Ring of Fire II(80)

Spee and the provincial smiled at each other. "Ah, youth!" Nickel said.



"Shall we find something to eat while we wait?" Spee asked.



"Why not? And we can talk about better times, Friedrich," Nickel said as they went out the door and turned toward the kitchens.





"And so I have been studying the music of Grantville," Spee said. "Not just the holy music but the popular tunes. And I have written a work of Kirchenlieder, church songs, that I was rehearsing this morning in the cathedral."



"Their music is sometimes too strange for me," Nickel said. "Rock and roll, for example. Baving says it is the devil's own music, and I am not sure he is wrong, Friedrich."



The kitchen door burst open, revealing young van Donck puffing as if he were one of the new steam engines. With him were two of the cardinal's guard.



"Cardinal Mazzare says you are to come to him now!" van Donck said. "There are new messages from Rome!"



Nickel and Spee hurried to the door. There was a carriage waiting in the alley. They climbed in, followed by the guards and van Donck. As they shut the door, they were jolted back into their seats when the carriage moved.



Van Donck started to pull open the window curtain.



"Don't." Spee put out his hand in warning. "It would not be wise for Father Nickel to be seen."



Within minutes the carriage pulled up to the back entrance of the episcopal palace. The guards hustled the three Jesuits out of the carriage and up the steps into the building. Waiting for them inside the entrance was Father Heinzerling. The normally jovial Jesuit was solemn to the point of tears.



"Come quickly," he said, turning and ushering them down a long corridor.



"Come in, Father Provincial," the cardinal said.



"Your Eminence," Nickel knelt and kissed Mazzare's ring. Spee and van Donck did likewise.



"There, now that's over with," Mazzare said, brushing back his sleeves. "Please sit down."



There was a long conference table littered with maps and papers in the room. At one end, a fireplace, cold and dark in the heat of summer in the Germanies. Above the mantel, a painting of the pope, Urban VIII. At the other end of the room, as if staring the pope down, was a painting of King Gustav, the emperor of the United States of Europe.



They took chairs at one end of the table. Mazzare sat at the head.



"Why are you here, Father Nickel?" the cardinal asked.



"I have been in contact with Father General Vitelleschi, Eminence," Nickel said, "by radio."



"Aha!" The cardinal slapped the table. "I knew it. Mike Stearns owes me money. I told him the Jebbies would be able to figure out how to build radios on the q.t., given enough time. He didn't believe me, but now he will have to." He looked across the table at Nickel. "And what does the father general say?"



"Much the same as he told me when I left Rome in May. And of course, what he predicted," Nickel paused, "has sadly come to pass."



Mazzare grimaced. "And what does the Black Pope think, now that he's been on the run for two months?"



"That he believed that Borja's conclave would elect him pope very soon, and that he, Vitelleschi, and Pope Urban would have prices on their heads."



"That much we know," Mazzare said. "I've just come from a meeting with Piazza, Stearns and Nasi . . . the Spaniards have consolidated their hold on Rome and the Campania. We think Borja will be declared pope shortly."



"So the general believed two days ago when he radioed me," Nickel agreed. "He sent me to you with some advice for you, and instructions for me."



"Go on," Mazzare said.



"He believes that the pope may be assassinated, like many of the cardinals loyal to the house of Barberini have already been. Father General Vitelleschi told me to tell you that if the pope dies, you may want to think about holding a rival conclave here." Nickel stared at the Grantviller. "And if we find that he is also dead, I am to hold a general assembly of the order under your authority to elect a new superior general."



"Did Vitelleschi say who he recommended as his successor?"



"Me."



"Well, then we must both pray to be spared these cups, don't you think?" Mazzare smiled, a wintry smile.



"Indeed, Eminence, indeed." Nickel matched Mazzare's bitter smile.



"Shall we have an anti-pope, then?" Spee asked quietly.



"It looks like we already do, Friedrich," Mazzare said. "And his name is Borja."



"While we wait for news," Nickel said, "I must be about the tasks that the father general set me. I have his commission as his deputy while he is out of touch, and I think I should begin to draw the reins of the society in before our brothers in Spain begin to do it instead."