Léna found Cardinal Castiglione walking in one of the tiny gardens near the basilica. He was in the company of two other Cardinals: Colonna, the tall missionary who had survived more than one imprisonment; and Capocci, the builder whose shrewd mind was equally at home planning cathedrals as it was putting down insurrections. “Your Eminences,” she said, bowing, as they caught sight of her. “Such a pleasant afternoon for a stroll.”
“Indeed,” Castiglione said, eyeing her with a modicum of caution. “You are the woman who accompanied Cardinal Monferrato from Frederick’s camp, are you not?”
“I am, Your Eminence. I am Léna, a—”
“Binder?” Capocci said.
She inclined her head. “More often I am simply an ambassador.”
“For whom?” Capocci pressed her.
“Does it matter?” she said sweetly.
Colonna chuckled at her verve, while her words only seemed to cause Castiglione more distress.
“Do you have a message for me?” the Cardinal asked.
“No,” Léna said after a moment’s hesitation. “I bear no message for you today.” She cocked her head to one side, studying the three men for a moment. “Do you have one you wish me to carry?”
“Why would I?” Castiglione asked.
Léna shrugged. “I have recently seen Cardinal Fieschi. He was in quite a hurry to visit the Holy Roman Emperor.” She noted their reaction, reading the entire power structure of the Church in their faces. Castiglione’s reaction was the one she found the most interesting. The sort of outrage brought about by a lack of control, she thought. When someone you think is under your command makes their own decisions, forgetting to inform you. Which lead to an interesting question: why did Castiglione think Fieschi reported to him?
“Have you seen the Pope?” she asked innocently, and her question was rewarded with a nervous glance between Colonna and Capocci and further distress from Castiglione.
Now I see the heart of it, she thought, suppressing a smile. It all comes together now.
There was still much to do, and many pieces to still move about, but she felt her heart start to thrill at the idea of seeing a gambit come to fruition.
“I see,” she said in the wake of their awkward silence. She dropped to one knee. “My apologies, Your Holiness.”
“Get up,” Castiglione said gruffly. “Stop this public abasement.”
But you didn’t deny it, Léna thought as she stood.
“I am so sorry,” she said. “I thought I had heard that the priest—Father Rodrigo—had been elected, but I must have been mistaken.”
“You were,” Capocci said quickly.
“It is a clever ruse,” she added, “letting everyone think this simple man is Pope—long enough to distract the Holy Roman Emperor—and then announcing yourself as the true Pontiff. If Frederick seizes the priest and attempts to ransom him, it is a simple matter to embarrass the Holy Roman Emperor for inventing a Pope and then trying to ransom him back to the Church. He will lose a great deal of face with the leaders of other nations. Why bother excommunicating him—which we both know has had little effect on his efforts to dominate Christendom—when it is easier to publically shame him?”
“Why indeed?” Capocci noted.
“Well, Your Eminences, Your Holiness,” she bowed to each of them, “I do not wish to trouble you. You appear to have much to discuss. I am simply on my way to see Senator Orsini. There is a little matter he and I need to clear up. A small matter of unjust imprisonment.”
She almost laughed at how readily Castiglione took the bait.
“Unjust imprisonment?” he echoed. A fire sparked in his eye and he stood up a bit straighter. When he spoke to her again, there was a righteous indignation in his words. “Yes, in fact, I do wish you to carry a message for me.”
Léna smiled. “Give me the message,” she said, invoking the sacred trust of the Binders.
“I, Goffredo da Castiglione, send a message to—no, let us do this correctly.” He glanced at the other two Cardinals who gave small nods of encouragement. “I”—he cast about for the proper words—“Pope Celestine IV of the Holy Roman Church, send a message to Matteo Rosso Orsini, Senator of Rome...”
Léna listened the new Pope’s first proclamation, repeating his words back to him at the appropriate intervals. Yes, she thought, this will suffice nicely.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Arrow’s Flight