Free The Parchment by Gerald T. McLaughlin Page A

tomb.”
    The pontiff rummaged through a drawer in his desk. “Francesco, with your right arm and this flashlight, we should do fine.”
    Sister Consuela continued to hold her ground. “One of the Swiss Guards should accompany you.”
    Pope Benedict shook his head impatiently. “No, Sister Consuela, I want a private audience with St. Peter. I'll allow Francesco to come but no one else.”
    Consuela knew when she was defeated. She looked plaintively at Barbo. “Your Eminence, you must watch his every step. The Holy Father is unsure on his feet.”
    Barbo took Sister Consuelas hand. “I'll walk ahead of him so he won't fall.”
    The two men climbed down a winding staircase under the Basilica. At the bottom of the staircase was an ancient necropolis that had been excavated in the 1950s during the pontificate of Pope Pius XII. At the far end of the necropolis was a tomb that archaeologists believe to be the burial place of St. Peter.
    The lights had long since been turned off, so the pope shone the flashlight on the tomb. “When I have a difficult decision to make, I often come here and speak to Peter. We have a good relationship.” Barbo saw tears well up in Benedict's eyes. “Francesco, pray with me.”
    The two men, pope and cardinal, knelt on the ground and recited the fifteen decades of the Rosary, each focusing on some aspect of the life of Christ and Mary His mother. When they had finished, Benedict stood up and looked at Barbo.
    “Francesco, leave me alone for a few minutes. I have something to tell Peter.” Barbo saw Benedict place his hand on Peter's tomb and kiss the stone. After a few minutes, the Holy Father walked back to where Barbo was standing. The pope put his hand on Barbo's shoulder. “Francesco, I have decided to abdicate my position as Supreme Pontiff of the Catholic Church. It must be done quickly. Help me see this through.”
    “Holiness, I understand your fear of Alzheimer's, but there must be another way.”
    “Francesco, we have been friends for many years. You know as well as I there is no other way. My bouts of forgetfulness will grow longer and increasingly severe. Peter has given me the strength to make the decision.”
    “Please reconsider, Holy Father. Your abdication would be unprecedented.”
    “Perhaps in modern times but we both know Celestine V abdicated in 1294. He simply couldn't govern the Church.”
    “Yes, but Dante put him in hell for what he did.”
    “Dante's assessment was not the final word. Ten years after his abdication, the Church canonized Celestine. His feast day is May nineteenth.”
    “But your abdication will create dissension in the Church.”
    “No more so than my death, Francesco.”
    “Who is ready to take your place?”
    “Perhaps it will be you, Francesco.”
    Barbo's face grew pale.

    Shaken by Pope Benedict's decision to abdicate, Barbo returned to his apartment. After showering and putting on a change of clothes, he called Cardinal Calvaux in the Domus Sanctae Marthae.
    “I hope you had a chance to get some sleep, Jean.”
    “Yes, I did. When is my audience with Pope Benedict?”
    “The Holy Father will not be able to see you today as he had planned. Perhaps you could join me for breakfast. I'd like to hear about your family legend.”
    “My pleasure.”
    “There's a wonderful pasticceria near Borgo Santo Spirito. It opens early to accommodate the clerical traffic. Come to my office at eight thirty.”

    Cardinal Barbo was a frequent customer at Pasticceria di San Paolo. Before the two cardinals were seated, a splendid array of brioche and pastries magically appeared on the table.
    “Try the pastries. They rival those made in your country, Jean.”
    Calvaux put his hands in the air defensively. “I'll stick with toast and jam.”
    “I understand you went to the Gregorian University for theology.”
    “Yes, the Jesuits were superb teachers.”
    “And your dissertation was on the massacre of the Cathars at Montsegur?”
    Calvaux was