"I meant a different thing then, and you know it. You are being difficult. I mean now that we cannot think as men. We must think as priests, because that is the most important aspect of our lives. Whatever we may think or want to do as men, our allegiance is to the Church, and to no temporal power! Our loyalty lies only with the Holy Father! You vowed obedience, Ralph. Do you wish to break it again? The Holy Father is infallible in all matters affecting the welfare of God's Church." "He's wrong! His judgment's biased. All of his energies are directed toward fighting Communism. He sees Germany as its greatest enemy, the only real factor preventing the westward spread of Communism. He wants Hitler to remain firmly in the German saddle, just as he was content to see Mussolini rule Italy."
"Believe me, Ralph, there are things you do not know. He is the Pope, he is infallible! If you deny that, you deny your very faith."
The door opened discreetly, but hastily.
"Your Eminence, Herr General Kesselring."
Both prelates rose, their late differences smoothed from their faces, smiling.
"This is a great pleasure, Your Excellency. Won't you sit down? Would you like tea?"
The conversation was conducted in German, since many of the senior members of the Vatican spoke it. The Holy Father was fond of speaking and listening to German.
"Thank you, Your Eminence, I would. Nowhere else in Rome does one get such superbly English tea."
Cardinal Vittorio smiled guilelessly. "It is a habit I acquired while I was the Papal Legate in Australia, and which, for all my innate Italianness, I have not been able to break."
"And you, Your Grace?"
"I'm an Irishman, Herr General. The Irish, too, are brought up on tea." General Albert Kesselring always responded to Archbishop de Bricassart as one man to another; after these slight, oily Italian prelates he was so refreshing, a man without subtlety or cunning, straightforward.
"As always, Your Grace, I am amazed at the purity of your German accent," he complimented.
"I have an ear for languages, Herr General, which means it's like all talents-not worth praising."
"What may we do for Your Excellency?" asked the Cardinal sweetly. "I presume you will have heard of the fate of Il Duce by now?" "Yes, Your Excellency, we have."
"Then you will know in part why I came. To assure you that all is well, and to ask you if perhaps you would convey the message to those summering at Castel Gandolfo? I'm so busy at the moment it's impossible for me to visit Castel Gandolfo myself."
"The message will be conveyed. You are so busy?" "Naturally. You must surely realize this is now an enemy country for us Germans?"
"This, Herr General? This is not Italian soil, and no man is an enemy here except those who are evil."
"I beg your pardon, Your Eminence. Naturally I was referring to Italy, not to the Vatican. But in the matter of Italy I must act as my Fuehrer commands. Italy will be occupied, and my troops, present until now as allies, will become policemen."
Archbishop Ralph, sitting comfortably and looking as if he had never had an ideological struggle in his life, watched the visitor closely. Did he know what his Fuehrer was doing in Poland? How could he not know? Cardinal Vittorio arranged his face into an anxious look. "Dear General, not Rome herself, surely? Ah, not Rome, with her history, her priceless artifacts? If you bring troops within her seven hills there will be strife, destruction. I beg of you, not that!"
General Kesselring looked uncomfortable. "I hope it won't come to that, Your Eminence. But I took an oath also, I too am under orders. I must do as my Fuehrer wishes."
"You'll try for us, Herr General? Please, you must!
I was in Athens some years ago," said Archbishop Ralph quickly, leaning forward, his eyes charmingly wide, a lock of white-sprinkled hair falling across his brow; he was well aware of his effect on the general, and used it without compunction. "Have you been in Athens, sir?" "Yes, I have," said the general dryly.
"Then I'm sure you know the story. How it took men of relatively modern times to destroy the buildings atop the Acropolis? Herr General, Rome stands as she always was, a monument to two thousand years of care, attention, love. Please, I beg of you! Don't endanger Rome."
The general stared at him in startled admiration; his uniform became him very well, but no better than the soutane with its touch of imperial purple became Archbishop Ralph. He, too, had the look of a soldier, a soldier's sparely beautiful body, and the face of an angel. So must the Archangel Michael look; not a smooth young Renaissance boy but an aging perfect man, who had loved Lucifer, fought him, banished Adam and Eve, slain the serpent, stood at God's right hand. Did he know how he looked? He was indeed a man to remember.
"I shall do my best, Your Grace, I promise you. To a certain extent the decision is mine, I admit it. I am, as you know, a civilized man. But you're asking a lot. If I declare Rome an open city, it means I cannot blow up her bridges or convert her buildings into fortresses, and that might well be to Germany's eventual disadvantage. What assurances do I have that Rome won't repay me with treachery if I'm kind to her?"
Cardinal Vittorio pursed his lips and made kissing noises at his cat, an elegant Siamese nowadays; he smiled gently, and looked at the Archbishop. "Rome would never repay kindness with treachery, Herr General. I am sure when you do find the time to visit those summering at Castel Gandolfo that you will receive the same assurances. Here, Kheng-see, my sweetheart! Ah, what a lovely girl you are!" His hands pressed it down on his scarlet lap, caressed it. "An unusual animal, Your Eminence."
"An aristocrat, Herr General. Both the Archbishop and myself bear old and venerable names, but beside her lineage, ours are as nothing. Do you like her name? It is Chinese for silken flower. Apt, is it not?" The tea had arrived, was being arranged; they were all quiet until the lay sister left the room.
