III

III

 

"I'm so sorry, Father."

"Really, it's fine. Have you calmed down a little?" Abel smiled gently. He placed a cup of tea in front of the lady. She seemed to have relaxed finally. "You said that you wanted to save your husband? Why don't you explain?"

"The Count of Anhalt is a minor aristocrat who owns a small amount of territory near Brno."

Aromatic cups of tea steamed in front of the people sitting around the table. The Countess of Anhalt stopped for a moment to take a sip of hers before continuing on.

"In the Brno war, my husband fought with New Vatican. I came from Bohemia to beg Her Eminence to spare his life."

"I'm sure that they will be lenient toward those aristocrats who surrendered, Senora," Antonio spoke gravely. His voice sounded sweet, like coffee with too much sugar in it. At some point, he'd managed to sneak in next to Christa and was gently stroking the hand with which she clutched a handkerchief. "I'm sure his life is secure. So please don't look so sad. It's a loss to the whole world when such a beauty cries."

"M-my..." Christa stuttered.

Antonio may have coated it in nonsense, but the essentials of what he said were true. However, Christa continued to twist the handkerchief between her fingers. It wasn't enough to bring her out of her melancholy.

"My husband hasn't surrendered. He still follows the fake Vatican and is a fugitive."

"That's an issue." Antonio was now lost for words. He frowned.

After Brno had fallen, Alfonso wasn't the only member of New Vatican to go missing. They had received information that said close to three hundred clergy members and believers had followed him into hiding. Christa s husband was one of them. His disappearance must have been particularly hard for his wife, but it suggested that he was a firm believer in their cause.

"I understand, Madam," Professor said as he sat up in his chair. Up until now, he had been listening to Christa s story quietly, with his eyes closed. He was courteous but he stared grimly back at her, as if to force her into submission. "I feel very sorry for you, but Her Eminence won't be able to help you. She has had to postpone all present activities, as she is having personal issues."

"She is?!" Christa's face turned pale.

Caterina was well known for holding a moderate view within the Vatican. This woman must have heard that too, which was why she had come here in the hopes that Caterina could do something. She couldn't hide her heartbreak.

"I... I live in a rural area. I hadn't heard," Christa choked on the words.

"I'm very sorry, but I'm afraid we can't do anything for you today. If we can help you, then we will contact you later," Professor said. Though his reply seemed cruel, it was the only thing they could offer now. It would have been worse to allow her to get hopes up with Caterina's situation the way it was. That really wasn't going to help a rural aristocrat though.

Christa pushed the handkerchief to her eyes and let out a sob.

"Umm, Mrs. Christa..." Abel said as he put a hand on her shoulder. He at least wanted to try and give her some strength. "If there is anything we can do for your husband, we will. So please, don't lose hope."

"Oh, my poor Rudolph." Christa sobbed. Abel's kind words weren't going to comfort a woman who thought she had just lost her last hope. She sobbed even louder, stricken with grief. "I can't help my husband in that horrible, cold place. What am I going to do?"

"So... sorry, Madam. What did you just say?!" Professor now jumped up at this. He looked like he'd just had a volt of electricity run though his body. He'd thrown all etiquette aside and had run to Christa's side.

"Madam, please. What were you saying? 'A cold place,' was it? Do you mean to say that you know where your husband is located?"

"Urn? Yes..."

Something had gotten this usually reserved gentleman excited. The shock seemed to have jolted Christa out of her grief momentarily. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and then delved into her bag, pulling out a letter.

"A few days ago, this letter came from my husband." Christa then proceeded to read the contents of the single sheet aloud. "To my beloved Christa, I am now prospering with the leader of the true Vatican. You don't need to worry. You need to think of yourself. I look up at the Tallinn sky and pray for your happiness."

"Tallinn!" Professor exclaimed. It was the only word of the whole letter that attracted his interest. He didn't need to hear the rest of the letter, which no doubt spoke of things like looking after his favorite hunting dog.

"My husband said that he was in a hurry and that they were due to leave as soon as he had finished writing his letter... Was there something of interest?" Christa inquired.

"Most definitely, Madam. Estonia. . . Lady, this is information of great importance!" Professor turned to his colleagues. "This could help us locate Alfonso d'Este! They must have fled to Estonia!"

Estonia was between the Dark Lands and the Baltic Sea. It was a small country that spent half the year deep in snow. The country was poor and lacked suitable roads, so it went largely ignored by the surrounding countries.

The remote area would be the perfect place for the remnants of New Vatican to hide. At this time of year, the area would be under heavy snowfall. Any pursuers probably wouldn't get far under those conditions.

"Your husband was in Krakow. Humph, they went from Jagiellos and then lost their pursuers in a wasteland. From there, they headed north. When Tallinn's winter has passed, they probably intend to head into one of the northern territories. It would make sense."

"But if we manage to capture Alfonso, do you think he'll have this Cherubim with him?" Antonio asked Professor, who was now stabbing numerous new pins into the map like a machine gun. "Cherubim might be dead, but if he is alive, he may be persuaded to stray from New Vatican."

"That's the gamble we must take," Professor replied simply as he put in a final pin. "Breaking into the Lateran Palace, rescuing the duchess, and rebelling against the Vatican. Then running after Cherubim, who may be dead or alive. What do you think? Father Tres?"

"There are too many unknown factors." Tres shook his head, his face expressionless. "It is impossible to calculate the probability now."

"And that is why it is a gamble... Abel, you decide."

"Huh?  Me?" Abel blinked at being suddenly called on. He pointed to himself and shook his head furiously. "Why me? Professor, you should decide."

"Sorry, but I have bad luck when it comes to gambling. Father Tres has no intuition... And you're the one who's known Duchess of Milan longest. You decide."

As Wordsworth said the word "longest," a shadow of sorrow crossed his face. But it was only for a moment. He quickly recovered; taking charge again, he looked at the blond-haired Abel. "I'm leaving the choice to you, Father Abel. What is your decision?"

 

***

 

"What?! Aren't I the strongest?! How could I not eat food here? Yes?" cried Brother Phillippo of the Department of Inquisition, also known as "the round eel."

The van that was stopped outside of the Palazzo Spada was outfitted with a mountain of surveillance equipment. It also was currently carrying four special agents. There was barely room to breathe. Even so, the smallest of them crossed his short legs, taking up enough space for two, as if he had all the authority in the world. Just as he was about to say more, something caught his eye. "Hey! You!"

The special agent was glaring at what had only recently been four pastries but had now been squished into a big ball. He glared at the young corporal in indignation; spit flew from Phillippo's mouth as he raged: "What is this? This is pumpkin pie."

"Yes, that's right. Your Honor told us to go and buy pie." "Idiots! When you're told to buy pie, we always mean eel pie! Cretins! You should know what the chief likes without us having to tell you!"

"I'm sorry. I'll go and buy some more!" "Do it quick! If you make this mistake again, you'll hang for it. Damn, I'm surrounded by idiots." Phillippo continued with the insults as he swallowed the pie whole.

"And why the hell did Paula make us do this boring job? I bet she's just jealous of my ability."

It had been three hours since they had started the watch for the Ministry of Holy Affairs. Phillippo had been sitting down so long that he felt like his butt had worn a groove in the seat. He knew that they were stuck there until the people they were watching made a move.

"Crap, look at that. I'm going to finish this here. When I take that idiot, Petro, down and rise to the head of the department, then I'm going to get that woman back. Mwahaha!"

"Umm. Your Honor?"

While the round eel was still lost in his thoughts of what he would do when he was more powerful than his bosses, someone disturbed him from behind. One of the special agent's face muscles stiffened. He had noticed something in his binoculars.

"There's a car coming out. A black sedan... It's an AX Agent driving!"

"WHAAAT?!" Phillippo grabbed the binoculars off the agent and peered into them. There was indeed a black sedan emerging from the front gate of Palazzo Spada. At the wheel, with a pipe in his mouth, was a middle aged man. In the front passenger seat and backseats were the shadows of other people, one of them smaller.

"Crap! Follow them! Hurry!" Phillippo continued to watch the accelerating sedan drive off. He kicked the driver's seat in his own vehicle. "Mwahahaha! Got you now!" Phillippo let out a shrill laugh and held on tight to prevent himself from being thrown out of his seat as the van raced after the sedan.

The speeding sedan was headed east toward Caelian Hill. Located there was the Lateran Palace—a cathedral that was one of the Vatican's palaces—the very building in which Caterina was incarcerated. Phillippo had no doubt that they were headed to save their leader.

Even so, he had not expected them to act so quickly. They had been waiting for them to try and save her but had thought they might need to push them into acting.

"Hey, hey! This is going to be my moment! The start of my glorious reign!" Phillippo started to gloat and snort in glee. He was certain that now he was going to get a chance to do all those things he had been imagining. He cheered on his staff, the eel pie incident now entirely forgotten. "We're going to get so much credit for this. If you work hard here, then when I'm made Chief, I'll make sure that you all got your dues! Mwahahaha... Harrumph?!" His laughter and celebration was abruptly cut short. The van came to a screeching halt. There was the smell of burning rubber. Phillippo's stumpy body was thrown sharply forward, out of his seat.

"Crap! That hurt! Why the hell did you stop like that?!"

"I'm sorry! They suddenly—

The driver was cut short by Phillippo hitting him over the head, but it was as he had tried to say: the sedan had suddenly pulled to the side of the road. There was still a ways to go to the Lateran Palace, though. Perhaps there was a problem with the engine? The middle-aged man who got out of the sedan seemed calm. He lit up his pipe and then slowly walked over to Phillippo's van.

"Has he noticed us?!" Phillippo ducked his head.

The man who was now standing right next to Phillippo's van casually knocked on the window. "I can see you've been hard at work. Being special agents at the Department of Inquisition must be strenuous. Why don't you come and take some tea with us?"

"TEA?" Phillippo thought this must be a trick. Were they trying to trap him?

However, the fact of the matter was, he had been discovered. Phillippo decided that he needed to find the right moment to make his escape and leave his staff to this. He opened the door.

"Heh heh heh. You are an idiot, Officer." Phillippo smiled, full of confidence. "It is useless to try and save your leader. You are totally surrounded. I suggest you surrender quietly. Yes?" Phillippo tried to maintain the bluff that he was in control of this situation.

"What?" Professor shrugged his shoulders exaggeratedly and looked down at the Inquisition officer as if he had found some mysterious, new creature. "I don't understand. I was just offering you some afternoon tea. Save Duchess of Milan? How would I manage that? By myself?"

"Bwaha! Don't play innocent with me! You're not going to trick me with offers of tea! I know you're all in there!"

"All?" The priest pulled a quizzical face as he looked down at the Inquisition officer. "I really have no idea what you're talking about. Are you talking about her?"

It was at exactly that time that the backdoor of the sedan opened. A small person got out.

"Umm... Professor Wordsworth, is this wig all right?"

Phillippo looked over to see a nun wearing a men's cassock and a wig.

Professor nodded. "You're doing a good job, Sister. Could I ask you to clear away the Doll on the passenger seat?"

"What?"

Phillippo looked on in disbelief as the Doll was taken off the passenger seat and the air let out of it. Professor seemed satisfied when this was done.

"It's one of those new Dolls to discourage thieves. You can never be too careful these days. Why, the other day..."

But Phillippo wasn't listening to the self-satisfied Professor anymore. He grabbed at the wig and saw it was only a cheap costume hair that could have been purchased anywhere. He pursed his lips. "You were a decoy. Damn you!"

He'd been tricked! The round eel went perfectly pale.

Professor smiled gently again. "Oh, my. I don't know what happened, but you shouldn't let it get to you. Are you sure you wouldn't like a cup of tea?"