When he reached the water, a full moon shimmered off it as though it were a sheet of mirrored glass. Father Tolbert spotted Bracciano Castle, now a half mile away. Trevigano, on the other side of the lake, stood sentry against the hills in back of the village, scattered lights visible in the hillside.
The crunching of brush and flickering flashlight beams moved closer. Father Tolbert ran along the shore, quickly putting distance between him and his pursuers, something he knew wouldn’t last long. As soon as they picked up his trail, they’d close in fast.
Just as the thought streaked through his mind, Father Tolbert heard faint voices, looked back and saw two roving lights stopped on the shore.
He increased his speed, pumping his arms and sore legs as hard as he could. The lights behind him quickly bounced in his direction.
“There he is!” one of the men shouted.
Father Tolbert tried to move faster, but couldn’t. The lights closed in, and he could make out the forms of two shadowed bodies running hard after him. Panicked, he bumped into something hard and hit the ground, his face plowing into a mud puddle. The priest jumped to his feet and looked down. A boat!
Father Tolbert took a few steps back, sprinted forward, and pushed the rowboat out into the water. The two men chasing him were in full view, both lean and athletic. He jumped into the boat. They spotted him and dove into the water, splashing wildly, swimming after him.
Father Tolbert grabbed the oars and rowed, his arms straining, struggling at the unfamiliar effort. He spotted the flashlights, still in the swimmers’ hands, bouncing up and down like fireflies, getting closer by the stroke, an eerie sight in the darkness.
Father Tolbert found a rhythm and pulled away. The flashlights disappeared and the boat rocked back and forth. One of the men pulled himself up on the side of the boat, with a knife in his teeth. He rolled over into the boat and snatched the blade from his mouth.
“Bastardo!” he bellowed. “Stop rowing or I’ll cut your throat!” Father Tolbert stopped. The man took a step forward. His partner swam up to the other side of the boat.
“Turn around,” the man with the knife ordered. “I’m going to tie you up.”
The priest turned, grabbed one of the oars and swung it back at the knife wielding Italian, knocking him over the side, his partner going down with him. Both men tried to pull themselves up.
Father Tolbert, his eyes glazed over with fury, beat them over the head again and again, until both bodies floated out of sight, and disappeared into the night.
Distraught, Father Tolbert collapsed, completely drained. He sprawled out in the middle of the boat, breathing hard, staring at the stars; loathing what he’d become. A menace to children, and now a murderer.
The tiny dinghy drifted aimlessly in the darkness for nearly an hour before the priest mustered enough strength to raise himself up. The lights of Trevigano were few, but still visible from the middle of the lake. He grabbed the oars, one now blood soaked and severely cracked, and rowed toward Trevigano, the effort to reach shore twice as difficult as before.
But the fear that once consumed him, was now replaced with a new determination to confess what he knew.
The longer he rowed, the greater his anger grew. I’ll put a stop to Cardinal Polletto.
Father Tolbert considered going straight to the Vatican hierarchy, but squashed the notion quickly. There was no way for him to know who at the Vatican worked for Cardinal Polletto and The Order. The cardinal’s people would be looking for him everywhere; at the Church and in Rome. Who can I tell and not get caught?
Less than a hundred yards from shore, he slowed down. There is one person. I…I must contact Samuel’s godfather, Robert Veil.
The boat reached land. Father Tolbert jumped into the water and pulled it all the way on shore, then looked out over the water. Quiet and still, Bracciano Lake was a blanket of serenity. No movement or sound except for the animal inhabitants in the woods, who chirped, hooted, and howled. A stranger is in our midst.
Feet as heavy as cinder blocks, Father Tolbert lumbered into the forest, dreading his decision to contact Robert Veil, knowing he’d have to confess his sins against Samuel, knowing it might cost him his life. It doesn’t matter, I’m ready to die.
The trees separating Trevignano from the lake were not nearly as dense as those on the other side, and Father Tolbert, cold and shivering, quickly found himself on a pitch-black road lined with empty bars and restaurants, closed for the night.
Trevignano, small and picturesque, almost hidden on the northern shores of Lake Bracciano, lay on a cliff at the end of a small bay; the secondary crater of an ancient volcano. The priest headed south and stayed close to the trees, where he could hide quickly if needed. He knew he was about thirty to forty kilometers from Rome, a walk that would take him deep into the following evening, less if he kept a steady pace.
He passed the last home in the small village, a large villa imbedded in the cliff. There was nobody in sight. He crossed to the opposite side of the street, where the brush offered better cover. Bracciano castle drew closer as he walked. Nervous, he kept a close eye out for any sign of Cardinal Polletto’s men. He was sure they wouldn’t expect him to come back by the castle, but erred on the side of caution, and stayed poised for the unexpected.
Father Tolbert heard the low rumble of an automobile coming his way, from Trevignano. He looked back and spotted two bright eyes steaming down the road he was traveling, quickly rolling in his direction.
He sprinted to the trees just off the lake. If it’s them, I’ll swim for it. I’ll have a better chance in the water. The beams from the headlights caught him as he stepped in the woods. He stopped, hid behind a tree and stooped low. The car slowed to a near stop. Father Tolbert eased toward the water.
“Father,” a voice called from the car, “do you need a ride?” Father Tolbert’s heart raced. He eased out of the brush toward the car. Inside was a man nearly sixty, with a full gray beard, wearing round spectacles, and a white yachting cap.
Father Tolbert leaned inside and smiled. “Hello, I’m Father Tolbert,” he said, extending his hand. “How far are you going?”
“I’m Giovanni Telfair, and I’m on my way to Rome,” the old man said.
“Giovanni, a gift from God. Well, you’re just in time. I need a ride to Rome.”
Giovanni unlocked the door to the old, red Fiat. Father Tolbert eased inside. The car sputtered, picked up speed and they sped off down the road, drawing closer to Bracciano Castle.
“So, what has you out in the middle of the night, Father, if I may ask?” asked Giovanni.
Father Tolbert froze, then recovered. “My car broke down back in Trevignano, so I left it there and decided to travel by foot at night until I could get a ride, and here you are.”
“God does answer prayers,” Giovanni laughed, then barked a smoker’s cough and spat out the window.
The road they traveled curved and wound it’s way so close to Bracciano Castle, Father Tolbert saw people moving about inside and out.
“She’s still beautiful after all these years,” said Giovanni, gazing at the castle, as if it were his lover. “I look at her and my heart still flutters.”
Father Tolbert tensed up as the car hooked a curve a hundred feet from the castle. “I know what you mean,” he answered, his brow wet. He bit his bottom lip as the fortress disappeared behind them.
Ten minutes later, with the castle hidden by the distance and darkness, Father Tolbert relaxed and eased his seat back.
“Go ahead and rest, Father, I’ll wake you when we’re almost in Rome.”
Father Tolbert thanked his host, let his seat fall back further, shut his eyes, and turned his thoughts toward finding Robert Veil. A difficult task with a platoon of The Order’s faithful sure to be searching for him in every quarter in Rome. I can’t walk around in these clothes. That’s the first thing I’ll change, along with my hair. I’ll dye it another color, maybe blond. The more he planned, his confidence increased. I can make this work if I can just find Samuel’s godfather.
His thoughts bounced around in his mind, keeping pace with the Fiat as it navigated the rough, rocky road. He considered going to the American Embassy, or maybe checking every hotel in Rome. He dismissed the Embassy, which left the hotels. There were so many, Father Tolbert didn’t know where he’d start, but it was his best bet. He’d begin with the American hotels, then work his way around, changing his disguise every few days to make sure he wasn’t discovered.
Father Tolbert smiled. For the first time in his life, he knew he was doing the right thing, and no matter what
