The Psalter (43 page)

The milling group of Carabinieri officers spotted the speeding taxi simultaneously and jerked Berettas from holsters, holding them at the ready. The driver slammed on his brakes screeching to a stop. “
Per favore, signores
. This is as far as I go.” Del Carlo opened his door and tried to get out. Every gun aimed at him. The lieutenant stepped out on the other side, a hand raised, flashing his ID. “Moretti, GIS!” he shouted. Romano hopped out to help Del Carlo stand. The officers recognized the colonel and lowered their guns.

A uniformed major ran forward to meet the Del Carlo. “Are you crazy,
Colonelo
? You could’ve been shot.”

“Later,
Maggiore
. Who came through the gate today that shouldn’t be here?” Del Carlo held his aching ribs, half speaking and half grunting.

“No one sir. I assure you.”

“Think hard. Who did you not recognize, who’s out of place?”

“I need to look at the manifest,” the major said. They hurried to the guard shack and the major asked for the sign-in sheet. He scrolled his finger down the list. “These are all employees or contractors, people who come here every day.”

“Something must be out of place,” Del Carlo said.

The guard in the shack interrupted. “One man I’ve never seen before, but he had a company ID and works for one of our suppliers.”

“What did he look like?”

“Harmless really, elderly with a beard, but he was with a regular. He came to help deliver supplies to the canteen and cafeteria.”

“What’re they delivering?”

“Sodas. I thought it was a bit odd that they would send an old man to haul something as heavy as cans.”

“Where’re they from?” Del Carlo asked.

“Sir?”

“What nationality, what race?”

“I don’t know. Arab, maybe.”

Del Carlo gave orders to the Carabinieri major. “Notify the Swiss Guard and Vatican Police. Surround the Library, but don’t go in. There may be a bomb. I want a helicopter in the air, and ask the Swiss Guard Captain to meet me. And for God’s sake, find that truck!”

“But, sir,” the guard at the gate said, “they went to the Vatican Museum, to a storage room in the cafeteria.”

“That’s not where they went.” Turning to the major he said, “
Maggiore
, I need your car.”

“You’re not allowed in. This is Vatican City.”

Romano jumped in the driver’s seat. “It’s alright,
Maggiore
. They’re with me.”

The Swiss Guard Captain stood resplendent in his brilliant blue-and-gold striped traditional dress uniform and cape. He paced back and forth behind a semicircle of cars that surrounded the double red doors at the entrance to the Vatican Library. Romano negotiated the Carabinieri Alpha around the corner and stomped on the brakes, skidding to a stop just outside the barrier of Vatican
Gendermaria
police cars.

“I hope this is a real threat,” the captain said to Del Carlo as he eased out of the car. “I’m supposed to be at Saint Peter’s, leading the honor guard for His Holiness.”

Romano supported Del Carlo by an arm as he hobbled to the captain. The captain looked first at him then at Lieutenant Moretti’s battered face and the sling supporting his arm. “I thought you were in the hospital. You look like shit.”

“Early release,” Del Carlo said. “The men who did this to us are in the Library, Captain.”

“The explosion in Rome. You think they’re going to do the same thing here?”

“I’m positive.”

The Swiss Captain spoke into his radio. “Anything unusual, corporal?” He pressed on the earbud in his ear, listening. “I just talked to the control room. They monitor every part of the Library through the video cameras. There’s no one except a few priests. Everyone has left for the mass at Saint Peter’s.”

“Who’s in my office?” Romano asked the captain.

He spoke again into the radio. “Only the cardinal’s secretary, Father Sabella.”

Romano bolted through a space between two police cars and up the stone steps. He opened the red door and disappeared inside while the Swiss captain, Del Carlo, and the guards stared in shock.

“Damn,” Del Carlo grunted and trotted after him.

Romano bounded up the stairs to the second level and sprinted down the hall to the offices of the cardinal and prefect, his own offices. Turning the corner, Father Sabella was pulling the door closed. A briefcase sat on the floor by his foot. Spotting Romano, he grabbed the case and fled in the opposite direction. Romano pumped his arms, rising on the balls of his feet in an all-out sprint, and dove, tackling the priest. The two slid down the marble floor as though they were on a rain-slicked football field.

“Let me go,” Sabella bellowed, trying to shake free. But Romano held him down by his shoulders.

Del Carlo, Moretti, and the Swiss Guard Captain, followed by Vatican police, rounded the corner, their mouths open and eyes locked on the two priests struggling. The captain shouted, “Father Romano, what’re you doing?”

“Open the briefcase.”

“No,” Sabella said. “It’s mine. You have no right!”

“Open it, Captain,” Romano said, glaring into Sabella’s dark eyes.

Sliding two buttons, the captain opened the cover and pulled out an ancient leather-bound book, and held it up. Romano grabbed Sabella by his lapels and heaved him to his feet. Turning to the Swiss captain he ordered, “Hold him.” Sabella tried to jerk away, but Romano gripped his jacket, pulling his face close. “You did this, didn’t you?” Two guards seized Sabella by his arms.

The captain handed the book to the paleographer and Romano flipped open the cover to the first page. He needed only a glance to realize what he held. “This is the stolen Psalter.”

Del Carlo faced Sabella, pondering his approach in microseconds. He recognized the haughty defiance in the priest’s countenance. “Do you want to confess something, Father? Perhaps your involvement in Father Mackey’s murder?”

“You have no authority here. We have our own laws in Vatican City.”

Romano held the Psalter in front of Sabella’s face. “You killed a brother, a man of God like yourself.”

“They weren’t supposed to kill him, only take the book. That’s all I wanted.” His eyes grew wild and he curled his lip at the co-prefect. “We tried to deal with you. You stole everything: land, authority, even the right to the title of pope. For seven hundred years we thought we could make you see reason, but you swindled us with rank forgeries. We Melkites were the original Christians, and you called us names and stole the church from us with lies.”

Romano glowered at Sabella. “Who’s in this with you?”

“You and Minissi and Mackey. Yes, even him. This is your fault. You think I didn’t know what you were doing, were about to do? You dare to question the Holy Scriptures by publishing more lies? I’ll stop you once and for all.”

“How?”

Sabella stared straight ahead, refusing to answer.

“I said, how?”

“I couldn’t discover where you’re finding these Psalters, but I’ll make sure they never get out again. By the time you figure out where they’ve gone, it’ll be too late.”

“We know your plan, Father,” Del Carlo said.

“You understand nothing.”

“The Swiss Guard are searching the Library as we speak. You planned to burn it down, didn’t you?”

Sabella’s arrogance turned to desperation. “Get out while you can.”

“Brother, why would you destroy the Holy Library?”

“If thine hand offend thee, cut it off. The Gospels can be duplicated. But no more forgeries will escape this wicked place. I’ll make sure of that even if I have to destroy everything.”

“You would burn the Library for the sake of a few books?”

“It’s done. I tried to discover where you found these palimpsests. Oh yes, I know it all. You think you were clever and Cardinal Minissi with his secret closet, gone all gone.”

A crackle squawked from the Swiss captain’s earpiece. “Are you sure? Did you check every room? Then seal the building.”

“What is it Captain?” Del Carlo asked.

“The Library is clear. No sign of anyone, no explosives, and no bombs.”

“That can’t be,” Sabella said, unbelieving. “I don’t believe you, you’re lying. I just….”

“Just saw them? I’m sorry to disappoint you, Father,” the Swiss captain said. “I’m sure they’re somewhere, but they’re not here.”

Del Carlo turned to Romano. “Are any rooms not monitored?”

“Of course. The cardinal’s office.”

They rushed to the Administration offices, led by Romano, who dashed into Minissi’s office. He pushed on the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, and the wall swiveled open. The closet’s shelves had been emptied, but the
Protector of the Vatican Library
lay bound and gagged on the floor.

Romano bent and untied the gag. “It’s alright, Eminence,” the co-prefect said. “We caught Father Sabella. I would have never have guessed, an Italian priest in league with Arabs.”

“Sabella is not Italian, he’s Lebanese. He came to us from the Middle Eastern Melkites who split from the church in the fifth century. I hired him because he’s an expert in Aramaic.”

Romano reassured Minissi, “It’s under control. We know all about the Library.”

“You fools,” Minissi said, his throat dry from the gag. “Get to Saint Peter’s.”

“But Eminence,” Romano worked on the knot that bound the cardinal’s hands. “The library is safe, and we’ll get the Psalters back.”

“Forget the Library, Michael. Remember the prophecies of Fatima and Malachy. Today is the day of
penance
. They’re after His Holiness. Save my friend!”

The microphone crackled again in the Swiss captain’s ear. “They’ve located the truck behind Saint Peter’s abandoned, but the Psalters are inside.”

“Thank God,” Romano said.

“But the intruders are nowhere to be found.”

40
Decretals of Isidore Mercator

Pope Leo had indeed hardened his heart against Anastasius. He was infuriated the excommunicated cardinal stayed outside of his reach, too distant to feel the humiliation he would heap on him. So Leo convened a synod to anathemize Anastasius. Excommunications might be pronounced but also removed by any bishop. However, anathemas were the ultimate punishment, complete separation from the church, and could only be meted out by the Pope.

“For what reason do you anathemize Cardinal Anastasius?” Bishop Arsenius interrupted Benedict’s list of infractions.

Pope Leo sat on the wooden chair of the Apostle in the lavishly reconstructed basilica of Saint Peter, glowering at the Imperial
missi
. “If you would listen, Bishop, instead of interfering you might hear the charges against your nephew.”

Arsenius started to respond, but an agitated Johanna cut him off. “With all due respect, Holiness, we’ve listened to these accusations and they’re the same ones for which Anastasius was already punished. Do you plan to indict him twice?”

“I have proposed nothing yet. We are pronouncing his transgressions against the church. At least, we’re trying.”

“I submit that Anastasius has been charged and sentenced. Can a man be punished over and over for a single offense? He abandoned his basilica and I say for good reason, for there are those in Rome who plot against him. Yet neither the church nor the nobles give their protection. Nevertheless, he’s been excommunicated for his absence. So what’s his latest foul deed?”

Leo rose from the wooden throne, his face bright red. “He refuses to return to Rome and accept his punishment.”

Arsenius placed his hand on Johanna’s shoulder and spoke in a low voice, “This is not the time or place…”

Johanna jerked away, the bit in her teeth. “You’ve stripped him of his church and denied him communion, and he has accepted your will. What law says he has to live in the Diocese of Rome?”

“I say so!”

“By what authority? This council must first decide whether canon law was broken, some new infraction. Only then can judgment be passed.”

“By this authority.” Leo held a codex high over his head.

“I know the law better than any here. Tell me which of the canons he violated.”

“The
Decretals of Bishop Isidore Mercator
! This is the law that gives me the absolute license over all.”

“I recall no such Bishop Mercator. You say these
Decretals
are his? Why do we not know this book?” Johanna faced the assembled cardinals. “Who among you knows this book or the Bishop?” The cardinals looked at one another, dumbfounded, for no one had ever heard of either the cleric or his
Decretals
.

“Do you call me liar, Johannes Anglicus?”

“Far from it Holiness. However, I fear that you aim to pass judgment based on letters and laws you may believe to be true. But before you do, would it not be prudent to let scholars examine them to see if they’re genuine?”

“I’ve examined the contents and I say they are!” Leo placed the purple cope around his neck and sat on Peter’s throne, beginning to recite while twelve cardinal priests lit black candles.

“The council has not decided,” Johanna said.

“The council advises and I decide, only I. You’d be wise to remember it, Englishman.” The Pope read from a parchment page. “We deprive Anastasius, nephew of Arsenius, himself and all accomplices and all his abettors of the Communion of the body and blood of our Lord…”

“This isn’t right! You can’t do this thing!” Johanna shouted.

“…we declare him excommunicated and anathemized and we judge him condemned to eternal fire with Satan and all his angels and the reprobate…”

Bishop Arsenius tried to put a halt to the pronouncement. “In the name of the Emperor, I protest!”

“…we deliver him to Satan to mortify his body, that his soul may be saved on the Day of Judgment.”

Twelve cardinal priests chanted, “fiat, fiat, fiat, let it be done,” and flung their black candles to the ground. Leo marched into the
sanctum santorum
and yanked a drape from the wall. A new fresco had been painted, depicting Jesus receiving the kiss of betrayal from Judas.

Johanna recoiled at Judas’ face. The likeness was Anastasius’. Her knees buckled and she fell to the floor, unconscious. Only Arsenius knelt at her side to hold her head off the cold stone. The assembled cardinals watched, mortified, but feared to help their beloved brother.