A short while later Patrick O’Hara’s fears were realised.
‘Absolutely out of the question, Bishop O’Hara!’
Cardinal Monetti’s eyes blazed and his face suddenly matched the colour of the scarlet zucchetto that partly covered his bald head.
‘Even if those allegations against Cardinal Petroni were true, which I very much doubt, the Holy Spirit decides this election and I will certainly not be an agent provocateur on yours or anyone else’s behalf.’ Cardinal Monetti turned to David. He reminded Allegra of a ferocious terrier.
‘I regret that I cannot be of greater assistance, Dr Kaufmann, although I must confess to being somewhat confused as to why a possible future Prime Minister of Israel would allow himself to become so closely involved with such a tawdry allegation. If any word of this ever got out,’ he said pointedly, ‘it could cost you your election.’
‘My decision to come over here today is guided by one thing and one thing only,’ David replied evenly. ‘The truth. To be blunt, Eminence, the Catholic Church has covered this sort of thing up for far too long and in many cases the truth has run a bad second to Church image and politics. That said, I respect your decision. I would ask that you respect mine.’
‘Father Thomas will show you out,’ Cardinal Monetti replied coolly. ‘If you will excuse me, I have a conclave to attend to.’
‘Where did they find him?’ Tom asked as, to the consternation of their bodyguards, they decided to join the crowd that had gathered in St Peter’s Square in the hope of seeing white smoke issue from the Sistine Chapel chimney.
Giovanni left the Sistine Chapel and retired to his room for a session of prayer in the break between votes. Initially he had been somewhat bemused, but as his name was read out an astonishing forty-two times he had become at first concerned, and then alarmed. He sank to his knees, his mind racing. What if they elected him? It was unthinkable. He consoled himself with the thought that Petroni had done as well as he was going to and the next ballot would see either of his friends Rodriguez Medici or Daniel Thuku come through. Either, he knew, would make an outstanding Pope.
Cardinal Thuku was chatting quietly with some of the cardinals from the African bloc. ‘I know him well, my friend, he has a brilliant mind and a gentle heart. As to the other question, how much notice should we take of media releases that are timed to be issued the day before the conclave?’
On the other side of the room Rodriguez Medici was also in quiet conversation with some of his Asian colleagues. Some of the Italian bloc were listening quietly to Salvatore Bruno.
A short while later the crowd in St Peter’s Square erupted as great clouds of white smoke poured out of the Sistine Chapel chimney.
‘My God, David,’ Allegra exclaimed, grabbing David’s arm. ‘They’ve reached a decision! Please God, don’t let it be Petroni!’ It was an entreaty to a God she had not spoken with for a long time.
Inside the Sistine Chapel the Camerlengo had announced the results of the third ballot.
‘Cardinal Rodriguez Medici, one vote.’
Giovanni had stuck to his man to the last.
‘Cardinal Lorenzo Petroni, twelve votes.’
‘Cardinal Giovanni Donelli, one hundred and two votes.’
Giovanni felt utterly bewildered. Cardinal Salvatore Bruno was beaming at him from the other side of the chapel. As the Dean of the College of Cardinals approached down the centre aisle in the chapel, the words of Giovanni’s old mentor flooded back to him: ‘If they offer you the Keys to St Peter, accept. It will be for a reason.’
‘Do you accept your canonical election as supreme Pontiff?’ Giovanni heard the words in the distance and his reply caught in his throat.
‘Yes, I do,’ he said.
‘And by what name do you wish to be known?’
Without hesitation Giovanni replied, ‘John XXIV.’
The Master of Ceremonies joyfully threw in no fewer than six candles with the ballots and Rome’s Il Capo di Fuoco Vigiliare could have been forgiven for thinking Michelangelo’s priceless fresco was under threat as more white smoke belched out over the Piazza San Pietro. As the Cardinal Deacon came out onto the main balcony of St Peter’s and intoned the words Habemus papam, the packed square of St Peter’s erupted again.
‘We have a Pope! Pope John XXIV!’ At the mention of a successor to the much loved John XXIII of ‘ sono fa brutto ’ fame, the roar of the crowd reached a crescendo. When Allegra saw Giovanni step onto the balcony of St Peter’s her eyes filled with tears. Giovanni’s secretary Vittorio also wiped away a tear. His beloved Church, he knew, was in good hands as the warmth of Giovanni’s smile seemed to fill the square.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Roma
T he next day Pope John XXIV knelt in prayer in his private chapel, asking for guidance and support. The task he had been given was awesome and Giovanni felt very alone.
The Spirit smiled.
Getting to his feet and crossing himself he walked back towards his study on the third floor of the Apostolic Palace to find Vittorio waiting for him. The two worked well together and despite opposition from Cardinal Petroni, immediately after his election, Giovanni had promoted Vittorio to Monsignor and asked him to stay on in Rome as his private secretary.
‘Have the Israeli delegation confirmed for lunch?’ Giovanni asked. The momentous events of the past few days had taken up most of his attention, and he had only been able to meet privately with Allegra, David, Patrick and Tom Schweiker for a few minutes. Apart from the joy of catching up, those few minutes had been vital. The contents of the Omega Scroll were never far from his thoughts.
‘The Israeli delegation are confirmed for 12.30, Holiness, and the Papal Physician, Professor Martines, will be here to give you a medical at 11.30.’
Giovanni rolled his eyes and grinned. ‘Medical check-ups come with the territory, I suppose. Any fitter and I’d be dangerous, but you can ask Professor Martines if he would like to join us for lunch and I’d like you to be there, too. The Omega Scroll will become public soon enough.’
‘Thank you, Holiness.’ It would be a hallmark of Giovanni’s Papacy to include those closest to him as if they were family.
‘When would you like to see Cardinal Petroni?’
‘Let’s get that out of the way first, Vittorio,’ Giovanni said, his eyes clouding. ‘Have you read my notes on the Vatican Bank?’
‘I wasn’t sure if I should, Holiness. They’re in the safe.’
Giovanni smiled at the memory of Albino Luciani, a man who had taught him so much. ‘Neither of us is used to Vatican politics, Vittorio, but we will need to apply the same rules here as we did in Venice. It is important that you be across everything in here, so when you have time, bring yourself up to speed,’ Giovanni said gently. Almost to a word, Giovanni’s advice had echoed that which he’d received from Pope John Paul I. ‘Before you summon Cardinal Petroni, have the Commander of the Swiss Guard come to see me, please.’
‘Of course, Holiness, and when you get a moment, the Curial Cardinals have prepared a speech for you, outlining the direction for your Papacy. It’s on your desk.’
Giovanni smiled grimly. ‘I’m going to have to get used to this I suppose, Vittorio.’
‘You may wish to change it,’ Vittorio said. Having read it, Vittorio knew that he would.
Giovanni sat at his desk and read through the address the Curial Cardinals had prepared for him. ‘Important to continue the work of John Paul II… The Holy Church must resist the secularism and liberalism of modern society… To stick to the one true path… A beacon of light in the darkness of the modern age…’
Vittorio was right. A mish-mash of Curial cliches designed to keep the status quo. Giovannni suddenly felt the loneliness of leadership. At least Patrick was hanging around for a few days. He was a sounding board, a man in touch with the people and reality. Then Giovanni smiled as he had a sudden thought. Perhaps there were some small compensations that came with being elected Pontiff. The skills of the Patrick O’Haras of this world were invaluable. The College of Cardinals could do with those who would continue to stay in close touch with the faithful and now he had the power to do something about that.