Pope Joan_ A Novel - Donna Woolfolk Cross [196]
The optimates and high clergy, on the other hand, were scandalized by Joan’s behavior on the day of the flood. For the Vicar of St. Peter to rush off to the rescue in a dinghy—why, it was absurd, an embarrassment to the Church and the dignity of the papal office! They regarded her with growing disaffection, amplified by the very real differences they had with her: she was a foreigner, and they were native-born Romans; she believed in the power of reason and observation, and they believed in the power of sacred relics and miracles; she was forward looking and progressive, and they were conservative, bound by habit and tradition.
Most had entered the ranks of the clerical bureaucracy in childhood. By the time they reached maturity, they were thoroughly steeped in Lateran tradition and quite inimical to change. In their minds there was a right way and a wrong way to do things—and the right way was what had always been done.
Understandably, they were disconcerted by Joan’s style of governance. Wherever she saw a problem—a need for a hospice, the injustice of a corrupt official, a shortage in the food supply—she sought to move quickly to correct it. Frequently she found herself thwarted by the papal bureaucracy, the vast and cumbersome system of government that over the course of centuries had evolved into a labyrinthine complexity. There were literally hundreds of departments, each with its own hierarchy and its own jealously guarded responsibilities.
Impatient to get things done, Joan looked for ways to circumvent the ponderous inefficiency of the system. When Gerold ran short of funds for the ongoing work on the aqueduct, she simply withdrew the money from the treasury, bypassing the usual course of putting a request through the office of the sacellarius, or papal paymaster.
Arsenius, alert as ever to opportunity, did what he could to exploit the situation. Seeking out Victor, the sacellarius, he broached the subject with politic art.
“I fear His Holiness lacks a sufficient appreciation of our Roman ways.”
“So he would, not being born to them,” Victor responded non-committally. A cautious man, he would not reveal his hand until Arsenius played his.
“I was shocked to hear that he withdrew funds from the treasury without going through your office.”
“It was rather … inappropriate.” Victor conceded.
“Inappropriate!” Arsenius exclaimed. “My dear Victor, in your place I would not be so charitable.”
“No?”
“If I were you,” Arsenius said, “I’d look to my back.”
Victor dropped his air of studied indifference. “Have you heard anything?” he asked anxiously. “Does His Holiness mean to replace me?”
“Who can tell?” Arsenius replied. “Perhaps he means to dispense with the position of sacellarius altogether. Then he can take whatever funds he likes from the treasury without having to explain to anyone.”
“He’d never dare!”
“Wouldn’t he?”
Victor didn’t answer. Like a skilled fencer, Arsenius gauged his timing and thrust home.
“I begin to fear,” he said, “that John’s election was a mistake. A serious mistake.”
“The thought has occurred to me,” Victor admitted. “Some of His Holiness’s ideas—the school for women, for example …” Victor shook his head. “God’s ways are certainly mysterious.”
“God didn’t put John on the throne, Victor; we did. And we can remove him.”
This was too much. “John is Christ’s Vicar,” Victor said, deeply shocked. “I admit he’s … odd. But to move forcibly against him? No … no … surely it has not come to that.”
“Well, well, you may be right.” Artfully Arsenius let the matter drop. There was no need to pursue it further; he had planted the seed and knew it could be trusted to grow.