Conclave

by Robert Harris

In all of these positions, however nominal, he had played an active part: had preached sermons and celebrated Mass and heard confessions. But one could be the grandest prince of the Universal Church and still lack the most basic skills of the commonest country priest. If only he had experienced life in an ordinary parish, just for a year or two! Instead, ever since his ordination, his path of service—first as a professor of canon law, then as a diplomat, and finally, briefly, as Secretary of State—had seemed only to lead him away from God rather than towards Him. The higher he had climbed, the further heaven had receded. And now it fell to him, of all unworthy creatures, to guide his fellow cardinals in choosing the man who should hold the Keys of St. Peter. Servus fidelis. A faithful servant. It was on his coat of arms. A prosaic motto for a prosaic man. A manager… After a while he went into the bathroom and poured himself a glass of water. Very well then, he thought. Manage.