went crazy. He sent an encyclical letter to all branches of the Brotherhood declaring the Pope an apostate who had betrayed the faith of Christ.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Assefa broke in. ‘Surely this Brotherhood has never recognized the authority of the Pope. What difference would it make, whatever the Holy Father said?’

Francesca frowned.

‘It’s not that simple, Father. At the very beginning, the Brotherhood was entirely at odds with the Church. But in time, as the Church grew more powerful, they came to see it as the public expression of Christianity, designed for the world at large, while the Brotherhood held the truth. The Church was the shell, while the Brotherhood was the kernel. But now Migliau wants to change all that. He says the Pope has become Antichrist and that he, Migliau, is the true Pope, sent by God to unite the inward and the outward realms of faith. He is quite mad, you see. I think he would consider the Pope’s solution for Lebanon as a final betrayal. He might try to upset the plan in some way.’

‘I think he has started.’ Assefa explained what he and Patrick knew of Migliau’s disappearance. The others listened in silence. Even if they could not understand why the cardinal had chosen to vanish, it was clear that his absence was not a coincidence, but a prelude to something more dramatic.

You said you knew what Passover was,’ prompted Boberto. Assefa nodded.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I think so. I can’t tell you what they intend to do. But I think I can tell you when and where.’

He paused.

‘Can you tell me if there has been anything in the papers about a conference at the Vatican tomorrow?’

O’Malley nodded.

‘Yes, of course. About three days ago. It had been kept quiet until then in case of trouble. Something about the Middle East. I think the Holy Father is going to meet with religious leaders from different countries. It wasn’t described as anything very important.’

Assefa nodded.

‘No, but it is part of the Holy Father’s plan for peace negotiations. The meeting tomorrow will be the first of a series of public conferences designed to pave the way for his mission. That’s not how it will be presented, of course. Nothing will be said about Lebanon or any of the other projects, not even his hopes or fears or dreams. This will simply be a summit of Christian and Muslim leaders organized by the Secretariat for Non-Christian Beligions.

‘There will be the Pope himself, the cardinals representing the Secretariats for Non-Christian Beligions and the Promotion of Christian Unity, bishops from Catholic dioceses throughout the Middle East, patriarchs of the Greek Catholic churches, representatives of the Maronite, Coptic, Armenian and Assyrian Christian communities, Muslim shaykhs from the Azhar University in Cairo, Saudi ulama from Mecca and Medina, Ismaili leaders from Bombay and East Africa, and a Shi’ite mujtahid from Lebanon.

‘At the opening ceremony, Mr MacMaolain will be present, along with the President of Egypt and ambassadors from several Muslim states.’

‘Did you say the President of Egypt? That wasn’t in any of the papers.’ O’Malley’s face bore a look of deep concern. Assefa nodded.

‘Do you remember the papyrus I showed you this

morning?’ asked the Irishman, turning to Patrick, who was seated on his left. ‘Do you recall what Simon the Levite said about Egypt?’

Patrick nodded numbly.

‘Well man, come on, what did he say?’

‘ “If any still be alive ... he shall go unto Egypt, which is Babylon, that he may strike down Pharaoh ...” I... I can’t remember the rest.’

‘ “And that shall be the true Passover, that God’s chosen people shall pass out of the land of Egypt and come into the Land of the Promise ... Egypt shall fall, and Babylon, all them that have scattered the children of God among the nations.” I know the text well, Patrick. It’s a good many times I’ve read it now. But, by God, it never made as much sense to me before as it does this instant.’

There was a shocked silence as the meaning of the ancient words became clear. Simon and John and all the dispossessed of Jerusalem would have their revenge. A different pharaoh in a different age, yet perfect somehow for such a vengeance: the ruler of Egypt struck down side by side with the man who had inherited the mantle of the old Roman emperors. And struck down, for that matter, in Rome itself, the Babylon of so many apocalypses.

‘Is there anything more we should know?’ O’Malley asked at last, his tone subdued and hesitant for the first time since Patrick and Assefa had met him.

Assefa nodded.

‘Yes. Two things. First, the conference is only going to last two days. Press coverage has been kept deliberately low-key. Only the more important agencies and correspondents have been invited to be there. By the time hostile elements in Iran or Libya or Egypt can so much as react, the last session will have finished and the delegates will be on their way

home. And the Holy Father will have won a major public relations success. He will be able to say that he has sown the seeds of Muslim-Christian unity, wiping out centuries of mutual distrust and bigotry in forty-eight hours. Whatever the fundamentalists on either side will say, he will have made a gesture for peace. Since Gorbachev came to power, the value of such gestures in international affairs has become very great.’

He fell silent.

‘You said there were two things.’

Assefa hesitated.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Two things. The second is this. At ten o’clock tomorrow morning, a special papal audience will be held in the Apostolic Palace, in the Sala Clementina. All the high-ranking delegates will be there, along with the Irish and Egyptian presidents and members of the Curia who will not be present at the actual conference. But the highlight of the audience will be an event which His Holiness hopes will win the hearts of men and women throughout the world.’

He paused and closed his eyes for a moment.

‘After he has greeted the dignitaries and seated them round the chamber, the Pope will welcome a party of orphans selected from every country of Europe and the Middle East, but chiefly from Italy and Egypt. Christian children and Muslim children, the hope of a new generation.’

Assefa looked at the others one by one.

‘Do you understand what I am saying?’ he whispered. ‘Tomorrow morning, the Pope will give his blessing to over one hundred children.’

No one said a word. From the street below, a faint sound of feet and voices and engines rose up to them, a thousand miles away, empty, without meaning. Assefa’s final words seemed to echo and re-echo around the little room, filling it until there was space for nothing else.

Dermot O’Malley broke the silence. He sat in his chair without moving, listening to the echo wipe away the world outside.

‘ “And it came to pass,”’ he said in a flat voice from which all emotion had gone,’ “that at midnight the Lord smote all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, from the firstborn of Pharaoh that sat on his throne unto the firstborn of the captive that was in the dungeon.” ‘

But Patrick did not hear him. He sat rigid in his chair, staring ahead as though he saw something there in the dying afternoon light, a television screen, red and blue lights flashing, a child’s face stained with blood, small teeth on bloodless lips, dead eyes, bodies like dolls, scattered across a patterned marble floor.

FORTY-EIGHT

They were on the terrace at the rear of the apartment. O’Malley had gone with Assefa to the Vatican. Roberto was on his way to deliver sealed letters to several members of the government and the judiciary. There seemed to be nothing for either Patrick or Francesca to do but wait.

The last light had almost faded from the sky. Directly opposite, in the grey dome of Sant’ Andrea della Valle, a pair of kestrels were nesting. As they flew back and forth, their wings caught fire in a strip of sunlight that lay slantwise across the back of the dome.

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