Bipolar WINTER. Samuel David Steiner
Читать онлайн книгу.
stood patiently beside a massive desk, a vaguely amused expression on his face.
“Signore Lombardi,” he said, in thickly accented English. “I have heard so much about you. I enjoyed reading your thesis on the division of Christianity. You have some very insightful theories.”
Aldo froze as panic engulfed him. What? The pope read my thesis?
If his thesis had nearly resulted in his dismissal from the university, he could only imagine how upsetting it had been for the pope. Ashamed, Aldo immediately lowered his gaze. He felt so strongly about his research that he continued to pursue it, ignoring the advice of his professors. But he never meant to offend anyone.
Despite Cardinal Bastianelli’s reassurance, Aldo could think of no other reason for his summons to the Apostolic Palace than his impending excommunication. He commanded his legs forward again and knelt before Pope Benedict.
“Your Holiness.”
From the corner of his eye, Aldo noticed that Cardinal Bastianelli remained by the door as though quietly judging him. The pope extended his right hand. Aldo clasped it gently then bent his head to kiss the large gold ring on the pope’s finger. The Ring of the Fisherman signified the pope as Saint Peter’s successor and had served as a signet for sealing papal documents until the mid-1800s. Another set of artifacts he would love to study under different circumstances.
“Please, won’t you join me for an espresso?” the pope asked, gesturing him to a chair.
What? Slowly rising to his feet, Aldo could only nod. He sat down in the plush armchair, his hands folded in his lap as he waited for a server to pour the dark brew into small white mugs. Then, just as silently as he’d appeared, the servant excused himself.
“I imagine you’re wondering why you’ve been called here,” Benedict said.
“Uh, yes, Your Holiness,” Aldo replied, “The, uh, guards you sent were a bit vague on the details.”
The pope chuckled deeply. “Yes, I suppose they were, mostly because they themselves were not informed. I simply said I wanted to see you and they brought you to me.”
Aldo picked up one of the mugs of espresso and took a sip then smiled but said nothing. As the silence dragged on, he fought the urge to fidget, the tension in the room a thousand times greater than during his graduation board interview.
“Well, I can hazard a guess,” Aldo offered. When the pope nodded, he continued. “It has to do with my thesis.” He chanced a look at the cardinal who remained by the door.
The pope nodded again. “Yes, Signore Lombardi. Your thesis more than interested me. It concerned me.”
Aldo’s blood went cold as he imagined a future exiled from his faith, the primary motivation behind his chosen career. Maybe it would have been better to ignore his theories like his professors advised. He had already lost more than one friendship over his asinine ideas, and now it would cost him inclusion in the Catholic Church and his career, as well.
His thesis explored the seven main branches of Christianity, citing their commonalities over the often-debated differences. His conclusion bordered on heresy—that all of Christianity is essentially one religion with seven arms, and one major exception.
“Your paper was nearly rejected, was it not?” Pope Benedict asked.
Aldo swallowed. “Uh, yes, but somehow, at the last moment, the board decided to accept it, and I was able to graduate.”
The corners of the pope’s mouth lifted slightly. “Do you know why it was accepted?”
Because of the Grace of God? Aldo shook his head. “I had assumed that while the board may not have agreed with my theories, they saw the merits of my research.” Aldo surmised the board recognized the value of time spent conducting scores of interviews and reading the written works of other Christian religions.
The pope chuckled softly. “No, it wasn’t the board.”
His mind spun. “Who then?”
“One man championed you,” the pope said solemnly, his gaze piercing through Aldo.
Stunned, Aldo responded, “You, Your Holiness?”
“Yes.”
So, I really did graduate by the Grace of God. But it didn’t make sense. “Why?” he asked. “Uh, I mean, I’m grateful, but…”
“I didn’t want to penalize you for getting too close to the truth,” the pope said, shifting in his chair. “You single-handedly uncovered one of the deepest secrets kept by the Church for centuries.” The pope frowned. “As such, your paper will never be published. Your research must never be made known to the public.”
Aldo knew from the moment the graduation board first rejected his thesis that it would never be published. But hearing it confirmed by the pope himself still discouraged him. Not having one’s research published was a virtual death sentence in his line of work. Not to mention all those years of legwork, reading, writing and revising—all for naught.
What am I supposed to do now?
“Not to fear. All is not lost,” the pope said with a small grin.
How? If his research couldn’t be acknowledged, it was as if he made it all up. He would be labeled a fraud, perhaps the biggest fraud since Charles Ponzi. Aldo stiffened in his chair. Wait. Didn’t he just say I’d uncovered a secret?
“So, it’s all true then?” he asked tentatively.
“Yes, Septem Montes is in full swing.”
“Septem Montes?”
The pope nodded. “The Seven Hills. The true name for the connection you hinted at in your thesis. The seven distinct sects of Christianity were created intentionally, beginning with Martin Luther, just as you surmised.”
Aldo slumped in his chair. No way. “I-I had pieces, but… There’s more, isn’t there?”
“Yes.” The pope’s expression turned thoughtful. “I’m curious. You never mentioned who created the concept of the seven sects.”
“No. I wasn’t sure who instigated it.”
“But you must have had an inkling.”
Aldo hesitated. “Yes.”
“And?” the pope prodded. “What is your hypothesis?”
Aldo studied the intricate pattern of the rug beneath his feet. “I don’t have enough facts to give an accurate conclusion.” He could feel the pope’s intense gaze, and beads of sweat formed on his brow. He knew without being told that he was quickly reaching the point of knowing too much. And not knowing what came after crossing that line truly terrified him.
“I didn’t ask for facts. I’m curious about your theory,” the pope said, leaning toward him.
Aldo tried to clear his throat, but the lump only grew bigger. “Well, um, Luther was obviously not the originator of the initial separation,” Aldo said carefully. “It-it just never made sense, I mean, considering his background and his complete faith in the Catholic Church, even during the Reformation. It seemed like, from Luther’s time ‘til now, the course of Christianity was directed through the careful guidance of someone in power.”
One of Benedict’s eyebrows arched. Aldo couldn’t blame him for being shocked. Even to his own ears it sounded like complete lunacy, not to mention treacherous.
“And who would that be?” the pope pressed.
Aldo looked up. The pope not only deserved his complete honesty, but also wouldn’t accept anything less. And beating around the bush would only make matters worse. “It, uh…” Aldo coughed then tried again. “It seems to me that the originator would’ve been someone quite elevated in the Church, someone who had the will and desire to create