September's Pope

Chapter 3

"No."

"But Holy Father..."

"I said no."

Back and forth the dialog went as "Papa

Luciani" walked gingerly down the great hall to view his new apartment, followed by three Cardinals: Villot, Filici and Bagio; two Monsignors, Virgilio Noé and Pasquale Machi; one Archbishop, Martin; and racing to keep up at the rear, his secretary, Lorenzi, who finally broke into a run to get to the apartment door and open it before the Pontiff and the others reached it.

"Thank you, Diego," the Pope said with a smile as he entered the office or study portion of the suite, followed closely by the parade of prelates.

"Burr..." the Pope said, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them playfully, "It's freezing in here!"

Monsignor Noé piped up from the rear, "We took the liberty of having the air conditioning turned on last night, in light of how high the humidity has been the past few days, Holiness...." He hesitated and then added sheepishly, "...perhaps it was a little too high?"

Luciani laughed and, spying the offending device in one of the aged windows, approached it and asked, "Is this the culprit?"

"Yes, Holiness," Noé responded

"Take that," the Pope said sternly, turning the switch to the 'off' position and moving to a window. With a quick motion he had undone the latch and swung it wide open, letting in a blast of hot air that hit the others like a flame thrower. The Pope, however, stood in the window taking a deep breath and then turned to Lorenzi with a wide smile on his face. "Ah...Fresh air...Even if it is warm, it's better than that recycled stuff, eh Diego?"

The priest smiled and nodded half-heartedly. He desperately wished Don Albino would turn the AC back on.

"Open the other windows and we'll get a nice little breeze through here. That'll be comfortable, eh?"

Lorenzi nodded, looked at the others with a sad shrug of his shoulders and began opening windows.

Albino had moved to the desk, a large mahogany affair, and ran his hand over the highly polished surface.

"Nice..." he remarked softly to himself. Villot's throat clearing reminded him he had company.

"Oh yes...the matter of my installation."

"Coronation, Holiness..." Villot corrected him, "It must be a coronation."

"Must be," Luciani echoed, "where does it say it must be anything in particular?"

"Well..." Villot looked at the others, but was met by blank stares. "It's canon law," he finally said, "The Pope must take possession of his See by assuming the throne and the triple tiara of his office. It's always been an extremely regal affair...for centuries..." he looked at the others for support and they all nodded.

Luciani didn't look impressed, however, so Villot continued, "It should remain so...should it not, Holiness?"

"No," the Pope replied bluntly and then raised his hand to the others to wait while he explained his position.

"Yes, it has been an extremely regal affair, but it has also been six hours long! There's no need for that! Tiaras, thrones, ostrich feather fans...my God...what an anachronistic nightmare!"

The Cardinals and other Vatican staff were stunned. Even Lorenzi was taken by surprise. He knew that as a Bishop and then a Cardinal, Luciani had always shied away from the pompous shows of grandiosity that were in many ways a trademark of the Roman Catholic church. Humility was the motto on his coat-of-arms and he lived by it. Simplicity had followed everywhere he went. But surely, not here...not with the Papacy itself...

"What I would like..." Luciani began, "ideally..."he added, drumming his fingers playfully on the desktop, "...would be an installation mass, similar to the one I had when I took possession of Vittorio Venito...after all, that's what's happening...I am becoming a bishop...Bishop of Rome...yes?"

The Vatican people looked first at each other and then at the Pope. They said nothing.

"Yes? Eminencies? Excellency? Monsignors? Anyone?"

"Yes, Holiness..." Martin finally managed to cough up, "...but..."

"Good," the Pope responded, moving quickly into their midst and locking arms with Villot and Martin. "The date will be September 3rd, that much I have settled in my mind and the invitation will read 'INSTALLATION" not 'coronation' It will be a High Mass, celebrated on the front steps of the basilica...that way as many people as wish to attend may...Cardinal Filici," he said placing a hand on Filici's shoulder, "shall place the Pallum upon my shoulders, signifying my elevation as Bishop of the City of Rome and that will be sufficient. We should start at a reasonable hour...say six or so, and the entire ceremony should take no more than two and a half to three hours, depending upon how long it takes to distribute the Eucharist."

He had now wandered away from the shocked staff members and was examining the furnishings and decorations in the room. He finally turned and looked at the huddle of befuddled hierarchs. "Questions?" he asked.

"But...the tiara...the sedia gestatoria..." Monsignor Noé squeaked.

"No tiara, Monsignor," Luciani replied, putting a comforting hand on the aide's shoulder, "I'm a bishop, not a king...as for the Sedia, no man should be carried on the shoulders of others. I have two good...uh...well...fair...legs, and I'm perfectly capable of walking. And as for those ostrich feather things..." he added, wiggling his fingers in illustration, "...definitely, NO!"

"Now...If there's nothing else, I would like to go over some things with Father Lorenz before the Angelus...and time is running short..." he gazed at his watch quickly and began to playfully shoo the staff out the door. "Let me know how the plans for the ceremony are progressing and who I should expect to meet. Okay?"

The entourage moved towards the door as one body, different voices piping up with, "But Holiness..."

"I will be more than happy to hear your suggestions or objections later," Luciani stressed, "But now I need a little time to myself...Please."

Finally shepherding the last man out, he cooed, "Thank you," pleasantly and softly closed the door.

The clerics stood for a few seconds staring at the door in shocked silence, then they all turned on Villot, a barrage of complaints on their lips.

The Secretary of State held up his hand to silence them. "Brothers, BROTHERS! Please..." he pleaded. "The Holy Father has made his decision and whether we agree or not, that's how it shall be."

"But Eminence..."

"Shush! I'm sure, upon reflection, we will all see the wisdom in the Holy Father's decision."

Another "But Eminence" was on the tip of Monsignor Noé's tongue, but Villot's expression made him reconsider and keep still.

"Good. Now then. Let's get on with our duties. We all have much to do."

No one budged.

"Good DAY, Brothers," Villot prodded and the group grudgingly dispersed, still grumbling to themselves or their neighbor. Only Filici remained.

"Our gentle little Venetian is become St. Mark's Lion, eh Jean?"

"So it would seem," the Frenchman responded with a glance at the office door and a shake of his head.

The two started towards the stairway to go down to their respective offices.

"How do you feel, honestly...about this whole...'Installation' matter," Filici asked.

The Frenchman shrugged. "I was against it at first...but you really can't argue with his reasoning...can you?"

They started down the marble steps together as Villot mused aloud, "He is a bishop...not a king. And this is God's church...not an earthly kingdom...perhaps he's right," he concluded pausing a moment on the steps.

"At any rate...we'll have to do this his way...we'll see how the people react to the change...That's when we'll really know if he's right or not."

With that, he continued down the staircase, Filici at his heels.

Meanwhile, the new Pontiff was taking in his surroundings. Making mental notes on each piece of furniture and each decorative object in the room.

Lorenzi eyed him with growing trepidation. "What is he thinking?" he wondered to himself.

Finally, the Pope turned to his secretary and with a weary sigh and a weak grin said, "Fancy. Isn't it?"

Lorenzi was about to voice his defense of the study's rather ostentatious decor, but the Pontiff, still gazing around at the overstuffed chairs and Renaissance style paintings, saved him the trouble when he sighed, "Ah well...I guess I'll have to put up with it."

The secretary was almost visibly relieved. He had feared Luciani would start tossing some of the more garish ornaments into storage boxes, to be put in mothballs along with the tiara and the portable throne. But it seemed he had decided to tolerate it...at least for awhile.

"So," the Pope said pointing to another set of doors that led off from the study. "Where do these go?"

"Well...," Lorenzi said leaping to be of assistance,"...this one leads to the sitting room for private audiences...there are several other audience rooms downstairs..."

"Why? I can only be in one at a time...why can't I just meet people in here?" Luciani asked, pointing back into the study, "...like I did in Venice."

"Uh...I'm not sure Holiness...um...perhaps..." the Spaniard fumbled around for a suitable explanation to give his always practical superior.

"Yes. Perhaps...I'm listening, Diego."

"Well...perhaps...once you're on a regular schedule of private audiences it becomes so busy that they have the parties wait in these various rooms and you move from one to another...perhaps?"

"Bravo, Diego," Luciani responded patting his secretary on the back. "A very well thought out explanation and probably quite correct. Its much easier for me to move about than to shuffle people in and out of my study all day."

Satisfied with Lorenzi's explanation and bored with looking at the audience room, the curious Pontiff moved to another door and opened it.

"What's...ah! Good. I wondered where this was hidden," he remarked with a chuckle as he closed the door on a small bathroom equipped only with a sink and toilet.

"And this one," he asked moving to the next exit.

"That leads to your library, Holiness." Lorenzi responded, deciding it was useless to try to keep up with the wandering Pope.

"Library?! Are there any books in it now?"

"Yes...quite a lovely collection actually...some of Pope Paul's volumes are still here, they haven't had time to remove them yet...but someone will be by for them in the next few days, I'm sure..." Lorenzi droned on while the Pope ran his hand lovingly over the leather binding of several volumes.

"This reminds, Diego...when will my personal belongings be arriving?"

"Today or tomorrow, Holiness."

"Good! That will give me time to rewrite one of my sermons for the general audience next Wednesday."

Lorenzi was taken aback by this statement. And it showed.

"What," the Pope asked, turning from the bookshelves to his non-plussed assistant, "What's this look I'm getting," he asked with the hint of a chuckle.

"Well...it's just that I ...well...aren't they supposed to supply you with addresses for these occasions, Holiness?"

"They? They who? You mean the same people who gave me that dreadful address that I was supposed to read to the College of Cardinals my first morning?'

"It wasn't that bad, Holiness...as a matter of fact...I thought it sounded very much in your style."

"Uh huh..." the Pope grunted, turning back to the shelves, "That's because I stayed up half the night revising it...and the papers still printed the "official" version!" He tacked this last bit of information on, wiggling his fingers to imply quotation marks around the word “official”.

"You did?" Lorenzi sputtered.

"Yes," Luciani responded calmly, pulling a copy of St John of the Cross's 'Dark Night of the Soul' from the shelf. "I couldn't give the speech the way they'd written it...all full of regal 'we's' and thee's and thou's...you know that's not my way."

He began to thumb through the book, while Lorenzi waited impatiently.

"Besides, they didn't cover everything I wanted to say...and they made a point of stressing some things I didn't want to touch on yet. No, no. I will write my own speeches and sermons, Diego. I've never liked using other people's words...and that won't change."

"But, Holiness," Lorenzi pleaded, "How will you find time...with your schedule?"

Luciani snapped the book shut and put it back in its place, replying simply, "I'll make time." Then he continued moving along the shelves, checking the titles.

Lorenzi decided to drop the subject. Don Albino could be a very stubborn man on certain matters and he felt it best to let the "Vatican people" deal with this one themselves.

"Holiness?" he asked.

"Uh huh."

"Do you want to spend more time here and see the bedroom later?"

"Oh no...I'll have plenty of time to spend in here, I'm sure...Where's the bedroom?"

"Through here, Holiness." Lorenzi directed the Pontiff back into the study and then out an adjacent door into the heavily wood-paneled room.

The bedroom was large, with heavy wooden furniture and two beds contending for the occupant's attention. First the huge overstuffed and over fluffed four-poster affair that went with the dresser and amoir. This was the bed John XXIII had used during his Pontificate and it's sunken mattress bore witness to having held the portly Pontiff for five years.

Across from John's, was a smaller, hospital style bed, that almost looked like a cot in comparison, but was, indeed a full-size twin bed. This had been Paul VI's.

Luciani walked over to the four-poster and felt the mattress. "Soft..." he mumbled, "Too soft."

Then moving to Paul's, he repeated the gesture and then sat on the edge and bounced, happily. "Ah...That's better! Diego, let the Sisters know that this is the bed I will be using...that..." he said pointing to the mahogany behemoth across from him,"...is far too soft for my back. I don't even think I could climb out of it if I managed to get in it!"

Lorenzi smiled and nodded.

Taking a quick look at his watch, the Pontiff leaped from the bed, his precariously perched zuchetto flying from his head as he did so. He retrieved it quickly and asked his secretary, "Where do I go to do the Angelus? This window...," he indicated the balconied bedroom window, "...or the study?"

"The study, Holiness."

"Okay...let's go, its almost time."

Striding back into the study, he was surprised to see that the window in question was already occupied by Monsignors Noé and Machi, who were supervising a workman draping the Papal insignia tapestry from the balustrade. it had been removed from the central one and relocated here for the audience.

Standing near by was Archbishop Martin, who snapped to attention when he spied the Pontiff from the corner of his eye. "Holy Father," he said with a deep bow.

"Hello again, Excellency..." Luciani acknowledged, moving forward and craning his neck to see what was happening at the window.

"It’s the Papal crest, Holiness...," Martin explained, divining what the Pope was about to ask. "Its presence indicates to the people which window you will speak from."

"Ah!'

"I'm afraid its still the Sede Vacante crest, but we're expecting the tapestry with yours on it any day now...," the archbishop continued, following the curious Luciani as he wandered over to the window to watch.

"Holiness?" Martin said in a tone indicating he wanted the Pontiff's attention refocused from the activity on the balcony to himself.

"Yes...ah...Excellency, what is your first name again...is it Jacques?"

"Yes, Holiness."

"Then may I call you that? Since we will be working together so closely..." the Pontiff could see that Martin was shocked by the suggestion, "...I'm sorry," he apologized quickly. "Perhaps that is too informal. I only meant when we meet privately..." he tried to explain.

Martin nodded. "That would be fine, Holy Father," he said, a little too pleasantly. "Now..." he added swinging a large leather-bound notebook out from behind him and flipping it open to a set of paper clipped sheets which he removed regally and presented to the Pope with his right hand, while snapping the book shut and swinging it behind him again with his left.

Luciani jumped back slightly as the papers were thrust at him. "What...?"

"It's your Angelus address Holiness," Martin explained, pushing the sheets closer to the Pope, who finally took them hesitantly and glanced over them, as he walked towards the desk, where he deposited them on the corner.

Martin watched this with a slightly screwed up mouth. He didn't like the look of it.

Satisfied that the Papal banner was properly displayed, Noé had dismissed the workman and now he and Machi joined Martin in staring at the Pope, who was still flipping through the pages of his proposed address.

Lorenzi sensed a confrontation on the horizon and backed against the bedroom door as though preparing to take cover.

"Thank you, Excellency..." Luciani said pleasantly as he tossed the papers into the middle of the desk. Looking up, he moved towards the three clerics. "And please give my thanks to whoever prepared that talk, also...," he hesitated in thought for a moment and smiled in acknowledgment of Cardinals Villot and Filici who had just appeared at the study door. "Perhaps," he continued, turning back to Martin, "I will be able to use it some other time."

Martin's eyes widened. But he remained silent.

"But today..." the Pope continued,"...I already know what I wish to say."

That said he turned from the prelates who assembled along with Martin and moved quickly to the window, where his appearance was greeted with polite applause and cheers.

Filici had moved up beside Martin, "Well, Excellency...did he accept it?" This was asked in the tone of one who already sensed the answer.

"No, Eminence."

"Just as I told you," the Cardinal replied with a mischievous grin.

At the window, Luciani was still waving and taking in the size of the crowd, which seemed even larger than the one the night before, if that was possible. Finally he reached for the microphone, adjusting it to a comfortable height and the crowd grew silent in expectation.

"Yesterday morning...," he began, but the applause and cheers caused him to stop and laugh, waving to the crowd to quiet down.

These two simple words caused an uproar among the clerics gathered in the study as well, albeit a more subdued and far less positive one.

"What is he doing?" Filici whispered in absolute horror.

"He's going to tell them about the conclave," Martin muttered in disbelief.

"But he can't," Noé cried and turned to Villot, who stood like a stone pillar beside him. "Stop him, Eminence," the monsignor emplored.

Villot looked down at Noé and shifted his glance to Lorenzi, "Father...," he addressed calmly to Diego, who flew to his side at the summons.

"Yes, Eminence?"

Villot pointed a long slender finger at Luciani, who was still trying to silence the crowd.

"Is there any chance that he might be going to tell them something else...aside from..."

"No, Eminence...I'm afraid not."

Machi and Noé looked at one another and then at Lorenzi.

"Is there no chance?" Machi asked

Lorenzi shook his head in resignation.

"Oh God," Noé murmured and he and his companions crossed themselves and looked heavenward as though emploring God to put different words into the Pontiff's mouth. He didn't.

Holding a finger to his lips, Luciani tried to calm the enthusiastic throng. "If you calm down, I'll tell you a funny story...all right?"

The crowd, still with waves and smiles, quieted down and waited.

"There...that's better...now! Yesterday morning, I went to the Sistine to vote...tranquilly...little did I know what was going to happen!"

The mass of people erupted again...he was going to tell them about the conclave! About how it felt to be elected Pope! No Pope had ever done that! Nor had any of the past Pontiffs come out and just begun speaking to the people, like they were his friends...they loved it!

The men standing in the study, with stony expressions, hated it!

"He's breaking the oath of secrecy of the Conclave!" Filici screeched in Villot's ear.

The Frenchman winced and nodded. "I know," was all he replied.

Clearly in a tizzy over this breach of Vatican protocol, Filici turned to Lorenzi, "Can you not stop him!?"

Lorenzi stared dumbly at Filici and pointing impotently at himself shook his head no.

Meanwhile the crowd had once again stilled itself and Luciani was proceeding with his story.

"When the danger had begun to grow for me...," he continued, people in the crowd leaning forward to catch every word that poured from the loud speakers, "...the Cardinals on either side of me tried to give me some comfort. 'Don't worry,' said one, 'if God gives a burden, he also gives the strength to carry it.' The Cardinal on my left added that, 'The whole world is praying for the new Pope.' So reinforced with these thoughts I accepted when the time came."

The crowd applauded, but the Pope's raised hand indicated he had more to tell, so they quieted down again.

"Then they asked what I would call myself, and I had to think for a few moments...and I remembered how John XXIII had made me a bishop and sent me to serve in his city of Venice, a city still filled with his great spirit. And then I remembered how, Paul VI had elevated me to Cardinal and made me blush to the roots of my hair before several thousand people in Venice by removing his stole and placing it on my shoulders. Never was I so embarrassed!" he concluded with a chuckle, and the crowd joined in enthusiastically. After a few moments they grew silent again and he continued in a more serious vein, "Furthermore, during his 15 year Pontificate he showed us, not only me, but the world, how to love, serve, labor and suffer for the church of Christ. For these reasons, I said: I shall be called John Paul the First.

"I have neither the 'Wisdom of Heart' of John, nor the preparation and culture of Paul, but I have their job. I must seek to serve the church, and I hope that you will help me with your prayers."

The thunderous eruption of applause gave the Pontiff the reassurance he so needed and he smiled broadly and waved in thanks. Raising his hand again to quite the multitude, he invited them softly, "Come pray with me...In the name of the Father...."

Cardinal Villot, who had moved to stand just behind the Pontiff was dumbfounded at the Pope's masterful handling of such a huge gathering, and the true sense of intimacy that had developed between this single man and the tens of thousands in the plaza.

"Benelli was right..." he thought to himself, "...Luciani is indeed a unique man and a great communicator." he smiled, in spite of himself, in appreciation of this simple man who was now deeply immersed in prayer with his "friends".  "This Pontificate is going to be quite interesting," he thought as he backed from the brightness of the window into the gloom of the study.

A gloom personified by his four cohorts, all shaking their heads in disapproval and whispering to one another. "Scandalous" he overheard Noé sputter to Machi.

Moving close beside Lorenzi, the Frenchman whispered, "Is this...ah...typical?"

Lorenzi shrugged, apologetically and whispered, "I'm afraid so, Your Eminence."

"It won't do, you know," Villot said softly his gaze leading Lorenzi's to the glum quartet on the

other side of the room.

Lorenzi sighed deeply and responded simply with the words, "It may have to."

The Secretary of State jerked his head back as if the Spaniard had struck him. But there was no time to pursue an explanation. The Pope had just given his blessing and the people had once more come to life with cheers and shouts in an attempt to keep him a few moments longer.

Waving and laughing, Luciani admonished them, "Be good now, and calm down!" Then pointing over his shoulder he added, "I have to go back to work." With a shrug of his shoulders and a final wave he backed into the study and closed the shutters.

Turning to face the assembly of somber-faced clergy he smiled and remarked, "That seems to have gone well...eh?"

The flustered prelates shot looks at one another as though trying to decide who would make the first assault.

Puzzled by their reaction, the Pope turned to Villot. "Is something wrong, Eminence?" he asked innocently.

Clearing his throat, the Cardinal replied, "I'm afraid we're all a bit taken aback by the topic you chose for this first address, Holy Father."

The Pontiff looked more confused than before, so the Cardinal tried to elaborate. "To discuss the conclave with the public...well...its...its just...well it’s highly...well."

"Yes Eminence...," Luciani prompted the tongue-tied Cardinal, "Its highly...what?"

"Unorthodox?" Villot offered, for lack of a better word.

A small smile began to turn up the corners of the Pope's mouth, but not for long...Filici now decided to mount an attack of his own.

"Holy Father, the secrecy of the Conclave is a sacred trust...to discuss it so openly is well...it’s just not done," he concluded emphatically and turned to his comrades for support.

The others nodded in agreement. Even Villot.

Lorenzi closed his eyes and shook his head. "Now they've done it," he whispered to himself.

"Not done..." Luciani echoed thoughtfully, as he moved behind his desk, "...not done...Well..." he began, looking Filici straight in the eye. "It has been done...and there is not one good reason why it should not have been done."

Filici was beside himself. "But...you took an oath!" he spat, his rage beginning to get the better of him.

"Yes...I did...We all did..." Luciani responded evenly. "We took a vow to maintain the secrecy of the conclave while it was in session," he added pointedly. I did not break faith with that oath...nor did I really reveal anything about the conclave itself...all I spoke of were my feelings and thoughts at the moment of having to make 'The Decision'," he added, wiggling his fingers to indicate quotation marks around the last two words.

He paused a moment to let this sink in before continuing in the same even tones. "I've broken no vow. Betrayed no trust."

Filici had regained his composure. The others merely stood dumbly as the Pope continued.

"The most sacred trust we have, is the trust which exists between the Church and its people. There is nothing, and I stress that, NOTHING, that should be kept from them. This is their church. We are answerable to them. And we must have no secrets that we withhold from them. After all..." he added, smiling broadly,"...what have we to hide?"

The shifting of eyes, shuffling of feet and clearing of throats among the disgruntled clerics planted a seed of doubt in the Pope's mind...perhaps there were things being hidden...and this thought melted the smile from his face.

"Uh huh," he grunted and picked up a folder from the desk thumbing through it quickly to re-gather his thoughts. Finally he looked up at Villot, "You say I'm 'unorthodox'', Jean..." he stated.

Villot smiled faintly and nodded.

The Pope nodded along with him and continued, "Well, if being open with the people is considered 'unorthodox' by the Vatican, you'd best prepare yourselves for a very unorthodox Papacy. Because I promise you, there will be no secrets in the Vatican as long as I'm here."

This declaration was met with an uncomfortable silence, so the Pontiff pressed on, "Now, if there's nothing else?"

He moved his glance over the faces of the five men before him, each shook his head 'no'.

"Good! Then if you will excuse me, I have some work to attend to. Good day my dear brothers."

The group bowed and began moving towards the door, "Good day, Holy Father" s being mumbled as they moved into the hallway.

Luciani pointed at the Secretary of State and beckoned him to remain. He then nodded to Lorenzi to close the study door as he left.

Once they were alone the Pontiff tossed the folder he'd been holding onto the desk and crossing his hands in front of him contentedly, smiled at the Cardinal and inquired, "Shocked them...yes?"

Villot nodded.

"And you too?"

Villot smiled. "Perhaps not as badly, Holy Father. Giovanni Benelli... 'warned' me about you."

The Pope laughed and moved closer to the Cardinal, so he might place a hand on his shoulder as he walked him to the door.

"That's good," he responded to the Frenchman's statement about Benelli's 'warning'. "And I hope I will not cause those he did not warn undo discomfort in the future...but..." He stopped just short of the door and faced Villot. "...I meant what I said. The Church must be open and honest with the people. If we have nothing to hide, and we should not, then why be so hush, hush about everything, eh?"

Villot shrugged. "I suppose because its the way things have always been done, Holiness," he offered as an excuse.

"Well...it not how they'll be done from now on," the Pope replied decisively. Placing a hand on the big Frenchman's shoulder he added, "You will be a great help to me, Jean...I know you will."

"I will try, Holy Father," Villot responded meekly.

"Thank you for staying on."

"You're welcome, Holy Father."

With these word, the big man bowed and took his leave.

Luciani watched until he vanished down the stairway, Lorenzi watching the Pope from the corner of his eye.

"Diego?"

The Spaniard leapt to his feet, "Yes, Holiness?"

"Relax, Diego...," Luciani said softly, "I just wanted to ask you to call the kitchen and have some coffee sent to my office, okay?"

"Right away, Holiness," the secretary responded.

"There's no rush...," the Pope replied, going back into the study, "Whenever you have time."

He closed the door and returned to his desk, where he was working on the final draft of a book based on a column he had written for the Messenger of St Anthony, in which he wrote letters to 'famous people' from history and literature. The manuscript had arrived in Venice just before his vacation and had accompanied him to the Lido. Now he had finally gotten it back from Lorenzi and begun working on the revisions again. A knock on the door made him look up from his letter to 19th century Italian writer, Alessandro Manzoni. Thinking the knock to be one of the sisters bringing him coffee, he rose to answer the door and relieve the nun of her burden.

"Coming, Sister," he called as he strode energetically across the room and opened the door to see three familiar faces, all of them male and no one with coffee.

"Oh! Hello...I'm sorry, I was expecting, ah! There she is!"

The threesome in the doorway turned to see Sister Gabrielle approaching with a steaming cup of coffee. They parted to allow the Pontiff to pass through and relieve her of the cup and him of the intense headache that had been building ever since his confrontation with Filici and the others earlier.

"Thank you, Sister," he said with a broad smile.

The nun genuflected and left in silence.

Sipping on the life-sustaining elixir, he turned and walked back to the group that awaited him, taking his secretary aside with a polite, "Pardon us for just a few seconds, brothers," in an attempt to find out why, when they had left only a short time ago, both Villot and Machi had returned, the monsignor laden down with two apparently very heavy suitcases.

"Diego, what is all this?" Luciani whispered between gulps of coffee.

"I'm sorry, Holy Father," the Spaniard said, moving close enough to whisper the rest of his reply. "I don't really know what it’s about...they just sort of...materialized and made a bee-line straight for your study. It was all I could do to get them to wait for me to announce them."

"Hmmm....Must be important...Alright, Diego...I'll take care of them...You just see that we're not disturbed, eh?"

"Yes, Holy Father," Lorenzi responded and returned to his desk.

Luciani approached the two waiting clerics happily. "Jean. Pasquale...Please excuse the delay in my greeting you...I just needed to confer with Don Lorenzi for a moment...Please..." he pushed the already open door wider and stood waiting for them to enter,"...Come in. Have seats...Monsignor, do you need help with that?" he asked indicating the two cases.

Machi a smaller and much thinner man than the Pontiff, who was none too big himself, labored to lift the two cases, while Villot glided regally into the study.

"If it would not be too much trouble, Holiness..." the diminutive Monsignor replied hesitantly, expecting the Pope to summon his secretary.

"No trouble at all," the Pope responded, gulping the last drop from the cup and depositing it on a nearby shelf. He then turned to the over-burdened monsignor and took a case from him so quickly that Machi had no time to resist.

"Good grief! This is heavy...," the Pontiff said as he walked to his desk, listing slightly to his right from the weight of the case.

Villot tried to wrest it from him, but he waived off the gesture.

"That's alright, Jean, we can't go much further than this anyway...," the Pontiff said, dropping the case with a dull thud on the oriental carpet.

"Pasquale," he addressed the monsignor, while wiggling his numb fingers back to life, "...where are you going with such heavy bags?"

Villot's laughter made the Monsignor decide to let him field the question, so he merely smiled wanly at the Pontiff and deposited the case he was carrying next to its twin, and then backed away to await further instructions.

Once he had regained his composure, the Cardinal told Machi to place the bags on the coffee table and then leave. This he did, quickly and then bowed and backed from the office, closing the door after him.

Luciani stood and watched, a bemused look of confusion on his face, as Villot approached the suitcases and daintily undid the latches with his thumbs.

"These just arrived from Castle Gandolfo, Holiness," he said cheerfully as he swung the lid open to reveal files. Dozens of files. Hundreds it seemed to the Pope's dazed eyes.

"It's Papa Montini's backlog, Holiness...," the Frenchman explained as he popped the second bag open to reveal more, "...everything that was left undone when he died."

Grabbing a number of the overstuffed folders, he swung around, "I'll pile them up in order...," his eyes had fallen on the shocked Pontiff, who stood staring with glazed eyes at the mountain of paper the Cardinal was about to transfer to his desk. "Oh, come now, Holiness," Villot said cheerfully, "It’s not as bad as it looks!"

"No...," the Pontiff laughed nervously, "...it’s much worse!"

Both men laughed. The Pope somewhat half-heartedly.

"As I was saying, Holiness...I'll put these in priority order...the most important on the top."

Luciani looked sick.

"Really, Holiness...this won't take long for you to go through...," Villot said in as comforting a tone as possible, as he piled the last files from the first case up on the desk. "Then...," he continued, "...we can bring you the rest."

"The rest!?" Luciani squeaked. "You mean there's more?!"

"Oh, yes...," the Frenchman laughed, "...much more!"

"Much...," the Pope echoed and then whispered almost inaudibly, "I think I'm going to be ill."

Indeed, his face had taken on an ashen color that had intensified as the pile of folders mounted.

"Really, Holy Father...," the Cardinal rattled on, as he closed one case and began removing folders from the next, "...this shouldn't take you more than ...oh...," he paused to calculate the workload and the time needed to finish it and declared with a highly definite air that it should take, "...no more than a week to complete."

The Pope wasn't so sure. He gazed at the two piles on his desk and then at the still overflowing case on the coffee table.

"A week?" he said tenuously, "It looks more like a year's worth to me, Eminence," he added with a nervous laugh.

"Noooooooo," Villot cooed happily, as he started a third mound on the desk. "You forget, Holiness...I'll be here to help you with anything you're not sure of..."

The Pope smiled half-heartedly, but didn't look convinced.

"...as a matter of fact...," the Cardinal continued," ...you have an entire staff of people at your beck and call to answer any and all questions you may have. So you see...,” he concluded as he placed the last files on the desk,"...you have nothing to worry about."

"Uh huh," Luciani grunted pulling a folder off the top of a pile and thumbing through its contents, a glum expression on his face.

"There," Villot announced, clicking the case shut and placing it on the floor. "You go through those and we'll get the remainder to you as soon as possible."

"I can hardly wait," the Pope responded sarcastically.

Villot either didn't hear him or pretended not to, and prattled on. "Once you get these loose ends tidied-up, we can move on to your work, eh Holiness?"

"Hmm," Luciani responded none too enthusiastically. "Well...as long as I can depend on you for..."

"Of course, Holiness," the Cardinal gushed and began moving toward the door, "Well I must leave you now."

"What?"

"I have much to today in preparation for you cor...oh, ah sorry. Your installation."

"But I thought...," the Pope pointed helplessly at the tons of paper littering his desk and then looked pleadingly at the Cardinal.

"And I dare say you have plenty to keep you occupied as well, Holiness!"

He'd been backing towards the door the whole time he'd been speaking and reaching behind him he turned the knob in preparation to leave. "Don't worry about the bags, I'll send someone for them..."

"The bags aren't what's worrying me, Jean...I don't know..."

"Good day then, Holy Father."

Opening the door quickly, he slipped out before the agitated Pontiff could spit out another syllable.

"But..."

Luciani stood helplessly in the center of the room for several seconds, trying to make sense of what had just transpired. Earlier, he had the beginning of a slight headache...now he felt like he had a full-blown migraine, and the sight of his overladen desk made it hurt all the more.

He had no idea where to begin or what to do.

"Holy Father?"

Lorenzi's voice seemed miles away to the stunned Pontiff, who stood staring at his desk, shaking his head and mumbling to himself about there being, "...much more to come...how much more?"

"Holiness?"

Lorenzi tried a more strident tone and the informality of tapping the Pope's shoulder in order to penetrate the fog that seemed to have enveloped him.

Luciani jumped slightly at the touch of a hand on his shoulder and turned numbly to the secretary.

"Holiness, what can I do to help you with this?"

"Unfortunately, I don't think you'll be able to, Diego," the Pope responded, a smile spreading slowly over his face, "But I do appreciate the offer."

Moving behind the desk, he took his seat, nearly vanishing behind the mountain range of paper.

"I suppose I'd best get on with it...," he said in a resigned tone. "Diego, when you have a moment, would you please call the kitchen and ask the Sisters..."

"For a cup of coffee, Holiness?" Lorenzi anticipated with a smile.

The Pope chuckled and then responded, "I think a pot would be a better idea...don't you?"

The Spaniard laughed and fingering one of the files asked hesitantly, "Is this all of Pope Paul's backlog, Holiness?"

"No...Cardinal Villot said he'll be sending more next week...probably by the trunk-load, now that the initial shock has passed," the Pontiff added with a hint of amusement, "Oh well...I was sort of expecting it..." he added in resignation, "But I never imaged there would be so much!"

"There must be something I can do...This an inhuman amount of work...even for a Pope!"

Luciani couldn't help but laugh...It was true, and what made it even funnier to him was Villot's expectation that all of it could be finished in a week! He kept this to himself, however, and smiling up at his bemused secretary, tried to give him some hope of proving useful by saying, "Let me go through some of it and then we'll see...perhaps you can help some how."

Lorenzi absolutely beamed.

"But for the time being..."

"I should call for the coffee?"

"Yes...Please...Before my poor head explodes."

"Yes, Holiness."

Lorenzi bowed and started backing toward the door when the Pope suddenly called out to him to stop.

"Diego, I know this backing up business is traditional...I used to do it when I had audiences with John and Paul, but...is it really necessary? I mean...is it written up in some manual of Vatican Protocol? Or is it perhaps possible to...well...make people stop doing it?"

"I've no idea, Holy Father. Why would you want to do that any way?"

"Because its silly," the Pope stated as though it were perfectly obvious.

"It’s a sign of respect, Holiness."

"Yes...Like the nonsense of the Swiss Guards dropping to their knees every time I walk past them...That's another 'tradition' I could do without!"

The Spaniard's eyes grew wide with apprehension. He remembered hearing stories when he first came to work for Luciani in Venice about how he had done away with many of the extraneous trappings of authority and importance that had been part of his office. Was he really going to try to do the same with the Papacy? Would the Curia allow him to? Pushing these ideas to the back of his mind, he cleared his throat and took a stab at changing the subject: "Should I have these bags taken back to Cardinal Villot's office, Holiness?"

"What? Oh! No...He said he would have someone come for them."

"Oh. Alright then. I'll go and call the kitchen then Holiness?"

"Yes. Please, Thank you Diego."

Once his secretary had shut the door behind him, the Pontiff sat back in his chair, pulled off his glasses and gently massaged his eyes with his fingers. His head was pounding and his eyes ached mercilessly.

Opening the top drawer of his desk, he grabbed his bottle of aspirin and popped off the lid, spilling two tablets into the palm of his hand and shooting them quickly into his mouth, swallowing them easily without the aid of water. Replacing the lid, he tossed the bottle unceremoniously back into the drawer and pushed it shut, just as a soft knock came at the door.

"Come in," he called out, as he placed his glasses back on his face and stood to greet whatever was coming at him this time.

Sister Immaculata opened the door, balancing a tray precariously on her free hand that held the Pontiff's precious pot of coffee.

Wondering why Lorenzi had not offered to help the nun, the Pontiff ran to her side. "Here...let me help you with that," he said, as he took the tray carefully from her and carried it to the coffee table. "I'll clear some space off on my desk...Sister, did you notice if my secretary was at his desk?"

"Yes, Holiness," the young woman responded shyly, not used to being addressed by such an important personage let alone assisted by him.

"Hmm," Luciani grunted to himself, a none-too-happy expression on his face. He and Lorenzi were going to have to have a talk.

While the Pope was shuffling files around to create a niche for his cup, the nun busied herself setting up the warming tray and pot on the table. This accomplished, she poured a cup and brought it over to the Pontiff, who had finally managed to clear a small space in all the clutter.

"Thank you, Sister," he sighed gratefully as he accepted the drink from the nun and gulped down a mouthful immediately. "Ah," he exhaled happily. "Please thank the other Sisters for getting this to me so quickly." He placed the cup on the desk and gently taking the young woman's arm, continued as they walked to the door. "It's my elixir of life...I couldn't function without it!" He smiled broadly and received a shy smile in return.

"You're welcome, Holy Father. Will there be anything else?"

"No, thank you Sister." He opened the door and held it for the young woman to leave.

Once she had vanished around the corner, the Pope turned his gaze on his secretary, who could already tell what was coming. Before Luciani could even open his mouth, the Spaniard had begun his sheepish apology.

"I'm sorry, Holiness...I should have helped her. Shouldn't I"

Luciani nodded.

"It won't happen again...," the secretary assured him. "I promise."

"And?" the Pope prompted.

"And...," Lorenzi wasn't sure at first, but then thought he might know what the Pope wanted to hear, so he ventured hesitantly, "...I'll apologize to her when we go for dinner?"

The Pope smiled.

"Good! Diego, I know you're caught up in the...the...I don know...the 'grandness', for lack of a better word, of the situation we're in. But no matter how important one may be...it's not an excuse to be discourteous. All right?"

The secretary nodded.

"Good! Enough about that! I'll see you in a little while."

Reentering the study, the Pope closed the door behind him and stared at the seemingly insurmountable amount of work on his desk. Retrieving his cup, he refilled it and dawdled a few moments over the drink.

"All right, Albino," he said to himself, "You've wasted enough time."

Moving behind the desk he continued his self-directed scolding. "The files won't read themselves." Dropping into his chair, he flipped open the first folder. "Get to work," he admonished himself.

And work he did. Right up until Lorenzi called him for dinner, returning to it after the meal and continuing late into the night, until his weary eyes and pain-racked brain cried out for sleep. Only then, did he switch off the light and retire to his bed.