Redemption

By Mary Cote

Father Adamo Bianchi returns to Rome to find his mother dying and his sisters on what he sees as the road to self-destruction. He accuses one sister of prostitution, blind to the fact her actions are an act of desperation; the Holy Father has prevented Livia from taking her final vows in order to provide his personal pleasures within the Papal Suite, the threat of excommunication for her family wielded freely over her head. His younger sister, Chiara, in an attempt to keep food on the table, is discovered keeping company with and doing labor for a Jew. The fear that their transgressions will cost Adamo his cassock and collar consumes him. As his vocation progresses to bishop, then cardinal, he is completely unaware of the sacrifices being made by his family. When the Holy Father is murdered, Adamo is forced to face the truth when asked to extract a confession from his sister. Reality blurred by the prestige of his crimson vestments, Adamo chooses his faith over his family.

Redemption is a story of corruption and manipulation within the church. Abuse of power, indulgences, espionage and murder all become integral aspects of Adamo's life while he disregards the moral virtues that propelled his vocation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: M2K Publishing
• Release date: May 4, 2011
• ISBN: 9780986829123

Mary Cote

Mary writes her books while sitting under a cherry tree in the middle of nowhere, British Columbia, gaining inspiration from her two sons, and Herbert the WonderDog.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The scent of the holy oil hung heavy in the room, sickeningly sweet. Chiara watched as her mother’s lips, eyes, ears and forehead were anointed. She listened to the mumbled prayers and the weak responses. Her heart ached.

You were right to send for me. Father Adamo Bianchi, ministrations complete, turned to his youngest sibling. She doesn’t have long.

Chiara lifted adoring eyes to her brother’s face. It had been many years since she had seen him. I wasn’t sure you would get the message. I wasn’t sure where you were.

There was an uneasy moment. Chiara waited to see if it would be priest or brother who responded. A stiff arm wrapped momentarily around Chiara’s shoulder, then dropped away – it was the priest in the room. I have been summoned to see the Holy Father. He wishes me to be here now, in Rome.

A shudder of fear ran up her spine. Here? Now? He answered with a shrug. Chiara struggled to control her pounding heart, but fear was fast taking control.

Adamo looked back to his mother, frail, pale, wracked with coughs and rattling lungs. He worked the inside of his cheek, chewing it slowly. The subtle reaction did much to comfort his sister; there was still some of her brother in there, buried beneath the holy robes.

His gaze slid back to Chiara. Where’s Livia?

At the mention of their sister’s name, Chiara’s heart again began to race. Adamo had finally returned home; it was too early to tell him about the situation with Livia. She could lie about their in-between sister, but it was ingrained in Chiara that lying was wrong. Lying to a priest, even if he was your brother, was a sure trip to the gates of hell. She knows. She will get here when she can.

Adamo’s head tilted slightly. He turned to watch with interest as Chiara felt beads of perspiration break on her forehead. She knew her heart read like an open book to this man; that fact would never change. She thought for a fleeting moment that perhaps it was pity in his eyes. Our mother is dying, has not even hours to live, and her own daughter is too busy to be here? I traveled for days to get here. I can’t imagine what could possibly detain Livia at a moment like this. What could be so important that she cannot see to this one last gift to the woman who gave her life, raised her, nourished her...?

I... I don’t...

Be careful, Little One, lest your soul face eternal damnation for lying to a man of God. They were the words of both priest and brother, but the sparkle in his eye was indeed the brother she had grown up with. You have her confidence, and you wish not to betray it. That’s admirable, Chiara, but I sense in your reaction that she might be in some trouble. An oath asked to conceal wrong is not an oath to be honored. His hands were on Chiara’s shoulders. He pulled her close in a tight hug. You have done more than enough already for your family. You have been here for our mother in her time of need. You always were here for her, and for us. I feel the burden of this secret placed on your shoulders by your sister is too heavy. Let me share it. You can trust me. He squeezed tighter.

Months of worry, of fretting, pacing, and thinking, ebbed together in a rush of tears, a long overdue release of emotions. The man holding her – could he be trusted? Was he a Bianchi or did his loyalty lie with the pontiff? The scale tipped toward Bianchi. She had to trust him. She is with His Holiness. She was summoned to see him.

The hug released as Adamo’s arms dropped. She is with the Holy Father?

Chiara nodded.

And this does not alarm you?

Chiara nodded again then shrugged. The first time, it did. Now, it petrifies me.

#

Chiara was awakened by the door followed by light footsteps and the rustling of Livia’s cape. She opened her eyes. There was no noise coming from their mother’s bed. She turned to look at it, saw Adamo kneeling, his prayers now interrupted by the arrival.

Adamo climbed off his knees then turning a stern face to his sister. Do you often come in at this hour of the morning? Your dying mother wasn’t cause enough for you to be here, to comfort her and your little sister? You could not sit vigil here with the rest of us?

Livia hung her cape on the peg at the door. She sighed before turning around to face her family. I would have been here if I could. She marched toward the bed, sat on the edge and picked up her mother’s hand. Now isn’t the time, Adamo.

Oh, so suddenly you have developed a keen grasp of what time it is, have you? Isn’t that convenient?

Tears welled in Chiara’s eyes. She rubbed her neck, stiff from falling asleep in the chair. She then cradled her head. Enough. Both of you, stop it. Our mother deserves better than this. She looked again at the bed then felt the choke in her throat at the realization her mother was gone. A look out the window was nothing more than a means of searching for time to collect her thoughts. It was four in the morning. The sky was black and moonless, adding to the heartbreak.

Livia ignored Chiara. She stood then moved closer to Adamo. Just where the hell have you been for the last three years? Where were you when she was sick and needed comforting or needed tending? You weren’t here to hold her hand when she cried out for you, when she asked about you and prayed constantly for you to come home. Don’t you dare pull that sanctimonious tripe on me.

Chiara watched as her brother’s fingers curled into tight fists. His tongue danced a frantic tango with his cheek. Pulling up the hood of his cloak, he turned toward the door. I will go out to make the necessary arrangements. He scrutinized Livia once more. Perhaps you will see fit to find something more appropriate to wear in honor of the memory of your mother. He did not wait for a response.

Chapter 2

He’s worried, and he’s scared. Chiara kept her hands busy preparing food. Adamo would be back soon, expecting a proper breakfast on the table. This is not the best time for him to be called back to Rome. She paused, cradling an egg in her palm. Why would they call him back? I don’t understand that.

He’ll find out soon enough. Livia dropped her skirt on the table then went in search of their mother’s sewing box. I have to get this skirt repaired before he gets back here or he will not be happy. She held out her arms, allowing a full appraisal. What’s wrong with this dress anyways?

Chiara turned, examined her sister then shook her head. The top of Livia’s breasts peeked out over the lace trim, her neck was almost completely visible, her arms as well, with only the shoulders covered with capped sleeves. You know what’s wrong with it, especially if we are in mourning. Mother never really liked that you dressed this way, but you know it as well. How can you expect Adamo to react differently, especially being a priest?

Livia dropped into the chair. She fought with a needle and some thread, one lid closed, her mouth twisted as she tried to force the frayed edge through the eye. I suppose. She abandoned the task, dropped her hands to her lap and stared up at her sister. It was never my choice. You know that, right?

Oh, dear Lord in heaven, yes, I know that. Sitting down on a neighboring chair, Chiara turned up the flame on the lantern, took the needle and thread, quickly slipped one into the other, grabbed the skirt and started to sew. I don’t know how you survive like this. I still don’t really understand what happened, but I know you were very sincere and very devoted to taking your vows. Why won’t you tell me what happened? I have no idea how things changed to be like this, but I know in my heart, without doubt, you never intended it, especially to catch the eye of ... of... She could not bring herself to speak the name. The thought horrified her. She turned her attention to the sewing. I’ll get this done for you... quickly, before Adamo returns. It would not do to have him return to see this.

The sunrise cast a pink glow into the room. Chiara caught a glimpse of it painting her mother’s cheeks, the first color they had seen for some time, but quickly turned back to the sewing. She could not bear to look at that side of the room.

What is he going to say when he sees? We don’t have the same life he left. He’s going to notice...

Notice what?

Chiara tensed at the sound of the masculine voice. Her sister’s spine straightened.

Livia turned to greet their brother, a tight smile on her face. ...Notice that since you left, we became nothing more than trash to this city. The servants are gone, the fancy fixtures are gone... we have none of that left. We had to sell it for food. Without father here, without a man here, we had to make do as best we could.

Adamo looked around. Chiara tried to focus on the sewing but was distracted by the nature of the food she was cooking, about the floors that had yet to be cleaned, about her mother lying still in the corner.

Her gaze returned to her brother’s face. Adamo had changed. He looked older than she remembered, but she was just a little girl when he left to go to seminary. He had been home only once since then, but she saw very little of him during that visit.

Adamo returned Livia’s smile with one that had no feeling of warmth or kindness to it. I assume you did your best to help ‘make do’ as well, did you? I can imagine you did. Dressed as you were this morning, I imagine you were more than compensated for your efforts, although I doubt those benefits extended to the rest of the family. He walked up to his sister then cupped her chin in his hand. Such a waste. You are an incredibly beautiful woman, and yet you choose to squander what you have, to sell yourself, barter your soul for the sake of some cheap lace and lust-filled looks. He pulled his hand back, but not before giving her head a twist to the side in the process. I imagine it was quite a burden for Mother, one son devoting his life to God; one daughter slutting around with the rest of the local tramps.

Chiara could listen no more. Stop! Stop it! She fought the tears as she jumped to her feet, tossing the skirt aside. She hated being so weak, crying in front of them, but it was out of her control now. You will not talk like this in front of Mother. Show some respect, both of you. Unclenching her fists, she picked up the clothes from the floor and set them on the table. Adamo, we have no more help here so we take care of ourselves. If you aren’t going to contribute, please don’t criticize how we have to do it. I will have some breakfast ready shortly. You can tell us what arrangements you have made for the funeral. What is to happen with Mother now? I have no idea what happens to her.

Taking one last piercing glare at Livia before accepting the tenuous truce, Adamo nodded to Chiara. She will be taken away shortly to be prepared. I have talked to Father Angeloni this morning. He and I will say the Mass. It will be very small and simple. We will keep vigil at the chapel with her until then. He will let us know when everything is ready so we can go there.

Chiara tried to absorb the enormity of the words. ‘She will be taken away to be prepared?’ It sounded so final, so empty... so heartless. She went to her mother’s side, sat on the edge of the bed and took the frail, lifeless hand into her own. She’s so cold. A blanket was folded at the foot of the bed. Chiara reached for it then spread it out over her mother. I don’t want you to be cold... ever. Tears raced down her cheeks and off the tip of her nose. She wanted to brush them away, but she didn’t want to release the hand again. She never wanted to let go of that hand.

It’s okay, Little One. Adamo dropped to his haunches beside her, put his hand around her head and pulled her close to his chest. She didn’t resist. It’s okay. We’re going to be fine, and Mother... Mother is at peace.

Chapter 3

Adamo put on his black hat, straightened the brim then picked a piece of lint off the front of his black jacket. The Holy Father has requested I see him immediately. There was an edge to his voice.

You have no idea why? Chiara was afraid to ask, but the words blurted from her lips.

I suspect, now that I am back in Rome, it is to be reprimanded for the discretions of my sister. I will probably be told that she is to be excommunicated, and I will be as well if she doesn’t stop her wild behavior. If, as you have said, she has been summoned to the Papal Palace on more than one occasion already, then this is probably the last chance we have to save her. I will have my work cut out for me. He ignored what Chiara knew had to be a look of utter shock on her face, and instead surveyed the rest of the room. Speaking of which, where is Livia? She should be here. She is in mourning, or at least she should be pretending to show some respect for her family and our mother.

Chiara swallowed. Her mouth was suddenly very dry. No, Adamo, you don’t...

Shush. No talking right now, Little One. I have to be focused. I need a plan that will save all of us, especially Livia. Don’t worry. He kissed the top of her head before leaving.

#

The smell of the dank tunnels was something to which Livia would never become accustomed. It added to the sense of humiliation and degradation she felt every time she was led through them by Cardinal Casape. Cardinal Casape was the Camerlengo, the Pope’s right hand man; in this case he was also the Pope’s son. Livia choked back the bile that rose in her throat every time the Cardinal talked to her.

The Holy Father doesn’t like to be kept waiting.

Livia bit her tongue. ‘Supercilious little boy,’ she thought, but to make any comment at all would be a fatal miscalculation. She followed silently, knowing Cardinal Camerlengo was enjoying himself too much. She pulled the hood closer over her face, trying to conceal her identity as much as possible.

The tunnel opened onto marble floors and the arched ceilings of the hallway toward the papal apartment. Sun shone through immaculate windows, but the odors of decadence and excess were everywhere around her. Behind each door along the hall, she had no doubt evil was being perpetrated. Depravity possessed the building, the entire papal palace, spawned at the heart of the Holy See. Livia stared the floor. It was easier than looking at the doors and wondering who was being tortured spiritually, emotionally, even physically on the other side.

At the end of the hall, Cardinal Camerlengo tapped on the largest of the doors. He did not await a reply, and pulled the heavy oak open. Your Holiness, Signorina Bianchi has arrived. He bowed and started to back out of the room, but not before throwing Livia a look of pure lechery.

Livia! The old man approached her, arms wide.

She dropped to her knees, grabbed his hand then kissed the large ruby ring. Your Holiness.

Stand, my child. His hand rested on the top of her head as he spoke then moved to her elbow as she started to stand. Please... He motioned for her to come further into the room.

Livia took off her cape, straightened her dress then tried to look down to check her appearance.

You look lovely, my dear. You always do. He smiled, licked his lips and moved closer to her. In fact, why would you want to hide the beauty God gave you? It’s to be viewed... He undid her top button. ... Savored... Two more buttons came loose. ...Feasted upon... His hand slipped past the material to grab one of her breasts. You are delectable, so young and firm and tantalizing. With his free hand, he pulled her head closer, pressed his lips to her then slipped his tongue into her mouth. Livia choked back her tears. It would be a terrible mistake to show the wrong emotion – not for her sake, but for Chiara and Adamo.

Released from the kiss, the wrinkled hands turned to the task of removing her clothes. You are the beauty of heaven here on earth, a miracle the likes of which only I am worthy to behold and treasure. God sent you to me. He instructed me to take care of you, to show you what He desires, what He intends is your true path. He demands your devotion to your family, but even more, to your Lord God in heaven, through the one who is His presence here on Earth.

The last of her clothes slipped to the floor. She had dressed how he had instructed on previous visits. The pontiff had said it was false modesty to worry about all the garments women wore, that less would be more appropriate for his miracle. He grabbed her hand, led her toward the bed then sat her on the edge. She knew the routine, watched as he shed his robes, watched the wrinkled skin sway with each movement, smelled the sweat of his unwashed body, watched as his arousal manifested itself. She knew what was next, but it happened before she could prepare herself. His hands locked behind her head, pulled her closer to him then bent her over harshly toward his waist. Open your mouth! Taste and see that the Lord is good.

#

Adamo clutched his hat brim as he was shown into the office of Cardinal Prossedi. The cold stone walls were softened by heavy furniture of warm cherry wood and blue velvet.

Please... sit.

Adamo moved in front of a chair, insignificant in the magnificence of the rest of the room. Your Eminence. He reached for the ring, kneeling down to kiss it. Prossedi allowed the formality. Please allow me to explain... I have been away from my home for many years... for over ten years, other than when I came home three years ago for two days when my father died. I have not been here... In his head, he heard a cock crow three times and felt his heart sink.

Father Bianchi, first let me please offer my condolences on the death of your mother, God bless her soul. Prossedi’s hand waved a benediction in front of his face. Your family must be distraught at the loss.

Struck silent by the apparent disregard for his pre-emptive explanation, Adamo frowned. Thank you, Your Eminence.

The Cardinal motioned for him to sit. Adamo obeyed.

The Holy Father had planned to meet with you, but some other business has arisen that only he can tend to. Prossedi smiled. He asked me to extend his condolences as well.

Adamo’s mouth went dry. He was sure he was hearing wrong.

In fact, he has offered himself to say the Mass for your mother, here... in our chapel, and he would like you to concelebrate with him. I, too, would like to participate if I may, as well as Cardinal Camerlengo.

Adamo tried to answer. No words came out; they were lost in a jumbled web of confusion.

Cardinal Prossedi seemed not to notice. I have already taken care of the arrangements and notifications so everything will be ready for Monday morning. You have nothing to worry about. The funeral is arranged and your mother will be sent to her final reward from the highest authority on the planet. Now, in order for that to happen as we have planned, some changes will be necessary. The Holy Father had planned for this anyway, but now seems the most appropriate time to take care of this business. He handed a piece of paper to Adamo. This is the name of the tailor who is preparing your new vestments for the requiem Mass. You will be consecrated a Bishop on Sunday, so you have two days to prepare. The tailor understands this.

Adamo did not recall leaving the office, walking out of the palace or finding his way home. Nothing made sense. There was no mention of Livia, of why she has been called in to answer for her actions. There was no mention of how she dresses, or what she does. His feet fell absently, one in front of the other, down the cobbles. How did they know of Mother’s death? Why would the Holy Father want to participate in a Mass for someone he doesn’t even know? There were too many questions. He was home, standing at the door, his fingers caressing the handle. With a frown and a sigh, he tugged it open. Chiara! Are you here? He stepped inside, closed the door and hung up his coat, mumbling to himself. You are not going to believe this. Even I don’t believe it.

Chapter 4

Chiara had waited for Adamo to leave, and was thankful her sister