Тим Пауэрс - Bugs and Known Problems

It was Dutto.

Cardinal Crivetto didn’t wait for morning to conduct a quick inquiry. After receiving my succinct verbal report, he ordered that the enhanced guard force remain in position and very politely requisitioned the office of the late commander of the Pontifical Guard.

Under his instruction, we quietly orchestrated the meeting well before daylight. Six of my best, including the ogrelike Muller, were present. Three lined one wall and the others formed a shield around the mother of the child that Dutto had… well, molested is too light a term, but it will do. It had taken some persuasion to part the mother from her child, but after seeing her offspring safely ensconced in the Guard-only infirmary with one of the brown robed Cistercians and hatchet-faced Boivin for company, she reluctantly agreed to participate.

A fire danced in the grate, providing much of the light in the room. The large legal desk was overlaid with a plain white cloth, where a plain wooden crucifix was paired with a thick leather bound tome. A brazier stood in one corner, small blue flames occasionally darting above the grill and the objects laid there.

The entire scene was outside my experience.

However, we are sworn to obey His Holiness or His successor.

I stood by the door and when the seated Camerlengo gave a nod, I knocked against the door frame. A few moments later, a group approached, heralded by heavy footsteps and querulous pleading.

A Cistercian monk in a traditional brown robe, belted with a heavy beaded rosary, strode through tightly gripping the arm of Bishop Dutto. The prelate had been held under guard, and his black cassock appeared to be newly torn at the neckline and down one sleeve. He entered, visibly reluctant, and was trailed by a second monk. That man mirrored the first, firmly holding the accused’s second arm.

Both brothers carried small wooden cudgels, wrapped with thin pieces of iron.

Those were also new in my experience.

All present remained silent as the trio halted in front of the desk.

Dutto’s eyes darted around the office, searching for any anchor or familiarity to orient himself.

"Bishop Dutto, we are met to conduct an ecclesiastical inquiry into the incident reported by," Crivetto said, consulting a notepad. "Mrs. Angelina Tranquilo, widow of Gendarme Detective Tranquilo. Specifically, that you sexually assaulted a minor, her child, this very night inside the walls of Vatican City."

"I, uh, I mean, Your Eminence," Dutto said, stuttering.

"It is only meet and proper that you are advised of the complaint of Mrs. Tranquilo, the report of the pontifical surgeon and the report of Guardsmen Lecuyer and Taliaferro."

I flicked my eyes over to the young guardsman. He stared at Dutto, eyes slitted and sweat beading his forehead. Anger comes in many flavors, and Taliaferro was possessed of an indignant fury.

"The statements are quite comprehensive and leave no room for doubt as to what occurred," the Camerlengo said, implacably. "This inquiry is to give you an opportunity to confirm these reports and explain your actions."

"This isn’t proper, Your Eminence," Dutto replied unevenly. "I reject these accusations. Any inquiry must occur in due course, Archbishop Atherton-Clive was quite clear, this was perfectly arranged, I—"

"It was arranged, then?" Crivetto said, sitting back and seeming to relax. He smiled pleasantly.

"Yes, yes Your Eminence, the vice-regent told me himself, it was perfectly fine. He made the preparations for…" And then Dutto stopped, doubtlessly skipping ahead to the logic which would imperil not just himself but his master. He attempted to backtrack.

"I mean no, no indeed, I mean…"

"Well?" the Camerlengo cut off what would have been a long lists of protests, raising a single hand across his chest, fingers bladed together. "Which is it? There’s no room for denial. Are you suggesting that a senior prelate, the vice-regent for the Vicar of Rome himself was procurer for this vile act?"

The accused shut his mouth, which previously had been open in mid-expostulation. The clopping sound would have been amusing under other circumstances.

"Tell me Bishop Dutto," Cardinal Crivetto said, giving the prelate another chance. "Tell me now of your arrangement with the vice regent. For the sake of your immortal soul, tell me all."

Dutto stood mute, slowly straightening his spine, building his defiance.

"The evidence is overwhelming, Your Excellency. I give you one more opportunity to speak of your own free will, before God." the Camerlengo said. His words were absorbed by the old stone that walled us in.

Silence.

“Please!” Crivetto said, his tone suddenly changed. Pleading. “I implore you. Speak fully, spare yourself pain. There’s not time enough for me to persuade you to return to God. Please do not compel me to put you to the question!”

“You cannot!” Dutto replied, his voice firmer than it had been a moment before. “The Cardinal Camerlengo no longer has that authority. Only the Doctrine of the Faith applies.”

Dutto thought himself safe. The Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith is—rather—was a sort of supreme court for senior members of the church who were accused of serious crimes. Only a few years before I was born, it was known by a different name, an ancient name.

The Inquisition.

There was a long pause.

Then the Camerlengo pounded his fist into the table top three times. By the third stroke, his face had transformed. His eyes were cold.

“The Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith died inside the Sistine Chapel,” Crivetto said, slamming his fist into the table top yet again, making the crucifix jump. “I alone survive.”

Crivetto eyed his subject a moment longer and then nodded to Muller, who strode two steps to the brazier and selected a heated pair of insulated pliers. He brandished them with a grin, clacking the jaws in an obscene parody of castanets.

"What… ?" Dutto stammered, eyes wide now. "What are you doing?"

"As the scholar that you seem to be it should interest you, Bishop Dutto, that prior to the Lateran Treaty the Mother Church retained the option of physical persuasion in matters of ecclesiastical courts," Crivetto said, opening the book before him to a marked page. "As Camerlengo and sole remaining member of the Congregation that you correctly reference, I am the supreme ecclesiastical authority until the election of a new pontiff. In this matter, I have elected to return to the guidance of laws written when crimes such as yours were addressed more… robustly. It has been nearly a hundred years since then. Of course I have taken due care to consult with authoritative references. You will be reassured that we will strictly conform to prior ecclesiastical precedent, you see."

He consulted the book while Dutto looked wildly around the room. I gave him a bored glance, but most the others ignored him, save the widow Tranquilo, who met his frantic looks with truculence. Muller, who stood just to one side, snapped the pliers again.

"Ah, yes." Crivetto ran a finger down the page as he continued. "Here we are. Of course, physical, ah, intercession, was limited only to serious charges. Heresy. Apostasy."

He lifted his eyes again to meet Dutto’s unbelieving gaze.

"Pederasty."

Dutto swallowed, and watched Muller advance. The steel of the pliers had discolored in the flames and the air stirred above them, heated by the burning hot metal.

"You wouldn’t dare!" the prelate said. "You wouldn’t!"

The monks to either side of Dutto gripped his arms firmly.

If I had been my normal self, the screaming would have bothered me a lot more.

Morning mass was still a fixture of Vatican City.