There is the faintest innuendo, almost a warning, about Peter’s having remembered such a convenient thing.
“I haven’t said a word to him,” I say. “You asked me to talk to my housekeeper, and it came up.”
Mignatto frowns. “Your son is just a boy. We shouldn’t make him dredge up the whole thing.” He tries to smile benevolently. “The defense is coming together well enough for now, but I appreciate your mentioning this.”
I suddenly feel awkward. Silence falls.
Mignatto shuffles his papers. “Well,” he says, “keep working on tracking down your brother. Call me right away when you hear something.”
I’m caught off guard. He’s already coming around the desk to see me off.
“I will, Monsignor. Thank you.”
As I go to collect Peter, I feel Mignatto watching me. Sizing me up somehow. Then at the door, he says something no human being has ever said to me before.
“Your uncle was the cleverest man in seminary. And you remind me very much of him.”
“I do?”
He clasps my hand between his. “But listen to me. Please. From now on, both of you must leave the work to me.”
CHAPTER 20
I TAKE PETER TO the park so he can distract himself while I try to process the news. I wonder if Mignatto understands how important Ugo’s discovery is. How much it will damage our affairs with the Orthodox. I think back to the first conversation Simon and I had with Lucio after Ugo died—and for the life of me I can’t understand my brother’s behavior. He insisted that the exhibit not be changed. That the Diatessaron not replace the Shroud as the main event. Yet an exhibit on the Diatessaron would’ve solved all his problems. It would’ve hidden the truth about 1204 and made it possible to drag a horde of Orthodox priests through the galleries without offending anyone. Not even when Lucio gave Simon the power to finish the exhibit did my brother dismantle the last gallery. All it would’ve taken was a few display cases moved and a little whitewashing of the walls. The whole finale could’ve been erased.
I watch Peter climb a tree. He perches in the crook of a limb and sits back. When he sees that I’m watching, he smiles and waves. I wonder what inspired Mignatto to say that I resembled my uncle. Whether it was my willingness to ask Peter to identify the man who terrorized him.
We take a roundabout way back to Lucio’s palace, stopping by the pre-seminary to let Peter play with the boys stranded there during the dead week between summer and fall terms. While they start a game of pickup soccer in the dirt outside their dorm, I leave a note for Father Vitari, the pre-seminary rector, explaining that a family situation may affect my availability. I have a good rapport with the boys, so the administrators will indulge me.
Just as I return, one of the boys steps forward. It looks like he’s been waiting for me.
“Father,” he says, “we have a question to ask you.”
The teachers call him Giorgio the Vain. His curly black hair droops around his ears like bunches of wet grapes. He’s related to a Vatican bishop, so he puts himself above the rest of his classmates.
“Yes?” I say.
The other boys have tensed up. Some are looking at their shoes. One of them elbows Giorgio, but he ignores it.
“Is it true, Father Andreou?” Giorgio asks. “About your brother?”
I clench my teeth. My skin suddenly tingles. “Where did you hear about that?”
Giorgio makes pistols out of his hands and waves them, gesturing at the whole group of students. “Everyone’s heard. We want to know if it’s true.”