A Most Unprecedented Conclave indeed….

[Ender]

(Top Secret)

The funeral had thankfully gone off without a hitch, thanks in no small part to the assistance of the Americans. The Camerlengo had sealed the doors to the Sistine Chapel earlier that morning and was seated in the Papal Office going over the various minutiae that is required in running a state and a religion. He looked up at the clock and sighed as he saw that it was almost 11:30 am.

“They’ll be finishing the first vote about now.” He said out loud to himself as he got up and went to the window to watch the black smoke begin to billow from the chimney, as expected there was no consensus after the first vote. But that was common enough, he couldn’t actually recall any conclave that had been resolved on the first vote. He went back to his desk and bent over his work again.


*****

117 Cardinals, and 117 individual votes. Each Cardinal had voted for himself, Cardinal Carmichael thought as he outwardly went through the motions of closing the morning session and allowing the aged cardinals to break for lunch. This was not the time for the Leader of the Church to be called home, so many things were left undone, and no clear choice was left in his stead. Though Ratzinger was a likely choice as was the Argentinaian whose name Cardinal Carmichael could not recall was as well, but neither held the sway necessary over the electorate to secure a timely election, no it looked like this was going to be a long and drawn out conclave. In fact it might well be the longest one in recent history, perhaps not the longest on record, but certainly in the top 5. At least if something miraculous didn’t happen before the church tore herself apart.

“Cardinal Elector?” A young voice broke his reverie. It belonged to his young assistant, Father Joseph, as Cardinal Elector he was too old to vote, and wasn’t in the best of health himself. In fact he was only in Rome as he had been at the funeral of a very old friend when the Pole suddenly passed. He elected to stay in Rome throughout the funeral of the late Pope, and humbly accepted the role as Great Elector when it was offered to him. But his infirmity assured that this would be his last election. He placed a kindly hand on the shoulder of the concerned young priest.

“Thank you Joseph, I am fine. Please go on ahead to lunch. I shall be along shortly after some prayer. For I bear the weight of all of Christendom on my shoulders today, and I am afraid it is too much for even me to bear.” He said with a kindly smile, that masked his inner pain. Even Joseph, his long suffering assistant, didn't know how extensively his cancer had spread. He was in the end stages of an inoperable brain cancer, and had a length of time left to him that no one could give him exactitudes on, but all the experts agreed it was anywhere from hours to no more than two months. He was in constant pain, that no medication seemed to mitigate, but thankfully it was crippling, not yet at least. The young priest left him vowing he’d be back when the bell rang for lunch to drag him to meal, if the old Cardinal wasn’t already in the dinning hall. Once the young priest left, the old Cardinal lowered himself slowly to the ground and lay prostrate before the altar, tears flowing from his eyes. Owing not only to the physical pain which was intense, but to the overwhelming spiritual pain. He lay there head turned to the right and spoke his prayer aloud.

“Holy Father, I pray that you take this burden from me, not the physical pain for that is no more than I have earned. But the burden of choosing the next Servant of the Servants of God. Holy Mother Church is in pain, she is hemorrhaging her members in a time when it is more popular and acceptable to be watching a sporting match on Sundays than to be in a pew. And then there is the great crisis amongst the priesthood, of which even I am not exempt… I do not ask forgiveness for that is beyond what I can hope for. But I pray that you bring us a strong leader, not the one we want, but the one we deserve. A Father to lead us back to you, with kindness, understanding, and above all a firm hand. One who would not be afraid to keep the Curia in its place, and not allow the politics or the optics of a decision to turn him from your will. I am but the least of your servants, but before I am called to face the Throne of Judgement and the punishment I so justly earned, I would like to see the Church on Earth secure. For then I could die a happy man, content that my life’s work was worthwhile.” He remained prostrate before the altar, until the cold of the marble floor had seeped into him. He got up achingly slowly and began to shuffle across the vast space, his cane clicking on the floor. As he opened the door he turned around as he could’ve sworn he’d heard a voice say,

“You have been a good and faithful servant, and not for your sake but the sake of your people. It shall be done.” He shook his head as he saw no one else in the room and thought it just another symptom of his impending death…

*****

4 days had passed since the Conclave was sealed, and the Camerlengo was starting to get worried. 8 full votes had resulted in black smoke, and the strain was starting to show in the crowd gathered in Saint Peter’s, even the world media had started to drain away like the fall rain on Rome. Yet still some of the faithful stayed in that same rain, praying for the outcome of the Conclave. He was standing near a window in solidarity with the sodden crowd in the square when there was a knock on his door and an out of breath Swiss Guards man was admitted. He took a moment to catch his breath before he came to attention and said,

“Camerlengo, you are needed at the Doors.” The Camerlengo raised an eyebrow, he knew of course that the man meant the Doors of the Sistine Chapel, for the only reason that he would be summoned to unseal the doors was if one of the Cardinals had taken gravely ill.

“Quickly Brother, let us go see what is needed of us.” The Camerlengo said taking the man’s arm in consolation and making his way through the twisting labyrinthian corridors of the Vatican. He came to the doors of the Sistine Chapel, finding them still barred, so it wasn’t a pressing medical emergency then, as if it was then the attendant guards would’ve already opened the doors. He took a moment to center himself and knocked formally on the great doors. After a moment he heard the kindly and aged voice of the Great Elector.

“Camerlengo?” The Great Elector spoke in formal Ecclesiastical Latin, a tongue that even most of the Cardinals in the room didn’t understand and the three guardsman certainly didn’t.

“Yes Cardinal, I am here.” The Camerlengo responded in the same esoteric language.

“We require a favour, we need you to contact the American’s and get a man named
Edward Carmichael, he’s a retired US Naval Commodore. From what I am told he is the youngest man to ever hold the title, and apparently the only one in recent memory.” The Cardinal said without further explanation.

“What? Who?” The Camerlengo asked confused by the request. What in all the world could the Conclave need with a retired US Naval Officer?

“No time for questions, it will be all revealed in God’s own time. But I have to return to the electorate. Thank you, my son.” The Grand Elector said and rapt on the door signaling his departure. The Camerlengo stood confused for a moment, worried that the Great Elector’s condition had progressed to the point of dementia, but if it had then someone inside would’ve noticed and he’d have been summoned for another reason. So he took a deep cantering breath and returned upstairs to hte office and dialed the President of the United States…

 

[Ender]

(Top Secret)
The Great Elector returned from his unauthorized, no down right illegal, contact with the Camerlengo. Conclave was supposed to be completely sequestered from the outside world, it was only allowed to be broken by the imminent death of a Cardinal or the election of the Pope, but things had gotten down right strange during the past 2 votes. All the Cardinals had voted using the standard protocol, the same protocol that had resulted in 2 split ballots. And yet during the 3rd and 4th balloting they had come to a universal consensus, the problem was the name that appeared on the ballots was not any Cardinal in the room, in fact prior to the 3rd ballot the man that was named on the ballot was only known to one Cardinal. Cardinal Jack Daniels of Buffalo, New York, had said that he had known a young Seminarian he had thrown out of the Seminary and had joined the US Navy. Cardinal Daniels had gone on to say of how the man had gone on to have a rather distinguished naval career. But all the other Cardinals swore they had never even heard the name before. Then on the next ballot it happened again, 117 votes all in favour of this ineligible person. So twice the Great Elector had sent up black smoke, despite his knowledge that a Pope had been Elected. So while the cardinals were preparing for the 5th ballot, he had snuck off and knocked, summoning the Camerlengo, and giving the other Cardinal a cryptic order to find and get that man here, no matter what. He shuffled up to his chair at the head of the Conclave, his cane clicking again as he did so.

“Cardinals, I urge you all to vote your consciences and to stop this joke that you are all playing…” He had barely gotten the words out when Cardinal Vidal of the Philippines stood up and called out in exasperation.

“This must be the Will of God! I am certainly not writing the name of a failed American seminarian on my ballot!” He was in turn shouted down by Cardinal Mahoney of the USA.

“Are you saying that we are? Either way it’s a mute point the man in question is inelligible, the Pole changed the ballot to remove Divine Inspiration as a means of election. So we must go back to balloting and stop all this…” suddenly every man in the room, the 117 Cardinal Electors, the Great Elector and his 2 Assistants, all 120 men stood and once and in Latin,

“Navarch Eduardus Carmelus”

The Cardinals looked around confused at each other, some of them had never studied enough ecclesiastical Latin to even know that Navarch was the closest equivalent to Commodore let alone had the skill to say those three simple words clearly. The Great Elector held up his hands and signaled the assembled electorate to sit.

“I think it is clear that this Election, perhaps the first one in history, is reflecting the will of the Lord God himself. There is little doubt now. Anticipating this possible eventuality I have tasked the Camerlengo with finding this Edward Carmicheal and getting him here by any means available to him. I suggest that the rest of us break for prayer and thanksgiving at being allowed to be the tools of the Holy Ghost at this time. While we await our new Pope, I shall send up black smoke at the appropriate times.” The Great Elector then dismissed the Electorate and sent up the mornings black smoke.

 

[Ender]

(Top Secret)
The Swiss Guards were efficiently able to navigate the labyrinthine streets of Rome and quickly get their passenger to the Castel Sant’Angelo. Both the Vatican and the Castel were emptied of all non-Swiss Guard Personnel, so there was no one there to see the foursome disembark in an underground parking area in the Castel. They marched quickly through the impressive structure and to the door that led to the Il Passetto. From there it was a brisk 20 minute walk along the elevated secret avenue to the Vatican. It has been decades since a Pope had to walk this route, and Carmichael, a professor of Military History, was being brought via this route to possibly take up the Pontificate. He was brought to the Papal Office, where they stopped and knocked on the door.

“Commodore Carmichael.” The Guardsman announced and let him in.

The Camerlengo got up from his seat and walked halfway across the massive room, once the door was shut he fell to his knee and took the Commodore's hand and kissed it.

“Your Holiness.” Carmichael was taken aback from the older man’s reaction.

“Isn’t that a bit premature, we still don’t know exactly why I was summoned.” Carmichael protested, but he knew that the protest was more polite the true, as there was no other logical reason he was here. The old Cardinal started to stand, and Carmichael aided him.

“Come now Your Holiness, we are both men of truth, and there is no other reason that they would’ve broken the rules of Conclave. As we both know you have no medical training.” The Camerlengo stood back and looked the younger man over, he had a physicality that was certainly impressive, but his choice of attire certainly wouldn’t do.

“Would you like to change Your Holiness? I am certain we could find you a cassock around here that would fit you… well would fit you well enough.”

“No, I do not think so. But perhaps a clergy shirt would be prudent. But the suit stays, it was a gift from the President of the United States.” Carmichael said as he fingered the Presidential Lapel Pin that was accidentally left on the suit. “I want the Cardinals to know that I am an American.”

The Camerlengo nodded his head, not agreeing with the sentiment, but knew there was little he could do but oblige. He got hte measurements and then sent one of the guardsmen to retrieve a clergy shirt from stores that would fit. Less than a half an hour later he was wearing the Clergy shirt, a proper tonsure collared black dress shirt with cufflinks. He had to raid the Poles bedroom to find a pair of Cufflinks but as they were likely his now, he didn’t think the past Pontiff would mind. The Camerlengo and the Swiss Guards were escorting him to the doors of the Sistine Chapel. Carmichael was surprised to find the doors still sealed, hadn’t he been told that the Conclave had been breached? But mostly he was surprised to hear the loud arguing that sounded close to violence coming from the other side of the doors. The Camerlengo ordered the doors be breached, after the Swiss Guards broke the wax seal, he used an antiquated skeleton key to unlock the doors. They opened with an audible groan that was lost amidst the thunderous argument that they opened onto. Carmichael, the Camerlengo, and the Guards entered one of the most sacred rooms in all of Christendom, reduced to a factionalized brouhaha of Old Men. The clamor was almost deafening, as a myriad of languages were used in harsh raised voices. At first he wasn’t noticed as he entered as the factions were more focused on arguing with each other, Carmichael strode to the middle of the room and opened his mouth. He used his best Officers Voice as he called out in Latin.

“Tace! In domo Dei es!” (Be Quiet! You are in the House of God!) His voice carried over the clamour, and the whole room fell silent for a moment, then one by one the aged and exasperated cardinals began to kneel where they stood, each announcing in perfect Latin.

“Eduardus Carmelus”. Then each stood back up as easily as if they were boys again. Their infirmities not seeming to affect them in the least. Each of the Cardinals took their seats again in a stunned silence, had they truly just witnessed a miracle? They could hardly believe it. The Great Elector was the last to kneel and once he stood again astounded by how easily he did so he strode boldly towards the younger man who stood his mouth agape in the middle of the chapel, his cane forgotten behind him, and he said in Latin when he got to the man.

“Acceptasne electionem de te canonice factam in Summum Pontificem?” ('Do you accept your canonical election as Supreme Pontiff?')

“Accipio” (I accept), Carmichael responded in the same tongue.

“Quo nomine vis vocari? ('By what name do you wish to be called?')” The Great Elector asked solemnly.

“Hadrianus VII” Carmichael responded in Latin. The Great Elector nodded his ascent at the strong name. The church was in a time of crisis and a name like Hadrian evoked images of Hadrian’s Wall and saint Adrian of Nicomedia the chief Military saint of Northern Europe. With that Hadrian was ushered from the chapel and to the small sacristy known as the Room of Tears, where he was out to be outfitted by the Papal Tailors. But first he was given a few minutes to be alone in prayer. As Hadrian prayed in the solitude of the Room of Tears, for the last time calling himself by his birth name and mentally taking on the mantle of the Papacy and the ever presence of Jesus Christ. White smoke rose from the Sistine Chapel.

Hadrian got up and looked over the papal vestments, choosing the most traditional option available for his reveal. With Red Pontifical shoes, and a red manteleta trimmed in ermine. Once he was dressed he turned to the tailor and in Italian said.

“Per favore, mandi a chiamare il comandante della guardia svizzera (Please send for the Commandant of the Swiss Guard).” The Tailor bowed and quickly left the room. Hadrian stood admiring one of the frescos in the room when the Guardsman came in.

“Si? (Yes?)” the Commandant asked when he entered.

“If you could please clear a section of at the front of the square for all the Cardinals that are not needed at the announcement please, and escort them outside, We would be most grateful. Oh and We would like you to be prepared to do what is contained in this note.” Hadrian handed a folded piece of paper to the Commandant who raised in an eyebrow, and quickly read over the note. Then responded in a thick German accented English.

“Are you certain Your Holiness?” Hadrian raised his hand and blessed the Commandant.

“Yes my son, We are most certain.” With that the Commandant simply bowed and exited the room to do as the Pope asked.