Spanish Match by Brennan Pursell

Author:Brennan Pursell [Pursell, Brennan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Catholic
Publisher: Sophia Institute Press
Published: 2013-12-09T05:00:00+00:00

Two days after this discussion, the Pope, his nephew, and the other cardinals resident in Rome celebrated Palm Sunday in the newly consecrated Basilica of St. Peter. Two days after that, a carriage bearing the arms of the King of Spain trundled into St. Peter’s Square. The Duke of Pastrana, the cousin of Count Olivares, stepped out and entered the papal palace.

29

Rome

If you have a message for the Holy Father about a matter of state, you are to submit it to me.” Cardinal Ludovisi glowered at the portly, bearded Spaniard who stood opposite his desk. He knew he was not the only Italian prelate who bristled at Spanish high-handedness. Mother Church was not a handmaid of the Spanish monarchy and never would be, as long as he could help it. Spain was only one in a long line of worldly powers that thought they could control the papacy, just because they happened to control almost everything else.

“I request a private audience with Holy Father at once,” the Duke of Pastrana said. “Your Eminence need not delay.”

The cardinal swallowed his anger. “No request will be made until I see the letter you claim to bear.”

The duke rolled his eyes and tossed the folded, sealed paper onto the cardinal’s desk.

Ludovisi thought of throwing it back at him or, better yet, out the window, but he disciplined himself. He read it through, and was glad he had. “I go to His Holiness. Wait in the chapel across from my office until you are called for. I recommend that you pray, fervently.”

After two hours, the duke was ushered into the diplomatic reception hall, decorated with the finest painting and sculpture of the greatest Italian masters of the preceding century. Gregory sat on a dais, dressed in white and gold, wearing the papal tiara, a triple crown of gold. Cardinal Ludovisi stood behind him, to his right.

After kneeling to kiss the Pope’s ring, the cardinal introduced the duke as the cousin of the Count of Olivares, the King of Spain’s most trusted servant.

Pastrana formally announced that the Prince of Wales was in Spain.

“We know,” Gregory said in a wan voice.

“An assassin attempted to take the prince’s life not two weeks ago. He failed, but a royal councilor was severely wounded.”

“A sad occurrence, but we thank God for His mercy,” the Pope said, almost in a whisper.

“Amen,” the cardinal said with total sincerity.

“The Count of Olivares, in this letter, informs Your Holiness that the prince has no intention of abandoning his heresy and embracing the Catholic Faith.”

The Pope and the cardinal made no comment.

The duke cleared his throat. “My cousin has bid me to communicate a private wish to Your Holiness and Your Eminence.” He swallowed hard.

The Pope’s fingers began to drum on the chair’s armrest.

“The Count of Olivares,” the duke said, “asks that Your Holiness prevent the marriage by imposing impossible conditions for the dispensation.”

Neither the Pope nor the cardinal moved a muscle.

The duke went on. “The Count of Olivares has with the greatest disappointment

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