Patrick sighed as he tried to handle his lunch one handed, he and Strauss had spent the morning going through his schedule, trying to figure out what, if anything, would have to be handed over to Strauss, or Webb, the Dean of the College of Cardinals because he absolutely couldn't do it with his injury, and what they would need to draft in an assistant for. There was a rap at the door, and he sighed again, recognizing the knock as Richter's.
"Come in, Commandant," he called.
Richter came in, closing the door behind him, and watching him from the other side of the room for a heartbeat before approaching.
"Holiness," he said, bowing his head respectfully.
"What can I do for you?"
"We've finished going over your apartments, there is no sign of anyone gaining entry, and your doctor told me that your hands were scraped up outside," he said quietly.
"So he said," Patrick half shrugged, offering nothing more.
"Holiness, we are charged with ensuring your safety, I need to know how you got in and out without any of my people seeing you, and I need to know what happened to you."
"I didn't go outside, so far as I'm aware anyway. I fell asleep in my bedroom, perfectly undamaged, and woke up this morning in my study, a little scuffed, and with a broken collar bone."
"Sleepwalking?"
"Apparently."
"That doesn't explain how you managed to get out without being seen, are there any entrances to the passages in here that you haven't mentioned?"
"Not that I know of," Patrick said, eyeing the walls with a small frown, he had explored most of the lower levels of the passageways pretty thoroughly as a child, and a lot of the upper ones, but he had only ever found one entrance into the papal apartments.
"I don't know, we never did find out how Simeon got access to my father's medication, but you sealed the one entrance I found, didn't you?"
"Yes," Richter agreed, although he did make a mental note to make sure that entrance was still sealed, the amount of sneaking around Simeon had managed to do, it wasn't impossible he could have got in there and taken out the wall that security had put in, and repaired the door mechanism, it had never occurred to him before now to check that.
"Holiness, you're holding something back. We can't keep you safe if you don't tell us what's going on," he said quietly.
Patrick sighed, closing his eyes for a long moment, before shaking his head.
"There is nothing more I can tell you, Commandant, and as far as I can see, very little more your people can do to ensure my safety."
"Surely we would be more able to ensure your safety if you would tell me what the threat is?"
"Not this time. Let it go, Commandant," Patrick said, rising from the table and walking away.
Richter bit down on the urge to curse, even under his breath, he didn't want to see another pope murdered on his watch, and he couldn't understand why the Holy Father would refuse to tell him what was threatening him. He wondered if he would have any better luck getting information out of the Camerlengo, assuming that he knew anything, but in the short term, he was going to increase security over his Holiness, and see if he could stop anything else happening, and perhaps try talking the pope into allowing him to add some security cameras to the small network that already covered the papal offices, even if he could just get the sitting room and the hall monitored, that would help enormously. Sighing, he headed back down to his office, to see what he could work out.
/x/
Thumping down into the cafeteria seat with a tired sigh, Robert Langdon dropped an armful of papers that needed grading down onto the surface of the table, and placed his lunch tray down beside them a little more carefully. He wasn't much looking forward to grading these particular papers, he had the distinct impression that only three or four students had actually grasped the meaning of the lecture, and he suspected he was in for a lot of bull, and things that had been pulled out of thin air.
He found himself eavesdropping on the excited chatter at the next table in lieu of starting to look through the dreaded papers, realizing as he listened that the astronomy department was in a tizzy about something.
"We need to get other observatories looking in that direction, and see if anyone else can see it before we get too excited," Leo Johnstone, the head of the department was counselling.
"Come on Prof, the birth of a new star is something worth getting excited about," one of the younger people around the table put in.
"Not until there is confirmation, it isn't, it could be a dying star that no-one has mapped before. The birth of a new star, away from the established locations of the stellar nurseries, and so clearly visible, it should have been seen before now. For pities sake, whatever this is, it is going to be visible to the naked eye in a couple of weeks; it should have been seen months ago."
Robert stopped listening, something was tickling at the back of his mind, something about new stars, and he couldn't place what it was. Something he had read a long time ago possibly, or something he had only glanced at briefly. Closing his eyes, he tried to tease the memory forward, tried to focus on enough of it that he could remember why he suddenly felt it important.
Finally a hint came to him, he remembered a book falling, nearly a year ago, the day he received the Galileo folio, the day Patrick McKenna was made Pope, but he couldn't remember anything beyond words about a new star's birth, he rummaged in his pocket for a pen, and scrawled a note to himself to try to locate that book when he got home that evening.
/x/
A tap at the door sounded, distracting the young Pope from the pile of paperwork he had been going through, and a glance at the clock made him raise an eyebrow in surprise, seeing that it was nearly midnight, he had no idea who could be knocking, everyone else should have been gone by now, and his security people wouldn't bother him while he was in his office.
Caution prompted him to shift some of the papers aside, revealing the small monitor Richter had placed for him after his election, so that he could see the hallway, but there was no threat revealed, just his guards standing peaceably at the door, and his secretary waiting patiently for acknowledgement.
"Come," he called, covering the monitor again, he trusted his secretary, but the less people who knew about that monitor, the safer he was, and he would never feel overly safe in this office.
"I thought you left hours ago," he said as his secretary entered the room.
"No, Holiness, I had a lot of e-mails to catch up on," he said quietly, not bothering to mention that most of them had been well wishes from the faithful, coming in after the necessary changes to his Holiness' itinerary had been announced. They weren't being diverted from the Pope's attention, but they would all be gathered into one file, which he would be able to access when time permitted, instead of having them cluttering up the mailboxes.
"Ah, so what can I do for you?"
"A flagged name just came up, Robert Langdon has just filled in a request to access the archives again," he said, unable to keep the slightly disapproving look off his face at the thought, the damage he had done the last time he had been granted access may have been unavoidable, and helped saved the Church, and his Holiness, from the machinations of the Illuminati, but it didn't alter the fact that he had done considerable damage.
"Interesting, what is he after access to this time?"
"The Book of Prophets," the secretary responded.
Patrick leaned back in his chair, breathing slowly for a moment as he felt strangely light headed, that book could have nothing in it that meshed with Langdon's usual areas of interest, but even as he opened his mouth to tell his secretary to deny the request, he found himself holding his hand out for the page the man carried, and heard his own voice speaking.
"I'll take care of it, thank you," he said.
He could still deny the request, he thought as his secretary was dismissed with an admonishment to go and get some sleep, but he knew he wouldn't, he knew somehow that this would furnish another clue to his dreams, another piece to the puzzle. Picking up the phone, he punched in the number Langdon had supplied on the form, and listened to the ringing at the other end.
"Langdon," a slightly breathless voice spoke just when he was on the verge of giving up and using the e-mail address that had been provided.
"Tell me, Professor Langdon, why the Book of Prophets?" he asked quietly, without bothering to identify himself, he suspected the American would recognize his voice, a guess confirmed when he heard the man's breath catch faintly.
"I, uh, I know this is going to sound odd, especially coming from someone like me, someone who doesn't believe, but I have a part of one of the prophesies in a book that someone gave me, and I think one, possibly even two, of the things mentioned have come to pass. I wanted to see if there was more, in the rest of the prophesy, given what it references."
"And what would that be?"
"As near as I can tell, the end of the world."
Patrick closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the chair before answering.
"When do you expect to be arriving?"
"If I can get a flight out after classes are done tomorrow, would that be too soon?" Langdon suggested, sounding startled.
"No, I will make sure you are expected, in fact, if you contact my secretary with your expected arrival time, I will ensure that you are met at the airport."
"Of course, thank you," Langdon was clearly puzzled, but unwilling to push his luck, given he had been agreed access with far less fuss than previously.
"Goodnight professor," he said softly, hanging up before he could get up the nerve to chance his luck. Patrick scrawled a quick note to leave on his secretary's desk, telling him to expect the call from the American, and then gave up on the paperwork, deciding to call it a night himself.
/x/
Cardinal Strauss was surprised to get the summons to join his Holiness for breakfast, given the trouble he had been having sleeping of late, breakfast had tended to be skipped altogether, or a hurried affair in his office. Joining the pontiff in the small, informal dining room off his apartments, he took the chair the younger man waved him to.
"You look well rested, Holiness," he said quietly, nodding to the silent young man who placed his plate before him.
"Yes, surprisingly I had a peaceful night," Patrick acknowledged quietly.
"Perhaps the worst is over now, whatever it was," he offered hopefully.
"No, Camerlengo, I think this is a respite, whatever it is, it hasn't even gotten started yet," he sighed.
"Has something else happened?"
"You could say that, professor Langdon will be arriving today, to examine the Book of Prophets. I would appreciate it if you could collect him when Chartrand arrives from the airport with him, and escort him to my office. I have the archivist bringing the book here for me this afternoon. I believe the prophesy he is interested in may have a bearing on my nightmares," he said bluntly.
"Prophesies?" Strauss asked, unable to hide his distain completely.
"Honestly Camerlengo, with everything else that seems to be going on around here, is the thought that there might be a prophesy truly the oddest of them?" he asked with a hint of wry amusement, Strauss had to concede the point really.
"No, Holiness, not the oddest at all. May I ask what time he is to arrive?"
"Some time this evening, confirm with my secretary, he was making the arrangements to have him collected."
/x/
Langdon let his eyes scan the sea of bodies as he cleared through arrivals, looking for whoever had been sent to collect him. Seeing a face he recognized, he drifted over toward Chartrand, who nodded to him sharply.
"Good to see you again Professor Langdon, if you will come this way," he said, gesturing the man to follow him through the crowd to where the car, with another young blue suited man, one Robert didn't recognize, sitting in the passenger seat, staring down a member of the Carabinieri who looked like he wanted to order him to move along.
"You have no other luggage?" Chartrand asked, looking at the single piece of hand luggage Langdon had brought through with him.
"No, I don't expect I shall be here very long at all, I have a seat tentatively booked on a flight back out for tomorrow, assuming I am able to access the Archives in the morning. I would appreciate it if you could point me to a hotel which will take a booking at short notice and with no definite duration."
"There is no need, his Holiness has ordered a room prepared for you in the guest wing," Chartrand said, getting into the driver's seat and pulling away from the pavement.
"Why?" Langdon asked in confusion.
"I have no idea, I believe he is waiting to see you when you arrive, perhaps he will tell you," Chartrand shrugged, pulling out of the airport into the chaos of the traffic with the skill of familiarity.
Langdon fell silent, he had a feeling that there was something going on, but that he wasn't going to get a hint of what it could be until he was face to face with the Pope, and Chartrand didn't seem to be inviting small talk. He stared out of the window at the passing traffic, one hand resting on his bag, his mind turning over again the four lines that had caused him to ask to see a book that normally he wouldn't give the time of day to.
When new stars birth sunders the sky
and the ancient enemy stirs once more
God's warrior, sleeping in mortal guise
will awaken for the battle is nigh
They arrived at the Vatican City gates faster than he would have expected, and were waved through by a man in the traditional striped outfit of the Swiss Guard.
Patrick was standing in front of the window, watching the tourists milling in the square in the light of the early evening when there was a light tap at the door. Sighing softly, he walked back over to the desk, ignoring the book that sat on the top of it for the moment, and checking the monitor.
"Come," he called, sinking down into his chair and flipping some papers on top of the monitor.
Strauss and Langdon entered the room, Strauss making his reverence, and Langdon simply bowing his head respectfully.
"Sit down, both of you," he invited quietly, waving them to the two chairs on the other side of the desk to him.
"It's good to see you again, you certainly look better than you did the last time I saw you," Langdon commented, although he did take in the sling with visible curiosity.
"It is good to see you too, professor, though I must confess, I am curious as to what brought you to ask to see this book," he said, gesturing to the heavy, aged volume on his desk.
Langdon followed the gesture, looking at the book for a moment before turning his attention back.
"It actually starts nearly a year ago. I arrived home from here, and turned on the news, in time to see your election being announced to the world. For no reason that I could discern, just as you were about to give your blessing a book, this book, fell on the floor, face up, and open to a discussion on a prophesy. I glanced at it, when I picked it up, read the part of the prophesy that was reproduced there, but didn't really give it any thought, and my attention was soon thoroughly distracted by something far more important to my own work, I never gave it another thought at all, until this last couple of days. I was in the cafeteria at the University, and I heard the astronomy department, they were excited about something, quite possibly the birth of a new star, one that has apparently been completely overlooked by every observatory on Earth until now, until it is on the verge of being visible to the naked eye, if that is what it is. There is still some discussion on the matter, but the phrase I had read came back to me, and I felt…strongly, that it was somehow important."
He opened the book to the page he had marked, allowing them to read the four lines printed there.
"You said you thought one or more of the events mentioned had occurred," Patrick said, looking up at him.
"Well, the star is pretty obvious, and I figured it being visible to the naked eye could count as sundering the sky. I thought the illuminati might be the ancient enemy, up to their tricks again, God's warrior, well that's more your area than mine," he said with a shrug.
"God's warrior is the Archangel," Patrick murmured absently.
"But, what could it mean by sleeping in mortal guise?" Strauss wondered.
"Perhaps the rest of the text will give us more information," Patrick shrugged, wincing at the movement of his injured shoulder, and vaguely noting that he had missed his painkiller dose.
Strauss reached over and moved the book closer to the pontiff, he hadn't missed the little flicker of pain in the grey eyes.
"Thank you, Camerlengo," he acknowledged, opening the book to the title page, sighing softly as he looked at the next page, which was filled with text.
"I suppose it was too much to hope that it would be indexed," he commented wryly, looking at the thick tome.
"I can go through it, try to find the right page," Langdon offered.
"I thought your Latin was shaky? What you have is a translation, presumably of part of a prophesy, this is in Latin old enough that I'm not sure I'm going to be able to read it."
"If I may, Holiness, Cardinal Baggia has some proficiency with the older forms."
Patrick hesitated for a long moment, not sure he really wanted to involve someone else right now, but he supposed there wasn't really a whole lot of options, he probably could work his way through it, but it would take him weeks, and he suspected that they didn't have the time.
"Very well Camerlengo, but, discreetly, yes?"
"Of course Holiness, if I may be dismissed, he should be in the library at this time of day."
"Yes, carry on Camerlengo Strauss."
Strauss picked up the book and left with it, leaving Patrick alone with Langdon.
"Will you be staying until Cardinal Baggia finds us the prophesy?"
"If that is not too much trouble to you, I would like to, my interest has been piqued."
"Well, the room in the guest wing is yours for as long as it takes, if you wish to contact the university to tell them you will be longer than you thought, tell my secretary, and he will arrange to have a phone line made available to you."
"Thank you. Might I ask a question?"
"There is nothing to prevent you asking," Patrick nodded.
"What's going on? Your Camerlengo is clearly worried about you, you gave me permission to come and see the book without any real explanation of why I wanted to, in direct contrast to how hard it was for me to see something from your Archives the last time, and you're…edgy, for want of a better word."
Patrick studied him quietly for a long moment, and then shook his head slightly.
"Perhaps, after we have read the full version of the prophesy I will be in a position to answer your question, right now, I cannot," he said softly.
"Cannot or will not?" Langdon queried.
"Cannot," Patrick said after a moment of consideration, the fingers of his good hand involuntarily rising to stroke along the line of the damaged bone in his shoulder.
"There is very little more we can do now until Cardinal Baggia has had time to locate and translate the appropriate prophesy for us, and you must be tired, Professor Langdon, I will have my secretary show you to the rooms that have been assigned to you."
"Thank you," Langdon said; taking the clear dismissal without offence, the younger man clearly had a lot on his mind right now.
tbc