“Of course. But remember, I got your back, brother.” Roberto turned his attention back to the oven to check on the lasagna. “What other secrets from the Archives?”
“I heard there’s a petition from King Henry VIII to the pope seeking an annulment from Catherine of Aragon in 1533.”
“No kidding.” Roberto checked the thermometer for doneness. “Did you know the pope denying that request led to the birth of the Church of England?” he interjected, flaunting his wealth of knowledge. “Must’ve hurt the Vatican coffers to lose all that revenue.”
“Wow, there’s that brain of yours again,” Mario said, straightening up and nodding in admiration.
“What else?”
“Records from Galileo’s trial.”
“Yep. They thought he was crazy; now he’s hailed as a genius.” Roberto chuckled at the irony.
“Letters from Mary, Queen of Scots. And a grand empress from China. All dating back centuries.”
“Holy crap, they’re hoarding some serious stuff in there.”
Their conversation was abruptly cut short by the oven’s insistent beeping.
“Saved by the bell,” Roberto quipped, opening the oven door to retrieve the bubbling lasagna. “Let’s eat.”
After plating the food, they moved to the dining room to enjoy the delectable leftovers. Mario cut his fork through the steaming layers of lasagna. “Mmmm. Even leftover, your lasagna never fails to impress,” he said, talking through a mouthful of rich flavors that danced on his tongue.
Roberto chuckled, a hint of pride lighting up his eyes. “I think it actually tastes better the second day.”
Mario took another bite, closing his eyes and savoring the rare treat. “I agree. This one is better than the last. Did you do anything different?”
“I used a nice bottle of Chianti in the meat sauce as usual, but as a twist I added some truffle sauce. Gives it that earthy flavor. You like it?”
“Delicious. I’ll happily be your guinea pig for your experiments any day of the week.” Mario consumed another forkful of the signature dish.
“Anything else of interest happening at work?” Roberto probed, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.
“I’m not sure.” Mario’s gaze dropped to his lasagna, unsure whether to reveal his peculiar discovery involving the concealed brown-paper package.
“What is it?” Roberto had recognized Mario’s change in demeanor.
“I . . . um, stumbled upon a rather unusual document in the Archives yesterday,” Mario confessed, his voice hesitant.
“I’m sure you are going to find a lot of unusual things inside that place. Look at the Templar parchment you just told me about.”
“This one . . . this one is different. I don’t want you to jump to conclusions and start weaving your conspiracy theories,” Mario warned, his tone getting serious.
“Now you have to tell me. Spill the beans,” Roberto urged, his eyes wide with anticipation.
“Alright, but promise me you’ll keep your conspiracy theories in check.”
“Enough with the suspense. Out with it already,” Roberto demanded, his patience wearing thin.
“I discovered a strange package hidden behind some books on a shelf,” Mario revealed, his voice barely audible.
“And . . .?" Roberto’s hand gestured for Mario to continue, his impatience growing.
“It appears to be a book wrapped in brown paper, sealed with a wax stamp.”
“Ooooo. Oooo. It was Professor Plum in the library with a book wrapped in brown paper,” Roberto teased, pointing his finger at Mario in mock accusation.
“Enough with the jokes,” Mario retorted, his tone stern.
“Alright, alright. So, what’s inside this mystery package?”
“Remember, whatever I tell you stays within these four walls.”
“I swear,” Roberto promised, raising his right hand in a solemn vow. “Tell me.”
“I don’t know. I put it back on the shelf,” Mario confessed, his voice filled with regret.
“Dude! Now you have to open it,” Roberto demanded, his anticipation teetering on the edge of mania.
“’Dude’? Really?” Mario retorted, his face scrunched in disbelief.
“Okay, buddy, friend, pal—whatever. You gotta tell me what’s in the package,” Roberto implored, his voice laced with a raw desperation to know.
Mario hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt a sudden surge of fear, a fear his esteemed position might be put in jeopardy by revealing too much to Roberto. “You’re making me nervous. You can’t blow this position for me by using what I tell you to spout off conspiracy theories around others.”
“I’m sorry. My imagination goes wild sometimes. I’ll let the matter go.” Roberto had already decided to back off after seeing the panic on Mario’s face. He’d pushed the envelope too far this time. His friend was visibly uncomfortable.
Mario felt only a little relief. He was torn between his loyalty to the Church and his loyalty to his best friend. Roberto had been there his entire life; he’d backed him against the bullies at the orphanage, supported him during the rigors of seminary, and now helped steer him to this honored position in the Vatican Secret Archives. On the other hand, the Church has also been there Mario’s entire life. It had raised him, educated him, led him to his calling. He had taken his vows and became a priest, a decision he held dear. Now, carrying out his esteemed position within the sacred walls of the Vatican Secret Archives, his loyalty was coming into question.
Roberto, sensing the tension he’d caused, tried to diffuse it. “You know, it’s probably nothing,” he said, his voice filled with regret. His mind often ran away through a whirlwind of theories, most of which never materialized. However, this never stopped him from dreaming and imagining the impossible.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Mario agreed, taking another bite of his lasagna. “The Vatican is meticulous in its cataloging. It’s probably just an oversight.”
“Hey, you’ll find out on Monday, right?” Roberto kept his banter light the rest of the night. He was filled with hope that Mario might change his mind in due time.
Chapter 7
May 3, 1982
Monday
Santa Maria Orphanage
Rome, Italy
Alistar took careful aim with the BB gun, his gaze locked onto the pigeon defiling the sacred basilica wall with its droppings. The honor of being assigned extermination duties by Mother Superior was not lost on the fourteen-year-old. As the oldest and biggest child in the Santa Maria Orphanage, Alistar reveled in the sense of authority this task bestowed upon him over the other children. With a steady hand and a sharp eye, he pulled the trigger, nailing the bird with a single precise shot. This marked his fifth pigeon of the morning. His total count had now soared past a hundred since his arrival at the orphanage.
From her vantage point in the window above him, Mother Superior Maria Francis watched with a satisfied smile as Alistar dispatched another pigeon with deadly accuracy. She knew she had chosen the right student for this task. Even though she had bent Church rules by procuring the BB gun for the young boy, she felt justified. Ever since she had assumed the role of mother superior, the pigeons had been a constant nuisance, their presence an affront to her need for cleanliness, not to mention the sanctity of the basilica. The arrival of Alistar at her orphanage had been a serendipitous event. The young man was proving to be a valuable asset in her battle against the pigeon infestation, in addition to his contributions to the orphanage’s daily operations.
