The Secret Cardinal (17 page)

As the cardinals settled down, Donoher moved to the center of the chapel. All eyes were fixed on him, and it seemed even God himself, swirling in the frescoed heavens above, had stopped His labors to hear the camerlengo's response.

“My Most Esteemed Lord Cardinals,” Donoher began, “it has been the greatest privilege of my life to serve His Holiness, Pope Leo XIV. One of the goals of his illustrious reign, an aim sadly unmet, was to restore the freedom that was wrongly taken from our brother in Christ, Yin Daoming.

“Those of us who hail from Western nations know little of grave suffering. Our pastoral lives are spent administering well-established
dioceses, and our greatest challenge seems to be in creating a sense of relevance for the Church in an increasingly secular and ambivalent world.

“The cardinals of the Third World have a better sense of true suffering. Their flocks are in pain because of punishing debt brought on by corrupt governments; incessant warfare based on racial, tribal, and religious differences; and the ever-looming specter of disease and famine.

“But despite our troubles, great or small, we are all here in this ornate chapel, and Yin Daoming is not. Like Peter, Yin tends a flock that lives each day under the constant shadow of officially sanctioned persecution. As cardinals, we wear scarlet to symbolize our willingness to shed our blood for the Church, to die for our faith. His Holiness held Yin a cardinal in his heart for more than twenty years because this man's blood has been shed for the faith on numerous occasions. Yin has earned the right to wear this color.

“With the failure of diplomacy and the intuition that his reign was drawing to a close, His Holiness charged me with finding another way to free Bishop Yin. A way was found that met with the late pope's approval, and his assessment of me was correct. As camerlengo of the Holy See,” Donoher concluded, “I authorized the effort currently under way to bring Yin Daoming out of China.”

“Is that wise?” Cardinal Enright of Chicago asked, breaking the silence that followed the camerlengo's statement.

“I think it is wiser to confront evil than to sit back and hope it simply goes away. China's rulers fear Yin, and they will never release him.”

“Does this action exceed the camerlengo's authority?” asked Cardinal Miralles of Spain, his question directed at the cardinal dean.

“The camerlengo is entrusted with all the temporal power of the Holy See during the interregnum,” Scheuermann replied. “But article seventeen of the Apostolic Constitution does, in fact, require the camerlengo to act with the help of the three cardinal assistants and to seek the views of the college in serious matters. Clearly, my Esteemed Lord Donoher, breaking a man out of a foreign prison is a serious matter.”

“I acted in a manner consistent with the stated wishes of His Holiness, Pope Leo XIV. This matter was merely unfinished business.”

“Perhaps this unfinished business could have waited until after the election?” Scheuermann asked.

“As evident from the message we all just saw, His Holiness believed otherwise.”

“But why act now?” called out Cardinal Drolet of Paris.

“Because it is a sin not to act when you know it is the right thing to do, and the opportunity we have now may not exist in the future. The Chinese government, which thinks little of the Holy See in normal circumstances, would never expect us to act in such a way when we are leaderless. That said, the final decision to act was mine, and I alone will bear responsibility for the consequences.”

“Do you think you will succeed?” the question came from Cardinal Mucemi of Kenya.

“Yes,” Donoher replied without hesitation.

Cardinal Gagliardi stood to address the assembly. “I think I speak for my brother cardinals when I say I pray for the success of your efforts. Now that this secret has been revealed, My Lord Donoher will keep the college informed of any significant events, no?”

“I will,” Donoher replied.

“My Most Esteemed Brothers,” Cardinal Velu announced. “I met Yin Daoming long ago. We were both seminarians; he was studying clandestinely. I was having doubts about my calling when we met, but it was plain to my eyes that the Holy Spirit was truly with him. Yin helped me to see my path, and without him I would not be here now. I have never encountered a man so well suited to the pastoral life. Is it possible, My Lord Donoher, that Bishop Yin could be free before the end of this conclave?”

“That is my hope,” Donoher replied, “so that this matter may be concluded before the new pontificate begins.”

“My question was not made with regard to deniability of your actions by the next pontiff,” Velu explained, “but the candidacy of Bishop Yin. If, despite his sufferings, or perhaps because of them, he has realized the spiritual potential I recognized in him so many years ago—my
brothers, the rescue of Yin at this time could well be the guidance we all prayed for as we entered this chapel.”

“My Lord Velu raises an interesting possibility,” Gagliardi said, “but as a candidate for the papacy, Yin is unknown to nearly all of us.”

“I indeed may be the only one here who has ever met Yin Daoming—and that was when we were all much younger—but there is no denying the effect he has had on the Church in China,” Velu countered. “He has led by example in a most powerful way.”

“My Lord Cardinals,” Donoher interjected, “until that happy day when Bishop Yin is free, the point you are arguing is moot. In looking at the papabili, I have no doubt that this conclave has within it the capacity to break several long-standing traditions and elect a pope who is neither Italian, European, nor even a cardinal. But so long as Bishop Yin remains in a Chinese prison, he is unelectable because he cannot accept his election. This situation is not anticipated in the Apostolic Constitution, and it places the Church in grave danger. Would we dare set aside the results of a valid canonical election because the one the Holy Spirit has guided us to is unavailable? The Apostolic Constitution clearly states that the conclave ends only after the man elected assents. In such a situation, we threaten to place the Church in a leaderless limbo no different from when the French took Pius VI prisoner for two years. And if leaders in Beijing ever learned of Bishop Yin's election, they would surely execute him.” Donoher let that final thought resonate within the frescoed walls of the chapel. “Esteemed cardinals, I say this not to dissuade you from voting as your conscience dictates, but so that you will be fully informed. If there is nothing further, then as camerlengo, I am required by the Apostolic Constitution to conduct one ballot today. It is now time to vote.”

At Donoher's direction, the two masters of ceremonies prepared and distributed the ballot papers to the cardinal electors. Lots were drawn to choose three trios of cardinals to perform specific tasks for this ballot. Selected first were the scrutineers, who would study each ballot and tally the results. The infirmarii were chosen next, their charge to collect the votes of those cardinals too infirm to attend the proceeding in person who would instead vote from their hotel rooms
in Domus Sanctae Marthae. Chosen last were the revisors, who would check the ballots and tallies to verify the election results. With the first phase of the voting process complete, all those not casting ballots departed the chapel, leaving only the cardinal electors inside.

Donoher returned to his seat and, with the other cardinals, studied the blank piece of paper before him. It was rectangular, its length twice its width so that when folded across the middle it would form a perfect square. Donoher did this, then reopened the ballot and printed the words
eligo in summum pontificem
on the upper half.

I elect as supreme pontiff.
The camerlengo mulled over the words he had written, considering whose name he would write beneath them, on the lower half of the ballot. As a citizen of the United States, Donoher continued to vote in national elections, but did so with the knowledge that his vote was but one of millions. In this election, his vote was one of only one hundred twenty, and never before had he felt the importance of his decision. Whoever won the election would be the spiritual leader of a billion-plus people spread across the globe, and he would reign for the rest of his life.

Donoher prayed for a moment, then printed in bold block letters the name of his choice, folded the ballot, and waited. When each elector had completed his ballot, the three cardinals chosen as scrutineers took their places by the altar.

In the center of the altar stood a broad, shallow urn about a meter in diameter, supported on a trio of short, sturdy legs. Crafted in silver and gilded bronze, the urn consisted of a bowl girded by five flat horizontal rings and a shallow-domed lid. The lid bore a delicate design featuring the traditional Christian symbols of grapes and sprigs of wheat, and was fastened to the bowl by a hinge. Two sculpted emblems adorned the urn—the crossed keys of Saint Peter mounted to the rim of the bowl, and a shepherd holding a lamb on the top of the lid. Beside the urn lay a gilded plate.

The urn was one of three crafted by Cecco Bonanotti in accordance with reforms to the election procedure instituted by the pope in his Apostolic Constitution. The urn on the altar was for collecting the cast ballots. Atop the long table in front of the altar stood the second urn, which the scrutineers would use during the counting of the ballots.
Smaller than its brothers and designed for portability, the third urn featured a locked lid and a slot for ballots collected by the infirmarii.

Derided by some in the media as “flying saucers” and “too modern” for the ancient ritual, Bonanotti's urns seemed ideally designed for the purpose at hand, and Donoher found them in keeping with the resplendent surroundings.

Mizzi, the former camerlengo and most senior cardinal in the conclave, rose from his seat and, with his ballot held high for all to see, walked down the center of the chapel to the altar.

“I call as my witness Christ the Lord who will be my judge, that my vote is given to the one who before God I think should be elected.”

As the scrutineers tilted back the urn's lid, Mizzi placed his ballot on the plate, then lifted the plate and tilted it so the ballot dropped into the bowl. The infirmarii followed Mizzi to the altar, each taking his turn to cast his ballot before departing the chapel with the small urn. Then, in order of seniority, the rest of the cardinal electors cast their votes.

After all ballots, including those collected by the infirmarii, had been placed in the urn, the first scrutineer, Cardinal McKernan of Scotland, lifted the lid and thoroughly mixed the contents. The third scrutineer, Cardinal Ranaletti of Florence, proceeded to count the ballots one by one, transferring each to the second urn. Ranaletti's count exactly matched the number of electors—had it been off, the unopened ballots would have been burned and another vote taken immediately.

The three scrutineers arranged themselves at the long table in front of the altar and began tallying the vote. McKernan pulled out the first ballot, noted the name of the person chosen on a sheet of paper prepared for the election, then passed the ballot to Cardinal Elmer of Los Angeles, who did the same before passing it to Cardinal Ranaletti.

“Oromo,” Ranaletti announced, the name rolling smoothly off his Italian tongue.

As the cardinal electors made note of the name inscribed on the first ballot, Ranaletti pierced a needle through the letter “o” in
eligo
and drew a length of thread through the tiny hole—the first of what would become a string of counted ballots.

Like most of those present, Donoher wrote down each new name
as it was announced and kept a running tally as the counting progressed. As expected, each papabile was making a respectable showing with roughly half the votes counted, yet an election with five viable candidates all but guaranteed that none would garner the necessary two-thirds required to win. Then it happened.

“Yin,” Ranaletti called out.

A ripple of conversation had followed the reading of each previous ballot. This time, there was none. Ranaletti strung the ballot and received the next one.

“Yin.”

The imprisoned bishop of Shanghai received five consecutive ballots before another name was called. As the counting continued, it became clear there were now six papabili in the running. Donoher tried to fathom what had drawn so many cardinals quixotically to Yin. The five papabili were all good men, any of whom would make a fine pope. Why, Donoher had to ask himself, were so many electors looking beyond these five—and for what?

It was in the pendentives framing the upper corners of the
Last Judgment
that Donoher found his answer. There, Michelangelo painted angels carrying the symbols of Christ's passion: the cross, the nails, the crown of thorns, the pillar of the scourging. Jesus Christ suffered and died for what he believed in, and His example had inspired followers for two millennia. To lead, one must inspire.

In the conclave that elected Leo XIV, the cardinals had moved past cardinals who could govern and elected instead a man who could inspire the faithful. Donoher knew that any of the cardinals in this conclave could administer the Holy See, but who among them could inspire? And wasn't that what the Church needed?

After Ranaletti read the last ballot—another vote for Yin—he pierced it with needle and thread, then tied the ends of the thread together. The scrutineers reviewed their totals and officially determined what everyone in the chapel already knew—a new pope had not been elected. The revisers rechecked both the ballots and the notes, ensuring that the scrutineers had performed their duties exactly and faithfully. Donoher's totals perfectly matched the official tally.

“If everyone will please hand your notes either to me or the cardinal assistants,” Donoher called out.