The volume of space above the baldacchino curved inward, the walls warping into mosaic-clad pendentives that supported Michelangelo’s soaring dome. As its creators intended, the volume and embellishment of the basilica evoked both awe and majesty. Kilkenny read the gilt band of Latin that circumscribed the circular base of the dome and recognized the phrase as the opening line of the song the Beijing martyrs had sung.
Donoher guided them around a low, U-shaped balustrade that defined the edge of an opening in the basilica floor immediately in front of the papal altar. A pair of bronze gates at the bottom of the U provided access to a double ramp of stairs that led down into the confessio — the true heart of Saint Peter’s Basilica.
Kilkenny gazed down into the exedra beneath the papal altar and saw an exquisite room clad in multihued marbles. A pair of sampietrini carefully tended to the bronze lanterns of the ninety-five eternal flames that illuminated the confessio. At the far end of the space, behind a niche decorated with ninth-century mosaics and flanked by the statues of Peter and Paul, lay the tomb of Saint Peter. During an earlier visit to Rome, Kilkenny had learned from Donoher that the confessio derived its name from the confession of faith given by Saint Peter that led to his execution by Nero. What had started as a simple tomb on a hill outside the city of Rome became a shrine, then a church, and finally the Renaissance glory of the present basilica.
Christ had been right, Donoher told him then, Peter was the rock on which the Church was built.
In the center of the nave, on a crimson-trimmed bier and surrounded by Swiss Guards in full regalia, lay the body of the deceased pontiff. Donoher greeted the officer in charge of the night watch and was permitted to escort his guests to the bier. The three men bowed their heads as Donoher offered a brief prayer.
The pontiff’s body had been carefully prepared for burial, dressed in formal papal robes and the head crowned with a golden miter. The body of Pope Leo XIV was first displayed in the Clementine Room of the Apostolic Palace for a period of private veneration by the cardinals and the papal household before being moved to the patriarchal basilica, where it would lie in state until the funeral.
To Kilkenny, the late pontiff’s face held an expression of peaceful repose that transcended any mortician’s artifice. The sense of loss he felt as he stood at the bier surprised him. He had met only briefly with the Pope twice, but it had been enough to leave an indelible mark. Kilkenny tried to offer a silent prayer, but the sense of a connectedness with God eluded him. Since the deaths of his wife and child, he could mouth the words of a rote formula but summon nothing more substantial.
‘Pope Leo was quite something in person,’ Grin said.
‘That he was,’ Donoher concurred. ‘I am certain historians will recognize him as one of the great Popes.’
‘I don’t need a historian to justify my opinion,’ Kilkenny said.
‘Nor do I,’ Donoher agreed. ‘But above all things he was a good friend, and I will miss him.’
‘Thank you for arranging this visitation,’ Kilkenny said, still unable to take his eyes from the Pope’s face.
‘It was the least I could do given that you two are trying to fulfill his final wish. A shame you won’t be here for the funeral, Nolan — it promises to be a most stirring event.’
‘Grin can fill me in on what I miss,’ Kilkenny replied, feigning disappointment. In truth, he didn’t think he could stomach another funeral, the bitterness of his own loss still too fresh. ‘I do plan to be back in time for the installation of the new Pope.’
Donoher looked at Kilkenny wryly and smiled, pleased with the young man’s confidence. ‘By the grace of God, you’ll be here with Bishop Yin, and I’ll save you both good seats.’
Just before dawn, amid frescos by Fra Angelico that depicted the lives of Saint Stephen and Saint Lawrence, the first Christian martyrs of Jerusalem and Rome, Donoher said a private mass for Kilkenny and Grin in the restored Chapel of Nicholas V. The cardinal’s homily was brief, his prayers not only for the Pope’s soul but also for the Holy Spirit’s guidance of each man’s efforts during the difficult days ahead. The Amen he received from his tiny congregation was both earnest and heartfelt.
Following the mass, Donoher and Grin saw Kilkenny off for Berlin, his departure setting in motion the first active steps of Operation Rolling Stone. Grin returned to the catacombs to continue what he called the practice of his dark technological arts, and Donoher left for the Apostolic Palace to convene a meeting of all the cardinals now present in Rome.
15
As a constitutional matter, all cardinals and Archbishops in charge of departments in the Roman Curia officially lost their jobs the moment the Pope died. As with any change in national administration, this purge of top officials allowed the newly elected Pope to install his own team of senior advisers.
The deposed secretaries continued to oversee their domains within the Vatican bureaucracy but acted in caretaker mode during the interregnum. Any serious or controversial matters were to be deferred until the new Pope was installed or, in the event of something requiring immediate attention, brought to the College of Cardinals for a provisional decision.
Donoher considered this as he looked over the gathering of unemployed cardinals mingling with their diocesan brethren in the Pauline Chapel. Like the other curial cardinals, he was a lame duck in his dual roles as head of both the Vatican Library and Vatican Intelligence. There was, of course, the possibility that the new Pope would ask him to stay on, but that depended on which cardinal was elected. Although on good terms with most of the papabili, he knew a few would doubtless broom him out. Such was the nature of politics, even in the Vatican, and Donoher had decided early on to leave his fate in God’s hands.
Only three of the curial cardinals retained their jobs during the interregnum. The vicar of the Diocese of Rome, who provided for the pastoral needs of the diocese, still enjoyed all the powers he held under the Pope. Overseeing confessional matters related to the Holy See, the major penitentiary also continued at his post, because the door to forgiveness should never be closed.
Third among the Vatican cardinals still employed was Donoher, in his most recent appointment as Camerlengo. Only with the passing of the Pope did the power of this office become evident as Donoher administered all assets of the Holy See. Initially shocked at being named Camerlengo, Donoher came to believe that the Pope sensed his impending death and the effect it would have on the effort to free Bishop Yin. In naming him Camerlengo, Pope Leo gave Donoher the power to act during the interregnum, should he choose to do so. With Kilkenny and his team heading into China, Donoher appreciated the late pontiff’s prescience.
One of the cardinals assisting Donoher, a dark-skinned Venezuelan named Ojeda, who headed the Congregation for the Clergy, moved through the crowd toward him.
‘They are all assembled, Your Eminence.’
Donoher smiled. ‘Would you do us the honor of an opening prayer?’
Ojeda called the congregation to order with a stirring invocation. At the conclusion of the prayer, Donoher nodded his thanks and moved to the lectern. Around him loomed Michelangelo’s last frescos: The Crucifixion of Saint Peter and The Conversion of Saint Paul. The images perfectly illustrated the Church’s ongoing battle with evil in the world — a struggle in which martyrs lost their lives balanced against the hope that even their persecutors could be redeemed.
Donoher looked out on an august assembly of men in scarlet-trimmed cassocks and zucchettos. Nearly all those who qualified as electors were now present, with only a few settling last-minute affairs or struggling with difficult travel arrangements from remote dioceses.