‘Someone has kept you informed,’ Giovanni said with a grin.
‘Oddly enough it was the Vatican. They’re not renowned for including us peasants in their debates but they did send me your biographical notes.’ Patrick poured himself another whiskey. ‘Chardin was a very interesting man. After he was ordained as a Jesuit priest, he served in WWI as a stretcher bearer. Among other things he won the Military Medal and the Legion of Honour. Like you, he was also a scientist.’
‘It is sometimes difficult being a priest and a scientist. There are times when I wish I was one or the other, not both.’
‘Chardin would agree with you, but he also had the courage to disagree with the Vatican, which got right up their Eminences’ nostrils and they did what they always do.’
Giovanni nodded. ‘Excommunication.’
‘It is their standard response to anyone with the intellect and temerity to question their power base. Anyway, you may have both of these,’ he said. ‘The second one is a paper by the Israeli archaeologist and mathematician Yossi Kaufmann. He’s convinced there are codes in the Dead Sea Scrolls that contain a warning. Have you heard of the Omega Scroll?’
Giovanni felt a chill and nodded, measuring his response. His instinct was to trust this bishop of the people, but it was too soon to divulge what he knew. ‘It’s had quite a bit of press from time to time but I thought it was mostly speculation,’ he replied carefully.
Bishop O’Hara shook his head. ‘Yossi Kaufmann doesn’t think so. Yossi’s a man of many contacts, quite a few of whom reside in the back alleys of this Holy City. Not only is he convinced it exists, he thinks the Vatican bought a copy of it in 1978, and he’s equally certain the original is still out there, but you can ask him yourself. You’ll need to come back here once a month or so, more frequently if I have the need of company,’ Patrick added. ‘I’ll arrange for you to meet him over dinner. Sister Katherine is an excellent cook.’
It was after ten before Giovanni managed to escape to his room. He propped himself up in bed and turned to Yossi Kaufmann’s paper published in The Journal of Mathematics. As another distinguished Israeli, Dr Eliyahu Rips, was doing with the Torah, Professor Kaufmann had applied a computerised analysis to the Hebrew and Aramaic of the Dead Sea Scrolls, and he had discovered a similar problem to Rips. Words like ‘terror’ and ‘end of days’ were found by the program, but Kaufmann had been unable to determine what the hidden warning was. Professor Kaufmann’s paper had been written for a professional audience but Giovanni grasped the underlying permutations and progression theorems with ease. He blinked at Kaufmann’s conclusion. The codes that were in the Dead Sea Scrolls all pointed to the message being found in a particular scroll, the Omega Scroll. The words ‘revelation’ and ‘end of mankind’ kept coming up.
Overtired, Giovanni couldn’t sleep so he flicked the bedside lamp back on and reached for Teilhard de Chardin’s banned Comment Je Crois . Chardin had a gift for writing and the French came easily, and when Giovanni next checked his watch it was two in the morning. Reluctantly he closed the book and turned out the light. No wonder the Vatican had banned Teilhard de Chardin. The great French theologian and scientist had dared to suggest that God was not some all-powerful and vengeful Being, but a spiritual force within creation itself; in the rivers, mountains, mists, elephants, microbes and within every human being. For Chardin, God was not the God of Wrath of the Church but rather the ‘spirit within’, and he was daring to challenge the Cardinals’ powerful claim that God could only be reached through the priests of the Church.
Giovanni finally fell into an uneasy sleep. Chardin had left an indelible mark on Giovanni, colouring his approach to his faith and helping him in his never-ending search for true meaning.
The Spirit smiled as revelation dawned.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Milano
T he trip took less than five minutes and the door to Cardinal Petroni’s apartments was promptly opened by a petite, attractive Sister on the Cardinal’s personal staff.
‘You may hang your coat on that hook, Sister Bassetti,’ Sister Carmela said icily.
‘ Grazie. E molto gentile,’ Allegra responded with a gracious smile. Perhaps the dark-haired nun had had a bad day, she thought.
‘His Eminence is waiting for you in the drawing room, Sister Bassetti, if you will follow me.’
Allegra trailed behind as Sister Carmela set a brisk pace down the sumptuously carpeted hallway, where priceless artworks on loan from the Vatican hung from high picture railings on either side. The heavy gold frames were beautifully set against the deep blue wallpaper. There were paintings by Margaritone d’Arezzo and Vitale da Bologna, Lorenzo Monaco and Guido Reni, and at the entrance to the drawing room, a fresco by none other than Raphael, the master himself.
‘Sister Bassetti, Eminence.’ Sister Carmela announced Allegra and then withdrew.
‘Sister Bassetti. How good of you to come.’
The first thing Allegra noticed was the voice, perfectly modulated with a cultured resonance that reinforced the charm of the Cardinal.
She took his outstretched hand and felt him almost caress her palm. ‘It’s a pleasure to be here, Eminence,’ she replied diplomatically.
‘Quite the contrary, the pleasure is all mine,’ he said, directing her to a lounge chair with a sweep of his hand. ‘It is not often that we cardinals get the opportunity to dine with the people who really matter. Usually it’s politicians and industrialists. Very boring.’ He smiled urbanely. ‘I have taken the liberty of opening a bottle of Krug.’ Petroni did not have to ask whether or not his guest drank wine; he already had a report on Allegra and Giovanni’s Friday night activities from his secretary. ‘Nineteen sixty-four, I think you will find it was a very good year.’
Allegra would have given anything to trade the fine crystal flute for the heavy glasses and carafe of equally rough wine La Pizzeria Milano reserved for impoverished students, and she wished Giovanni were here. He would have handled these irritating formalities with ease.
‘Salute!’
‘ Salute, Eminence,’ Allegra responded.
‘Have you been given your results yet?’
‘Not yet, Eminence. I expect we will know in the next day or so.’
‘Well, I’m probably not supposed to tell you, but I have an advance copy. You have done very well, Allegra.’ He used her first name easily, as if they had known each other for a very long time. ‘But I will keep you in suspense until after dinner.’
Allegra followed him into the sumptuous dining room. The wallpaper here was crimson. A large gold and crystal chandelier hung from a ceiling covered in frescos of various scenes of the historic centre of Milano. Just two places were set on either side of the huge mahogany dining table. The other chairs that Allegra assumed often seated politicians and captains of industry lined the walls, all of them richly embroidered in gold and red with the Cardinal’s coat of arms. Petroni graciously held her chair out so she could sit.
Petroni’s chef, who appeared to Allegra to be rather more agreeable than the nun who had greeted her, appeared with the entree. Baccala con i ceci – salt cod with chickpeas.
‘I hope you don’t mind but I’ve kept the meal simple. Sister Maria is preparing one of her oldest recipes. Cotolette alla Pontremolese – veal cutlets with garlic and capers.’
Allegra found herself wondering what the Cardinal might eat when the menu wasn’t simple.
‘And to go with it, a 1966 Chateau Margaux. I think one of the more elegant of the Appellation Medoc,’ he said, pouring from the crystal decanter in which the rare vintage had been allowed to breathe.
‘I’m not used to such fine wine, Eminence. We students in Milano tend to appreciate the cheap and cheerful,’ Allegra said, her remarks designed to needle Petroni’s arrogance, although she knew she would have to be careful. He was a dangerous man.