The Family - Mario Puzo [99]
Alexander said, “What you ask is great, my responsibility even greater. Once your granddaughter is made a saint, by definition she resides in heaven seated at the side of God and therefore can intercede for all her loved ones. Her shrines will be in your church; pilgrims will come from all over the world to worship. It is a weighty decision. What can you add to all this evidence?”
Baldo Rosamundi bowed his head in reverence. “My personal experience,” he said. “When she was just a little girl, I was at the height of my good fortune and yet it meant nothing to me. It was all ashes. And yet when Doria was only seven years old, she saw my sadness and implored me to pray to God for happiness. I did, and I became happy. She was never selfish as a child; she was never selfish as a young woman. I delighted in buying her expensive jewels, but she never wore them. She sold them and gave the money to the poor. After her death, I was very ill. The doctors bled me until I was white as a ghost, but still I was failing. Then one night I saw her face, and she spoke to me. She said, ‘You must live to serve God.’ ”
Alexander raised his hands in respectful benediction and then lifted the miter from his head. He placed it on the table between them. “And have you lived to serve God?” he said.
“You must know I have,” Baldo Rosamundi said. “I have built three churches in Venice. I have supported a home for foundlings in memory of my granddaughter. I have renounced worldly pleasures unsuitable to men of my age, and I have found renewed love for Christ and the Blessed Madonna.” He paused for a moment and then faced the Pope with a benign smile that Alexander remembered well. “Holy Father, you have but to command me as to how to serve the church.”
Alexander pretended to ponder this, then spoke. “You must know that since I have been elected to this holy office, my greatest hope has been to lead another Crusade. To lead a Christian army into Jerusalem to recapture the birthplace of Christ.”
“Yes, yes,” Rosamundi said eagerly. “I will use all my influence in Venice so that you will have the finest fleet of ships. You can count on me.”
Alexander shrugged. “Venice is hand in glove with the Turks, as you know. They cannot jeopardize their trade routes and colonies by giving lavish support to a Crusade for the Holy Church. I understand that, as you surely do. What I really need is gold, to pay the soldiers and supply them with provisions. The sacred fund is not plentiful. Even with revenues from the jubilee, the extra tax I have extracted from all the members of the clergy, high and low, and the tax of ten percent for the Crusade from every Christian. From the Jews of Rome I’ve asked twenty percent. But the sacred fund is still a little meager.” He smiled and then added, “And so you can serve.”
Baldo Rosamundi nodded thoughtfully as though this were a surprise to him. He even dared to raise his eyebrows slightly. Then he said, “Holy Father, give some idea what you require and I will obey, even if I have to mortgage my fleet.”
Alexander had already given some thought to what sum he could extract from Rosamundi. To have a saint in the family would make the Rosamundi welcome in every court in the Christian world. It would protect them from powerful enemies to a great degree. It did not matter that there were almost ten thousand saints in the history of the Catholic Church; only a few hundred of them had the certification of the papacy in Rome.
Alexander spoke slowly. “Your granddaughter was certainly blessed by the Holy Spirit. She was beyond reproach as a Christian, she added glory to God’s kingdom on earth. But it is perhaps too soon after her death to canonize her. There are many other candidates waiting, some as long as fifty or one hundred years. I do not want to be hasty. It is an irrevocable act.”
Baldo Rosamundi, who had radiated hope and confidence only moments before, seemed to shrink in his chair. He said, in an almost inaudible whisper, “I want to pray at her shrine before I die, and I have not so