our friend Bishop Muñoz?”
“Your Excellency, do you think that I need to confess?” Sister Maria moved to the edge of the patio and looked down. A slight smile played on her lips, surrounded by the starched rim of her wimple.
“My child, I am always here for you.”
“Of that, I am sure,” said the nun. And then the story slowly spilled out. She had met with the Brazilian bishop in São Paulo, where the prelate had grown a significant pro-Liberation Theology following, mostly from the city's dispossessed. To Bishop Muñoz, Christ was a political figure, one who championed the rights of the poor over the financial and political elite. Muñoz had fostered powerful alliances with the Socialist government. He was a man much in demand. And yet, despite his apparent reluctance, despite his false protestations, Sister Maria had somehow seduced him, one evening, in her convent cell. Muñoz was a man in demand—but a man. She had slowly disrobed him, and taken him up in her hand, and massaged him until he was hard. Then she had pushed him back down on her bed, and she had dropped to her knees at his feet.
“I don't need all the lurid details,” Lacey said.
“Yes, you do,” she replied. “And I took him right herein my mouth, and I worked him, in the way I was trained on the streets of Tuquerres. And when he finally came, and I tasted the salt of his liquid communion, I stood up, and I hugged him, pressed his face to my breasts. And as I kissed him, I wrapped my black rosary beads round his neck. These here, that I'm wearing. I let him fall asleep in my arms. Just like that. Till the last breath escaped from his chest. Till the tongue that had been poking my mouth only moments before stuck out on his lips, like a piece of spoiled fruit. Is that what you wanted, Your Excellency? Is that what you wanted to hear?”
Lacey looked down at the small woman beside him. She seemed to glow in the warm Roman afternoon light. She was smiling at him.
“Dominus noster Jesus Christus te absolvat,”
said Lacey.
“Et ego auctoritate ipsius te absolvo ab omni vinculo excommunicationis et interdicti in quantum possum et tu indiges.”
He made the sign of the cross.
“Deinde, ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.”
Sister Maria laughed. “You absolve me from every bond of excommunication and interdict, so far as your power allows. Believe me, it will take far more than your hand, Excellency, to cleanse me.” Then she looked out at the city beneath her, at the Circo Massimo and the Forum beyond. “Why did you call me here? It wasn't just to hear about Muñoz, as much as you enjoy my accounts. I'm sure you already heard of his passing.”
Lacey nodded. “Do you know why I love this city?” he asked as he followed her gaze. “Why I feel so at home here?”
Sister Maria said nothing.
“It's not because Rome is the center of the world. I'm afraid that its glorious past has long since been extinguished. The chariots no longer run,” he said, pointing below. “And it's not because Rome is the center of the Catholic Church. While the Pope may reside here, thebalance of power is shifting. No,” he continued. “It's because Rome is at the center of
time
. Here, one can feel the true meaninglessness of the temporal dimension. Here one can understand how each act—and each actor—is but one link in the long chain of the Faith.”
The nun remained silent.
“Something has been found,” Lacey said. “In Philadelphia, the city of brotherly love. Something that could deliver a great blow to the Church. Perhaps an insurmountable blow in this age of our struggle with Suleiman. I want you to retrieve it. It's a task that requires your particular skills.”
“All of them?” said the nun.
“Whatever's required, my child. And may the Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ, the merits of the Blessed Virgin Mary and of all the saints obtain for you that whatever good you do or whatever
“Your Excellency, do you think that I need to confess?” Sister Maria moved to the edge of the patio and looked down. A slight smile played on her lips, surrounded by the starched rim of her wimple.
“My child, I am always here for you.”
“Of that, I am sure,” said the nun. And then the story slowly spilled out. She had met with the Brazilian bishop in São Paulo, where the prelate had grown a significant pro-Liberation Theology following, mostly from the city's dispossessed. To Bishop Muñoz, Christ was a political figure, one who championed the rights of the poor over the financial and political elite. Muñoz had fostered powerful alliances with the Socialist government. He was a man much in demand. And yet, despite his apparent reluctance, despite his false protestations, Sister Maria had somehow seduced him, one evening, in her convent cell. Muñoz was a man in demand—but a man. She had slowly disrobed him, and taken him up in her hand, and massaged him until he was hard. Then she had pushed him back down on her bed, and she had dropped to her knees at his feet.
“I don't need all the lurid details,” Lacey said.
“Yes, you do,” she replied. “And I took him right herein my mouth, and I worked him, in the way I was trained on the streets of Tuquerres. And when he finally came, and I tasted the salt of his liquid communion, I stood up, and I hugged him, pressed his face to my breasts. And as I kissed him, I wrapped my black rosary beads round his neck. These here, that I'm wearing. I let him fall asleep in my arms. Just like that. Till the last breath escaped from his chest. Till the tongue that had been poking my mouth only moments before stuck out on his lips, like a piece of spoiled fruit. Is that what you wanted, Your Excellency? Is that what you wanted to hear?”
Lacey looked down at the small woman beside him. She seemed to glow in the warm Roman afternoon light. She was smiling at him.
“Dominus noster Jesus Christus te absolvat,”
said Lacey.
“Et ego auctoritate ipsius te absolvo ab omni vinculo excommunicationis et interdicti in quantum possum et tu indiges.”
He made the sign of the cross.
“Deinde, ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.”
Sister Maria laughed. “You absolve me from every bond of excommunication and interdict, so far as your power allows. Believe me, it will take far more than your hand, Excellency, to cleanse me.” Then she looked out at the city beneath her, at the Circo Massimo and the Forum beyond. “Why did you call me here? It wasn't just to hear about Muñoz, as much as you enjoy my accounts. I'm sure you already heard of his passing.”
Lacey nodded. “Do you know why I love this city?” he asked as he followed her gaze. “Why I feel so at home here?”
Sister Maria said nothing.
“It's not because Rome is the center of the world. I'm afraid that its glorious past has long since been extinguished. The chariots no longer run,” he said, pointing below. “And it's not because Rome is the center of the Catholic Church. While the Pope may reside here, thebalance of power is shifting. No,” he continued. “It's because Rome is at the center of
time
. Here, one can feel the true meaninglessness of the temporal dimension. Here one can understand how each act—and each actor—is but one link in the long chain of the Faith.”
The nun remained silent.
“Something has been found,” Lacey said. “In Philadelphia, the city of brotherly love. Something that could deliver a great blow to the Church. Perhaps an insurmountable blow in this age of our struggle with Suleiman. I want you to retrieve it. It's a task that requires your particular skills.”
“All of them?” said the nun.
“Whatever's required, my child. And may the Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ, the merits of the Blessed Virgin Mary and of all the saints obtain for you that whatever good you do or whatever
Similar Books
