Milano
I t was winter. The snow during the night had been unusually heavy. In the Piazza della Scala, the stone coats of Leonardo da Vinci and other statues in the old historic centre of Milano were dusted in white. The cold snap matched the mood of the Cardinal Archbishop of Milano, Lorenzo Petroni. In a concise hand he wrote just one word on one of two documents in the morning dispatches, Accetti, directing his private secretary to accept the invitation to attend the graduation ceremony at the Universita Statale. The second document did nothing to improve his temper. It was a letter from the Chancellor. Eminence, I am writing this letter because Signor Donelli and Signora Bassetti have achieved marvellous results in Philosophy, Archaeology and Chemistry…
The reference to Catholic students as Signor and Signora irritated Petroni, but it was the Chancellor’s description of the pilot program as a brilliant success that annoyed him intensely. It didn’t surprise Petroni that Father Donelli had achieved the University Medal for Philosophy, but at least the problem of what to do with him next had been solved. There had been some initial surprise when Petroni had suggested posting Father Donelli to the Middle East, but there were more pressing issues in Rome than the posting of a young priest to Israel. An ageing Cardinal Secretary of State had acquiesced with a shrug of his shoulders.
But how to deal with the nun from Tricarico? She could not so easily be dispatched to some far-flung corner of Catholicism without some eyebrows being raised. Sister Bassetti was to be awarded the University Medal for Archaeology and the University Medal for Chemistry. How could a woman achieve this? This signalled a danger for the Holy Church. Trying to control his frustration Cardinal Petroni reflected on Genesis. In the Garden of Eden Woman had been responsible for the Fall of Man and all women needed to realise that like the snail that carries its house on its back, a woman had been put into the realm of Man to manage his household and to provide sex for the procreation of mankind. In his next report to the Pope, Petroni had already decided to describe the education program as ‘an interesting experiment’. This would be accompanied with a strong recommendation for a return to the normal Catholic channels of education that had appropriate controls in place.
As he studied Allegra’s photograph that had now found its place on the inside cover of her file, Petroni grew thoughtful. Dark brown eyes and black hair, a tanned oval face; a very beautiful young nun who was obviously academically gifted was an interesting combination. Perhaps it was time to get better acquainted with Sister Bassetti. Madonna, whore – Petroni could always see advantages in any situation. The religious conundrum would be a perfect one to explore. Petroni’s eyes narrowed as he chanted the words of the apostle Paul to the Ephesians: ‘Wives, be subject to your husbands as you are to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife just as Christ is head of the Church.’ The hum of the wise words of Paul soothed him. It was time to put Sister Allegra Bassetti in her place.
Allegra pulled her coat tightly around her as snow was still falling lightly on the thickly covered grounds of the university. The summons to dinner had been delivered that morning by Cardinal Petroni’s driver and, try as she might, Allegra had not been able to come up with an excuse to refuse the invitation from the powerful Cardinal. She made her way through the now familiar cloisters surrounding the quadrangles of the main square towards Ca’ Granda’s main entrance. Giovanni had only been gone two days and she missed him more than she thought possible. It had been hard, but they had honoured the pact they’d made on the way back from their fateful visit to Maratea. For her part, Allegra had thrown herself into her studies and the increasing number of High Distinctions and Distinctions were impressive. Delving into the intricacies of biochemistry, the exquisite phosphodiester bonding and nucleotides of DNA, and the development of life on Earth from a single primordial cell line intrigued her. The more she learned, the more she realised that the creation story of Adam and Eve didn’t gel.
Giovanni and Allegra had agreed to try to not be alone together, or if they found themselves in one or the other’s room, they would leave the door open. Friday nights were always a big danger. Discussions over pasta and a few glasses of wine on anything from the origins of humankind to Christ’s relationship with Mary Magdalene had nearly brought them undone on more than one occasion. Somehow they had managed to transcend the love they had for each other, and that love had grown into something even more powerful. They became closer than ever. Now he was gone, of all places to somewhere in the West Bank of the Occupied Territories of Israel. It was a posting that made absolutely no sense at all, and he’d been sent there the moment he completed his last exam. Giovanni had asked for a week’s leave but the Cardinal Archbishop of Milano had been adamant he was needed there immediately. Beyond Ca’ Granda’s stone archways she could see the shiny black Volvo and Cardinal Petroni’s driver.