“I read an entry about Adolf Hitler and a man named Hess.”
“Rudolf Hess?” Roberto asked, his interest intensifying.
“Yes, that’s right. The entry mentioned both of them being in prison.”
“Incredible. A journal talking about Hitler and Hess. What else did you find?” Roberto asked, his eyes wide with intrigue.
“I got scared and put it back,” Mario admitted, his voice shaky.
“Scared? By a journal? How does a journal scare you?”
“There was a warning written on the inside of the wrapping paper. It said ‘Beware! Do not read! You’ll be in danger!’ or something like that.”
“It’s just an old journal, Mario. That warning probably doesn’t mean anything,” Roberto said dismissively. His hand drifted towards his wine glass to indulge in a generous gulp; his initial enthusiasm was clearly waning.
“The warning was signed with the initials ‘GAB’,” Mario revealed, his voice laced with intrigue.
“And?” That tidbit alone did not pique Roberto’s interest.
“The priest who served in the Vatican Secret Archives before me shared those very initials.”
“What was his name again?”
“Giuseppe Alphonso Benedetti. GAB.”
“Perhaps it’s a coincidence,” Roberto suggested, setting down his wine glass and reclining in his chair. Despite his casual motions, there was a sense of foreboding creeping over him. He had a hunch this journal held more secrets than Mario was letting on. “What else did you uncover in your reading?”
“I read the first entry, dating back to 1888. The author spoke of a meeting with his grandfather and being designated as a successor in line for the papacy.”
“Ah ha,” Roberto exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at Mario. “So, the popes are handpicked, not democratically elected.” He mused over this revelation, a conspiracy theory brewing in his mind. “Even within the sacred walls of the Vatican, it’s about who you know, not what you know.” He took another sip of his Chianti, his mind racing. “And to whom does this alleged future pope’s journal belong to?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I came over to research it with you.”
“Then let’s go. I gotta know who this dude is.” Roberto gathered his plate and wine glass and swiftly headed towards the kitchen.
“Alright, alright. Let me finish up here.” Mario consumed the remainder of the delicious dish faster than he would have liked.
By the time Mario joined him, Roberto was already seated at his desk, ready to search deeper into the mystery.
“Search ‘Eugenio Pacelli’,” Mario instructed.
Roberto inputted the search query into dogpile.com, and a plethora of search results flooded the screen:
Eugenio Maria Giuseppe Giovanni Pacelli, better known as Pope Pius XII, held the esteemed position of the head of the Catholic Church and the sovereign of the Vatican City State from 2 March 1939 until his death in October 1958. Prior to his ascension to the papacy, Pacelli held several significant roles within the Church:
1) secretary of the Department of Extraordinary Ecclesiastical Affairs, a role that saw him involved in the Church’s most pressing matters;
2) Papal nuncio to Germany, acting as the diplomatic representative of the Holy See to the German State right after World War I;
3) In his capacity as the Cardinal Secretary of State, Pacelli worked tirelessly to conclude treaties with various European and Latin American nations. Among these was the notable Reichskonkordat with the German Reich, a treaty that marked a significant moment in the Church’s history.
“Fascinating. He got entangled in the Nazis’ web,” Roberto mused, his eyes reflecting a spark of intrigue.
Mario’s brows furrowed in confusion at Roberto’s statement. “Where’d you get that from?”
“‘German Reich’ is synonymous with the Nazis.”
Mario fell into a stunned silence. This glaring piece of information had somehow been disregarded from the curriculum in seminary.
As Roberto’s finger flicked the mouse wheel scrolling through a sea of related articles, his excitement grew palpable. “Hold on! Oh, we have to look at this one.”
The Botched Embalming of Pope Pius XII: In line with long-standing customs, the task of embalming Pope Pius XII fell to the papal physician, Riccardo Galeazzi-Lisi. Despite his prestigious position, Galeazzi-Lisi was notorious for his lack of medical competence. This deficiency was glaringly evident in his disastrous attempt at embalming the pope. As the funeral procession moved from Castel Gandolfo to Rome, the pope’s body began to decompose in full view of the public. The spectacle was horrifying, with the pope’s chest collapsing, his nose and fingers detaching, and his body taking on an alarming “emerald-green” hue.
“Oooooh, that is just disgusting,” Roberto bellowed, his laughter coarse and unrefined as he cringed at the grotesque blunder.
“Truly nauseating,” Mario grimaced, his face contorting as he visualized the cadaver decaying under the relentless gaze of the public.
Roberto clicked on more articles, his eyes darting across the screen, absorbing the information. “You’re saying you found this guy’s personal diary?”
“The diary supposedly belongs to that man there.” Mario’s finger tapped the name displayed on the monitor. “Eugenio Pacelli.”
“There’s something suspicious about this priest-slash-cardinal-slash-pope guy,” Roberto surmised, suspicion creeping into his voice.
Despite the vast wealth of information available online today, there are certain limitations when it comes to accessing the Vatican Secret Archives. Specifically, documents dated post-1939 are generally off-limits to researchers. Additionally, a whole segment of the Secret Archives, which pertains to the personal matters of cardinals from 1922 and beyond, remains inaccessible.
“Well, isn’t that just convenient.” Roberto’s tone dripped with skepticism. Any potentially damning evidence was safely locked away within the walls of the Vatican’s formidable fortress, shielded from the public’s prying eyes.
The Vatican, a colossal entity in Rome, cast an imposing shadow over the city’s populace. It was as if the Holy See had its eyes on every move you made, whether in the public sphere or in the privacy of your own home. There was no escaping its omnipresence. Every Roman citizen could feel the Vatican’s power, its influence seeping into their lives. The commandments were clear: Thou shalt not lie, steal, or cheat. Thou shalt not kill nor envy. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife. Thou shalt not pick thy nose. The fear of condemnation, the guilt instilled by the Vatican’s all-seeing power, was a constant companion to the city’s inhabitants.
