When the period of reflection was over, an altar boy produced the microphone again, and Lomeli rose and chanted the first line of the Credo – ‘Credo in unum deum.’ His voice was firmer than before. He felt a great surge of spiritual energy, and the power stayed with him, so that in every stage of the Eucharist that followed he was aware of the presence of the Holy Spirit. Those long sung passages of Latin, the prospect of which had filled him with trepidation – the Universal Prayer, the Offertory Chant, the Preface and the Sanctus and the Eucharistic Prayer and the Rite of Communion – every word and every note of them seemed alive with the presence of Christ. He went down to the nave to offer Communion to selected ordinary members of the congregation, while around and behind him the cardinals queued to go up to the altar. Even as he placed the wafers on the tongues of the kneeling communicants, he was half aware of the looks he was receiving from his colleagues. He sensed astonishment. Lomeli – the smooth, the reliable, the competent Lomeli; Lomeli the lawyer; Lomeli the diplomat – had done something they had never expected. He had said something interesting. He had not expected it of himself, either.
At 11.52 a.m., he intoned the Concluding Rites, ‘Benedicat vos omnipotens Deus,’ and made the sign of the cross three times, to the north, to the east and to the south: ‘Pater. . . et Filius. . . et Spiritus Sanctus.’
‘Amen.’
‘Go forth, the Mass is ended.’
‘Thanks be to God.’
He stood at the altar with his hands clasped on his chest while the choir and the congregation sang the Antiphona Mariana. As the cardinals processed in pairs back up the nave and out of the basilica, he scrutinised them dispassionately. He knew he would not be alone in thinking that the next time they returned, one of them would be Pope.
6 Sistine Chapel
LOMELI, ALONG WITH his attendants, arrived back at the hostel a few minutes after the other cardinals. They were being divested in the lobby, and almost at once he sensed a change in their attitude towards him. For a start, nobody came over to speak to him, and when he gave his crozier and mitre to Father Zanetti, he noticed how the young priest avoided meeting his gaze. Even Monsignor O’Malley, who offered to help him remove his chasuble, seemed subdued. Lomeli was expecting him at the very least to make one of his usual overfamiliar jokes. Instead he merely said, ‘Would Your Eminence care to pray while the vestments are removed?’
‘I think I’ve prayed enough for one morning, Ray, don’t you?’ He bowed his head and allowed the chasuble to be pulled away. It was a relief to have the weight off his shoulders. He rotated his neck to ease the tension in his muscles. He smoothed his hair and checked his zuchetta was properly in place then glanced around the lobby. The schedule permitted the cardinals a long lunch break – two and a half hours, which they could spend as they wished until a fleet of six minibuses arrived at the Casa Santa Marta to ferry them to the vote. Some were already making their way upstairs to rest and meditate in their rooms.
O’Malley said, ‘The press office have been calling.’
‘Really?’
‘The media have noticed the presence of a cardinal who doesn’t appear on any official list. Some of the better-informed have already identified him as Archbishop Benítez. The press people want to know how they should handle it.’
‘Tell them to confirm it, and have them explain the circumstances.’ He could see Benítez standing over by the reception desk, in conversation with the other two cardinals from the Philippines. He was wearing his zuchetta at a sideways angle, like a schoolboy’s cap. ‘I suppose we’ll also need to put out some biographical details. You must have access to his file at the Congregation for Bishops?’
‘Yes, Eminence.’
‘Could you pull something together, and let me have a copy? I wouldn’t mind knowing a little more about our new colleague myself.’
‘Yes, Eminence.’ O’Malley was scribbling on his clipboard. ‘Also, the press office want to release the text of your homily.’
‘I don’t have a copy, I’m afraid.’
‘It doesn’t matter. We can always make a transcript from the tape.’ He made another note.
Lomeli was still waiting for him to pass some comment on his sermon. ‘Is there anything else you have to say to me?’
‘I think that’s all I need to bother you with at the moment, Eminence. Do you have any other instructions?’
‘Actually, there is one thing.’ Lomeli hesitated. ‘A delicate matter. Do you know who I mean by Monsignor Morales? He was in the Holy Father’s private office.’
‘I don’t know him personally; I know of him.’
‘Is there any chance you might be able to have a word with him, in confidence? It needs to be done today – I’m sure he must be in Rome.’
‘Today? That won’t be easy, Eminence…’
‘Yes, I know. I’m sorry. Perhaps you could do it while we’re voting?’ He lowered his voice so that none of the cardinals disrobing around them could hear. ‘Use my authority. Say that as dean I need to know what happened in the final meeting between the Holy Father and Cardinal Tremblay: did anything occur that might render Cardinal Tremblay unfit to assume the papacy?’ The normally unflappable O’Malley gaped at him. ‘I’m sorry to land you with such a sensitive mission. Obviously I’d do it myself, but I’m now officially forbidden to make contact with anyone outside the Conclave. I need hardly add that you mustn’t breathe a word to a soul.’
‘Of course not.’
‘Bless you.’ He patted O’Malley’s arm. He couldn’t suppress his curiosity any longer. ‘Well, Ray, I notice you’ve said nothing about my homily. You’re not usually so tactful. Was it really as bad as all that?’
‘Far from it, Your Eminence. It was extremely well said, although I expect it will have raised a few eyebrows over at the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. But tell me: was it really extempore?’
‘Yes, as a matter of fact, it was.’ He was taken aback by the implication that his spontaneity might have been an act.
‘I only ask because you may find that it’s had a considerable effect.’
‘Well – that’s to the good, surely?’
‘Absolutely. Although I have heard murmurings that you are trying to pick the new Pope.’
Lomeli’s first reaction was to laugh. ‘You are not serious!’ Until that moment it had not occurred to him that his words might be interpreted as an attempt to manipulate the voting one way or another. He had spoken simply as the Holy Spirit had moved him. Unfortunately, he couldn’t now remember the exact phrases he had used. That was the peril of speaking without a prepared text, which was why he had never done it before.
‘I only report what I’ve heard, Eminence.’
‘But that is absurd! What did I call for? Three things: unity; tolerance; humility. Are colleagues now suggesting we need a Pope who is schismatic, intolerant and arrogant?’ O’Malley bowed his head in deference, and Lomeli realised he had raised his voice. A couple of cardinals had turned to look at him. ‘I’m sorry, Ray. Excuse me. I think I’ll go to my room for an hour. I’m feeling rather drained.’
All he had ever desired in this contest was to be neutral. Neutrality had been the leitmotif of his career. When the traditionalists had taken control of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith in the nineties, he had kept his head down and got on with his work as Papal Nuncio in the United States. Twenty years later, when the late Holy Father had decided to clear out the old guard and had asked him to step down as Secretary of State, he had nevertheless served him loyally in the lesser role of Dean. Servus fidelis: all that mattered was the Church. He had meant what he said that morning. He had seen at first hand the damage that could be done by inflexible certainty in matters of faith.