Magnificat

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

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.

  “Of course. But I am pleased you are here, nonetheless,” she answered in Chinese and let Willie translate.

  “We owe you an explanation for our intrusion,” said Captain Hafen.

  “Not at all. I gather you are worried about the train being mobbed,” said Cardinal Cadini, approaching the two Eurocops with a genial grin. “If half of what we have been told is true, there is a very good reason for your concern. Tell us what you have in mind.”

  Captain Sigura’s gaze swept the room suspiciously. When he spoke he sounded angry. “We are posting forty men on this train. We don’t want anything to happen to this…woman.”

  “Of course not; and you’re taking sensible precautions. We were just remarking on how easily harm could come to the Pope,” said Cardinal Cadini, making a point of radiating his famous charm. “None of us could want that. At the same time, no one wants to draw attention to how vulnerable she is. Which is why you have stopped the train in this remote place, so that no one would learn of your plans but us. Very prudent.”

  Under this amiable onslaught some of Captain Sigura’s hostility faded. “We must not let word of…the woman’s arrival in Rome leak out, not until
we know we can bring her to the Vatican without incident. The men we are putting on this train are here to guard her, in case anything more drastic than Siena occurs. We cannot afford to permit anything or anyone to harm her. We have problems enough without that.” He shot a single, speaking look at Captain Hafen. “The newsmedia are everywhere.”

  “Naturally. You have your work; they have theirs. Neither you nor they have any need to apologize for doing your work. This is a most remarkable story. You can’t blame them for trying to make the most of it, can you?” Cardinal Cadini sat down, indicating two chairs near the cluster of sofas. “Please. We’ll all be more comfortable if we do not stand on ceremony—or our feet.”

  It was not very funny but everyone laughed dutifully.

  “The guard on the train is an emergency measure. We don’t intend to provide her constant security. It isn’t appropriate. We are reluctant to give this woman an armed escort from the train station to the Vatican, to be candid. The Roman police have already requested that we delay her arrival until very late at night, when most of the demonstrators are gone. We’re supporting their request. Officials at the Vatican have said they would rather not have any kind of weapons in her escort. They believe it would invite violence.” Captain Sigura frowned at Zhuang. “But the way things are, I believe it is necessary. If you have seen the news, you will know that Rome is explosive now, and because of that, we think it would be best if we take her to the Vatican as discreetly as possible, and that means armed men and a guarded transport. There is no other way to get her to the Vatican without exposing her to great danger.”

  As Willie translated, Zhuang’s face set into an expressionless mask. “I see,” she said quietly. “I hadn’t realized how difficult this could become. Tell me, do you think that many people would be hurt if I attempt to get through the crowd during the day?”

  “It is possible,” said Captain Hafen.

  “It is likely,” said Captain Sigura at the same time.

  Zhuang considered her answer. “Willie, tell them that I do not want anyone hurt because I have come. From what you and Mendosa have told me, there are many who fear what I may do. If I begin by causing harm, those who are in doubt will then be certain I bring ruin. I dislike the notion of stealth, but if that is the means to lessen the tension in Rome, then decide on a time of night when it will be safest for me to arrive.”

  Cardinal Cadini started to protest; Cardinal Ochoa gave her a look of grudging respect.

  “I dislike the idea of you sneaking into the Vatican, too,” said Cardinal van Hooven after a moment of reflection. “It looks too secretive and shabby. It could be as damaging as a serious riot.”

  Cardinal Ochoa and Cardinal Cadini protested at once, for two entirely different reasons. Cardinal Cadini gestured them into silence. Captains Sigura and Hafen exchanged a single, apprehensive nod.

  “If you are certain it is a bad idea, then propose something better,” Cardinal Cadini recommended. “Aren’t Texans noted for their ingenuity?” This was directed to Cardinal Mendosa.

  “That’s one word for it.” Cardinal Mendosa leaned back and focused his eyes on the middle distance. “We’ll arrange it.”

  “In the meantime, we will begin—” said Captain Sigura.

  “There is another way,” said Cardinal Mendosa, cutting through the rest. When he had everyone’s attention, he said, “I am convinced that Zhuang is right, and she must not cause any unpleasantness when she arrives at the Vatican. No argument there. At the same time, she is not a spy or a scoundrel, needing to enter her own house by stealth.”

  “It’s an impasse,” said Cardinal Cadini sadly.

  “No, it’s not,” said Cardinal Mendosa with a lazy grin. “We’ve been trying to think how to get through the problem, when what we ought to do is get over it. Captains,” he went on, speaking to the Eurocops, “do you think you can arrange for us to be brought in by helicopter? There’s space enough at the Vatican to set a couple of them down.”

  Captain Hafen smiled; Captain Sigura nodded sagely.

  When Willie finished translating, Zhuang looked over at Cardinal Mendosa. “Will they permit it?”

  “Permit what, Worthy Magistrate?” He used English and ignored the hard stares of the others.

  “Will they permit us to land a helicopter at the Vatican?” She watched him closely as she listened to Willie.

  “Well, hell’s bells, Zhuang,” said Cardinal Mendosa, his grin widening, “you can do what you want; you’re the Pope. It’s not what they’ll permit, it’s what you’ll permit.”

  She listened with great concentration. “Is there any mistake in arriving by helicopter? Is it worthy conduct?”

  Cardinal Cadini chortled. “Who knows? No new Pope’s ever done it before.”

  “But is it correct?” Zhuang persisted.

  This time Cardinal Mendosa leaned forward and looked directly into her eyes. “Is it what you want to do?”

  She glanced at the two EECPA Captains and back at Mendosa. “Willie, tell them—” she began in Chinese. “No,” she went on in English. “I will say it myself. Yes.”

  Cardinal Mendosa shrugged. “If that’s what you want, it’s what we do. You’re the Pope; you want to arrive in a helicopter. Your wanting it makes it all right by me. Not that that matters.” He turned to Hafen and Sigura. “What do you think? Can we pull it off?”

  Captain Sigura answered first. “There is a private airport about ten kilometers north of Orvieto. The men could remain on the train, in case of trouble down the way. It might confuse the press, too. We could stop the train there and obtain an escort—”

  “A small escort,” Willie suggested. “They’re waiting for her in Orvieto and you don’t want to alert them, do you?”

  “A small escort,” Captain Hafen conceded.

  “That would give the Roman police and the Vatican security force time to clear the landing area,” said Captain Sigura. “And we’ll use EECPA helicopters.”

  “I have never been in a helicopter in my life,” complained Cardinal Ochoa, though no one listened to him.

  “Make that three,” Cardinal Mendosa recommended, entering into the plans with satisfaction. “If there’s just two helicopters, some lunatic could decide to take a shot at one of them. It’s not so likely to happen with three. Spreads the risk around a little. And it keeps us from having too many Cardinals wiped out if anything goes wrong.”

  “Sounds reasonable, I have to admit,” said Captain Hafen. “We’ll get on the radio and—”

  “Radios leak,” Cardinal Mendosa warned.

  “In code, in code,” said Captain Sigura.

  “If you were planning that I should come with you, Charles,” said Cardinal Cadini, “I would just as soon continue on the train. I don’t like heights, and if there is any need to field questions from the press, they know me.”

  “So they do. They know me as well. I will stay on with you,” offered Cardinal Gemme. “But I think Cardinal Mendosa’s point is well-taken,” he went on to the Eurocops. “If the escort remains on the train and Cardinal Cadini and I stay aboard, it’s less likely that the newsmedia will get wind of what is going on, and will only learn of the diversion after Zhuang is safely at the Vatican.”

  “It makes sense,” said Captain Hafen.

  “Okay,” said Cardinal Mendosa, and once more grinned at Zhuang Renxin. “Well, Your Holiness, you got your helicopters.”

  Chapter 18

  A few minutes after two in the morning three white-and-blue EECPA helicopters came fluttering over Rome from the north. They were no different than any other Eurocop helicopters, and very few people paid much notice of them, if they were aware of them at all.

  Sylvestre, Cardinal Jung stood in full diplomatic regalia at the entrance to the garden, surrounded by Vatican security. A few were obvious in their Swiss Guard uniforms, but most were in inconspicuous clothing; they were armed and efficient. Cardinal Jung despised them all on theological grounds almost as adamantly as he in
sisted on them for pragmatic reasons. He squinted up at the approaching helicopters. Some distance away there was a knot of priests with Dominique, Cardinal Hetre and Vincent, Cardinal Walgren, all of them trying to restrain the excitement and curiosity that consumed them. Everyone was speaking and hardly anyone was heard.

  “Is the entire reception committee here?” asked one of the senior security men. He had a strong Genoese accent and a face like a twelfth-century steel helmet.

  “Not all. Not yet,” said Cardinal Jung. Ever since the scrambled phone call had come warning the Cardinals of the imminent arrival of the Chinese woman, he had been fuming. He had tried to convince Cardinal O’Higgins, Cardinal Tsukamara, Cardinal Lepescu, Cardinal Stevenson, and Cardinal Bakony to refuse to recognize the incoming Pope, but without success. Now they were gathering to welcome her. The idea that she would set foot on Vatican soil galled him; that they would have to greet her was almost intolerable.

  “Have the rest been summoned?” persisted the security man.

  Cardinal Jung scowled. “So I have been told.” He looked over his shoulder as if expecting to see assembled Cardinals trooping forward. “It is very late. It is inconvenient.”

  “They had better come quickly, if they want to be here when the helicopters land,” said the security man with a nod in the direction of the approach. “They’ll land in three or four minutes. She’s in the first one.”

  “No doubt with that Texan,” muttered Cardinal Jung, who coughed as if to dismiss his angry observation. He despised Cardinal Mendosa, a feeling which had given way to loathing as well when, against all reason and prudence, the Texan had gone to China and found the woman whose name they had written. If only Cardinal Mendosa had kept out of it, thought Cardinal Jung. If only Cardinal Mendosa had realized the situation was impossible, and accepted the wisdom of the rest. The Church would not have to face the embarrassment of this moment.

  “That’s what the report said,” the security man told him as if he could not hear the animosity in Cardinal Jung’s voice. “Cardinal Mendosa and his translator are riding with…the Pope. You must be glad to have this long wait finally behind you.”