The Vatican Cameos: A Sherlock Holmes Adventure

By Richard T. Ryan

When the papal apartments are burgled in 1901, Sherlock Holmes is summoned to Rome by Pope Leo XII. After learning from the pontiff that several priceless cameos that could prove compromising to the church, and perhaps determine the future of the newly unified Italy, have been stolen, Holmes is asked to recover them. In a parallel story, Michelangelo, the toast of Rome in 1501 after the unveiling of his Pieta, is commissioned by Pope Alexander VI, the last of the Borgia pontiffs, with creating the cameos that will bedevil Holmes and the papacy four centuries later. For fans of Conan Doyle’s immortal detective, the game is always afoot. However, the great detective has never encountered an adversary quite like the one with whom he crosses swords in “The Vatican Cameos.”.

• Language: English
• Publisher: MX Publishing
• Release date: Aug 24, 2016
• ISBN: 9781780929903

Book preview

Ryan

Chapter One

London, 1901

Two weeks, Watson! We have been two full weeks without a case! exclaimed Sherlock Holmes. Is the entire criminal underworld so in awe of my abilities that its members have given up their nefarious enterprises? Does the world no longer need Sherlock Holmes?

He cast a surreptitious glance at the mantel where he had once kept his syringe and a vial of cocaine.

Well here’s one criminal who appears to be going about his business as usual, I remarked.

What on earth are you talking about?

Police discovered the body of a teenage Asian boy floating in the Thames yesterday, I said, referring to an article in the Guardian. His hands were tied and his face had been disfigured with some sort of sharp instrument.

Let me see, Holmes exclaimed, snatching the paper from my grasp. Throwing himself into his chair, he began perusing the report. As the minutes passed, I could only assume that he was reading the article several times over.

Finally throwing the paper aside, he remarked, This is not a case for us, Watson.

What do you mean? A young boy murdered and mutilated and you have no interest? I must say, I am rather surprised - and disappointed - at you Holmes.

Lestrade stopped by earlier while you were out. In addition to his face, the young man’s stomach had been cut open, a fact either ignored or omitted by the Guardian’s reporter. Obviously, the boy had smuggled something into this country, concealing it by swallowing it. Whoever he was working for wanted the goods immediately, and the young man paid dearly for his criminal tendencies. The good inspector informed me that the Yard has a pretty fair idea of who is running the smuggling operation, and they are merely crossing their I’s and dotting their T’s before making an arrest. So I say again, this is not a case for us, Watson.

As Holmes resumed his pacing and I retrieved the paper and returned to my reading, there was a knock on our door. Mrs. Hudson, our landlady, poked her head in. Mr. Holmes, you have a caller. Shall I show him up?

By all means, Mrs. Hudson, said Holmes, and please be quick about it. We don’t want to keep our visitor waiting.

I could hear our caller long before I saw him. Heavy footfalls on the stairs indicated a large man had come to see us, and the fact that he took several minutes to ascend the single flight indicated to me, at least, that our visitor was not in the best of physical health.

I felt vindicated when I answered the knock on our door and was greeted by a small mountain of a man. He stood around five-foot-seven and was quite corpulent. He wore a black morning coat, a beaver hat and was clean-shaven with a rather dark complexion.

Having been proven right about his physical condition, I thought to myself, after taking in his well-tailored clothes and glistening boots, this must be a banker or some captain of industry come to call on Holmes for assistance.

He looked at me with clear blue eyes and then fixed his gaze on Holmes, who had risen from his chair as the man entered.

Good morning, Your Eminence. How may I be of assistance? asked Holmes.

Have we met? asked the man incredulously. He spoke nearly perfect English, but I could discern a slight Mediterranean accent.

Not that I can recall, smiled Holmes amiably, delighted by the effect he had achieved.

Then how on earth could you know that I am a prince of the church?

Holmes smiled. If you are going to dress like a layman, in an effort to travel incognito, may I suggest that in the future you wear something slightly heavier than those linen gloves. I am sure even Watson can see the rather distinctive outline of your ring through the material. Barring that, you might consider removing it altogether.

Looking over, I could discern quite clearly the oblate shape of a cross on the man’s ring finger of his left hand.

"Also, your shirt appears tighter than it should which tells me you are not used to wearing garments of that ilk. Exacerbating the condition is the fact that beneath the shirt, you are no doubt wearing your pectoral cross, which renders the garment even more constricting.

Finally, your skin while generally tan is quite a bit lighter for about an inch above the collar. I can only assume that your usual attire has a much higher neck - perhaps a Roman collar?"

Well, Mr. Holmes, I must say that if first impressions are any indication, I think I have come to the right man for assistance.

Would you like some tea, Cardinal ..., Holmes left the sentence unfinished.

It’s Cardinal Oreglia, Gaetano Oreglia. Tea would be fine. Although I must admit that I would much prefer coffee.

Holmes went to the door and yelled down, Mrs. Hudson, please put the kettle on, and if you would, try your hand at a pot of coffee as well.

Won’t you be seated, Your Eminence? said Holmes gesturing to a chair.

As Cardinal Oreglia sat, I started to follow suit, only to receive a reproving glance from Holmes. I can vouch for the tea, Holmes said pleasantly, but as for the coffee, well that’s anyone’s guess. We are in England, after all.

The cardinal smiled and, noticing my indecision, he laughed - a deep, rich laugh. Mr. Holmes, please, let’s not stand on formality. After all, I am here as a supplicant to seek your assistance. Please be seated, gentlemen. I think you’ll want to be sitting when you hear what I have to say anyway.

I am the camerlengo to His Holiness, Pope Leo. In that position, my primary responsibility is to look after the finances of the Vatican. I was here in London to discuss some rather delicate fiscal affairs with several of your bankers.

"This morning I received a rather cryptic telegram from His Holiness. It said simply, ‘Egeo auxiliante amico platea pistorum.’."

Holmes smiled, I must confess that Mr. Samuel Johnson’s description of the Bard as a man of ‘small Latin and less Greek’ might be applied to me as well. Although I have been working on my Virgil as of late.

Watson, care to venture a guess? asked Holmes.

"I believe I see the word ‘plate’ there in platea," I ventured.

Holmes smiled again, "Watson, not quite. Platea is not a cognate for our word plate. I think in this case, we must translate platea as ‘street’ rather than ‘plate.’ So, unless I am badly mistaken, the telegram reads, ‘I need the help of our friend in Baker Street."

You have it exactly, Mister Holmes said Cardinal Oreglia.

Did His Holiness say anything else? asked Holmes.

"Just one other word - prudentes."

Be discreet, said Holmes aloud. Well, that would explain the layman’s garb employed by Your Eminence.

As you might expect, given my position, the pope and I are old friends, said Cardinal Oreglia. He has dispatched me here to request your assistance in a matter of what I can only assume must be extreme delicacy, Mr. Holmes.

Holmes said, I am flattered. Still, surely, there are others far closer to home who might have rendered a service similar to mine.

Mr. Holmes, you have been of enormous service to our Holy Father in the past. He still marvels at the ease with which you discovered the causes behind the death of Cardinal Tosca. I believe that he is hopeful that you can bring this assignment to a swift and discrete resolution as well.

Looking at Holmes, I thought my friend was as close to blushing as I had ever seen him. Nothing could get to the man so thoroughly as an earnest compliment from someone he respected.

I shall do my very best, Holmes promised.

Before we continue, I have a small admission to make, the cardinal said. Shortly after the first telegram arrived. I received a second.

And what did that one say? asked Holmes.

"Just two words - cameos furatus."

Stolen cameos? asked Holmes.

The cardinal gazed at me, and before I could speak, Holmes said, Your Eminence, you may rest assured that anything you say to me, you may share with Dr. Watson.

Cardinal Oreglia nodded. "May I ask you a question Mr. Holmes?

Holmes nodded.

Have you ever heard of the Vatican cameos?

I must confess that I have not. May I ask about them?

There is not much that I can tell you except that legend has it that these cameos were handcrafted by the artist Michelangelo and that they have the potential to do enormous harm to the Church.

Are they the cameos to which the pope alludes so cryptically?

"I cannot say for certain, but I believe they are. I am aware of no others, and although I myself know very little about them, I can tell you one other thing Mr. Holmes.

Through the years, the cameos have become associated with Pope Alexander VI. Are you familiar with him?"

Holmes nodded, Alexander VI, better known as Rodrigo Borgia, was the second and last of the Borgias to be elected pope. He served at the end of the 15th and the beginning of the 16th centuries, did he not?

I was astounded at Holmes’ knowledge of the papacy. After all, the man was neither religious nor intrigued by history - except as it served his needs.

The cardinal nodded. Those years are some of the darkest in the history of the Church. Ruling from 1492 to 1503, Rodrigo is said to have reveled in every vice imaginable. If you believe the worst about him, his sins ranged from avarice and simony to incest and murder. Although centuries have passed, he remains a blot on the papacy.

He continued, As for the cameos, the only person ever permitted to look upon them is the pope.

I also know that His Holiness has weighed destroying them, but the fact that they were created by the same man who painted the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel and sculpted the Pieta has prompted him to exercise due caution, and thus far given him pause. Now, I am afraid that ambivalence appears to have manifested itself in a very real threat to the papacy and the church as a whole.

Holmes exhaled, and I could see the light in his eyes as he anticipated a contest of wits with an as-yet-unknown adversary.

As you know, you will be well compensated for your labors, said Cardinal Oreglia, but I also must insist that if you do accept this commission, you bear in mind the need for absolute secrecy. Even the hint of a scandal could cause irreparable damage to everything His Holiness is trying to accomplish.

I understand your concerns, Your Eminence, and you may place your trust in both Watson and me, Holmes replied.

The cardinal heaved a sigh of relief and said, I hope you do not mind, but I have taken the liberty of arranging passage for you and Dr. Watson to Rome. I shall be returning with you.

As it happens, I am quite free at the moment, Your Eminence. Watson, can you clear your calendar?

Before I could answer, Mrs. Hudson knocked and then entered with a tray containing two cups of tea and assorted biscuits. Your coffee will be along presently, sir, she said to the cardinal, and then she was gone as suddenly as she had appeared.

Let us savor the fruits of Mrs. Hudson’s labors, Holmes said to me. Smiling at the cardinal and then at me, he added, It may be quite some time before we are able to relax with a proper cup of English tea.

Mrs. Hudson reappeared a few moments later, carrying a steaming cup of coffee on a small tray with lemon twists, cream and a bowl of lump sugar.

The cardinal looked at the tray, appreciating the aroma of the coffee and then smiled at Mrs. Hudson gratefully.

I hope you approve of the coffee, she said, curtseying and then she was gone again.

Gentlemen, the cardinal said, we just have time to enjoy this and then we must be on our way. I am sure you will want to get to the Vatican as quickly as possible, Mr. Holmes. I have a first-class compartment booked on a train leaving Victoria for Dover in, he pulled out a heavy gold timepiece from his vest and glanced at the face, just 90 minutes.

Well then let us be quick about it. Watson, pack a bag, and we shall procure anything else we may need along the way.

As I headed to my room, Holmes looked at me, and without the cardinal seeing, mouthed the words, Bring your pistol.

I nodded and then proceeded to pack, putting my sidearm in the bottom of a carpet bag, and covering it with shirts and various other garments.

As I readied for our journey, I could hear Holmes and the cardinal speaking. A few minutes later, I returned to the sitting room, and Holmes left to pack his bag.

Within 10 minutes, we were standing in Baker Street and Holmes was hailing a hansom cab.

Victoria Station, and there’s an extra pound in it for you if you get us there quickly, Holmes said.

Righto, guv’nor replied the driver and we were off.

Chapter Two

Rome, 1501

Standing in the light that streamed through the skylight, Michelangelo tilted his head to the side and studied the face of the Madonna staring back at him from his easel.

After several moments of intense scrutiny, he decided that she did indeed look a bit too joyous. Picking up his palette, he prepared to rectify the error when he heard a loud knock at the door below.

Are you home Michelangelo? asked his apprentice, Paolo.

The artist thought about remaining silent, but decided the place needed cleaning. Uno momento, Paolo, he yelled back.

Hurry, master. I have big news, the boy exclaimed.

Descending to the first floor, Michelangelo strode to the door and yanked it open.

Master, Paolo said, Everyone in the plaza is talking. They say the Borgias are looking for you.

What? exclaimed the artist. I have no dealings with them. I think you must be mistaken my young friend.

No, master, I am not mistaken. You are the greatest living sculptor, and no one can deny the beauty of the Pieta.

Yes, but the Borgias have their court artists. Unless, of course, Cardinal Riario has hired me out to the Holy Father. But then, why should he? If I am doing work for the pope then I cannot be doing work for Riario, and that man wants to keep me all to himself for as long as he can.

Michelangelo continued, "I think if he had his way, I would be a servant in his palace, painting and sculpting night and day ad maiorem Riaario gloriam."

Looking out the window, Paolo turned and said, Master, soldiers and a great carriage are coming up the street slowly. I think they are looking for this house.

Well, if they are, you tell them I am very busy. With that, Michelangelo bounded up the stairs and resumed his consideration of the half-completed Madonna.

The Borgias looking for me, he mused. I wonder what the Holy Father could possibly desire from me.

For the second time in minutes, a knock on the door interrupted his reverie.

Can I help you, sir? he heard Paolo ask.

Is this the home of the artist, Michelangelo Buonarotti? he heard a gruff voice ask.

It is sir, but I’m afraid that he is far too busy at the moment to talk with you.

Is he far too busy to refuse a request from Pope Alexander? Get him now before I box your ears, you impudent scamp.

There will be no need for threats captain, Michelangelo said descending the stairs again.

How may I be of service to His Holiness?

Pope Alexander requests the pleasure of your company in the papal apartments. That is all I can tell you. He has sent a carriage for you and asked us to escort you there. Grabbing his cloak, the artist said, I am at your service.

Turning to the boy, he said, Paolo, after you are done cleaning, you must fend for yourself tonight I am afraid. It is nearly three, and I have no idea when I shall return. Captain, I am at your disposal.

Climbing into the carriage, Michelangelo thought of all the stories he had heard of Pope Alexander. How he had bribed his way to the papacy then secured his position by packing the Curia with newly minted cardinals, including his own son, Cesare, there only to do his bidding.

His mind racing, he thought about the other stories, the mistresses, the bastard children, and he shuddered. How such a man could rule Holy Mother Church baffled him, but what that man wanted with him went beyond that - it terrified him.

After some 20 minutes, the carriage stopped in front of the papal palace. As Michelangelo stepped down, a young priest, no more than 30 years of age hurried forward to meet him.

Signor Buonarotti, I am Father Ferrante. I will escort you to His Holiness.

Entering the palace, Michelangelo and the young priest exchanged pleasantries. I have been so looking forward to meeting you, said the priest. I must confess that every time I gaze upon your Pieta I am moved to tears. That is surely your greatest work.

You may be right, the artist said, but I truly hope that you are mistaken. After all, I am only 26. I would like to think that my best works are yet to come.

At a pair of large wooden doors, the priest knocked, and a rich baritone voice from within bade them, Enter.

As they did, Pope Alexander VI turned to face them.

The first thing that struck Michelangelo was the intelligence of the pope’s eyes. Dark and brooding, they saw everything - and quite possibly behind everything.

Tall and strikingly handsome, it was easy to credit talk of the pontiff’s many dalliances despite his priestly vow of celibacy.

Michelangelo approached, knelt and when the pontiff offered his hand, he kissed the Ring of the Fisherman.

Now rise, young Buonarotti. Leave us, Ferrante; Michelangelo and I have much to discuss. Ringing a bell, the pope ordered the servant who appeared, Bring us some wine. Signor Buonarotti, is there anything special that you would like?

No, Your Holiness. The wine is more than enough.

When they were alone once again, the pope turned to him and said, Michelangelo, I have great plans, and I want you to be a part of them. I know your work, and I am inspired by it.

After a pause, he continued, I believe that just as I am God’s representative on Earth, placed here to do his bidding, so too are you a representative of Our Lord and Savior. The pope blessed himself. In a very real sense, Michelangelo, you are an agent of the Lord, and I believe that your destiny - at least in part - is to serve Holy Mother Church with your gifts.

You leave me speechless, Your Holiness, said the artist.

You have talent and I believe that you are a good son of the Church. Loyal, faithful, devout and modest. May I ask you a personal question?

Of course, Your Holiness.

I am given to understand that you never sign your work. Is that true?

Generally speaking, it is, your Holiness.

Yet you did sign the Pieta, did you not? he asked laughing.

"Indeed, Holy Father. That is the only piece to which I have ever affixed my name. Shortly after the statue was installed in the Chapel of Santa Petronilla, I went back to see how it looked in the late afternoon light. I heard a group of people talking. They were admiring my work. When one asked who the sculptor was, another answered Solari. I consider myself a modest man, your Holiness, but to hear il Gobbo given credit for my work infuriated me."

So what did you do, signore?

I returned that night with my tools and broke into the chapel. Visitors the next day were soon made aware that I had sculpted the Pieta - and not that hunchbacked fool.

The pope applauded as he laughed. Bravo, Singor Buonaratti. I may disagree with many others here, but I believe that it is possible for a man to be too self-effacing. I am glad that you are not of that ilk.

Now to the reason that I asked you here. I am planning to redesign St. Peter’s, and I need your assistance. I want to continue the work begun by Pope Nicholas. To bring my plans to fruition, I need a visionary. I need someone who is not afraid to break with tradition - even as I have done. I need a man who shares my dream of creating a church that will serve as a fitting resting place for the bones of St. Peter - the rock upon which our church is built. Are you such a man, Michelangelo?

Before the artist could answer, the pope continued, I think you are, and I am seldom wrong in my assessments of men.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door.

Enter, intoned the pope, and a servant carried an ornate tray into the room with two bottles of wine and a pair of silver goblets. He was followed by a second servant bearing a salver laden with fresh fruit and several types of cured meats.

We will enjoy our wine on the balcony, the pope said. The servants nodded and headed for the balcony. After a minute, the pope followed them and the artist fell in line behind him.

They sat at a table overlooking the gardens, and the pope said, "I love this view. It’s so serene. I often come here to escape the politicking that divides the Curia and to reflect

Reviews for The Vatican Cameos

[doondeck · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

More contrived than clever. Alternating stories of Holmes and Michelangelo got annoying.