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Cardinal Albornoz crossed himself, reflexively, and walked into the tiny garden. The pale moon light cast his shadow across the bushes. He avoided looking over his shoulder, but only just. Still his anxiety must have been quite evident, for Cardinal Colonna gave an ever slight cough to signal that he was still behind him. Albornoz willed himself to appear more at ease and reached the center of the garden in four steps. There stood cloaked Cardinal Mazarini, seconded by Cardinal Bichi. Both men had their hands well away from their belts. Albornoz aped the gesture. Colonna did the same. To the shock of all, including the speaker, Mazarini spoke plain, blunt and in a rough countryside Southern dialect of his long gone youth:

"Spinola gets the throne, but three of your creature get made Prefect of Rites, of Regulars and the Council, provided you name them ahead of time and I approve. Bichi here gets made Cardinal-Inquisitor."

As opening gambit it was bold and very to the point. So much so that Albornoz needed a half dozen Hail Maries to grasp it all. Cardinal Spinola was a Genoese and of the French party. He was in his early sixties, though how much, Albornoz could not recall. Spinola was an almost acceptable candidate for papacy, despite his French leanings. As for the other offers... Mazarini dash near gave away the store. The Prefect of the Sacred Congregation of Rites deliberated on submission for sainthood as well as met with the courtiers of kings coming to Rome. The Prefect of the Sacred Congregation for Consultations about Regulars was in charge of all monastic orders and lay organizations with affiliations to the papacy. And the Prefect of the Sacred Congregation of the Council was in charge of maintaining the Trident mass and cannons. Three of the most powerful positions in the papal bureaucracy were at a stroke his to pick, provided he could stomach a pro-French pope. The other charge though... bore thinking. Bichi was Cardinal-Inquisitor would mean spies would be under French control.

Albornoz said nothing for twenty Hail Maries more, then spoke:

"I would want the Cardinal-Inquisitor position as well."

"Brother, I make no gambit. What you heard is what I have. No more."

"This negotiation..."

"This is no negotiation. It is an offer. Take it, or leave."

Albornoz's mouth went slack at that. Colonna stepped up and gave a smile.

"Surely..."

"Keep you gob shut, pretty boy. This here is a meeting of the principals. You don't qualify," said Bichi almost casually. Colonna recoiled. Then his mouth knifed. But Bichi merely cracked his knuckles and gave a smile wide, to the pale faced horror of Colonna and amusement of Albornoz. Bichi was no brawler, and Albornoz knew of it. Bichi had come from the most refined families of Siena, and was a nephew of a prince of the Holy Mother Church in his own right before becoming bishop. But he was not a man to mince words or his oaths and there lurked in him a bestial presence. Not that of a wild animal, but of a well bred dog, straining at the leash to tear apart a hapless rabbit or a wayward fox. As Albornoz was himself part bulldog, he held a slight admiration for the trait even in his foes.

"I cannot speak for others, Brother Mazarini."

"Oh yes, you can, Brother Albornoz. Speak for them now. The offer will not stand at dawn."

"And should dawn come then without my acceptance?"

"I will push Altieri and I shall shove him down the throats of all my foes. And even if I do not have votes now, I will keep up the stalemate until your side breaks. And it will break."

"Why say you that?"

"Because I have more candidates than you. If Altieri will not work, I will put in Sacchetti, just to make you fight him even harder than Altieri and then will bring forth a third man as compromise. How many men do you have that can wear the Triple Crown without there being a riot in Rome? How many candidates can you present and not have the world laugh? You had Pamphili. I cut him down. Who is your second best man? Who is your third? How long until your van falls apart to age? All those doddering droolers made cardinal by Paul V are dodging coffins, but not for long. It is only a matter of time. It is on my side."

Colonna's already pale face somehow became paler still, while Albornoz hid his turbulent emotions. He had underestimated Mazarini. First that trick with getting the veto and now this. The refined French loving weakling had some fangs and claws. And it was Albornoz's flesh he was no rending.

"If I accept, I will need time to name the three for the offices."

"No. Name them here and now. I need to know who shall name saints, keep the Mass pure and steal money from the monks."

"You go too far, Brother."

"Because I went far in my life. As you can hear from my native dialect. I was not born grandee. But I do aim to die as one. Now, Brother, please be so good as to give me those three names."

"Brother Colonna here shall be in charge of Regulars, Cennini for the Mass and Montalto for the saints."

Mazarini leaned his head slight back and Bichi stepped up and whispered. Mazarini did not expect to hear Montalto's name, for he was not a man of power, but Bichi gave the requisite composite sketch. Montalto was not as yet fifty and a coming comet, but comets come and go. Mazarini gave a nod.

"Let us all go now, the four of us, together to Spinola and give happy news."

Albornoz was not prepared for that, but felt himself yielding and gave nod. And thus Giovanni Domenico Spinola was elected at the morning vote by an overwhelming majority, though some held out, due to bitterness or general recalcitrant. And some, missed the vote entire to not be fait accompli to the show. Thus, Pamphili was not there, and neither was d'Aragona. D'Aragona licked his wounds at an apartment of a female friend and cried and need to be held dear. Pamphili held his sister-in-law, who cried and moaned and needed to be held most dear after the events of the previous night.


The news of a pope to be declared went through the town of Genoa as if a storm. The good people of the city, and bad ones as well, to say nothing of pilgrims, gaping tourists and visiting merchantmen all rushed to the cathedral and spread rumors to amuse themselves and to relieve the tension. Then the way was cleared for the Sea Wolf, dressed in the colors of the Most Serene Republic, accompanied by the worthies of the town, including the former Doge of Genoa and head of House Durazzo grinning by his side. The two were given position of honor and fresh wave of gossip sprang through the nervous crowd. Durazzo grin was interpret as a good omen for the Most Serene Republic, but only the most naïve and hopeful would dare say it out loud, a Genoese born pontiff? Was it possible?


Then all hushed as the doors of the Cathedral were flung open and Leopoldo Medici came out, his hideous face terrifying the more impressionable among the public. A murmur ran through the crowd, oh no, hopefully it not him? Is it? Then all took note he was still wearing scarlet habit and a sigh of relief greeted all but those who had bet on him (44 to one odds). Leopoldo spread his arms to await a hush, but got none, but still admirably boomed out:

"Annuntio vobis gaudium magnum: Habemus Papam!
Eminentissimum ac reverendissimum Dominum,
Dominum Giovanni Sanctæ Romanæ Ecclesiæ Cardinalem Spinola,
Qui sibi nomen imposuit Papa Zacharius Secundus!"

Few in the crowd caught that the last name of the cardinal made pope was Spinola, and all attempted to figure out who was named Zacharius in the conclave, not realizing it was the papal regnal name chosen by the victorious Cardinal Spinola. Thus only few cheered at the news when Medici spoke, but then all fairly exploded when Cardinal Spinola did arrive, dressed all in white and beaming.

There followed scenes of jubilation such as to make us put down our quill, for we cannot capture the spirit of the town of Genoa, which having given the world pontiffs in the centuries past, felt itself beleaguered and overlooked. The last Genoese pope had been the great Julius II. And what happened then? Some filthy Roman became Julius III and made a hash of things, miring the great name in controversy and ensuring no one named Julius followed suit since then. Before that, there was Innocent VIII, a figure from the halcyon past of the Republic of Genoa. And would you believe what happened then? Some fool Romagna aristo became Innocent IX and made an even bigger mess, this time in France by becoming a tool of Spanish faction. And though none could remember what the first Zacharius had done, all immediately pronounced the name as fine and good, though there were grumblings among those who are never quite happy even when they are in health and wealth warning all that it was only a matter of time until some Southron coxcomb would steal that name as well and besmirch it. But no one heard such grumblers on that day, and certainly not in that square, for the cheers shook walls and glass and there tears upon the faces of the grimmest of men.

And in the midst of all this stood the Sea Wolf and it was he who was the first to step up the stairs and be allowed to kiss the papal ring, and all who were present understood what it signified - the Sea Wolf had given Genoa a pope and at that moment had the Sea Wolf declared that men and women should grab weapons and follow him, he could have marched halfway to Rome before the excitement would dissipate. But the Sea Wolf had no urge to declare as such, and he was one for travelling by sea, not land. And nothing in Rome much held him.


That night, the Sea Wolf and Olympia broke their bed. The next morning the Sea Wolf was named the Count of Rome and Lord-Bishop of Albano, despite not residing in Rome, or Albano as yet, and never being ordained as priest. It may look quite impolite to us, but in that epoch there were cardinals who were never ordained as bishops nor as priests. And even Cardinal Mazarini started off as a mere priest and was only called bishop as a courtesy before coming cardinal. To say nothing of the English cardinals of the Holy Mother Church, who for one reason for another could not be ordained priests as well. But we digress. In the midst of all the jubilation, a papal bull was signed declaring Australia to be the Sea Wolf's and it was to be followed by a declaration of acknowledgement of the same by Paris, though Madrid stayed silent, despite all the best efforts of Olympia and her threats and gold.

While the Sea Wolf was thus ennobled, his twin sister was quietly made a baronetess of St. Peter of the Sands of Genoa, a title of nobility that had to be invented, but the Durazzo, Grimaldi and Spinola families ensured it was done, though as we said under a cloak of silence. As for Olympia...


Olympia walked inside the chamber of her now ennobled companion to find a jewelry casket standing atop a curious map of central Italies, depicting lands near Rome. The Sea Wolf removed the casket and pointed to a land near Lake Albano, in total silence. Olympia stared at the map and land and frowned.

"Savelli held those lands. The principality of Albano. They were on the verge of selling it to Barberini, until present troubles came and they were good enough to sell to me instead. I had the lease signed in your name."

"I see."

"No, you do not. Not as yet. Albano carries with it a princely title."

Olympia frowned yet again, then blinked, then gaped, then blinked again. The Sea Wolf now set the casket on the map as yet again. Took a step back and waited. Olympia, having lost her power of speech, reached out with trembling fingers to attempt to open the casket. It failed on the first, second, third and fourth try. But on the fifth she managed to push back the lid and let out a shuddering gasp.

There, on a bed of velvet, sat a gold tiara.

Olympia dared not touch it, so the Sea Wolf did. He picked it up and set it on her copper hair.

"My princess."

Olympia then burst in tears.


Three months later, two and twenty ships departed Genoa for Australia. The flagship carried Lord-Bishop Count of Rome, Agostino the Sea Wolf, the Princess of Albano Olympia Anne de Breuil, and the hopes and cheers of an entire republic.

On the soon distant land of Christendom they left behind the good Lady Ashley with authority to dispose of one tenth of the mass fortune the Sea Wolf now had, anxious Cardinal Mazarini preparing to fight for France, scheming Cardinal Pamphili anxious to revenge himself and his sister-in-law, the always anxious and perpetually scheming grandees and their factions in Madrid, hoping to destroy the Sea Wolf and bring ruin to his cause, to say nothing of the rebuilding and unbowed Medici, the shattered and vengeance seeking Franciotti, at war with themselves but not entirely destroyed Barberini and the weary people of Rome. But that is quite another tale for quite another time.


The End.