these were anything except normal days. She pressed her thumb to a button with no markings that scanned her biometrics, and the elevator descended to the catacombs beneath Vatican City.
She felt like a prisoner in her own castle and remembered the words of Jesus in the Book of Revelation: “Look, I’m standing at the door and knocking. If anyone listens to my voice and opens the door, I’ll come in and we’ll eat together.” He had been talking about the door of the human heart, but He just as easily could have been talking about the Church. After all, God had called St. Paul to go beyond his Jewish world in order to bring the message of redemption through faith in Jesus Christ to the Greeks and, ultimately, to Caesar in Rome.
Perhaps it was “out there” that God had been calling her all along, beyond the walls of the Church. She had cloistered herself here, she had told herself, to protect Conrad and the Church and the world. But maybe she was doing more harm than good. After all, Jesus was more likely to be found beyond the domes and spires and walls of Vatican City, with the people He called “the least of these.” Not with the rich and powerful or religious, whom she had found to be as poor and weak and worldly in spirit as anybody.
Yet here she was, locked inside the holy gates of Rome.
Serena stepped off the elevator onto a secret floor deep beneath the governorate. She walked down a long subterranean tunnel to a heavy ornate door behind which the Dei kept priceless artifacts collected from around the world and across the ages. If it were her choice, she would have returned most of them to museums in their cultures of origin. But it was not.
Indeed, her choices of late seemed to be more limited than ever.
Waiting for her inside the dimly lit chamber was a young monk from the Dei and the two otherworldly copper globes that he was guarding. Brother Lorenzo was one of the Vatican’s top authenticators of antiques and therefore one of its top forgers of art. He knelt before Serena and kissed her ring with the Dominus Dei insignia.
“Your Eminence,” he said. “Welcome back.”
Serena, extremely uncomfortable, looked down at the top of the monk’s bowed head and withdrew her hand from his clasp. The Church didn’t allow female priests, let alone female cardinals. But as the head of Dominus Dei, she was automatically considered a “secret cardinal” appointed by the pope. A secret cardinal to hide the secrets of the Church. Not that the current pontiff, as traditional as they came, would ever acknowledge her as such. But to her amazement, the Vatican did secretly acknowledge the rank of her office, if not the officeholder. Her frighteningly eager underlings, hoping to gain the office for themselves someday, took every advantage to freely address her as such.
“Thank you, Brother Lorenzo. You can call me Sister Serghetti.”
Lorenzo rose to his feet, but his covetous gaze was fixed on the medallion dangling from her neck. “Yes, Sister Serghetti.”
As she had explained to Midas, legend had it that the ancient Roman coin in the center of the medallion was the very Tribute Penny Jesus had held up when He told His followers that they should “render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s and unto God what is God’s.” It had been passed down through the ages from one leader of the Dei to the next. Some argued that it represented power greater than the papacy. Which no doubt explained Lorenzo’s disturbing fascination with it.
Serena broke Lorenzo’s trance with an order: “The globes, Lorenzo.”
“This way, Sister Serghetti.”
She followed Lorenzo to the small alcove showcasing the globes, one displaying the surface of the earth, the other displaying the heavens. Each sphere was eighteen inches in diameter and resembled the works of the Dutch master cartographer Willem Bleau’s studio in the sixteenth century. But these had been constructed thousands of years earlier, although her attempts
She felt like a prisoner in her own castle and remembered the words of Jesus in the Book of Revelation: “Look, I’m standing at the door and knocking. If anyone listens to my voice and opens the door, I’ll come in and we’ll eat together.” He had been talking about the door of the human heart, but He just as easily could have been talking about the Church. After all, God had called St. Paul to go beyond his Jewish world in order to bring the message of redemption through faith in Jesus Christ to the Greeks and, ultimately, to Caesar in Rome.
Perhaps it was “out there” that God had been calling her all along, beyond the walls of the Church. She had cloistered herself here, she had told herself, to protect Conrad and the Church and the world. But maybe she was doing more harm than good. After all, Jesus was more likely to be found beyond the domes and spires and walls of Vatican City, with the people He called “the least of these.” Not with the rich and powerful or religious, whom she had found to be as poor and weak and worldly in spirit as anybody.
Yet here she was, locked inside the holy gates of Rome.
Serena stepped off the elevator onto a secret floor deep beneath the governorate. She walked down a long subterranean tunnel to a heavy ornate door behind which the Dei kept priceless artifacts collected from around the world and across the ages. If it were her choice, she would have returned most of them to museums in their cultures of origin. But it was not.
Indeed, her choices of late seemed to be more limited than ever.
Waiting for her inside the dimly lit chamber was a young monk from the Dei and the two otherworldly copper globes that he was guarding. Brother Lorenzo was one of the Vatican’s top authenticators of antiques and therefore one of its top forgers of art. He knelt before Serena and kissed her ring with the Dominus Dei insignia.
“Your Eminence,” he said. “Welcome back.”
Serena, extremely uncomfortable, looked down at the top of the monk’s bowed head and withdrew her hand from his clasp. The Church didn’t allow female priests, let alone female cardinals. But as the head of Dominus Dei, she was automatically considered a “secret cardinal” appointed by the pope. A secret cardinal to hide the secrets of the Church. Not that the current pontiff, as traditional as they came, would ever acknowledge her as such. But to her amazement, the Vatican did secretly acknowledge the rank of her office, if not the officeholder. Her frighteningly eager underlings, hoping to gain the office for themselves someday, took every advantage to freely address her as such.
“Thank you, Brother Lorenzo. You can call me Sister Serghetti.”
Lorenzo rose to his feet, but his covetous gaze was fixed on the medallion dangling from her neck. “Yes, Sister Serghetti.”
As she had explained to Midas, legend had it that the ancient Roman coin in the center of the medallion was the very Tribute Penny Jesus had held up when He told His followers that they should “render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s and unto God what is God’s.” It had been passed down through the ages from one leader of the Dei to the next. Some argued that it represented power greater than the papacy. Which no doubt explained Lorenzo’s disturbing fascination with it.
Serena broke Lorenzo’s trance with an order: “The globes, Lorenzo.”
“This way, Sister Serghetti.”
She followed Lorenzo to the small alcove showcasing the globes, one displaying the surface of the earth, the other displaying the heavens. Each sphere was eighteen inches in diameter and resembled the works of the Dutch master cartographer Willem Bleau’s studio in the sixteenth century. But these had been constructed thousands of years earlier, although her attempts
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