The Thirteenth Apostle by Michel Benoit Read Free Book Online

Our Lord Jesus Christ himself. Va bene, Monsignore – calm down this young woman’s hankerings for publicity and, from now on, please lead her along the paths of spirituality in a… less demanding way.”
    A few hours later, Catzinger found himself in the office overlooking Bernini’s colonnade, on the right-hand side, with its window directly onto St Peter’s Square. Ever since his election, the Pope had chosen to travel extensively, leaving the management of everyday affairs to the men who live in the shadow of the Vatican. Nobody ever mentions them, but they steer St Peter’s vessel in the right direction: that of the restoration of the old order.
    His Eminence Emil Catzinger was the man who in secret ruled the Catholic Church – and he ruled it with a rod of iron.
    A trembling hand held out to the Cardinal, who was standing respectfully in front of the old man’s armchair, a copy of Il Paese . He found it difficult to enunciate his words.
    â€œAnd this story in which the name Calfo appears… ah, er… is it our Monsignor Calfo?”
    â€œYes, Holy Father, it is. I saw him today: he’ll do what is necessary to prevent these hateful slanders from spattering the Holy See with mud.”
    â€œAnd… how can we prevent?…”
    â€œHe’ll take care of it in person. And you know that, thanks to our Vatican Bank, we control the press group on which Il Paese depends.”
    â€œNo, I wasn’t aware of that. All right, make sure that peace returns, Eminenza . Peace – that is what I yearn for, at every moment!”
    The Cardinal bowed with a smile. He had learnt to love the old Pontiff, even though his past life meant that he felt different from him in every fibre of his being. Every day, he was moved by the older man’s struggle against illness, his courage in suffering.
    And he admired the strength of his faith.

11
    The Father Abbot was the last to enter the huge refectory, where the monks were waiting respectfully in front of their stools, lined up in impeccable order. In his melodious voice, he began the ritual. After the chant Edent pauperes , forty hands laid hold of their stools and slipped them with an identical movement under their habits. Their hands lay folded on the edge of the tables of deal wood, and forty heads bowed to listen in silence to the beginning of the reading.
    The midday meal had just begun.
    Opposite the prelate, at the far end of the refectory, a whole table was filled by the students of the theological college. Impeccable clerical garb, a few cassocks designating the most traditionalist of them; tense faces with shadows under their eyes: the elite of the future French clergy making ready to pick up the metal soup tureens overflowing with the lettuce that had been picked that very morning by Brother Antoine. The academic year had begun, and would not end until June.
    Father Nil liked the start of autumn, when the fruits of the orchard reminded him that he was living in the garden ofFrance. But for the past few days he had lost his appetite. His theology classes here were taking place in an atmosphere that left him feeling uneasy.
    â€œSo it is obvious that the Gospel according to St John is a composite work, and the final result of a long process of literary development. Who was its author? Or rather, who were its authors? The comparisons we have just drawn between different passages of this venerable text display a vocabulary and even a content that are extremely different. The same man cannot have written the vivid scenes, sketched from the life, that he obviously saw with his own eyes, and the long discourses in elegant Greek through which we can glimpse the ideology of the Gnostics, those philosophers of the Orient.”
    He had given his students permission to intervene during his lectures, so long as their questions were brief. But ever since he had come to the heart of the matter, he had been confronted by a score