Chapter Thirty-Five

Rome, 1901

An hour later, Holmes and I walked across St. Peter’s Square and up the stairs into the basilica. Holmes had sent a messenger ahead so we were met at the door by Cardinal Oreglia and a member of the Swiss Guard.

“I’m guessing you have news, Mr. Holmes,” said the cardinal.

“Indeed, your eminence. The pace is quickening, and I also have a small package to deliver to His Holiness.”

We followed the cardinal into the basilica and turned to our right. After passing two more members of the Swiss Guard, we found ourselves in a long hallway approaching an enormous staircase.

“This is the Scala Regia, sometimes called the royal staircase” explained the cardinal. “It connects the Apostolic Palace with the basilica. The staircase is something of an illusion,” he explained. “You see how it appears narrower at the top and thus longer than it actually is. Another of Bernini’s little parlor tricks carried out on a grand scale,” said the cardinal.

My eyes were drawn to the right and an enormous statue of a man mounted on a horse. “That is the Emperor Constantine,” explained Oreglia, and pointing to the window above he indicated a Latin inscription “In Hoc Signo Vinces.”

“In this sign you shall conquer,” murmured Holmes. “I’m going to take that as an omen.”

Pointing to the left, the cardinal said, “And there is the Emperor Charlemagne.”

“In years past, the statues imparted a subtle message to all those leaving the Vatican,” the cardinal said.

As we ascended the stairs, we found ourselves stopping on a landing about halfway up. Despite the absence of windows, there was plenty of illumination. When I asked the cardinal about the source of the light, he jokingly remarked, “Perhaps it’s a miracle.”

At the top of the stairs, we entered the papal apartments and Pope Leo was waiting there for us with two more halberd-bearing members of the Swiss Guard, dressed in their blue-and-gold uniforms topped by helmets with large red plumes. They remained at attention, standing a discreet distance from the pope, but close enough to spring into action should a threat arise.

After we had knelt and kissed his ring, Holmes said,

“We need to talk Your Holiness.”

The pope nodded and said simply, “Follow me.”

He led us down a hall decorated with elaborate frescoes and out into a large garden. “I often come here to think,” he explained. “Before we begin,” he asked, “may I get you anything?”

“No thank you, Your Holiness,” Said Holmes.

The pontiff then led us to a small gazebo in the very center of the garden.

“We may speak freely here,” said Pope Leo.

“I received a package via messenger this morning,” said Holmes. “It was addressed to you in care of me.”

“You don’t think ...” said the Pope.

“I think that Giolitti has done exactly as we asked,” said Holmes. “He has returned one of the cameos as a show of good faith.”

“May I see the package?” asked the pope.

Reaching inside his coat pocket, Holmes produced the parcel and handed it to the pontiff.

I could see his hands trembling as he fumbled with the twine, trying to undo the knot. Finally, Holmes produced a small penknife which he handed to the pope. “This may make things easier, Your Excellency.”

The pope took the knife, cut the string and pulled out a small box. Opening the top, he pushed aside some paper and gasped.

“Is it a cameo?” asked Holmes.

Without turning his head, the pope just nodded, his eyes remaining fixed on the object inside.

“Your Holiness?” asked Holmes.

“He has sent the cameo of Pope Julius II, the man who commissioned the Sistine Chapel. If the public ever saw this ...” and his voice trailed off.

“Well, you have it back, and the public will never set eyes upon it,” said Holmes, trying to console the pontiff.

“I think there is a note of some sort here,” said Pope Leo. Pulling out a sheet of white paper, he unfolded it and read aloud, “Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.”

“It appears that Mr. Giolitti has sent us a none too subtle warning,” said Holmes, “and for that bounder to couch it in a quote from the Bible. This is truly outrageous!”

“Still, I must deal with Giolitti, and I cannot in good conscience submit on the Roman Question. Mr. Holmes, I am lost. Do you see any solution to my dilemma?”

“I do,” said Holmes, “but first, I have a small request of Your Holiness.”

“Anything, Mr. Holmes.

“The other night when you showed us the document that dealt with the cameos, it was wrapped in a silver chain with amulets at either end.”

“That was how I found it and that is how I shall leave it for my successor,” said the pope.

“May I ask Your Holiness to get the chain for me?”

“It is in a safe in my study,” said the pope. “Would you like to examine it there, or shall we remain out here?”

Looking around and seeing no one except the two Swiss Guards off at a distance, Holmes said, “I think we might be better served out here - far from the possibility of prying eyes and eavesdropping ears.”

“I shall return momentarily, gentlemen,” said the pope as he hurried off down one of the paths.

“You are worried about the spy in the household?” I asked.

“Not worried. I just need to know that Giolitti has not been given any indication of our plans until it is too late for him,” he said. “He is a slippery customer, Watson, and I am certain that he has a fallback plan just as I do.”

“You have two different plans?”

“I try to consider steps to account for all the possible scenarios,” said Holmes placidly. “Fortunately, I have seldom had to resort to my alternative - but it has happened on one or two rare occasions.”

“Let us hope that this case is no different from most,” I said.

We sat in silence for a few moments, and then I saw the pope hurrying toward us. When he had reached the gazebo, he handed the chain to Holmes. “This is what you wanted, Mr. Holmes?”

“Yes,” he replied, “now I need one more indulgence from Your Holiness.”

“Anything,” replied the pontiff.

“I should like very much to examine the cameo,” he said.

Handing my friend the box, he said, “Mr. Holmes for centuries, until they were taken, only the successors of St. Peter have seen this image. However, since Giolitti and Lord only knows how many others have looked upon it, I guess, to use your English euphemism, the cat is out of the poke.”

Holmes and I both chuckled, and Pope Leo looked confused. “Is that not right,” he asked.

“You were very close, Your Holiness,” I said gently, “We generally say that the cat is out of the bag, meaning a secret has been revealed. The other expression is ‘to buy a pig in a poke,’ which means to purchase something without examining it.”

“Ah, Dr. Watson, but I believe that your word poke comes from the French word poque, which I believe can be translated as ‘sack’ or ‘bag.’”

I laughed and said, “You win, Your Holiness, but I can guarantee you that you will never hear an Englishman say, ‘The cat is out of the poke.’”

“Unless, of course, his mother is French, in which case, he might follow the pontiff’s example,” Holmes said. He had been standing at the edge of the gazebo, his back to us. I thought he had been examining the cameo in the light of day, and now he had rejoined us and the conversation.

As His Holiness smiled, Holmes returned the cameo to him, and cautioned, “Keep this in a much safer place than you have in the past, your Holiness.”

Squeezing it in his hand, the pope said, “It is going into a new safe that I have ordered, never to see the light of day again in my lifetime.”

“Your Holiness, don’t you think a joint work by Michelangelo and Leonardo belongs in the Vatican Museum rather than being hidden away in a safe?” asked Holmes.

“Under ordinary circumstances, I would agree with you, Mr. Holmes. However, the only thing preventing me from destroying this blasphemous object is the fact that is the work of both Michelangelo and Leonardo.”

“May I have one more look then?” said Holmes.

As the pope handed the cameo to my friend, he exclaimed, “Mr. Holmes, what have you done?”