Or was it, perhaps, the place where Thomas à Becket had once stood, when he made his decision?
But there was no point in delaying. Very pale, but composed, Mazzare broken the seal and opened the letter.
It took him some time to read it. The Latin was even more flowery than usual. Mostly, though, it took him some time because the contents were the last thing he had expected. In fact, they didn’t even qualify as “last.” He had never once imagined he might receive such a letter—neither in his dreams nor his nightmares. He had to read it three times over before he finally absorbed it.
“I am summoned to Rome,” he said harshly. “I must appear before the Inquisition.”
* * *
On the landing above, where he’d been eavesdropping, Gerry Stone pulled his head back and tip-toed away as fast as he could.
“Michel was right,” he muttered to himself. “Every which way from Sunday. The bastards are pulling out all the stops.”
* * *
Seeing the shock on the face of Simon Jones—Sharon’s too—Mazzare belatedly realized that he’d perhaps chosen his words poorly. Simon was such a close friend that the priest sometimes forgot that the Protestant minister would automatically place a different twist on certain things.
He cawed a little laugh. “Oh, for Pete’s sake. Simon, to ‘appear before the Inquisition’—which is slang to begin with; the correct term these days is ‘Holy Office’ or ‘Commission of Inquiry’—just means about the same thing as ‘to appear in court.’ In case you’d never noticed, lots of people have to appear in court. The defendant is only one of them. There is also the prosecutor, the witnesses—”
“They want you to be a witness, then?” Jones’ sigh of relief might have knocked down walls. The thatch walls of the lazy first little piggie, anyway. Maybe even the second.
Mazzare looked back down at the letter. “No, as a matter of fact. They want me to appear as the attorney—well, that’s not the right term exactly—for the defense. I’m to defend Galileo before the Holy Office.”
It was all Mazzare could do not to crumple the letter in his fist. Not in anger, but in a sudden and almost uncontrollable surge of triumph.
Simon Jones might be a Protestant, and thus unfamiliar with the intricate workings of the Roman Catholic Church. Not to mention something of a hillbilly naïf. But the Methodist minister had a very good brain, and it didn’t take him more than a few seconds to realize the truth.
“Lord in Heaven,” he murmured. “It’s cracking, isn’t it? Cracking wide open.”
With some effort, Mazzare took the time to fold the letter back up in a neat manner. Then, handed it back to Mazarini. “How soon?” he asked.
“Immediately, Monsignor.” Mazarini smiled. It was a thin smile, but a cheerful one nonetheless. “Not even a man of my modest station is used simply as a courier.”
Mazzare nodded. “No, of course not. You’re to be my escort and—ah—”
Mazarini raised a stiff hand. The smile was on the verge of cracking open itself. “Please! I assure you, Father, that no one—certainly not Giulio Mazarini!—has ever once contemplated such crude terms as ‘jailer’ and ‘watchdog.’ The Holy Father has great trust in you.”
The diplomat cocked his head a bit sideways, narrowing his eyes. “Um. Actually, I think that last bit may even be true. And what a rare wonder that would be, in this odd business we practice.”
Mazarini now gestured to the door. “I have made all the arrangements, Father. A boat to take us to the mainland. Thereafter, an excellent carriage. We can leave as soon as you are ready.”
“I’ll just need a half hour to pack some things.” Mazzare turned to Jones. “This is something I have to do, Simon. Must. But . . . can you come with me? I’d find your company a help and a comfort.”
Simon didn’t hesitate for more than a second. “Yes, of course. But who’ll hold the fort for us while we’re gone? Stoner’s back up in Padua.”
“I’ll send word for him to get right back,” said Sharon firmly. “In the meantime, I imagine I can handle whatever needs to be. It can’t be that hard, right? Basically, I just pass the buck until Stoner gets back, and then he passes the buck until you do. Stoner’s a world-class buck-passer and I’m no slouch either, if I say so myself.” She gave Mazzare a dazzling smile.