Adrian D'Hage - The Omega scroll

‘If it means peace, a lot of Palestinian people will go along with that,’ Ahmed replied. ‘To my mind, the other three key issues are the Jewish settlements, the return of the eight hundred thousand or so Palestinian refugees who lost everything in the wars against Israel, and Jerusalem. What would you do about the settlements?’ Ahmed asked Yossi.

‘That’s one area where we Israelis are going to have to compromise. For years now we’ve had a furious building program on Palestinian land in the West Bank and Gaza. We’ve destroyed a lot of your olive groves and stopped a lot of Palestinians from farming their land.’

‘It’s a big issue, Yossi,’ Ahmed agreed. ‘That’s been our life and our existence since way before Christ or Muhammad, or even Abraham.’

‘It’s a political strategy, Ahmed. Designed to take over what is left of Palestine by stealth, and it’s a big mistake. It breeds untold resentment and despair and it will never work. When a man has nothing left to lose he will readily resort to violence. As painful as it might be for those we’ve allowed to build on Palestinian land, we are going to have to give them incentives and relocate them back into Israel.’

‘And the Palestinians who were exiled in 1948 and the other wars?’ asked Ahmed.

‘That’s an area where both sides will have to compromise. Sometimes we have to deal with reality. There is not much point in insisting that the six hundred thousand Palestinians who were forced out during the 1948 war be allowed to return to homes that no longer exist or have been occupied for half a century in Israel,’ Yossi said. ‘There are people on both sides who think a return to a new State of Palestine, coupled with compensation, is a sensible and workable compromise.’

Ahmed looked thoughtful. ‘And Jerusalem?’ he asked.

‘Jerusalem. Oh Jerusalem,’ Yossi sighed. ‘Someone once said it wasn’t so much a city as an emotion. On our side there are just as many who won’t give an inch but if we’re going to get out of this cycle of killing, we’re both going to have to give a little. Neither side can have it all.’

‘An international city?’

‘Not necessarily, although to a certain extent Jerusalem belongs to the people of faith around the world and certainly any agreement has to maintain the integrity of the holy sites and allow free and unimpeded access to people of all faiths. It’s bigger than just the Old City and I think the solution lies in considering Greater Jerusalem. We agree to demolish this obscene wall and recognise al-Quds in East Jerusalem as the capital of Palestine, and you recognise our capital Yerushalayim in West Jerusalem.’

‘What about the Temple Mount and the Western Wall?’ Ahmed asked.

‘The Old City is not going to be easy,’ Yossi acknowledged. ‘In principle, if I’m elected the Palestinians would get jurisdiction over the Temple Mount, under al-Quds. We would get jurisdiction over the Western Wall under Yerushalayim. What would you do about the militants?’

‘I think the militants would come on board if the negotiations resulted in a genuine Palestinian State,’ Ahmed replied. ‘It won’t be easy, but if I could ever win an election I think I could get agreement to the sort of principles we’re talking here. Does the Old City fall into Israel or Palestine?’

‘For the moment not even you and I could sign that one away, but I would hate to see the chance for peace fall at the final hurdle. Leave the national borders as they are at present and re-visit them when there is a bit of goodwill in the tank. Baited again!’ Yossi stared absentmindedly at his bare hook. ‘It’s theft.’

Giovanni smiled. A stolen prawn. Could these two, he wondered, steal the peace from those who had imprisoned its chances for so long.

Roma

‘ G iovanni. Avanti, Avanti.’

Cardinal Salvatore Bruno, Head of the Secretariat for non-Christians, got up from behind his desk, grabbed Giovanni by the shoulders and kissed him on each cheek. For good measure, he took Giovanni’s hand in both of his.

‘ Benvenuto a Roma! ’

Salvatore was a big man. Well into his sixties, his dark face was lined and his old hazel eyes were kindly and wise. When he reached eighty he would no longer be eligible to vote in any conclave and his wisdom would be sorely missed by a Church that desperately needed those who were not driven by power. Salvatore Bruno had come to Roma reluctantly, persuaded by those outside of the Vatican, Bishop O’Hara among them, that the Holy Church needed to reach out to the other faiths. Faiths that were held with equal conviction by equally decent folk. Bishop O’Hara and Salvatore had also had several conversations about the role the brilliant young Giovanni might play. Both of the older men could sense his destiny.

‘I can’t tell you how glad I am to have you here. S’accomodi. S’accomodi.’

‘Thank you, Eminence. Come stai? You are well, I hope?’

‘I can’t complain,’ he said, his old eyes twinkling as he patted his ample stomach. ‘Now, have you given any thought as to how you might tackle this issue of the other faiths?’

‘Yes, Eminence, but I will probably need some guidance. I’ve been out of the mainstream for a long time, and to tell you the truth, I am a little surprised at the project. I thought the Church’s attitude was, well…’

‘More rigid?’ Cardinal Bruno chuckled as he finished Giovanni’s sentence for him. ‘I shouldn’t worry too much about that. The Holy Father has always recognised the importance of the other faiths, although there’s been a fierce rearguard action from the usual suspects…’ Salvatore paused as his housekeeper of thirty-five years brought in the tea. ‘Thank you, Sister Maria, I’ll pour. I need to keep my hand in,’ he said with another chuckle and he waited until she withdrew.

‘Watch the Secretary of State. Unlike those who know you well he was not too impressed with your promotion or this project, but you have worked for him before, and I daresay you know his views on these things. He called me,’ Salvatore said, smiling wryly, ‘and asked me to pass on his congratulations suggesting that I have you travel widely. On the congratulations, we’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. On the travel, that is my intention, although not for the reasons that drive the Secretary of State.’

‘I’m not sure I follow, Eminence?’

‘He wants you to spend as much time out of Rome as possible. Insecure people like the Cardinal Petronis of this world see anyone as competent as you only in terms of a possible threat to their own position.’

It was the first time Giovanni had ever heard anyone describe Lorenzo Petroni as insecure. Perhaps the old lion knew a thing or two about the human psyche.

‘While you are here in Rome there is a danger that you will come to the notice of the other Curial Cardinals and, by extension, become a potential candidate for the Keys to Peter.’

Giovanni laughed. ‘I don’t think Cardinal Petroni has anything to worry about on that score.’

‘I hope he does, Giovanni.’ Salvatore’s eyes were no longer mischievous. ‘The very best Popes in the whole history of this wonderful Church have been those who have never seen themselves as a candidate. John XXIII was one of those. The Curial Cardinals thought they were electing an old man they could control, and look what happened.’

‘Vatican II.’

‘The winds of change,’ Cardinal Bruno agreed. ‘Some of the older men in red have been fighting to put the genie back in the bottle ever since. I remember him with great affection. He drove the Curia to distraction, often turning up in their departments without their knowledge, just to have a chat with the staff, and il Capo di Polizia in Rome gave up,’ Salvatore said, relishing the memory of the great man. ‘In the time of Popes like Pius XII they used to rehearse for days for a Papal departure from the Vatican; flags, bands, bugles, honour guards, crashing cymbals. John XXIII used to just drive out.’