Conclave

by Robert Harris

The men hesitated. Lomeli raised his voice. “This is a sacred Conclave, my children—you are imperilling your immortal souls!” The security men looked at one another, then reluctantly stepped back over the threshold.

Lomeli put his arms around the shoulders of Mandorff and O’Malley and drew them in close. He was glad of the physical contact. They did not yet know of the vote; they did not flinch or try to keep a respectful distance.

This was the place where O’Malley and Mandorff and the masters of ceremonies waited while the Conclave was in session. The chairs by the entrance had been rearranged to form a circle. He wondered how they passed the time during the long hours of voting. Did they speculate about what was happening? Did they read? It almost looked as if they had been playing cards—but that was absurd; of course they hadn’t.

We are all good men, I believe—all of us, are we not?” He sought out Adeyemi and Tremblay and nodded to them, and also to Tedesco and Lomeli.

Vincent ilysm

If Tedesco had been able to stop himself there, Lomeli reflected afterwards, he might have swayed the meeting to his view, which was entirely legitimate. But he was not a man who could ever stop himself once launched upon a theme—that was his glory and his tragedy; that was why his supporters loved him and why they had also persuaded him to stay away from Rome in the days before the Conclave.

I have seen our holy places bombed and our brothers and sisters laid out dead in lines—in the Middle East and in Africa. I have comforted them in their distress and I have buried them, and I can tell you that not one of them—not one—would have wished to see violence met by violence.

“And those against?” Only Tedesco raised his hand, although he looked in the other direction as he did it, as if to dissociate himself from the whole business.

For the first time, he felt at peace with the outcome. Should the lot fall to him, so be it. Father, if thou art willing, remove this cup from me; nevertheless, not my will, but Thine, be done.

Ok Mr Jesus 😭😭😭

In a firm hand, in capital letters, he wrote: BENÍTEZ, and when he looked at it again, it felt strangely right, so that when he stood and flourished his folded ballot paper for all to see, he was able to make his oath with a clean heart.

He would be John. John in honour of the blessed disciple, and of Pope John XXIII under whose revolutionary pontificate he had grown to manhood; John because it would signal his intention to be a reformer; and John because it was traditionally a name associated with Popes whose reigns were short, as he was certain his was bound to be. He would be Pope John XXIV.

Lomeli leaned out of his seat to peer along the aisle at Benítez. His chin was on his chest. He appeared to be praying.

He’s eepy!

Opposite him, Tedesco was bringing his palms together very slowly, as if beating time for a dirge.

Tedesco please 😭😭😭😭😭

At last Benítez raised his head. His dark eyes contained a glint of resolution. He stood. “I accept.”

Benítez paused, and suddenly Lomeli guessed the reason for his apparent detachment: he had spent the last few minutes trying to decide his papal title. He must have been the only cardinal who had come into the Conclave without having a name in mind. In a firm voice he said, “Innocent.”

And it fitted the dignified, childlike, graceful, softly spoken Benítez to perfection.

He knelt before the new Holy Father. Smiling in alarm, Benítez raised himself out of his seat, leaned across the desk and tugged at Lomeli’s mozzetta, indicating that he should get back on his feet.

The low vaulted chamber looked like the props room backstage at a theatre.

Lomeli how would you know that You can tell me the truth Were you a theater kid

Benítez gave Lomeli a resigned smile. “Apparently even the smallest vestments are too large.”

He’s so little!!!

He had anticipated various responses—angry denials, tearful confessions. Instead, Benítez looked more amused than alarmed. “Must I, Dean?”

I need hardly add that all my life I have observed my vows of chastity.”

UNTIL NOW… haha just kidding… unless???

I am what God made me, Your Eminence. It seemed to me more of a sin to correct His handiwork than to leave my body as it was.

Lomeli often wondered afterwards what he must have made of the scene: the newly elected Holy Father and the Dean of the College of Cardinals sitting on a pair of chairs, knees practically touching, in the middle of what was obviously a profound conversation.