God’s work you should be getting on with.”

  “Julius,” Walter said, a wide smile on his face. “You really should get out more. Fresh air and long walks will clear that constipation in no time at all.”

  “Always the joker, Father Walter.”

  “Humor, a gift given to me by God.”

  Mengen wasn’t amused. He looked across at Fagan. “Are you ready to leave?”

  “You may tell the Cardinal, yes.”

  Mengen studied the two of them with his weasel eyes then scuttled off tutting to himself.

  “You have to wind him up, don’t you.”

  “My role in life,” Walter said.

  “Look, I’ve some things I need to do. Why don’t you meet me at Enzo’s at about seven. I’ll tell you what I know.”

  “Don’t let me impose.”

  Fagan put a hand on his arm. “Please Walter, trust me on this.”

  Walter gave a reluctant nod.

  “One last thing,” Fagan said. “I want to trace Luca’s final movements, maybe speak to the last people he spoke to. That last afternoon, what did Luca do?”

  Walter studied for a moment. “He had afternoon tea with the Holy Father. When he came back, he seemed quite buoyant. He spent the rest of the afternoon in the office, working away at his desk until about six, then he left.”

  “Do you know where he went?”

  “Of course, where he went every Friday at that time. To San Cecile in Trastevere. That’s when he went to confession.”

  23

  The Pope’s Private Office, the Vatican.

  “But Holy Father, it brings a message that can transform the whole Church, the whole faith.”

  Cardinal Vogler had flown directly back to Rome and gone straight to the Holy Father with his news. He was now pacing the floor, not attempting to hide his frustration.

  “My dear Heinrich, people have been telling us that since the dark ages. There have been many messages, good and bad. And what difference have they made? The best I can say is, we are still here.”

  “But Holy Father, Father Gerhard Muller is a well respected scholar, not someone to get excited over nothing. He has seen many false dawns, so I think that when he is getting excited, we should at least sit up and take notice. The De Vaux Foundation has been a friend of the church for many years. A friend of the Vatican in particular. It has given many millions of dollars to our causes. Monsieur De Vaux —”

  “Monsieur De Vaux,” the Pope cut in, “is many things, among them a man who likes to get what he wants. Men like him give to the Church for many reasons. Unfortunately not all of them good. In fact usually the larger the donation, the darker the reason.”

  “Holy Father, are you suggesting?”

  “I’m not suggesting anything, Heinrich. I’m merely saying beware of a gleaming gift and a smiling face.”

  “Your Holiness, you put me in this office as guardian of our faith. I am trying to do what you asked.”

  “And I expect you to carry out the duties of that office.”

  “Holy Father, please listen to me, a billion Catholic hearts will soar at the message this manuscript brings. Surely this is a gift from God?”

  “Or a curse from the devil.” Pope Salus would not allow the fear he felt deep inside to show. But it was a fear with a solid foundation. He took a breath and looked directly at Cardinal Vogler. “And what about the other six billion souls who are not Catholic? What of them? Will they all suddenly rejoice and convert to the Catholic faith, or will they think that we are attempting to murder their God, to deny them their right and their own path to him? How do you think they will react to that? They will see it as a conspiracy. After all we have been through, trying to get each of us to recognize the legitimacy of the other, they will say this is the ultimate betrayal.”

  “But he has chosen to reveal himself now.”

  “Has he? If we believe that God has placed me here as head of this Church, and I do believe that, he put me here for a purpose. He guides me every day to take us
forward, to take the whole world forward into a new and hopeful future, not take us back into the dark ages.” Pope Salus fixed Cardinal Vogler with an intense look. “So I have to ask. Is he speaking to us, or is it someone else, someone also powerful and persuasive? You are the protector of the doctrine of the faith. He is the adversary you battle every day. Is this him? Is the prophecy coming true? Are the End Times upon us?”

  Cardinal Vogler hurriedly made the sign of the cross. “Holy Father.”

  The Pontiff held up his hand. “Enough Heinrich. We will accept Monsieur De Vaux’s kind gift. Then we will find a nice safe place for it deep inside the Vatican archives, where it will be well protected.”

  “But Holiness, this is Dominic de Vaux, he is a very wealthy and powerful man. You know he has power inside the Church. He will not accept this.”

  “He is not the Church and never will be. We both know of his influence within the Curia, but they also know of the infallibility of the Pontiff.”

  Vogler started to speak, but Pope Salus silenced him with a sweep of his hand. “Your Pope has spoken. This scroll will have a home in the Vatican archives. Your researchers may then examine it at their leisure.”

  “And if it is genuine?”

  “Then it is enough that we know, and can continue in our work, strong in our faith, knowing that He,” Pope Salus pointed a finger to the heavens, “has once more shown us the way.”

  Pope Salus watched the door close behind Cardinal Vogler. He walked over to the window and looked out over the glistening roofs of the Eternal City, wet from a sudden shower. He was being tested. He knew that. And he was afraid. Afraid that things would unfold as Luca had predicted. Afraid of this golden gift and of who was offering it. Certainly, it would destroy his Reach-Out program. The other faiths would not accept this affront to any form of unity. They would see it as a direct attack on the validity of their religions. But that was nothing compared to the real threat. In this time of tension and mistrust, it could light a fuse that could tear the whole world apart. Just as the prophecy predicted.