Mazzare paused. The Garden Room was utterly silent until he resumed. “The parallels to what we debate today are startling: the Church is in dire need of a Good Samaritan, but recoils when that assistance arrives in the person of Gustav Vasa, an enemy. Who, at this moment, could not only make us the beneficiaries of his kindness, but in so doing, perform a Christ-like act that would forever change the assumptions of antagonism that have existed between the two of us. God is providing both parties with a unique opportunity to grow in grace; all that remains to be seen is if we will embrace it.”
If, as Sharon thought, Wadding was formulating an objection, Mazzare was too quick for him. “Our first response to this perspective is doubt and skepticism: we are ready to think, ‘Gustav would only help us out of his own pride, only to indebt us.’ But that suspicion flies in the face of logic. If it wanted to, the USE could undo the Roman Church this very moment, simply by giving the forces in this villa the same orders that Borja has given to his assassins. Or, even simpler, Gustav could have ordered the ambassadora to turn the pope and his party over to the nearest noble family that was willing to have them.” Mazzare paused and looked around the room. “Of course, one wonders if the lords and ladies of this Serene Republic might fail the pope, just as the priest and the temple official failed their fellow Jew in the parable. Or, to put it another way, would the local aristocracy take the risks and be as steadfast as have the members of this USE embassy? With Borja’s power growing in Italy, and noble houses unwilling to displease the new order in Rome, I am not not at all sure they would.
“And let us not forget that without the help of this Good-and yes, Protestant-Samaritan, the Church’s present wounds could well prove mortal to not only its pope and its flock, but to the very basis of its authority. I do not exaggerate: consider the assured sequence of events if the rightful pope is lost. Borja refills the Consistory and forces it to name him the successor. He will be called pope, and believed to be so by the flock-which does not know that their good and true shepherd was murdered in a hidden place. And so they shall follow Borja-but to what end and what outcome? Will God provide an unlawful pope with infallibility in matters of faith and morals? Can he declare things bound, or loosed, in both Heaven and on Earth? And if not, then what power do the sacraments have? Are the new priests he illicitly ordains-and sends to preach bloody intolerance across Christendom-truly priests? And how is such damage to be undone, particularly when the Inquisition becomes the new model and modus operandi of the Roman Church?”
Mazzare looked up from under dark brows. “If the Church rejects the help of the USE, it must anticipate a future in which its name becomes an object of acrid hate upon every tongue. All Christendom will know and remember that, at this pivotal moment, our Church became an abattoir, that under Borja, it savagely corrupted the Gospels of love and hope to serve as twisted vindications for untold massacres, persecutions, and pogroms.”
Sharon now understood why Mazzare had not spoken during Wadding’s presentation: his sole objective had been to assure an uninterrupted space in which to summon forth this tidal wave of teetering cause-and-effect dominoes that were poised to fall one after the other in a tumbling chaos of culture-crushing consequences.
“Can we, in good conscience, refuse our non-Catholic brothers the opportunity to become our Good Samaritans, to reach out to us in this dark and dangerous hour? And if they do so, does it not signify that they deserve our love for all the days to come? For, in addition to being our rescuers, they will have shown that they, too, truly aspire to be Christ-like. And once joined by the undeniable proof of our common aspiration, by what reason would we resist the notion that the time is ripe for greater toleration among all Christ’s children?
“But these Good Samaritans cannot help us unless we are strong enough to admit our weakness and need, cannot save us unless we give them the chance to embody the very grace we are trying to preserve.”
Wadding stood without waiting for Vitelleschi to recognize him. “If you give the Protestants that chance, I say they will fail. And unless you are privy to God’s Will yourself, Cardinal Mazzare, you must at least admit that the Protestants may fail. That is the nature of free will: no true test of virtue can have a guaranteed outcome. And if they fail, they will bring about not only their own spiritual downfall, but our terrestrial destruction.”
Mazzare nodded. “That is true. And if they do fail and thus bring down the pillars of the temple, then let us trust that the Lord Our God will raise up His Church once again, just as He did His Son. But if they do not fail-tell me, Cardinal Wadding: how many millions, possibly billions, of lives might our act of hope save, on this and all future days? To risk such a choice is also to keep faith with what Christ tells us: that hope is second only to love- and so, to lose hope, is the greatest sin of all.”
Mazzare waited for Wadding to respond, but the Irishman said nothing. Mazzare turned toward Vitelleschi. “In my century, it was said that people tend to live up to-or down to-your expectations of them. If you expect them to transcend temptations and adversities, they tend to do so. If you presume they will fail, likewise, they will not disappoint your sad prediction.”
Vitelleschi’s eyes were like chips of obsidian. “So to summarize your closing remarks, Cardinal Mazzare, you would have us put our hope in the ‘good nature’ of Protestants? Of those who ‘protested’ and separated themselves from God’s Church?”
“No: I would have us put our hope in God. Because it is still He who moves within the good men who raise up their voices to Him in churches other than ours. They, too, have taken the indelible impress of their Creator’s grace, so strong is its power. And so I say, yes, have faith that they will show us the grace they have learned from Him, just as the Good Samaritan showed grace to the beaten Jew. In doing so, we are not putting our faith in any mortal man, but in the power and love of God to touch all those who honor him, regardless of the different ways in which that honor is shown.” Mazzare folded his hands and sat.
Vitelleschi rose slowly, staring back and forth between Mazzare and Wadding with an almost haunted look on his face. Then he swallowed, raised his chin, and declared: “These proceedings are concluded. Beginning tomorrow, I will consult with our Holy Father to determine how the Church will proceed in relation to the recommendations and counsel offered by the advocates. It is our intent to deliver a statement of-”
A ragged roar of muskets, coming mostly from the southern side of the villa, shocked Vitelleschi to silence- and Ruy into motion. “Gather the priests into our chambers,” he ordered Sharon, “and keep them together. Your Eminences, it is well you finished your debate this evening.”
“Why?” croaked Cardinal Barberini out of a dry throat.
“Because,” answered Ruy as he raced from the room and toward the nearest duty station of the villa’s security detachment, “it is unclear how many of us will be left alive in the morning.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
As the dirigible came within thirty feet of the water, the surface breezes started playing with its trim. Virgilio, peering out over the front of the gondola, gauged the range, the rate of descent, and the distance to the water itself. He gave a thumb’s-up.
Standing at the taffrail, Miro returned the sign, turned and announced, “Prepare to board the airship.”
Standing alongside the Atropos’ mizzen mast-its yard lowered to the deck to provide clear space abaft-Harry Lefferts moved forward to the boarding lines and the primitive bosun’s chair they had rigged on them. Although the only gear he was wearing was his combat load and simple, black clothes, the lines still sagged significantly when he put his weight into the chair, which was also part climbing harness. Virgilio responded by juicing the airship’s burner a little bit more.
That tiny increase in lift minimized the slack in the line, and Harry drew himself arm-over-arm to the dirigible, now thirty feet astern of the Atropos and only twenty feet above the gentle, lightless swells of the Mediterranean.
The rest of the team went up similarly: Sean Connal, then Turlough Eubank, then one of Thomas North’s Hibernians-the only one that had been left behind with the boats.
Miro watched the chair come down for him. He glanced around the deck; Aurelio was beside him, the same worried look on his face that he had been wearing since they left the Illa dels Conill.
“Don Estuban, did you have to board the airship in such a-a complicated fashion?”
Miro smiled. Aurelio had tactfully used the word “complicated” but had really meant “hazardous.” “Yes,” he assured the Piombinese captain, “we had to do it this way. Inflating the balloon fully at sea is not easily or quickly done at night, so it was safer and faster to have it minimally inflated while we were still moored near land. But then, while we towed her, we had to keep as much weight-meaning us-out of the gondola to save fuel.”
Aurelio looked at the airship with trepidation. “If you say so, Don Estuban.”
