“Because he did not write it at a time when there were printing presses and mass distribution with the understanding that billions of people would one day be able to read such words. That would not have been his intention—to have everyone read it. He wrote it at a time when it would be a teaching tool in the hands of a trained apostle, someone who would know how to interpret what he wanted us to know in a very specific way.”
Maureen nodded. “And would it be a safety precaution? So if the book ended up in the wrong hands, it could not be used against him or his followers as blasphemous?”
“Very possible. We cannot know for sure. But you see? I was able to shine some light on your dreams, even though you were reluctant to come here. You will not find anyone in the world with more experience in understanding visions. I hope you will feel free to come to me at any time if you need to discuss this further. And please, for your own safety, inform us immediately if you receive further contact from any outside source.”
Maureen thanked him politely for the tea and the conversation, and accepted his invitation to attend the confraternity’s forthcoming presentations on the appearance of our Lady at Knock. She knew it would mean a lot to Peter that she was trying not to hold judgment against all men of the Church. Hadn’t Tómas DeCaro proven to be an absolute gem during her search for Mary Magdalene? And Father Girolamo had been quite lovely today. Perhaps there was some real hope that these men of the Church would come around and consider allowing the truth into their hearts after all. It was a secret wish that she held close as she made her way back across the Tiber to her hotel.
The scent of the lilies hit her before she even opened the door. The room was filled with them. She smiled, certain this time that she knew who was responsible for the gesture. While Bérenger Sinclair had been persistent in his phone calls since the Orval incident, Maureen had not had the opportunity to speak to him. They had traded messages a few times but had yet to connect. She knew he was worried about her, and she longed for the comfort and safety that she felt in his presence. She didn’t relish the idea of having to broker a truce between Bérenger and Peter, but clearly she couldn’t ignore their rift much longer.
Bérenger was not a man to be ignored or denied. The card that accompanied his flowers read,
I’m in the suite upstairs, 4th floor. Dinner at 8:00?
Maureen laughed. Well, at least he gave her some notice. She had three hours to shower and get dressed.
Walking over to the picture window of her own suite, Maureen threw it open to take in the magic of the piazza. The fountain gurgled around the granite obelisk as tourists sat on the marble steps, snapping photos and eating panini. One of the tourists caught Maureen’s eye, causing her to draw a quick breath. Sitting on the steps beside the fountain and looking directly into her room was a man she had seen before—a man wearing a dark hooded sweatshirt and large sunglasses.
Rome
present day
USELESS.
Their nonproductive meeting was over and the leader of the hooded men was left alone to strategize in silence. He removed the midnight blue covering from his head and threw it in disgust. The younger recruits were big on passion but short on common sense. They enjoyed carrying guns and playing cloak-and-dagger games, but God forbid that you needed one of them to think. And he was getting too old to carry so much of this burden without competent help. Even the short trip to Belgium had worn him out.
That idiot actually allowed himself to be seen in the piazza today. Now they would have to assign the detail of following the Paschal woman to someone new. It was exhausting.
Nor did it surprise him that they had thus far been unsuccessful in their hunt for Destino. He was elusive, as he had always been. Always.
Destino, with many places to hide across the continent, could be anywhere. Likely he was in Italy or France, but he had been known to take refuge in Switzerland, Belgium, and the Netherlands. And he had so many aliases, had been known by so many names over so many years, that it was impossible to track him down when he didn’t want to be found.
And it was clear that, at the moment, Destino didn’t want to be found.
There are three promises made at the dawn of time, each of them sacred.
The First Promise is to God, your Mother and Father in Heaven. It represents your most divine mission, what you have come to accomplish in the image of your Creators. It is the reason for incarnation, the purest intention of your soul.
The Second Promise is to the Family of Spirit within which you were created and will belong through eternity. It represents your relationship to each of the souls in your family and how you have agreed to assist them in their mission and they in yours.
The Third Promise is to yourself. It represents how you desire to learn and grow and love within the context of incarnation.
Align yourself with these promises you have made, for they are sacred above all else. Remember them and cherish them, and you will know the greatest joy available to humankind. Do nothing that you know to be against your sacred promises, for that is the definition of sin.
For those with ears to hear, let them hear it.
FROM THE BOOK OF LOVE,
AS PRESERVED IN THE LIBRO ROSSO
Florence
spring 1062
MATILDA WAS HAPPY to the core of her being, if exhausted. The emotional toll of the prophetic dream of the night before and her eventful day with the Order was catching up with her. Still, her sixteenth birthday was not over, as Beatrice and Godfrey were hosting a lavish banquet in her honor. Looking around the banqueting hall, she said a quick prayer of thanks to her Lord. She was most blessed to be surrounded by so many people who loved her, once again. The Book of Love stressed gratitude as a daily practice, and she was certainly thankful this evening.
After the dessert of chestnut cake, her stepfather rose from his place to make an announcement.
“My dearest Matilda, in honor of your coming of age, we have commissioned a special gift for you.”
Conn came forward carrying a large wooden crate. He was dressed and groomed for the occasion, and Matilda realized that she had never seen him like this before. With his thick red-ginger hair smoothed and clean and wearing the rich garments of a gentleman, he was a strikingly handsome man. Later she would notice that many of the women in the room were paying very special attention to the virile Celt. No doubt he would have his choice of the single women in attendance tonight—and perhaps a few of the married ones, if he was discreet, given that they were looking at him like hungry wolves—should he choose not to spend the rest of the evening alone. But at the moment, his sole focus was on Matilda.
“For you, little sister.”
He removed the lid with a flourish. Matilda reached into the box and gasped. Sparkling in the light of the thick beeswax candles was a sea of copper and bronze, undulating within the box. Reaching in to remove it, she was taken aback by how heavy the serpentine chains were. Conn helped her, as she held a full suit of armor, handmade with individual links of chain mail, against her body. But this was not the rough mail of an average warrior. The mail had been dipped in copper and polished to a high shine, so that it was the perfect complement to the color of Matilda’s hair. The heavy bronze collar that matched was made to protect her delicate throat, but it was crafted to rival the beauty of Cleopatra’s own, inlaid as it was with aquamarines to match the color of its wearer’s eyes.
Matilda was overwhelmed by the beauty and thoughtfulness of the gift. She would discover later that while Godfrey and Beatrice had commissioned the armor and made the payments for such a costly present, it was Conn who had seen to the crafting of it. He had overseen every single detail of the design and fashioning. Conn ensured that it was created for her maximum protection but also emphasized that it must be a costume that would inspire the people of Tuscany to rally and support her when she rode out with her troops. The Celtic storyteller in him demanded nothing less than a suit of armor fit for a legendary warrior q
ueen who would follow in the steps of Boudicca.
What she would also discover, many years later, was that during the fashioning of the garment, Conn had prayed over it every day. He had poured holy water over it, a special and blessed water that was taken from the ancient well at Chartres. He invoked God and the angels for their divine protection of his little sister in spirit, the magical warrior countess whom he had been sworn to protect. It was a promise he had made a very long time ago, a promise to God, and one he intended to keep at all costs.
The fortunes of the papacy continued to wax and wane, and the great houses of Europe waged a prolonged and bloody battle for the soul of Rome, the city that would see nearly twenty popes come and go during Matilda’s lifetime. It was in this climate that a young archdeacon from an influential Roman family, Ildebrando Pierleoni, arrived in Florence to meet with the duke of Lorraine and his advisers.
Known as Brando to his intimate friends, this Roman politician from the wealthiest family in that region was politically accomplished and savvy well beyond his years. He was a handsome and dynamic man, with chiseled features and intelligent eyes that were a striking light gray in color, highly unusual for a Roman. But it was not just his eyes that set him apart. Brando Pierleoni had a rare charisma that radiated from him as he entered the meeting hall in the duke’s Florentine palace.
Godfrey of Lorraine greeted him warmly. “We are honored by your company, and offer our condolences on the loss of your friend and our most beloved Holy Father.”
Brando accepted the greeting with equal warmth. There was sincere sadness in his expression as he discussed the recently deceased Pope Nicholas. “He was a great man, and I will miss him for the rest of my life. He was one of my finest teachers.”
“And you have had your share of fine mentors.” Godfrey wanted Brando to be aware that he was well informed on the young man’s illustrious history in papal politics. “Your uncle was also a great man.”
Brando Pierleoni was the nephew of the late Pope Gregory VI, a pontiff who had been sent into exile by Henry III, the same wicked emperor who imprisoned Matilda and Beatrice while confiscating their land. The diplomatic Brando had accompanied his beleaguered uncle into Germany, acted as the liaison for his family during the difficult period of exile, and made a name for himself as an intelligent and worthy counselor on issues of Roman politics.
He used his days in Germany well and wisely, approaching them as a fact-finding mission to garner understanding of the king’s motives and to further his education in the fine institutions in Cologne. Most of all, he developed a burning sense of right and justice, becoming dedicated to the understanding that the interference of a secular ruler—particularly such a greedy and ruthless one—into the affairs of the Church was quite simply unacceptable. Secretly, in those dark days and long nights of German winter, he took a vow to dedicate himself to reforming the laws of the Church so that it would be immune from secular influence and no king could control papal succession. Brando disdained the hypocrisy that he saw all around him, and he swore to work toward an environment in which all churchmen were held to the same standards of integrity. He would demand that all priests and bishops stand for something other than the security of their position and the wealth they gained for themselves and their families. He would be bold enough to realign the very power structure of Europe if need be, to ensure that spiritual matters were administered by the papacy alone in perpetuity. Only then would Rome be sufficiently strong and worthy of the apostle Peter for which it was meant to stand. This was the vow he had taken, and he repeated it on a daily basis with absolute fervor.
When Nicholas II had ascended the throne of Saint Peter, his first action was to declare the savvy Brando Pierleoni his archdeacon in charge of fiscal operations, despite the fact that Brando was not a priest. He remained a secular politician, yet he was known to have a deeply held spirituality and was considered extraordinary in his piety among the citizens of Rome. Still, no one had ever before achieved so high a position in the Church without taking vows. It was just the beginning of what would become known as the infamous Pierleoni daring.
Within a few short months Brando had drafted an audacious election decree that stunned Europe. This decree stated that Roman families and the German king would no longer be able to influence papal elections. A select group of cardinals, called the College of Cardinals, would determine the papacy from this day forward. Brando was taking no chances. He was creating a process by which neither the German royal family nor the Roman aristocracy could ever again establish a puppet pope for their own purposes.
It was this election decree that brought Brando to Florence to meet with the duke of Lorraine and his faction. With the death of his mentor Pope Nicholas, a new pope would be elected for the first time utilizing Brando’s invention, the College of Cardinals.
“Brando, I will speak to you plainly. We would like to put forward the bishop of Lucca, Anselmo di Baggio, as the successor to the Holy Father. He is, as you know, a strong reformer as you are. He is also opposed to German involvement in Roman affairs, which I know is a cause that is dear to you.”
Brando nodded. Godfrey marveled at the young man’s confidence as he considered the proposal. While the archdeacon was unerringly polite, he was clearly in control of the current situation. And his intelligence was a marvel to behold; Godfrey could watch him calculating, processing, and thinking throughout their meeting. When he replied, it was with a crisp understanding of the current circumstances and the history that led to them.
“Anselmo is a good man and a wise choice for many reasons, but he is also a liability. He once led an open rebellion against Henry, so it will be seen as an act of aggression against Germany if we install him on the papal throne.”
Godfrey countered, “Yes, but the Germans will view any election by this so-called College of Cardinals you have installed as an act of aggression. Better to have a pope who will deal firmly with all threats, both to the papacy and to our Italian lords.”
The two men discussed the merits of the bishop of Lucca well into the afternoon, ultimately coming to an agreement that forged a new and mighty bond between the house of Tuscany and Brando Pierleoni, a bond that would stretch into history.
Within two weeks, Anselmo di Baggio, the former bishop of Lucca, became Pope Alexander II as the result of the first legal election under the new decree. The institution that would select the pope over a thousand years into the future, the College of Cardinals, had been inaugurated.
The Germanic bishops and northern aristocracy were infuriated by this selection of a man with overt and vocal anti-German sentiments. They demanded that their queen regent, Agnes of Aquitaine, oppose this pope in the name of their young king Henry IV. Agnes was never trained for the blood sport of papal politics and found herself at a loss to accomplish any of the tasks that were laid out for her. When she remained silent and took no action, the bishop of Cologne, an ambitious man called Anno, instigated a diabolical plot. Anno kidnapped his own sovereign, holding young Henry as an unreachable prisoner on his yacht. Bishop Anno demanded that Agnes surrender her regency and return to France, leaving the boy in the hands of the bishops who would raise him to be a true king to the German people.
At eleven years old, Henry IV had grown further into his arrogant, imperious, and petulant personality. He berated his captors for ripping him from the security of his mother and causing him untold trauma. In return, his abductors, who were the highest-ranking church officials in Germany, pandered to him outrageously in an effort to assuage their guilt. They spoiled him with more efficacy and corruption than his dull mother ever could have, turning him into a most lascivious creature. They created a monster. By the time he came of legal age to rule at fifteen, Henry IV had a proclivity for extravagance and sexual excesses that included prostitutes, orgies, and what would become legendary perversions. By most accounts, the bishops who procured the means for Henry to indulge in his sins participated with equal relish.
Henry’s own mother, back in Aquitaine, now became his bitter enemy. Hearing of her son’s growing depravity, the pious noblewoman disowned him and sided with her own people, against the German crown. The final desertion of his mother caused the troubled Henry’s mind to snap beyond redemption. His utter lack of female influence after the age of eleven further distorted his psyche, and the young king evolved into a raging and sadistic misogynist. Had he been anything other than a king, it would have been discovered early that he was a dangerous psychopath. There were terrible rumors about the bodies of young women who had to be disposed of surreptitiously after Henry went on his periodic lust-filled rampages. No doubt the corrupt churchmen who surrounded him fueled his perspective that women existed for the most base satisfaction of his desires, and for absolutely no other reason. Certainly, the betrayal and weakness of his mother had proven that females were of no use politically and could not be trusted with any power. In fact, they could not be trusted at all and deserved the fate that he chose to mete out to them.
The same northern bishops who controlled Henry’s power and fortunes made the military decision to send an armed retinue of mercenaries to Rome, to place their own man on the papal throne by force. When it was determined that a troop from Tuscany would ride to Rome to defend the position of Pope Alexander, Matilda, now eighteen, insisted on joining the retinue. For her, this was a most important stand to take. Alexander was her pope, a proud and strong citizen of Lucca and a secret defender of the Order. She would fight for him to the death if need be.
Matilda entered Rome at the side of Conn, leading an impressive band of Tuscan warriors and wearing her polished armor, which glittered in the sunlight. The people of Rome were both scandalized and thrilled by this shining young warrior countess who rode to the defense of her pontiff.