The Translation of Father Torturo by Connell Brendan

Author:Connell, Brendan [Connell, Brendan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Prime Books
Published: 2005-04-30T20:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Cardinals, when given an audience with him, quivered from head to toe. Those used to addressing audiences of thousands found themselves speechless in his singular presence. The President of the United States, upon visiting Rome for the first time, obtained an audience for himself, his wife and daughter. The latter two dressed themselves in black, with black veils, like women from Sicily. The daughter wore red shoes, grotesquely incongruous with the occasion.

“Red shoes!” Di Quaglio whispered to the Pope as they approached.

“A dash of the Scarlet Woman in her, eh?”

For the Vicar of Christ Upon Earth, the meeting was tiresome. The presence of the women, the nature of the visit, made the discussion of serious topics difficult to advance. He was glad to leave the Throne Room at the end of such a dull audience. He made his way through the Gallery of Maps, the walls rich with rare charts, cosmographical diagrams and paintings of naval battles. Turning the corner, into the Sala Dei Misteri, he saw Zuccarelli moving towards him with hasty steps, his face solemn and particularly dignified. Since his ascension to the important office he now held, the tall, thin ecclesiastic seemed more grave and distinguished than ever. Though he treated the Pope with the utmost respect, those of lesser status he glanced over with a level of contempt that made him notorious.

“Good day,” Lando the Second said, offering the other his hand.

Zuccarelli quickly dropped to one knee, kissed the Pope’s hand and rose. “Good day Your Holiness.”

“And how are you.”

“Perfect.”

“Are you finding your new situation satisfactory?”

“Yes, absolutely satisfactory,” Zuccarelli answered stiffly. “Most kind of you to ask.”

“I take it that you are having no trouble in managing the affairs of the various departments under your jurisdiction? The departments of building, furnishing, and household expenses I imagine to be of little trouble, aside from the accounting. And the fire brigade, garage, printing presses and gardening department, being self contained in nature, must more or less run themselves.”

“Well, they do not exactly run themselves, but Di Quaglio, in his role of sub-prefect, takes a certain portion of the work load off my shoulders, so in the end things are manageable.”

“Di Quaglio is a good man.”

“He knows his work.”

“And Vivan, have you seen him? I would like to consult with him about certain matters.”

“I believe he is in the Sala degli Arazzi, taking lunch. I saw him and a few – I saw him and a few friends making their way there earlier, and was told something to that effect.”

“The Sala degli Arazzi? I did not realise it was a dining room. But, following your suggestion, I will look for him there. And you? You seem to be in a hurry. Does duty call?”

“Er. Yes; duty does call. A number of important tasks . . .”

The Pope nodded his head. “I would imagine so,” he said. “Your responsibilities are extensive.”

Zuccarelli muttered a few unintelligible words, presumably an adieu, bowed, turned and, resuming his hasty steps, made his way around the corner, towards his own private chambers.

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