all, Livia—find it repugnant. But an extremist faction feel that in agreeing to it, Martin the Fifth poisoned the Church’s very soul. They believe any relationship with us beyond the murderous enmity of old is a tragic and irresponsible mistake and argue Martin’s act delegitimizes him and all Popes since. That it is proof he was never fit to lead the Church. They maintain it was we who engineered Martin’s rise, in exchange for this contract. A charge,” he added with a small smile, “not entirely without merit. We didn’t engineer it, but once assured of the transformation in our lives Martin was prepared to bring about, we . . . took part in events already under way.”
“A fine distinction,” Cartelli sniffed, “which is lost on the extremists. A sour and unsubtle crowd. Their dearest wish is to go back to the apostolic line of the man who would have been John the Twenty-third, now called Antipope. It was he who was defeated by Martin.”
Livia considered this. “They want to install whoever’s in that line today, as Pope? The Church would never allow it.”
“Whether they would or wouldn’t does not signify!” Cartelli snapped. “For myself, I believe they might indeed. But can you not see the danger of the argument erupting, irrespective of who wins it? If the Church were to split publicly on this issue, our existence would be revealed. In order to gain sympathy for their cause, the militant faction would paint us in the darkest of colors. Vicious and bloody rhetoric would be used to terrify the faithful, as in years past. The power struggle within the Church would be couched in terms of us: Are you a true and pious child of the Holy Mother Church? Or a friend of the Godless Noantri? Those currently in power would try to make people understand the Concordat as a lesser-of-two-evils way to keep the wicked Noantri under control. The others would claim no compromise is possible with such demons. And no one, Livia Pietro, would claim us as their friends.”
Ice sat in Livia’s stomach; she wanted to argue, but long experience of the world silenced her. Cartelli, in fact, was probably correct.
“The new Librarian,” the Pontifex said, and Livia was grateful for his calm, measured tones, “Lorenzo Cardinal Cossa, is of the extremist camp. He would happily use the Concordat as a scourge against us. But he is bound in obedience to his Church. We believe his search for the lost copy, therefore, is his attempt to do the next best thing: to ensure this compromise never comes to light.”
“I see,” Livia said slowly. “But if it does—”
“If Jonah Richter were to reveal the contents of the Concordat and prove its existence, the Cardinal, we think, would be bitterly grateful. The ensuing hysteria within the Church—and around the world—would set him free to argue to the current Pope and the Church powers that nothing could restore the Church’s legitimacy but an abrogation of the Concordat and the destruction of the Noantri.”
The Pontifex paused, then spoke like iron. “That will not happen.” His echoing voice seemed to agitate the shadows, to make the bones dance on the candlelit walls. Livia did not doubt him. One of the Eldest, the Pontifex was a man of great learning, wise judgment, and respected counsel. And something more, also: a depth and delicacy of understanding of the Community, their lives and their situation, that set him apart and above. There were those, like Jonah, who believed that they needed no Conclave and no leader and after Unveiling, would have none. But while they had a leader, no Noantri had ever argued that another was more suited than this man.
In a quiet voice, the Pontifex spoke again. “That Cardinal Cossa has not already begun this argument within the Church indicates, we believe, that he does not know about Jonah Richter’s threat. Nor will he. As I said, if you make no progress in your search for the Concordat, the Conclave will attend to Jonah
“A fine distinction,” Cartelli sniffed, “which is lost on the extremists. A sour and unsubtle crowd. Their dearest wish is to go back to the apostolic line of the man who would have been John the Twenty-third, now called Antipope. It was he who was defeated by Martin.”
Livia considered this. “They want to install whoever’s in that line today, as Pope? The Church would never allow it.”
“Whether they would or wouldn’t does not signify!” Cartelli snapped. “For myself, I believe they might indeed. But can you not see the danger of the argument erupting, irrespective of who wins it? If the Church were to split publicly on this issue, our existence would be revealed. In order to gain sympathy for their cause, the militant faction would paint us in the darkest of colors. Vicious and bloody rhetoric would be used to terrify the faithful, as in years past. The power struggle within the Church would be couched in terms of us: Are you a true and pious child of the Holy Mother Church? Or a friend of the Godless Noantri? Those currently in power would try to make people understand the Concordat as a lesser-of-two-evils way to keep the wicked Noantri under control. The others would claim no compromise is possible with such demons. And no one, Livia Pietro, would claim us as their friends.”
Ice sat in Livia’s stomach; she wanted to argue, but long experience of the world silenced her. Cartelli, in fact, was probably correct.
“The new Librarian,” the Pontifex said, and Livia was grateful for his calm, measured tones, “Lorenzo Cardinal Cossa, is of the extremist camp. He would happily use the Concordat as a scourge against us. But he is bound in obedience to his Church. We believe his search for the lost copy, therefore, is his attempt to do the next best thing: to ensure this compromise never comes to light.”
“I see,” Livia said slowly. “But if it does—”
“If Jonah Richter were to reveal the contents of the Concordat and prove its existence, the Cardinal, we think, would be bitterly grateful. The ensuing hysteria within the Church—and around the world—would set him free to argue to the current Pope and the Church powers that nothing could restore the Church’s legitimacy but an abrogation of the Concordat and the destruction of the Noantri.”
The Pontifex paused, then spoke like iron. “That will not happen.” His echoing voice seemed to agitate the shadows, to make the bones dance on the candlelit walls. Livia did not doubt him. One of the Eldest, the Pontifex was a man of great learning, wise judgment, and respected counsel. And something more, also: a depth and delicacy of understanding of the Community, their lives and their situation, that set him apart and above. There were those, like Jonah, who believed that they needed no Conclave and no leader and after Unveiling, would have none. But while they had a leader, no Noantri had ever argued that another was more suited than this man.
In a quiet voice, the Pontifex spoke again. “That Cardinal Cossa has not already begun this argument within the Church indicates, we believe, that he does not know about Jonah Richter’s threat. Nor will he. As I said, if you make no progress in your search for the Concordat, the Conclave will attend to Jonah
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