Eugenio watched as his grandfather stood tall and resolute by the fireplace, anticipation building within him over the words that would irrevocably alter the course of his life. The esteemed patriarch’s prolonged silence only served to amplify the gravity of the moment.

Marcantonio turned slowly, his face etched with a seriousness that was impossible to ignore. “I trust you are aware of the long-standing tradition I conduct with every young man of the Pacelli lineage,” he began.

“I do, Grandfather,” Eugenio responded, his voice steady despite the anticipation coursing through his veins.

“I must tell you, Eugenio, that the conversation we are about to have is unlike any I’ve had with your predecessors,” Marcantonio continued, his gaze unwavering.

Eugenio remained silent, his posture rigid as he braced himself for the unprecedented revelation.

“The Council has reached a definitive decision. One that I had a significant hand in shaping.” Marcantonio paused, ensuring that Eugenio was fully engaged in the moment. “It is a great honor that this commission has been chosen from our bloodline.”

Eugenio held his breath, hanging onto his grandfather’s every word, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Eugenio, it is with immense pride that I announce the Council has chosen you for the path to the papacy,” Marcantonio Pacelli declared.

The boy was taken aback. He was at a loss for words, unable to formulate a response. He could see the pride radiating from his grandfather at this supreme appointment.

Eugenio was well aware of his grandfather’s unwavering dedication to the Vatican, a commitment that spanned decades, long before Eugenio was even born. Marcantonio had been part of the entourage that accompanied Pope Pius IX into exile, serving as a political consultant and lawyer, managing Vatican affairs from a distance. The Black Nobility, recognizing the severity of this exile, decided that a new leader in Rome was needed. The Vatican’s financial stability was hanging by a thread, and without immediate intervention, the Holy See risked losing its independence and falling under Italian rule once again. The fate of the Vatican now rested upon the shoulders of Marcantonio Pacelli’s grandson.

Eugenio bowed his head and closed his eyes. “As it shall be, Grandfather.”

Marcantonio exhaled a sigh of relief upon hearing his grandson’s words. He had been certain of Eugenio’s loyalty and admiration for him, and was confident the boy would accept his destiny—however, he’d needed to hear that acceptance from Eugenio himself.

Marcantonio was filled with a sense of satisfaction knowing he could relay to the Council their chosen one had willingly accepted the monumental task. The Council had meticulously crafted a timeline for Eugenio’s ascension to the papacy, a path that would secure the Vatican’s financial stability for generations to come.

Over the course of the next hour, patriarch and grandson delved into the intricate plans and strategies the Council had devised for the boy’s future. As their meeting neared its conclusion, Marcantonio ambled towards the fireplace, his eyes fixed on a package lying on the mantel. It was wrapped in nondescript brown paper.

“This tome was unearthed in the far reaches of the Orient and recently translated into our native tongue. I want you to have it,” he said, crossing the room to hand the gift to Eugenio.

With careful hands, Eugenio unwrapped the package, revealing a copy of The Art of War by Sun Tzu. The book was an oddity, its cover adorned with Chinese characters and its contents filled with ancient wisdom about warfare. Eugenio was intrigued yet puzzled as to the relevance of such a book.

“This book will serve as a guide for the mission the Council has entrusted to you. I want you to read it, study it, understand its teachings,” Marcantonio instructed, his gaze intense, ensuring his grandson grasped the importance of his words.

Eugenio met his grandfather’s gaze. “I will. Thank you, Grandfather,” he said, rising to his feet to shake the hand of the esteemed patriarch. He’d remembered Francesco’s advice to conclude the meeting with a handshake, resisting his natural inclination to embrace the beloved man who had just entrusted him with such a significant responsibility.

“I shall leave you to your thoughts now,” Marcantonio declared, his footsteps echoing ominously as he moved towards the office door. He paused, casting a final glance over his shoulder at his grandson. “I will inform the Council of your decision, Eugenio.”

The use of his birth name, rather than the usual affectionate “nipote”, sent a shiver down Eugenio’s spine. It was a clear indication of his transition from boyhood to manhood, a rite of passage that placed him on par with his older brother and cousins. He was no longer just a grandson; he was a man, a part of the elite group that held the fate of the Vatican in their hands.

As the door closed behind Marcantonio, Eugenio was left alone in the grand study. He would not emerge as his kin had prior, not yet—he was on a different path now. The weight of his choice pressed heavily upon his young shoulders. He knew the Council did not make such decisions lightly. This was a lifelong commitment, a path of servitude that would lead him into the priesthood, into the heart of the Vatican, and into the intricate web of the Black Nobility.

In his hands he held the book his grandfather had given him—The Art of War. A strange gift from the Orient. Its significance was lost on him. What did war have to do with priesthood, with the papacy? Confusion swirled in his mind, but he trusted in his grandfather’s wisdom, in the guidance that had led him to this pivotal moment in his life.

With a deep breath, he opened the book, his eyes scanning the first page as he began to read.

The Art of War

Warfare is the greatest affair of state, the basis of life and death, the Tao for survival or extinction. It must be thoroughly pondered and analyzed. Therefore, structure it according to the following five factors, comparatively evaluate it through estimation, and seek out its true nature. The first is termed the Tao, the second Heaven, the third Earth, the fourth generals, and the fifth the laws for military organization and discipline.

Warfare is the greatest affair of state? The opening sentence left Eugenio in a state of bewilderment. What possible connection could there be between the brutalities of war and the sanctity of the papacy? With a sense of trepidation and curiosity, he turned the page, delving deeper into the enigmatic text.

Warfare is the Tao of deception. Thus:

℘ Although you are capable, display incapability.

℘ When committed to employing your forces, feign inactivity.

℘ When your objective is nearby, make it appear distant.

℘ When your objective is far away, make it appear nearby.

℘ Display profits and entice them.

℘ Create disorder and take them.

℘ If they are substantial, prepare for them.

℘ If they are angry, perturb them.

℘ Be deferential to foster their arrogance.

℘ If they are rested, force them to exert themselves.

℘ If they are united, cause them to be separated.

℘ Attack where they are unprepared. Go forth where they will not expect it.

These are the ways military strategists are victorious. They cannot be spoken of in advance.

Eugenio found himself grappling with the enormity of the plans the Black Nobility had meticulously crafted for him. The certainty of his ascent to the papacy, as chosen by the Council, was the only clear aspect in this whirlwind of information. He had unwavering faith in his grandfather, a man of wisdom and experience who had served the Vatican in various capacities, including Under Secretary in the Papal Ministry of Finance and Secretary of the Interior. Eugenio was confident his grandfather would never steer him onto a path that wasn’t in the best interests of the Pacelli family, the Black Nobility, or Eugenio himself. He was ready to embrace his destiny with honor, guided by the wisdom of his revered grandfather and the Council of the Black Nobility.

Closing the book, he rose from his seat, a newfound sense of purpose radiating from him. He exited the study, his stride full of pride and determination. While he couldn’t fully grasp every detail of the intricate path that had been laid out for him, he was committed to following his elders’ guidance with unwavering discipline and diligence.

Eugenio Maria Giuseppe Giovanni Pacelli was certain of his destiny. He would be pope.

Chapter 12

March 6, 2000

Monday, 6 p.m.

Rome, Italy

Mario approached the imposing double doors of Roberto’s palatial mansion, his eyes widening in awe at their magnificence. They never failed to impress him. He gently pushed open a door and poked his head inside the opulent foyer. “Berto, are you in?”

“I’m in the kitchen,” came the distant reply.

As Mario ventured further into the house, the tantalizing aroma of garlic sautéing in butter, the earthy scent of mushrooms, and the rich, hearty smell of sausage and ground beef wafted through the air. Taken with the subtle hint of pasta boiling in the background, it made for an olfactory symphony that caused his stomach rumble in anticipation. He hadn’t intended to stay for dinner, but with every step the heavenly smells were becoming increasingly difficult to resist—provided there wasn’t a lady guest already being entertained.