Vatican Vendetta: A thrilling battle of power and politics

by Peter Watson

  Gina appeared to have put on her best dress for the occasion. She came and sat with David, arriving with the whisky she knew he liked. Despite the dress, a cheerful green, Gina was feeling low. She hated Massoni, but she chose to believe the rumour that Thomas would resign that afternoon and remain in Sicily. David wished he could tell her about his meeting with Massoni and the deal that had been worked out.

  It was clear from comments around the bar that customers were split between Massoni and Thomas. Although many Romans had been against Thomas for some time, even they did not like the way Massoni had seized power. On the other hand there were some who clearly relished the split and simply treated the two Popes like rival football teams.

  Lunch arrived, linguine followed by lombatina. Gina stayed and ate with David.

  The television was now covering international reactions to Massoni’s coup. A film clip showed Roskill on the steps of the White House, saying he was saddened by the split but that Massoni promised a return to traditional Roman ways. ‘That,’ he said, ‘is wiser, duller, safer, slower, sedate and sober. Better.’ Pravda was quoted as saying that the decline and fall of Thomas’s Roman empire merely showed western religion to be as corrupt as ever, and pointed out that even Popes, or would-be Popes, were not above a little unholy subterfuge. Some things, David thought, Pravda got right. Fidel Castro in Cuba made no direct comment but announced that the Cuban government and the American government had reopened negotiations on the Guantanamo Bay naval bases. A picture of David’s dead former wife Sarah suddenly flashed on the screen and behind the Italian commentary David caught the voice of Michael Greener, from London, saying he hoped Northern Ireland would now enjoy an easier peace and that a foundation was being established, the Sarah Greener Foundation, which would give scholarships to enable foreigners to study in Northern Ireland and see the problems at first hand, so that worldwide understanding of the situation would grow. The Nicaraguans said the Vatican coup didn’t make any difference: one Pope was as bad as the next. But the President said he admired Massoni: ‘He’s obviously been reading the right Trotskyist textbooks.’

  Lunch was over. The bar was filling up now, the hubbub was deafening and the tobacco smoke so thick it gave a blue tinge to everything. On the screen attention had switched back to the cathedral square in Palermo. The square was a solid mass of bodies. There were people on the fountains, in the trees, leaning from every window. Overnight, TV crews had arrived from everywhere: Rome, Africa, Madrid, Geneva, Marseille. The carabiniere were out in force, but friendly, to judge from the TV pictures. Amazingly, the entrepreneurs had been busy during the early hours and already T-shirts and hats with ‘Papa vero’ on them were on sale. Flags with pictures of Thomas and the archbishop were everywhere. Unlike in Rome, the weather was glorious, the sun poured down.

  Just before four o’clock the chanting started. ‘Pa – pa ve – ro! Pa – pa ve – ro! Pa – pa ve – ro!’ The chanting got louder, faded, got louder again. Then, as the cathedral bells started to clang the hour, the chanting changed into ‘The Almonds of Marsalen’.

  On cue, as the last words faded, a glimpse of scarlet and white could be seen through the windows behind the balcony. A cheer went up and the windows opened, the cardinal archbishop leading the way. Applause, whistles, trumpets, all sorts of welcome greeted Ligorio and he waited patiently. As the din continued he smiled, nodded and waved to people he knew.

  The longer the noise went on the higher the tension rose. But eventually it dropped away. Ligorio waited until all voices had been stilled, until everyone would be able to hear clearly what he had to say. That too raised the tension. People were eager for words.

  He gave them two.

  ‘Abbiamo Papa.’

  ‘We have a Pope.’

  The crowd cheered madly. The whistles and trumpets blared again. No one knew what more was coming but they recognized the words as the traditional announcement after a conclave, spoken by the camerlengo, the Papal chamberlain, signifying that the election of the new Pope had been completed. What Ligorio meant was that Thomas was not going to resign.

  The archbishop now stood back and the white-robed figure of Thomas came forward. A deeper, throatier cheer was now raised and people waved their flags or banners or hats and the square was, for a few moments, a huge field of lifted, swaying arms. As Ligorio before him, Thomas stood and simply smiled or waved, waiting patiently for the reception to die down.

  Eventually, the noise and clatter started to subside. Thomas brought his hands together in an attitude of prayer and all in the square followed and became still.

  ‘Friends, a prayer of thanks. For our blessings. For this beautiful day, for the lovely babies I can see before me, the trees in the park over there, the friendship that all of us, in this square, feel for one another. Especially at a time like now, when we are beset by terrible problems, we must remember the beauty that is about us, the beauty that God has provided.

  ‘Of all the beauty God has created, however, I think that perhaps the beauty of friendship, the understanding of one person for another, is the most precious of all. I want you to think for a moment of the most unlikely friend you have, perhaps a very different person from yourself, and a long way across the world. A person who, despite the fact that he or she is very different from you, nonetheless shares with you understanding and affection. Just remember for a moment that feeling of friendship. It is important for the news Cardinal Ligorio and I are bringing to you.’ There was quiet in the square. ‘In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.’

  ‘Amen.’

  They waited for the news Thomas had promised. There was no more cheering, no more singing. They were there to listen.

  ‘Friends, if my voice sounds weak, it is because Cardinal Ligorio and I have been up all night. And he is a fine man, your cardinal. A great support. Something wonderful happened yesterday. Your reception, your greeting, was so magnificent, so moving – and, I might say, so well televised – that as soon as the singing had finished in this very square I began to receive phone calls from all over the world. It seems that you Sicilians are not the only friends I have. It’s true! Bishops, cardinals, mothers, monks, hotel receptionists, a doctor in Australia, a policeman in Holland, a headmistress of a school in Chile, a violinist in Singapore. All saying the same thing. “Don’t resign. Fight! Fight back! Fight on!” All saying that what we have been doing, trying to change things – in Sicily, in South and Central America, in Hungary, in Ireland, in cities with racial troubles – is what they want to see happening. Is the lead they wish to follow.

  ‘It was all very encouraging. So encouraging, in fact, that I telephoned some of the cardinals back. Then I discussed an idea with Cardinal Ligorio. He agreed with me – wholeheartedly, I might say. He’s a giant of a man. The momentous news I am about to share with you is as much his doing as mine. Throughout the night he and I contacted every cardinal we could. We called Argentina, Taiwan, Switzerland, Nigeria, Brazil, Ireland, Chad and Luxembourg. We called Paris, Chicago, La Paz, London, Vienna, Venice, Beirut, Johannesburg, Sydney and Guatemala City. There are, at the present time, one hundred and twelve cardinals in the sacred college. In the past few hours Cardinal Ligorio or I have talked with eighty-four of them. The others were either impossible to reach or, in twenty cases, they refused to talk to us. But, as a result of our conversations, we now know where we stand.

  ‘I have also talked to Cardinal Massoni, twice, and he knows where he stands.

  ‘Now I come to the important point, friends. Some of you may recall the occasion when James Roskill, the American President, first called for my resignation. He said I should follow the example of my distinguished predecessor, Boniface. Well, President Roskill is a politician and used to bending the meaning of words. And perhaps we shouldn’t expect a politician to be historically sound. But the fact is that Boniface, when he resigned as Pope in the fourteenth century, did so in order to avoid a schism in the Church. There is of c
ourse no schism in the Church today. Or, at least, there wasn’t until Cardinal Massoni, by his divisive act, his coup, if you like, created a situation where we do, apparently, have two people who both claim to be Pope. During the night, therefore, Cardinal Ligorio here and I have been trying to establish just who in the Church supports which Pope. And we have found that there are many people who feel as you Sicilians do. They are morally outraged by what Massoni has done and they withhold their support from him, giving it instead to me. It has been a hectic night but I can report to you now that, henceforward, certain areas of the globe will no longer recognize Rome as head of the Church. Instead, they choose to recognize my Papacy wherever I place it. And that, I can tell you as a result of yet more calls during the night, will be in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, where as you know certain functions of the Vatican have been devolved already and where, thanks to the generosity of the Brazilian government, the Church owns land. Already there, in Rio, is the Pontifical Commission on the Americas, Cor Unum, the Commission on Latin America, on the Family, the Laity, the Congregation for the Causes of Saints. So, friends, we already have a fine base on which to build.

  ‘And now, I give you the list of places who will be joining you, my friends, in support for me.’ Everyone in the square was spellbound. ‘In Europe: Ireland, Portugal, Lebanon, Foligno, and of course Sicily.’ As Thomas called out each country a loud cheer went up.

  ‘In Africa, friends, Nigeria, Chad and Zaire will follow us. In the Far East, Hong Kong, Korea, Portuguese Macao, the Marquesas Isles and the Philippines have offered their support. Most important, every country in South America, except Argentina and Paraguay, is with us.’ Cheering broke out again, spiced with singing. Thomas held up his hand. ‘Finally, Quebec is with us too.’ Flags were waved, a horn picked up the ‘Papa vero!’ rhythm.

  ‘I say “finally”, friends, but it might not be. Only one country in the world cannot decide which side it is on.’ He paused. ‘The bishops of the United States are divided. They are so numerous and so much at odds, they are to call a special congress to decide!

  ‘Only time will tell but to those bishops listening or watching now, I say this: Roskill will not always be President. America is a rich nation, the richest. But that only emphasizes that, more than any other country, it should concern itself most with the poor.’

  Thomas paused and looked around the square. ‘I have more good news. In addition to his position as Archbishop of Palermo, Cardinal Ligorio has also agreed to accept a new title I am creating. He will administer the Church in Europe, and that will include the dangerous but important task of running the Invisible Vatican behind the Iron Curtain. I have therefore created the position of Patriarch of Europe and will crown Cardinal Ligorio in this position, in your cathedral here, before I leave this afternoon.’

  Thomas turned and Ligorio stepped forward. Both acknowledged the delighted applause and cheers from the crowd. Their own church at last! The Sicilians loved it. The singing started again but this time Thomas waved for them to be quiet for a moment. ‘You know, I’ve been here but a few hours and yet I feel more at home in Palermo than I ever did in Rome. But now, friends, in a few short hours I have to leave. I have to keep my side of the bargain. We shall be apart but not separated. This is a new alignment, a new way of looking at what is around us, a new force for good. Your cardinal and I, your Patriarch and I, have negotiated with Massoni, the anti-Pope, to take with us the St Patrick’s Fund. We shall need a small part of that for administration but we shall still endeavour to provide money for relief work wherever it is needed. No doubt President Roskill will still find our activities irksome but he’ll just have to get used to them. No one else offers help of the kind we can offer, or on the same scale, and we can be proud of it.

  ‘And so I leave you for a new Rome, a poorer city perhaps, but richer in spirit. Less elegant but more deserving. Less historic – but only for now. Smaller but with your help its influence will soon be enormous. It will be a working church, friends, and we hope that some of you will come on pilgrimages.’

  He straightened his body and lifted his arms. His cape spread like the wings of a bird. He was coming to the end of his speech. ‘I do not know when I shall see you again. But while we are apart remember this: be proud of what we have achieved together in the last hours. Each one of you, every man, woman and child, every mother, father, daughter and son, just by being here, being seen by the rest of the world, has played a part in history. Rome tried to destroy us. Washington tried to destroy us. They could not. Perhaps we are not as strong as we were but we are as strong as they are!’

  The sun caught Thomas’s face and in that moment everyone in the square, everyone across the world, saw the glint of tears on his cheeks.

  ‘Now –’ His voice broke. ‘I give you my blessing.’ They stood, the thousands in the square, many of them weeping too, as the ancient Latin words drifted down to them.

  ‘And now, friends, thank you. Thank you and farewell.’ He turned but the Sicilians had still to bid him goodbye. The singing started, not tentatively as on the day before but strong and muscular, the voice of an independent dignified people. Thomas stood for several moments listening to the song. Then he quietly turned again and went inside. The door was closed behind him, the balcony was empty but the singing continued. The Sicilians were singing for themselves now.

  *

  In Gina’s, people were silent, overwhelmed by the weight, the striking beauty of what had happened. David asked Gina to bring him a whisky. Thomas’s words had affected him very deeply. He was a Catholic, even if he wasn’t a Sicilian. And as for Bess – these last two nights she had been at the centre of truly historic events. He envied her that. Hers was hardly a conventional life. It was lived at a daunting intensity, and he wondered how much of it he would ever be able to share.

  He didn’t go home. For once he couldn’t face being alone. He finished his whisky, slowly, listening to the arguments that now began to rage about him. Some thought Thomas’s plan brilliant, some thought it was foolish. Then he asked Gina if he could make a long-distance call, to Bess. Gina took him behind the bar, away from the crush, where the noise level was slightly lower.

  Bess didn’t answer the phone, but she was soon brought to it.

  ‘David?’

  ‘Talk to me. I’m here, in Gina’s. Surrounded by people and horribly alone. Tell me what’s been happening. Tell me what happens now, to us. Talk to me.’

  ‘Thomas wants a word with you, darling.’

  ‘Gina says you love two men –’

  ‘Yes, she always says that, she thinks it’s what we have in common. But when I told her that I didn’t mean it the way she thought. There are so many different kinds of love, David. Yes, I love Thomas. I love him like a father. I love my job too . . . but none of this is the same as the way I love you. Oh, these last two days – if only you could have been here. They started out so bad, David. That night on the plane – flying back from the Far East – everything was coming apart, and it was all so sudden. We were isolated – just Thomas, the pilot of the jumbo and me. In one moment our purpose, our destination even, was taken away from us. Or that’s the way it seemed. It wasn’t until it was taken away that I realized how important it all was. Or rather, and this is the important thing, that nothing else came close.

  ‘Sitting there – we were in the cockpit, using the pilot’s radio – I watched Thomas shrink. I started to cry. I remember thinking we must have flown hundreds of miles while we just sat there. And how much I would miss not doing what I had been doing for months. But then something else happened. I witnessed the most incredible piece of courage on Thomas’s part. An act of will, almost a resurrection. He wasn’t just sitting in the co-pilot’s seat, moping as I was, licking his wounds. He was thinking. We talked a lot that night, after the idea had come to him to sound out his support around the world. And I have to tell you this, David, it wasn’t any one thing, any one word or sentence that Thomas said that persuaded me.
It was just the thrust of what he said, and the way that he said it, over a long time. Work, the improvement of the world, the channelling of human nature into ever better outlets was, is, to Thomas, far more important than any private life ever could be. And maybe it’s that way for me too, David.

  ‘There was a parallel too in what he said and something I once read about Verdi, the composer. I can’t remember exactly and I certainly can’t remember who said it, or wrote it. But it was to the effect that Verdi’s music is too vital, in too much of a hurry to be beautiful. Verdi’s music is obviously very beautiful but the point of the remark, so it has always seemed to me, is that Verdi realized there are more important things than beauty: in music he needed to explore new forms, invent new things, get on and try this or that. Beauty isn’t the be-all and end-all of everything. The same applies to happiness. Happiness is overrated.

  ‘I asked Thomas that night whether, if Sarah hadn’t been killed, he would have allowed your dissolution. He said he wouldn’t, that what Hale had come up with was a loophole, an absurd one at that, which it would not have been in the Church’s interest to approve. But later he also said that he was, in a way, relieved that he never had to make the decision. He badly wanted me to stay as his aide and he would have hated seeing me go. So had Sarah lived he would have had a dilemma – he would never know how much his refusal of your dissolution was for genuine reasons and how much for his own personal, selfish motives.

  ‘It was that frankness, the fact that even a Pope is puzzled by the simple moral questions and yet always had the courage to face them, that I found – I find – so comforting. At the same time I know now that I cannot leave him. He needs me.’

  She paused. David was stunned. He didn’t know what to say. Through crackles on the line he heard her clear her throat. When she spoke again her voice was strained. ‘David . . . David . . . I can’t give up now. We can’t give up. I don’t want to. It’s just starting. It may end in chaos, in disaster. That’s a risk I’m willing, eager to take.’