Cardinal Bishop Casado jumped the moment Bishop Attilio Basquez’s shadow fell across him whilst he sat in the atrium of Old Saint Peter’s Basilica, his head having been bowed in deep thought.
“Bishop Basquez,” he called in greeting, looking up and meeting the cold of the man’s eyes with a smile. “You made me jump!”
“Troubled with your thoughts?” the sly Bishop asked.
“Troubled,” replied Casado, nodding contemplatively, “but not with my thoughts. These are troubling times. For us all, even here within the safe walls of the Vatican.” He peered around the shadows and dimly lit crevasses of the pillared atrium. “Old Saint Peter’s Basilica. I often come here to think. It grants one a reflective ambiance to suit one’s mood.”
The dark haired Bishop briefly followed Casado’s eyes to look about himself but he quickly put his attention back onto the Cardinal Bishop.
“Tacit has begun his assessment,” He spoke the words like an obscenity.
“He has.”
“I heard that Adansoni questioned the decision to assess the Inquisitor.”
The venerable Cardinal turned his attention to Basquez, surprised at the Bishop’s line of conversation. “Cardinal Adansoni looks on Tacit like a son, although he denies it. He is bound to resist an assessment which might result in the imprisonment, even the death, of the Inquisitor.”
“Perhaps he has something to hide?” Basquez asked, his voice like the hiss of a serpent. The question surprised Cardinal Bishop Casado, watching the dark haired man closely as he stepped away, leaning back and breathing deeply on the midday Vatican air. “I raise the question only as a matter of principle.” He looked back, an eyebrow raised. “If the student has been accused of falling, perhaps the master has as well?”
“What are you suggesting?” Casado replied incredulously. “Surely not that Cardinal Adansoni himself be assessed?”
“Absolutely not,” Basquez assured him, a cold smile coming to his face. “But there is always the Sodalitium Pianum?” his eyes narrow.
Cardinal Bishop Casado knew of the Sodalitium Pianum well, a small group of agents, set up in recent years by Pope Pius X before his death and headed up by the unflinching Monsignor Benigni, working independently of the Inquisition to investigate rumours of early signs of heresy and combat the growth of Modernism within the Vatican’s own walls. Whilst less feared than the Inquisition, their name still brought consternation to the hearts of many.
“I know that Monsignor Benigni has been busy rooting out possible weakness and the beginnings of nonconformity within the Vatican,” Basquez continued, his tone now lighter, “passing any details on to the Inquisition. Perhaps he could be asked to scrutinise Adansoni’s affairs? Just gently, of course.”
Casado threw his eyes to the far end of the atrium, as if greatly troubled with the suggestion. His mind churned in rhythm with the flicker of his eyes darting blindly between the pillars of the square before him.
The Bishop raised a hand and inspected his nails, flicking his thumb absently against his fingers. “During these troubling times, as you call them, we should be doubly vigilant. Doubt leads to arrogance, arrogance to insubordination, insubordination to nonconformity, nonconformity leads to taking one’s actions into one’s own hands. Such as I hear they are doing in Paris with this Mass for Peace.” Basquez spat the words from his tongue, as if they were filth.
“You do not like what Cardinal Bishop Monteria is trying to achieve then, Bishop Basquez?”
“No,” he replied coldly. “It has not been sanctioned by the Holy See. Such behaviour suggests the Catholic Church is divided, something our enemies will be keen to use against us.”
“Very well,” Casado said, as if convinced by Basquez’s final argument, turning with a resigned look on his face. “Ask Monsignor Benigni to investigate Cardinal Adansoni. But gently,” he added, raising a finger to press home his insistence.
Basquez bowed curtly in agreement.
“Such treacherous times,” lamented the Cardinal, closing his eyes and letting his head sag. But Basquez was quick with his retort.
“The times would be less treacherous if we had a Pope upon whom we could rely to share our vision and guide us with an unflinching hand. Like Pope Pius, God rest his soul. He was a true leader, not like Benedict!” The younger man’s voice had risen to a crescendo, his eyes suddenly fierce.
But Casado shook his head, looking up into the far end of the atrium. “No,” he replied softly, as he played the ruffles from his cassock, “Pius was unflinching in his vision, as you rightly say, but that meant he could not be led, could not be influenced. His vision, firm though it was, was his and his alone. Though many agreed with it, there were many who did not, and others who wanted him to go further with his plans. You talk of division? He caused division and disharmony in many quarters with his austere ambitions. And how can the Holy See guide its Pope if its Pope refuses to listen? No, Pius was a true leader but not a good Pope. Whereas Benedict …”
“Is weak, talking of peace with our slavic neighbours,” spat Basquez quickly.
“… is someone we can influence, command, set to do our bidding. In these treacherous times, we need someone without arrogance or conceit, whom we can control and who will carry our message out to the masses with benevolence and clarity.”
Casado’s voice had fallen to a whisper, as if the words he spoke were of great perfidy.
“I still prefer the brand of fire and brimstone,” retorted Basquez, the corner of his thin mouth rising in contempt.
“You would not think that were the same brand to be set against your tongue by the Inquisition for treason, Bishop Basquez!”
The Bishop’s cold eyes narrowed and he seemed to shrink back, as if fearing arrest. But Casado’s tone remained calm and measured.
“No,” he said, running his palm slowly across his face, “the Holy See has chosen its Pope wisely this time. It now falls to us within the Holy See to adopt a wise and enlightened policy to place upon his lips.”