Pandora's Ark

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Before the election the cardinals hear two sermons: one before entering the conclave, the other once they are inside the Sistine Chapel. The sermons are basically intended to spell out the current state of the Church, and to further suggest the qualities necessary for a pope to possess at that particular time.

Over the past few days leading up to the conclave, Cardinal Angullo had worked his silver tongue and once again garnered the favors of those who had once gravitated away from his camp back into his pull, placing himself as a favorite within the Preferiti alongside Cardinal Vessucci.

As the first sermon was coming to an end, Cardinal Angullo viewed Cardinal Vessucci with a long and calculating look. The cardinal was kneeling with his hands tented in prayer with an onyx-beaded rosary and silver crucifix dangling from his fingers, the crucifix reflecting a diamond spangle of light whenever it spun pendulously from side to side.

Closing his eyes and tenting his fingers in his own sense of prayer, Cardinal Angullo went back to his own entreaty to God, his lips moving wordlessly until the final moment of the Eucharist.

At noontime, on a day with a uniform blue sky and white-hot sun, the cardinals gathered in the Pauline Chapel of the Palace of the Vatican, and then proceeded to the Sistine Chapel singing “Veni Creator Spiritus.”

Cardinal Vessucci was at the head of the procession, singing in chorus. Behind him Cardinal Angullo also sang and did so in accord, the overall melody between the cardinals sounding more like a harmonious Gregorian chant.

Once inside the Sistine Chapel, the cardinals took an oath to observe the measures set down by the apostolic constitutions that upon election, should he be elected, understand that his optimum duty was to protect the liberty of the Holy See; disregard the instructions of secular authorities on voting; and above all else, maintain secrecy.

In keeping with age-old practices, the Cardinal Dean, the president of the College of Cardinals, then read the oath out loud in order of precedence, while the other cardinal electors stated — while touching the Gospels — that they promise, pledge and swear to uphold the policies of the Church.

Cardinal Angullo was most vociferous.

After the cardinals had taken the oath, the Master of the Papal Liturgical Celebrations then ordered everyone other than the cardinals and conclave participants to leave the Chapel, a very slow progression as if in mourning, leaving behind the cardinals, the Master of the Papal Liturgical Celebrations, and an ecclesiastic designated by the Congregations prior to the commencement of the election to make a speech concerning the problems facing the Church, and once more on the qualities the new pope needed to possess.

The ecclesiastic was an aged old man with deeply wizened crow’s feet who hunched inwardly at the shoulders, his gray eyes held innumerable intelligence, and the tone of his voice remained honey smooth as he spoke words learned verbatim from script.

As he spoke Cardinal Angullo decided that he had all the qualities and tools required, had all the solutions to the problems plaguing the Church, ticking them off in his mind as the Vatican’s new savior. Cardinal Vessucci, on the other hand, appeared studious and rapt, hinging on the ecclesiastic’s every word, imbibing everything he said.

When the ecclesiastic finished, he moved with a shuffling gait beyond the Chapel doors, leaving behind the Master of the Papal Liturgical Celebrations to stand sentinel. Once the cardinals of the conclave were ready to proceed, the Master of the Papal Liturgical Celebrations closed the door before them and wrapped a chain with a papal seal on its lock around the door handles from the opposite side, locking the cardinals within the Sistine Chapel.

The click of the lock resonated throughout the chapel in echoing cadence, like the gunshot sound of finality, the galvanizing shot marking the start of the procedure of electing a new pope.

In voting, the cardinals use simple note cards for ballots with the words "I elect as Supreme Pontiff ___" printed on them, the open space to be filled in with the name of the elector’s choosing.

By afternoon the first ballot was held. However, no one garnered enough votes to win the pontifical seat, including Angullo or Vessucci, neither one getting the required two-thirds of the assembly’s vote to win the papal throne. How much was received by Angullo, Vessucci or the other two cardinals of the Preferiti remained unknown.

It was also the only ballot of the day.

On the subsequent morning, as a battleship-gray sky threatened to open with torrential rain, the conclave continued with two additional votes, both failing to come to a clear and decisive decision as to who should lead the Church.

As each day passed, Bonasero Vessucci was beginning to lose hope. Whereas Cardinal Angullo smiled with all the pompous glory of a victor by the way the edges of his lips curled with the smug and anticipatory grin of someone who believed that the throne was well within his grasp. With every passing ballot things were beginning to look very bleak, whereas things were starting to look golden for Cardinal Angullo.

During the day’s recess between the second ballot and the beginning of the third ballot, Cardinal Bonasero Vessucci stood alone, musing, his eyes obviously detached from the moment until Cardinal Angullo invaded his space.

“Bonasero,” he said.

Vessucci’s eyes settled on the cardinal who held a smile. “It’s becoming quite obvious that the throne is under the strong union of those who wish to see the most qualified to receive the papal station.”

“Isn’t that always the way?”

Angullo leaned forward, his smile widening, but marginally — more of a vindictive smirk than a gentle grin of congeniality. “Yes,” he finally said. “But it appears that your camp has weakened significantly over the past few days. Since you were the alleged lead in the Preferiti, then the casted votes should have marked you as the pontiff within the first three ballots. That means, my Dear Cardinal, that something else is in the wind, wouldn’t you agree? People are perhaps considering other factors.”

“Like you perhaps?”

Angullo closed his eyes and gave a small tilt of his chin in acknowledgement. “Perhaps,” he said. “But I am the Vatican secretary of state, which would serve others well if they should cast their votes on my behalf.”

“So you offered favors to those in order to bolster your camp?”

“No. Never. People see that I am a man of position. And who does not want to be in the same circle as a man of position? No, Bonasero. People by nature are self-centered, even if it’s to the smallest degree. They’re ambitious and they have the need, and the right, to excel to the next level. People, Bonasero, like to be in a circle with those in power, those within position, those who can help promote.” And then: “Whose circle are you in?”

Bonasero Vessucci simply stared at him. Not a glare, just a studious look in which he was seeing Angullo as a man of true Machiavellian conviction.

“I see,” he finally answered. “But keep in mind, Giuseppe, that it takes two-thirds of the votes to secure the position. There are others in the Preferiti whose votes may be diluting the overall percentage. It doesn’t necessarily mean that you, I, or anyone else in the Preferiti has an advantage over the other. It simply means patience should be an exhibited virtue.”

“An exhibited virtue,” he repeated. His smile broadened. “Yes, Bonasero, exhibit your virtue should it give you comfort.” He then stood back and smiled in a way that was truly Machiavellian in nature by the simple curvature of his lips.

“Don’t cast your shadow upon the papal throne yet, Giuseppe. The votes may not be in your favor.”

“Perhaps not,” he said. He then backed off, turned, and began to walk away. “But then again,” he added over his shoulder, “perhaps they are.”