Rora (14 page)

Emmanuel did not remove his dust-caked riding cloak as he entered the warmth of the blazing fire. Cardinal Chigi gestured d
emurely to a silver platter with two silver goblets and a beautiful canter of red wine.

"Something for your thirst, Savoy," he said distinc
tly. "It is a long ride from Turin."

Emmanuel uncorked the canter, poured a goblet.

"It was," he replied curtly.

"Is your escort also accommodated?"

Heedlessly wiping his mouth with his sleeve, a move more fitting to Pianessa's manners, Emmanuel lowered his goblet. "I brought no escort."

Fabio Chigi's slow smile was rich with amusement. "So, a secret enterprise. Or are others positioned in the alcoves?"

A frown turned Emmanuel's mouth.

Cardinal Fabio Chigi had been Simon's friend since as long as Emmanuel could remember, and when Simon spoke to him in the Great Hall of Turin, Emmanuel knew what he must do. Just as he realized, this visit was not a surprise. Fabio Chigi was never surprised, which is one of the reasons he had risen, in this age of covert alliances and misleading public poise, to the position of cardinal.

No, Cardinal Fabio Chigi had never publicly supported the Waldenses, but what he said in secret was unknown. Emmanuel was willing to risk much for the truth.

With uncommonly imperial bearing—uncommon because he had never felt comfortable as a monarch—Emmanuel stood over the aged priest.

"Not surprised?" he asked coldly.

Fabio Chigi smiled before he leaned back, placing the tips of his fingers before his face in a pyramid. "It is not often that I receive royal visitors in the night, Savoy. But no, it is not a surprise."

Emmanuel removed his cloak and draped it over the chair. He stared with distinct melancholy at the old man. Finally, "Well, if you're not surprised, then you know why I've come."

"Yes, Savoy, I know why you have come." He studied the young prince. "Nor am I surprised that you came by night, as did Joseph of Arimathea— a powerful ruler who also knew the truth but was unable to speak it during the day."

Emmanuel acknowledged the appropriateness of the allusion. "I know I am young, Cardinal Chigi, but—"

"Wisdom is not a benefit of years, but the soul."

Emmanuel paused. "What can I do?"

Fabio Chigi nodded, sighed. "What can you do?" he repeated slowly. "Indeed, Savoy, what can you do?" He rose stiffly and strolled around the desk. "Perhaps a better question, Savoy, is what
will
you do?"

"I want to end this war against the Waldenses."

"Why?"

"Because
... " Emmanuel hesitated, " ... because they are my people."

"Your people..." Cardinal Chigi repeated with a penetrating stare. "Yes, Savoy, they are, indeed, your people. And that is second evidence of your wisdom."

Emmanuel had ridden nearly thirty miles through a war-torn land without bodyguards. But if he had brought an escort, then word would have spread of his secret rendezvous. And, as Simon had taught, never reveal your mind until it is too late for your enemy to alter your designs. When he looked again at the cardinal, the old man stood before the fireplace.

"It is one thing to claim power over the dead," he mused. "It is another to make bones rise up and walk. A lesson, sadly, that the Church has never learned."

Emmanuel knew his thoughts were as nothing compared to experiences of the cardinal. It was not for lack of subtlety that he had vanquished both despots and tyrants to gain his kingdom.

To some, his alliances might have appeared the dealings of the devil. But Emmanuel knew better—knew that Fabio Chigi had forged the strongest alliance of fools because fools would not have joined him under the banner of wisdom. Or, as Simon had so eloquen
tly put it, even the devil was deceived for the glory of God.

Fabio Chigi continued, "It was within these very halls that I first learned the nature of power, young Savoy. Lessons I learned beside Simon, who has trained you well." His gaze was cryptic. "So you realize things are not as they seem?"

"Yes," Emmanuel said openly. "I know that what you say in public and what you say in private are not the same, Holiness."

"Then you know a great deal more than most," he laughed. "Very well, then speak to me of the Waldenses. And speak freely—half-truths are not worthy of midnight confessions."

Emmanuel settled into his chair; his legs were truly beginning to ache as his body cooled. "I believe these Inquisitors want the land of the Waldenses. I believe that gold and power are their goals, not the glory of God. And I believe that you know these things, too. Just as I think you wanted me to say them to your face before you told me your mind. Now, Cardinal Chigi, with my own words you have cause to either destroy me or help me. I am within your power."

Fabio Chigi laughed. "My dear Savoy, now I understand why Simon had such hopes for you at such a young age.
You were, and remain, worthy of his efforts."

Emmanuel did not move.

"Very well," the cardinal resumed, slightly ponderous, "let me explain your peril—it may be greater than you may suppose." He focused on Emmanuel. "Your greatest threat, at the moment, is that the Inquisitors will not return lands assumed in this war. This would initiate a war with France and would likely destroy Piedmont. So, after removing a sizable treasure, Cardinal Benedict will graciously return all lands to your jurisdiction, insuring Piedmont’s political stability."

Emmanuel sipped his wine.

"Next we will proceed with your throne," the cardinal continued. "For certain, your House cannot be deposed as the capital of Piedmont. Nor will the Inquisitors, within any scenario that I anticipate, attempt to establish a new prince. However, they might hope to gain a stronger foothold in your policies and decisions, which would be the same thing." He stared. "You are aware of these possibilities?"

"I'm aware."

The cardinal began once more to pace. "Good, now we will proceed to the third, and most difficult, consideration: How do you end this war against the Waldenses?"

"I don't know," Emmanuel said and sighed wearily. "I only know that I am
tired of watching my people get slaughtered. On either side of this war."

"You are no longer a boy, Emmanuel. You have become a monarch. And as a monarch you must accept the responsibility that men die by your commands."

"I accept my people dying for a cause, Holiness. Not for a senseless war that neither side can win."

"Then know that you must kill even more men to end this killing," the old man said calmly. "That is, tragically, the curse of war. To end the killing, you must kill. But you cannot fight like the rest; you must strike at the head." He paused. "Imagine the arms of an octopus, Savoy.
The arms are many, and you could very well fight them forever before you were victorious. But that would be foolish. If you wish to end the fight, you must strike an octopus between the eyes. Strike for the brain, and the arms will die. An army is the same. If you wish to defeat a superior force, strike he who commands it— not in the field, but in truth. Strike for the man behind the general. Do you understand these things?"

Emmanuel was frowning. "Yes."

"Good, then let us proceed." He paced calmly, as if the steps improved his powers of reason. "Cardinal Benedict is not the fulcrum of this war."

"Who, then?"

"In time," the cardinal answered. "First, listen, and I will teach you wisdom. For wisdom, alone, will preserve you." He took a moment. "The most powerful player in this drama is Cardinal Guilio Raimondo Mazzarino of France. Only Mazarin can protect you when you do what must be done."

"But Louis is King of France."

Fabio Chigi laughed. "Louis is only a child, Savoy. Think of what you are saying."

Emmanuel was only five years old when he became the Duke of Savoy, but his regent mother, the Duchess Christina, allowed him to participate in decision-making from the first. Still, he'd made no practical decisions until he was much older.

"Yes, of course. But how much influence does Cardinal Mazarin have in Italy? The Italian cardinals have shut him out of the Vatican. Even his own parliament tried to overthrow him in France."

Fabio Chigi shrugged. "Popular support is not as important as support of the nobles. And support of the nobles is not as important as the support of the military. Cardinal Mazarin has carefully built an extraordinary political
machine that merges support from both factions. The common people might yet have dissident bones to pick, but they are not in a position to dictate political policy."

If that was Fabio Chigi's conclusion, Emmanuel certainly had no inclination to debate. Chigi had survived numerous wars during his tenure as cardinal and was intimately familiar with overthrowing old regimes and establishing new ones.

Leaning forward, the cardinal smiled. "Not the kind of games you prefer, Savoy?"

"No, Holiness."

"Nor I, but it is a game you must learn." He cupped his chin. "So, you wish to end the war against the Waldenses because they are under your sovereign and you would have mercy upon them."

"Yes."

"Yes, as I do. But this war will not end unless the Waldenses defeat the army of Piedmont, or the army of Piedmont is withdrawn from the field."

"If the Inquisitors order me to send Pianessa into the field, I cannot disobey without risking my throne. And if I lose my throne I will be no good to anyone, including the Waldenses." Emmanuel paused, shook his head. "I
don't know what to do."

The cardinal nodded compassionately. "It is a complex affair, but let me put it simply: The Inquisitors control your army. But Cardinal Benedict controls the Inquisitors. If the Inquisitors, then Cardinal Benedict, can be silenced, the end is near."

A stunned silence.

"Are you suggesting I kill Cardinal Benedict?"

"Of course not, Savoy."

"Oh."

"Competent assassins are far too difficult to find."

Emmanuel blinked at the wall.

"No," the cardinal reproved, "more subtle means must be used to abate Cardinal Benedict's appetite for war. Something beyond your power and which cannot be traced back to your intrigues. Something ... barbaric and uncontrollable. Something...
English.
"

"English!"

Fabio Chigi's gaze was trained on the young prince. "Have you not heard recent reports from England, my son?"

"No. Nothing useful."

"Have you not heard that Oliver Cromwell, that great, imperious, and somewhat unhinged Lord Protector of England is gravely incited over this mistreatment of the Waldenses?" The cardinal appeared surprised. "What of your spies, Savoy? Do they do nothing?"

Emmanuel grimaced. "Well, I have not yet designed a suitable network of reliable—"

"Foolish boy!" Fabio Chigi rebuked sternly. "Have you learned nothing from Simon?" Emmanuel slouched as the old priest walked to his desk and lifted a parchment. "This is a copy of a letter that is to be sent to Louis of France. It passionately pleads the cause of the Waldenses and begs for you to end this war."

Emmanuel could say nothing.

The cardinal did not hesitate: "It is composed by England's most revered poet, John Milton, in defense of Gianavel and his people. I will quote his words; 'In regard to the people of Piedmont, after a barbarous slaughter of persons of both sexes, and of all ages, a treaty of peace was concluded, or rather secret acts of hostility were committed, the more securely under the name of pacification." Cardinal Fabio Chigi turned to Emmanuel. "You know, of course, to what Milton refers?"

"Yes
; the ancient treaty with the Waldenses which grants them freedom of faith."

"Exactly." He renewed the letter: "'The conditions of the treaty were determined in your town of Pinerolo; hard conditions enough, but such as these poor people would gladly have agreed to after the horrible outrages to which they had been exposed, provided that they had been faithfully observed. But they were not observed; the meaning of the treaty is evaded and violated by putting a false interpretation upon some of the articles and by straining others. Many of the complainants have been deprived of their patrimonies and many have been forbidden the exercise of their religion. New payments have been exacted and a new fort has been built to keep them in check, from whence a disorderly soldiery makes frequent sallies and plunders or murders all it meets. In addition to these matters, fresh levies of troops are clandestinely preparing to march against them
. And those among them who profess the Roman Catholic religion have been advised to retire in time so that everything threatens the speedy destruction of such as escaped the former massacres.'"

The cardinal took a deep breath, resumed:
"I do therefore beseech and conjure Your Majesty not to suffer such enormities and not to permit (I will not say any prince, for surely such barbarity never could enter into the heart of a prince, much less of one of the Duke s tender age, or into the mind of his mother) those accursed murderers to indulge in such savage ferocity, who, while they profess to be the servants and followers of Christ, who came into the world to save sinners, do blaspheme his name, and transgress his mild precepts by the slaughter of innocent men. Oh, that Your Majesty, who has the power, and who ought to be inclined to use it, may deliver so many supplicants from the hands of murderers, who are already drunk with blood, and thirst for it again, and who take pleasure in throwing the odium of their cruelty upon princes. I implore Your Majesty not to suffer the borders of your kingdom to be polluted by such monstrous wickedness.