39

Dom Letizia knew they were coming. It was only a matter of time. He hadn’t spent his life tracking down leads not to know that. He would be ready.

He had organised himself in the proper manner, completing the protocols and procedures expected of a visiting priest. Now in the comfort of the Archbishop of Perth’s limousine sent to collect him from the airport, he noted overhead power lines similar to American towns, the many older vehicles comfortably mixing with shiny new four-wheel drives, and he noticed that, like in England, they drove on the left.

‘Cars don’t rust here,’ said the driver. They continued along the Great Eastern Highway, passing the casino and hotel complex leading to the six-lane causeway and the vast expanse of the shimmering Swan River. Contemporary white and glass buildings rising to a crescendo stood regimented to his right, with the water on his left divided by a vast green grass belt, lined with palms.

Impressive, wealthy and modern, he thought, an old country with new people. It was less than two hundred years since the arrival of the British in Western Australia. The Aborigines must have found them a strange breed: white, clothed and busy. How confronting would it have been to a people with thousands of years of history already etched in this place?

They turned right into Victoria Avenue. The recently renovated Saint Mary’s Cathedral stood proudly on the hill, a few hundred metres in front of them. His thoughts wandered to the Church bringing God and European enlightenment, Catholics and Protestants competing for unsaved souls.

He had read avidly on the flight to Australia, thoroughly dissecting Memorias Historicas Sobre La Australia, y Particularmente Acerca La Mision Benedictina De Nueva Nursia, y Los Usos Costumbres de Los Salvajes. The rare book library at the monastery had many books relating to the Benedictine Mission in Australia but the Abbot Primate had insisted on two only. This edition had been published in Barcelona in 1853 and a French edition was published a few years later. It was the memoirs of Dom Salvado, who with Dom Serra had been sent to Australia to establish the monastery in New Norcia. The book understandably did not divulge the true reason for the mission but offered a comprehensive overview of Australia, covering a wide range of topics including entomology, the convict system, political history, astronomy, natural history, progress of the Catholic missions and a Spanish-Aboriginal vocabulary.

The engraved plates illustrated the missionaries giving care and preaching to the Aborigines, with portraits of Salvado and Serra. If he understood the Abbot Primate correctly, then by the time these images were drawn, both men were living with the knowledge of a terrible crime. He stared at their faces for a long time. There was nothing to discern.

The French edition of the book also included a detailed plan of the early monastery and its surrounds that was not included in any other edition. The Abbot Primate had impressed on him the importance of this plan, as it specifically indicated the resting place of the Holy Words. ‘Francesco,’ he had whispered, ‘we have worked tirelessly to obscure information about the Lutheran’s map. We have also deflected interest in the monastery at New Norcia by discounting it as a backwater, or a minor mission in the grand scheme of Benedictine interests. To muddy the waters further, we authorised many different accounts and editions of Salvado’s memoirs. However, it is only these two editions which are of value to you.’

Within an hour of arriving he had met the Anglican Archbishop, the Chief Rabbi, the Imam and representatives of all the Perth religious communities. ‘Sorry about that, Dom Letizia. I forgot we had our quarterly interfaith meeting this afternoon. It’s that type of town,’ said the Archbishop apologetically. ‘I thought it only proper that a visitor from the famous monastery at Monte Cassino should be introduced to our provincial gathering.’

Dom Letizia smiled pleasantly, hiding his irritation that protocol and good manners had spoiled his plans for a quiet arrival in Australia, and presented the Archbishop with a letter from the Abbot Primate and a gift of a rare engraved print of the St Mary’s Cathedral in 1866, one year after construction.

Still dark, he woke early from a deep sleep. For a few seconds he couldn’t quite grasp where he was. A deep apprehension rose through his body as awareness returned that it was his destiny to uphold the five-hundred-year Benedictine Oath of Perpetual Assistance. He remembered his words to the Abbot Primate: ‘I will do what has to be done,’ and it filled him with fear. Would he be able to do whatever it took to keep the Holy Words hidden?

He struggled out of the unfamiliar bed and knelt for his morning prayers. ‘I offer Thee all my prayers, works, and sufferings in union with the Sacred Heart of Jesus, for the intentions for which He pleads and offers Himself in the holy sacrifice of the mass, in thanksgiving for Thy favours, in reparation for my offenses, and in humble supplication for my temporal and eternal welfare, for the wants of our holy Mother the Church, for the conversion of sinners, and for the relief of the poor souls in purgatory. I have the intention to gain all the indulgences attached to the prayers I shall say, and to the good works I shall perform this day. I resolve to gain all of the indulgences I can in favour of the souls in purgatory.’

The fear began to subside as he recited the ancient prayer, ‘The Apostles’ Creed’. ‘I believe in God, the Father almighty, Creator of heaven and earth and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried. He descended into hell; the third day He arose again from the dead. He ascended into heaven, sits at the right hand of God the Father almighty; from thence He shall come to judge the living and the dead. I believe in the Holy Spirit, the Holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting. Amen.’

His strength returned as he concluded with ‘The Glory Be’.

‘Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.’ He crossed himself and quietly repeated his parting words to the Abbot Primate: ‘The Benedictines do not break their oaths.’

He and the Archbishop enjoyed a hearty breakfast together. The Archbishop enlightened him on the challenges facing his community in Western Australia. Dom Letizia sympathised with him regarding falling attendances at church, similar to the situation in western Europe; however, the conversation finished on a more positive note, when they discussed the huge growth in Catholic observance in Africa and both agreed, that it was only a matter of time before a black African would become Pope.

On one level the conversation had been pleasantly distracting for Dom Letizia, but the seriousness of the situation was just below the surface, like an earthquake deep under the ocean bed – the resultant tsunami could only be a matter of time.

He had insisted on taking the short walk along Adelaide Terrace to the car hire establishment by himself and thanked the Archbishop for his kind hospitality, promising to keep in touch during his sojourn at New Norcia.

However, after he was out of sight of the waving Archbishop, he doubled back and turned into Hay Street, walking briskly past the Perth Mint – an impressive colonial-style building surrounded by wrought iron fencing – and continued east away from the city centre. Five minutes later he arrived at the entrance to Queens Gardens.

He slowed his pace as he searched for his destination: the bronze statue of Peter Pan. The statue was an exact replica of the original in Kensington Gardens in London. Paulo stood there, waiting … Another lost boy, thought Dom Letizia wistfully. ‘Ciao, Paulo, when did you arrive?’

Paulo motioned for them to sit on a wooden bench, a few metres away, next to the lake. ‘I arrived yesterday, Dom Letizia. I have what you asked for.’

‘Did Dom Montano return safely to Monte Cassino?’ asked Dom Letizia, peering into the black leather satchel Paulo had placed between them.

‘Yes. He delivered the map to Roberto.’

‘Good. That is good news. These men are desperate and will do anything to get what they want.’

‘They killed the girl in London.’

‘I know,’ said the monk, shaking his head sadly. ‘What are your plans, Paulo? Are you leaving Perth today?’

‘No, not for a couple of days. Tonight I will attend the Sabbath evening service at the local synagogue and then join my Australian cousins for a traditional meal.’

Dom Letizia and Paulo stopped talking for a few seconds while a group of runners jogged past them.

‘I did not know you were a Jew, Paulo. How did a Spanish Jew get involved with the monks of Monte Cassino?’

Paulo considered his answer before responding. ‘As you know, the Jews of Spain suffered terribly during the Inquisition. King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella eventually decreed that they either convert to Catholicism or be expelled from the country. Tens of thousands decided to convert. Some secretly held on to their Jewish beliefs, but most grabbed the opportunity to become good Catholics and progress in trades and professions previously denied to them. Many even joined the clergy and rose to the highest positions, themselves becoming part of the Inquisitorial system, persecuting conversos for secretly practising their religion. My family did neither. They held on to their faith and although life was very difficult, they survived.’

‘Yes, I think I read that some of these new Christians rose to positions of great influence,’ said Dom Letizia, ‘but, you still haven’t answered me about your connection to the Benedictines.’

‘Ah … it is not so simple a thing to explain. However, let me say that as I grew into adulthood I noticed that some people exhibited similar characteristics to me and my family. It may have been the way they looked or the way they expressed themselves, and I realised that the conversos’ genetics were still apparent.’

‘What? Even after many generations?’

‘Yes, I believe this to be true. I was attracted to these types as I felt they held a secret they themselves never even knew. I graduated in Islamic and Semitic Studies at the University Complutense in Madrid where I met many members of the clergy who felt similarly towards me as I to them.’

‘That is fascinating. I had no idea …’

‘Eventually I was hired by the Church to carry out duties where the clergy felt uncomfortable, shall we say … utilising a Jew to do things they felt they could not. A few years later I came to the attention of the Abbot Primate who had heard of my reputation of being one of them … but not. He called me to Monte Cassino. The rest is history.’

‘And do you have a family, Paulo?’

‘This is an area I will keep private,’ said Paulo, rising to his feet. ‘Good luck in your endeavours. Hopefully we will meet again in better times,’ and he walked away in the opposite direction to the gate Dom Letizia had come from.

Dom Letizia bided his time and watched as Paulo disappeared into the distance. He found himself thinking of the words of St Benedictine’s Rule: ‘Keep death daily before your eyes to live life to the fullest’, then took another look inside the leather bag that had been left behind, closed the zip, hung the strap over his shoulder and walked back out of Queens Gardens the way he had entered.

A short while later, he had completed the formalities at the car hire. He gave a wry smile to himself as the voice-activated GPS in the Toyota Prado gave the first navigations out of the city for his ninety-minute journey to New Norcia, instructing him to turn right from Wellington Street onto Lord Street.

Well, at least the Lord was still with him for the present.