Papal Decree by Luis Miguel Rocha Read Free Book Online Page A

themselves and nothing else.
    A difficult battle in a lost war awaited him. He had no illusions. Age had brought him wisdom and perspective. He didn’t feel lonely in spite of having no one left. He was living well and in peace, giving himself to others without asking anything in return. Perhaps that was why he felt so much. The formal summons sent three months before would not silence him.
    To the attention of the reverend Father Hans Matthaus Schmidt,
    The congregation directs the above-inscribed subject to appear for a standard hearing for the purpose of clarifying some doubts concerning the volumes authored by him The Man Who Never Existed and Jesus Is Life, which, according to the preliminary opinion of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, contain erroneous and dangerous propositions.
Rome, the seat of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, June 29, 2010, the day of the martyrs Saint Peter and Saint Paul.
    Signed,
    William Cardinal Levada
    Prefect
    Luis F. Ladaria S.I.
    Titular Archbishop of Thibica
    Secretary
    Over the last one hundred days, he’d had a lot of time to read the cold text. And the day chosen to send him the notice didn’t seem innocent, either. The Day of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, the most important after Christmas, the birth of Our Savior Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of the Universe. It could be either an encrypted message or his own paranoia.
    Hans took an envelope from the pocket of his cassock. From the quality of the paper it might be mistaken for the summons referred to above, but that was in his briefcase at his residence, ready to go on the trip with him. This one came from the same place, the Holy See, but in place of a formal return address without capital letters, it had a seal with a red background. A miter with triple crown, topped by a gold cross, a white stole that hung down from the crown to come together below with two interlaced keys, one silver and the other gold. The keys that open the kingdom of heaven. Those versed in coats of arms, blazons, and symbols would recognize these in the blink of an eye, since they are the most famous next to those of the Supreme Pontiff. They indicate an envelope from the secretary of state of the Holy See.
    Hans pulled out a paper and reread it. He did this often these days. It didn’t take long, and as soon as he finished he understood the reason the Ringstrasse seemed different to him. From there in a few hours he would catch a flight to Rome. The next day he would not be here to admire the movement, life, and lights, he wouldn’t be buying a hot coffee in the Café Schwarzenberg, the oldest in Vienna, nor would he be browsing through books at Thalia. He wouldn’t feel this cold and watch his breath make clouds of vapor in the air.
    It was good-bye. An unknown departure, indeterminate, of which he didn’t know the outcome. Who knew what would happen. If man planned, God smiled.
    He felt good, at peace. Before turning his back on the Ringstrasse, he tore up the paper and envelope and threw them in a garbage can.
    ‘What’s it going to cost me to go sooner and help a friend?’ he murmured while he walked to his residence. ‘To give without regard to whom.’
    If someone had looked over Hans Schmidt’s shoulder while he read over the letter, and no one did, he wouldn’t have been able to read the hasty scribble, but the signature wouldn’t have fooled anyone:
    TARCISIO BERTONE, S.D.B.

11
    His slow steps showed the heavy weight of years. He considered himself well preserved for his age, but he couldn’t fool himself about his own unsteady strength, which he tried hard to hide. His steps had brought him a long way so far, to places he never longed for in his youth, when distances seem shorter than they are.
    The small chapel was for his use alone, only for him or whomever he wanted to invite. A statue of Christ at the back on the altar defined the space. Six feet of Carrara granite from which the sculptor, believed to be