Chapter 31
"My fellow princes of the Holy Mother Church," snarled Alboronoz, "I have here, in writing, instructions from His Most Catholic Majesty, instructing me of his veto against the candidacy of Bentivoglio d'Aragona."
Mouths gaped at that, then jowls and neck fat shook as men jumped to their feet and yelled. Albornoz then simply sat, content to have done the dirty work. As for the man in question, Cardinal Bentivoglio d'Aragona, he sat stunned. Mazarini's face revealed nothing. He instead scanned the room. The Spanish party knew of the veto, but not at whom it was aimed. Others were in shock. Leopoldo Medici's hideous face revealed nothing. Colonna, of the Holy Roman Empire's party, hid something. Which was to be expected. While Antonio Barberini (Sr.) looked poleaxed. But Antonio Barberini (Jr.) looked quite too much relaxed to Mazarini's gimlet eye. And it was Antonio the nephew of the last pontiff, who rose now to speak.
"My Brother in Christ Albornoz, I ask you to withdraw the veto."
"My Brother Barberini, I cannot. It is not my veto. It is my sovereign's."
"My fellow princes of the Holy Mother Church, pray hold your silence while I speak. Brother Albornoz, the veto is not yours, of this you just admitted. Then you say our brothers must bow in submission to a force outside this room? You tell us to discard a worthy candidate not on any spiritual grounds?"
"Brother Barberini, I have thought long and hard on this, and although I deplore the use of temporal concerns to influence matters spiritual, I ask my fellow princes of the Holy Mother Church this, is not the Church herself imperiled should we seek to oppose so powerful a secular ruler as His Most Catholic Majesty and do so openly as to defy his words?"
"My fellow princes of the Holy Mother Church, I beg of your indulgence. Please cease your mutters. Please. Brother Albornoz, you speak of our Church imperiled then?"
"Yes, Brother Barberini, and I do not do it lightly. I fear for should transpire if His Most Catholic Majesty withdraws his protection and we forfeit his gifts."
That set off the murmurs needed, and the small part of Mazarini's mind, which enjoyed performance, could almost find some pleasure in what was transpiring. Two actors, one not so good - Albornoz - and one far too smooth - Antonio Barberini (Jr.) - were putting on a floor show for their brethren. The upshot is that Albornoz was able to threaten loss of benefices and pensions of greedy celibates without having to say it right away, and Antonio signaled to a not unintelligent audience that by his actions, he was in concert with the Spanish party now, throwing into confusion the French. Well, almost.
Mazarini now stood tall.
"Brothers Barberini and Albornoz, I implore you to together work out a way to revoke this veto."
"Brother Mazarini, I cannot, for I am here to only speak for the Barberini family, not Spain."
"And likewise, Brother Mazarini, I cannot, for my sovereign gave me his orders."
"I see. Tell me, Brother Albornoz, what were His Most Catholic Majesty's objection to Bentivoglio d'Aragona? What in the conduct of our fellow prince of the Holy Mother Church is so infamous as to earn censure from Spain?"
"Brother Mazarini, my sovereign did not share his mind with me. He gave me this veto in writing. I know not what possible reason would induce His Most Catholic Majesty to oppose the worthy candidacy of our good Brother d'Aragona."
"Please brothers, sit and let me speak. I wish to understand the import of the words now uttered. Brother Albornoz, do you mean to say, in principle, a secular ruler of a strong state in Christendom, may impose his will upon the selection of a pontiff, and not clarify his thoughts upon the matter, so long as it is provided in writing?"
"I... Yes, I suppose, I am arguing that, Brother Mazarini. Though I wish I did not."
"I see. Would the Dean of the College of Cardinal be so good as to rule on such a view?"
"Brother Mazarini, I am as disheartened by the view of Brother Albornoz..."
"Not my view, Brother Lante. Not my view at all. But that of my sovereign."
"Yes, Brother Albornoz, so I understand. So we all understand. But please Brother Lante, continue."
"It is not possible to resist the will of so powerful a king as that of the Spanish Empire, my fellow princes of the Holy Mother Church, as not to imperil the stability of the Holy Mother Church herself, and so I fear we must chose the lesser of two evils and bow to the forces of temporal power over spiritual."
"I see. Permit a question then, my good fellow princes of the Holy Mother Church. Do any of you present also hold any vetoes, in writing, from your mighty sovereigns?"
There were silence, though an exchange of looks in the party from the Holy Roman Empire. They had no veto in writing from the Holy Roman Emperor. The Emperor was too busy fighting for the survival of Catholicism in the Germanies to have time to gather his cardinals and articulate a policy in writing. Or so Savelli said. The truth, his patron Ferdinand III, Holy Roman Emperor, King of Hungary and Croatia, King of Bohemia and Archduke of Austria, did not wish to antagonize France, for she and Sweden were the main financiers of the Protestant German polities opposing his rule in Christendom. The German War was on the verge of being peacefully resolved, to end the then twenty-five year slaughter, and it did not seem good practice for him to cause a row with French interest. But he could not state this openly, however, for he was bound by faith, gold and blood to His Most Catholic Majesty and the Spaniards helped him fight the aforementioned heretic Germans. Thus, prevarication.
"I ask again, my fellow princes of the Holy Mother Church, we have now been told of one veto. Does anyone here hold yet another?"
Silence followed yet again, though there were worried glances.
Mazarini looked now straight at Albornoz, and gave a most curious smile.
"Anyone?"
Albornoz did not like that smile, but stared right back. He was on solid ground, though the enemy yielded far too quickly for his taste.
"My fellow princes of the Holy Mother Church, I have a veto of my own," said Mazarini smiling still. "From His Most Christian King Louis XIV of France. It is in writing. And it opposes Pamphili."
There followed an explosion of such noise, it was heard by the mob outside and many feared the worst.
Inside the conclave itself, Mazarini sat back down and let the noise swirl. He had done his work as Albornoz. Far better it must be said, for it was a complete surprise. Well, the first phase of it at least. More would follow. Grimaldi, Bichi and a pair of tame French cardinals bided their time to disseminate the new French party line, but kept up the morale of his potential troops. Pamphili looked crushed and could not speak. Nor should have Albornoz, but he ranted and raved and reduced his standing greatly. Antonio Barberini (Sr.) nearly came to blows with his betrayer nephew, who gamely tried to pretend it was all part of Mazarini's master plan, including his goading of Albornoz. It was not. Well, the goading was to be part of the plan, but it was to come from another source. And certainly Mazarini did not plan for Antonio Barberini (Jr.) to behave so brazen. Nor did Mazarini plan for d'Aragona to be vetoed. It should have been Cardinal Sacchetti, then d'Aragona was to be the compromise. But such is life. So not everything had gone to plan, but Mazarini did his part in the first phase of it as we have said.
Albornoz was finally quieted down by the more sober members of his party, while everyone present wrestled with the question foremost on all minds. Should there even be a vote right here and now then? Or did the twin grenades tossed into the room had produced such a fearful slaughter that it was time to retreat and lick one's wounds and come up with a compromise to soothe frayed nerves?
Eyes turned to Mazarini for guidance, since Albornoz had failed himself and Lante was in shock.
"My fellow princes of the Holy Mother Church, the eyes of Heaven and good Christians are upon us. We must conduct a vote. It is expected, is it not? Let us take a half hour to collect ourselves and do one vote today and see if we are guided to a great and wondrous choice on the very first ballot."
The words put the Spanish party on an edge, but the French party was likewise weary. Those in the know were told d'Aragona was the palatable choice. But with him now discarded...? The Spaniards were in similar disarray. Pamphili was to their eye the only worthy candidate.
Albornoz was soon quickly surrounded by his two fellow Spaniards, as well as Medici (Florence), Harrach (Germanies), Savelli (sometime counselor of the Holy Roman Emperor, though he called Rome home) and Colonna (though he was brother-in-law to Taddeo Barberini, he was an Imperial man).
Mazarini was joined by Bichi (Siena), Grimaldi (Genoa) and his two tame French cardinals. The others pressed upon him, but were politely ignored, including the outraged d'Aragona, who demanded the veto be rescinded. Bichi pulled him aside and spoke in blunt terms intended to wound and end him.
While d'Aragona struggled for breath, Pamphili sat like a great log. He could not think. He could not move. He could only stare blankly out. It had been his to lose and he had lost it before a vote cast.
***
While conclave was in chaos, the Sea Wolf sat on a pew in St. Augustin's church and thought of many things, including his return voyage to Australia and what route he would take. He had guards on either side of him, and behind him and in front. But no one pressed him. Then all heads turned, for into the church had entered a hulking brute. He looked like a Turk, for Turk he was.
The Turk made a beeline for the Sea Wolf. Some of the people thought they were about to see a murder and so hung back, but the guards of the Sea Wolf were bidden to stand down. The Turk approached the Sea Wolf, gave a bow and then a note. The Sea Wolf took it. It contained in Olympia's hand, "il gioco siciliano." The Sicilian Game. Or, is at has come to be known in our age: The Sicilian Defence. White chessmen made attack, but black countered most aggressively. The battle has been joined. One of the Sea Wolf's companions had an inkhorn in his buttonhole. Another kept a quill in his hatband. The Sea Wolf added a symbol to the back of the note to indicate approval and receipt and handed it off to the lumbering Turk. And so the Turk bowed and departed.
It was quite useless to speak to the Turkish fellow, for his tongue was cut out. And he could not hear regardless for his eardrums were punctured. This was done by order of the Sultan now long dead, who did this not to punish the fellow, but to protect himself from plots, for the unfortunate brute was earmarked to be servant to the Sultan's youngest brother. And the Sultan, fearful he would be overthrown by a plot hatched by said brother, had every servant in his brother's household rendered deaf and mute. We mention this not to shock or titillate, but to admonish that the events we now describe took in a much more violent age than our own and we should not judge the machinations of the people mentioned here too harshly. Thus ends the editorial and we rejoin our tale.
***
"Scrutineers, please take your positions."
Two cardinals, each chosen by the party that professed it did not exist in the universal Church of utter brotherhood and love, stood and made their way to the altar. The first was Cardinal Bichi, while the other was Cardinal Alfonso de la Cueva-Benavides y Mendoza-Carrillo, marqués de Bedmar. The third man chosen was Cardinal Roma, who despite his curious name was born in Milan. He was most severe, despised nepotism and was held to be incorruptible. The three cardinals stood by an urn that had its top blocked by a golden chalice.
The most senior cardinal then stood, barely, but stood. Held aloft his paper ballot and shuffled down to the urn and chalice. Muttered an oath. Dropped the ballot into chalice. Held the chalice up with a shaky hand. Muttered yet another oath. Tipped the ballot in the chalice into turn. Then set the chalice atop the urn, though with much difficulty and returned to his seat. 51 one men then followed. Then each scrutineer did same. Then, in the presence of all, each scrutineer gave a firm shake to the urn. Then the urn was set down. A second one obtained. Shown to be empty to all assembled and set next to the first. Cardinal Roma withdrew each ballot, one by one, as his two scrutineers did their count. After each ballot was counted out, it was placed into the second urn.
"Fifty-five votes had been cast."
Chairs were found and set by the altar. The three scrutineers sat. One by one, the votes were taken out of the second urn. Roma would show the ballot to his two fellow scrutineers, then announce for whom that particularly ballot was cast, then the paper ballot was pierced by a silver needle with silk thread and garlanded by Cueva, with Bichi watching.
"The first vote is for Cardinal Sacchetti."
That set off a murmur, surely the French party would not advance someone so loathed by Spain, after all that had transpired earlier in the day? But they did. As more and more votes came in for the suddenly pale Sacchetti.
The Spanish candidate of choice, with doomed Pamphili now sidelined, was Francesco Cennini de' Salamandri (Siena). Cennini was 78 years young, and one of the last holdovers from the Paul V's papacy. As such, he treated Madrid as the Mussulmen did Mecca.
Across from their respective seats Mazarini and Albornoz exchanged a bitter smile.
With the loss of their favored prospects, each side now attempted to show the folly of their opposition by bringing forth an even more unpalatable choice so that the next ballot may give room for compromise. All eyes then turned on potential candidates who thus could fit and the next phase of the struggle was entered. Mazarini had instructed Grimaldi to have four men of the French party vote for Giambattista Altieri (Rome) to signal his compromise choice (and a 50 to one longshot per the taverns of Genoa). While Albornoz decided not to give the game away just yet, by having three men nominate a wholly unelectable Maculano (Tuscany). Maculano's politics ran not so much pro-Spain, as anti-Mazarini. And there was much bad blood between the two men. Thus, his nomination was both an insult to Mazarini and a signal that Albornoz would fight and fight to death for his true choice, once said choice was set to be revealed.
While these cunning stratagems were made, the Sea Wolf, in his namesake's church still, was visited by soberly dressed Olympia herself:
"All's well."
"I had no doubt."
"I did."
"You should not. You are smarter than all of them combined."
Olympia did not do well with compliments as we have told, but this one filled her hearth with warmth. There was to be some Devil's work ahead, and it helped to know you were on the side of angels as far as your beloved was concerned. But same could be said of Olimpia Maidalchini, who recovered her wits and now plotted afresh, still seized with a vision of her brother-in-law Pamphili wearing Triple Crown.
Mouths gaped at that, then jowls and neck fat shook as men jumped to their feet and yelled. Albornoz then simply sat, content to have done the dirty work. As for the man in question, Cardinal Bentivoglio d'Aragona, he sat stunned. Mazarini's face revealed nothing. He instead scanned the room. The Spanish party knew of the veto, but not at whom it was aimed. Others were in shock. Leopoldo Medici's hideous face revealed nothing. Colonna, of the Holy Roman Empire's party, hid something. Which was to be expected. While Antonio Barberini (Sr.) looked poleaxed. But Antonio Barberini (Jr.) looked quite too much relaxed to Mazarini's gimlet eye. And it was Antonio the nephew of the last pontiff, who rose now to speak.
"My Brother in Christ Albornoz, I ask you to withdraw the veto."
"My Brother Barberini, I cannot. It is not my veto. It is my sovereign's."
"My fellow princes of the Holy Mother Church, pray hold your silence while I speak. Brother Albornoz, the veto is not yours, of this you just admitted. Then you say our brothers must bow in submission to a force outside this room? You tell us to discard a worthy candidate not on any spiritual grounds?"
"Brother Barberini, I have thought long and hard on this, and although I deplore the use of temporal concerns to influence matters spiritual, I ask my fellow princes of the Holy Mother Church this, is not the Church herself imperiled should we seek to oppose so powerful a secular ruler as His Most Catholic Majesty and do so openly as to defy his words?"
"My fellow princes of the Holy Mother Church, I beg of your indulgence. Please cease your mutters. Please. Brother Albornoz, you speak of our Church imperiled then?"
"Yes, Brother Barberini, and I do not do it lightly. I fear for should transpire if His Most Catholic Majesty withdraws his protection and we forfeit his gifts."
That set off the murmurs needed, and the small part of Mazarini's mind, which enjoyed performance, could almost find some pleasure in what was transpiring. Two actors, one not so good - Albornoz - and one far too smooth - Antonio Barberini (Jr.) - were putting on a floor show for their brethren. The upshot is that Albornoz was able to threaten loss of benefices and pensions of greedy celibates without having to say it right away, and Antonio signaled to a not unintelligent audience that by his actions, he was in concert with the Spanish party now, throwing into confusion the French. Well, almost.
Mazarini now stood tall.
"Brothers Barberini and Albornoz, I implore you to together work out a way to revoke this veto."
"Brother Mazarini, I cannot, for I am here to only speak for the Barberini family, not Spain."
"And likewise, Brother Mazarini, I cannot, for my sovereign gave me his orders."
"I see. Tell me, Brother Albornoz, what were His Most Catholic Majesty's objection to Bentivoglio d'Aragona? What in the conduct of our fellow prince of the Holy Mother Church is so infamous as to earn censure from Spain?"
"Brother Mazarini, my sovereign did not share his mind with me. He gave me this veto in writing. I know not what possible reason would induce His Most Catholic Majesty to oppose the worthy candidacy of our good Brother d'Aragona."
"Please brothers, sit and let me speak. I wish to understand the import of the words now uttered. Brother Albornoz, do you mean to say, in principle, a secular ruler of a strong state in Christendom, may impose his will upon the selection of a pontiff, and not clarify his thoughts upon the matter, so long as it is provided in writing?"
"I... Yes, I suppose, I am arguing that, Brother Mazarini. Though I wish I did not."
"I see. Would the Dean of the College of Cardinal be so good as to rule on such a view?"
"Brother Mazarini, I am as disheartened by the view of Brother Albornoz..."
"Not my view, Brother Lante. Not my view at all. But that of my sovereign."
"Yes, Brother Albornoz, so I understand. So we all understand. But please Brother Lante, continue."
"It is not possible to resist the will of so powerful a king as that of the Spanish Empire, my fellow princes of the Holy Mother Church, as not to imperil the stability of the Holy Mother Church herself, and so I fear we must chose the lesser of two evils and bow to the forces of temporal power over spiritual."
"I see. Permit a question then, my good fellow princes of the Holy Mother Church. Do any of you present also hold any vetoes, in writing, from your mighty sovereigns?"
There were silence, though an exchange of looks in the party from the Holy Roman Empire. They had no veto in writing from the Holy Roman Emperor. The Emperor was too busy fighting for the survival of Catholicism in the Germanies to have time to gather his cardinals and articulate a policy in writing. Or so Savelli said. The truth, his patron Ferdinand III, Holy Roman Emperor, King of Hungary and Croatia, King of Bohemia and Archduke of Austria, did not wish to antagonize France, for she and Sweden were the main financiers of the Protestant German polities opposing his rule in Christendom. The German War was on the verge of being peacefully resolved, to end the then twenty-five year slaughter, and it did not seem good practice for him to cause a row with French interest. But he could not state this openly, however, for he was bound by faith, gold and blood to His Most Catholic Majesty and the Spaniards helped him fight the aforementioned heretic Germans. Thus, prevarication.
"I ask again, my fellow princes of the Holy Mother Church, we have now been told of one veto. Does anyone here hold yet another?"
Silence followed yet again, though there were worried glances.
Mazarini looked now straight at Albornoz, and gave a most curious smile.
"Anyone?"
Albornoz did not like that smile, but stared right back. He was on solid ground, though the enemy yielded far too quickly for his taste.
"My fellow princes of the Holy Mother Church, I have a veto of my own," said Mazarini smiling still. "From His Most Christian King Louis XIV of France. It is in writing. And it opposes Pamphili."
There followed an explosion of such noise, it was heard by the mob outside and many feared the worst.
Inside the conclave itself, Mazarini sat back down and let the noise swirl. He had done his work as Albornoz. Far better it must be said, for it was a complete surprise. Well, the first phase of it at least. More would follow. Grimaldi, Bichi and a pair of tame French cardinals bided their time to disseminate the new French party line, but kept up the morale of his potential troops. Pamphili looked crushed and could not speak. Nor should have Albornoz, but he ranted and raved and reduced his standing greatly. Antonio Barberini (Sr.) nearly came to blows with his betrayer nephew, who gamely tried to pretend it was all part of Mazarini's master plan, including his goading of Albornoz. It was not. Well, the goading was to be part of the plan, but it was to come from another source. And certainly Mazarini did not plan for Antonio Barberini (Jr.) to behave so brazen. Nor did Mazarini plan for d'Aragona to be vetoed. It should have been Cardinal Sacchetti, then d'Aragona was to be the compromise. But such is life. So not everything had gone to plan, but Mazarini did his part in the first phase of it as we have said.
Albornoz was finally quieted down by the more sober members of his party, while everyone present wrestled with the question foremost on all minds. Should there even be a vote right here and now then? Or did the twin grenades tossed into the room had produced such a fearful slaughter that it was time to retreat and lick one's wounds and come up with a compromise to soothe frayed nerves?
Eyes turned to Mazarini for guidance, since Albornoz had failed himself and Lante was in shock.
"My fellow princes of the Holy Mother Church, the eyes of Heaven and good Christians are upon us. We must conduct a vote. It is expected, is it not? Let us take a half hour to collect ourselves and do one vote today and see if we are guided to a great and wondrous choice on the very first ballot."
The words put the Spanish party on an edge, but the French party was likewise weary. Those in the know were told d'Aragona was the palatable choice. But with him now discarded...? The Spaniards were in similar disarray. Pamphili was to their eye the only worthy candidate.
Albornoz was soon quickly surrounded by his two fellow Spaniards, as well as Medici (Florence), Harrach (Germanies), Savelli (sometime counselor of the Holy Roman Emperor, though he called Rome home) and Colonna (though he was brother-in-law to Taddeo Barberini, he was an Imperial man).
Mazarini was joined by Bichi (Siena), Grimaldi (Genoa) and his two tame French cardinals. The others pressed upon him, but were politely ignored, including the outraged d'Aragona, who demanded the veto be rescinded. Bichi pulled him aside and spoke in blunt terms intended to wound and end him.
While d'Aragona struggled for breath, Pamphili sat like a great log. He could not think. He could not move. He could only stare blankly out. It had been his to lose and he had lost it before a vote cast.
***
While conclave was in chaos, the Sea Wolf sat on a pew in St. Augustin's church and thought of many things, including his return voyage to Australia and what route he would take. He had guards on either side of him, and behind him and in front. But no one pressed him. Then all heads turned, for into the church had entered a hulking brute. He looked like a Turk, for Turk he was.
The Turk made a beeline for the Sea Wolf. Some of the people thought they were about to see a murder and so hung back, but the guards of the Sea Wolf were bidden to stand down. The Turk approached the Sea Wolf, gave a bow and then a note. The Sea Wolf took it. It contained in Olympia's hand, "il gioco siciliano." The Sicilian Game. Or, is at has come to be known in our age: The Sicilian Defence. White chessmen made attack, but black countered most aggressively. The battle has been joined. One of the Sea Wolf's companions had an inkhorn in his buttonhole. Another kept a quill in his hatband. The Sea Wolf added a symbol to the back of the note to indicate approval and receipt and handed it off to the lumbering Turk. And so the Turk bowed and departed.
It was quite useless to speak to the Turkish fellow, for his tongue was cut out. And he could not hear regardless for his eardrums were punctured. This was done by order of the Sultan now long dead, who did this not to punish the fellow, but to protect himself from plots, for the unfortunate brute was earmarked to be servant to the Sultan's youngest brother. And the Sultan, fearful he would be overthrown by a plot hatched by said brother, had every servant in his brother's household rendered deaf and mute. We mention this not to shock or titillate, but to admonish that the events we now describe took in a much more violent age than our own and we should not judge the machinations of the people mentioned here too harshly. Thus ends the editorial and we rejoin our tale.
***
"Scrutineers, please take your positions."
Two cardinals, each chosen by the party that professed it did not exist in the universal Church of utter brotherhood and love, stood and made their way to the altar. The first was Cardinal Bichi, while the other was Cardinal Alfonso de la Cueva-Benavides y Mendoza-Carrillo, marqués de Bedmar. The third man chosen was Cardinal Roma, who despite his curious name was born in Milan. He was most severe, despised nepotism and was held to be incorruptible. The three cardinals stood by an urn that had its top blocked by a golden chalice.
The most senior cardinal then stood, barely, but stood. Held aloft his paper ballot and shuffled down to the urn and chalice. Muttered an oath. Dropped the ballot into chalice. Held the chalice up with a shaky hand. Muttered yet another oath. Tipped the ballot in the chalice into turn. Then set the chalice atop the urn, though with much difficulty and returned to his seat. 51 one men then followed. Then each scrutineer did same. Then, in the presence of all, each scrutineer gave a firm shake to the urn. Then the urn was set down. A second one obtained. Shown to be empty to all assembled and set next to the first. Cardinal Roma withdrew each ballot, one by one, as his two scrutineers did their count. After each ballot was counted out, it was placed into the second urn.
"Fifty-five votes had been cast."
Chairs were found and set by the altar. The three scrutineers sat. One by one, the votes were taken out of the second urn. Roma would show the ballot to his two fellow scrutineers, then announce for whom that particularly ballot was cast, then the paper ballot was pierced by a silver needle with silk thread and garlanded by Cueva, with Bichi watching.
"The first vote is for Cardinal Sacchetti."
That set off a murmur, surely the French party would not advance someone so loathed by Spain, after all that had transpired earlier in the day? But they did. As more and more votes came in for the suddenly pale Sacchetti.
The Spanish candidate of choice, with doomed Pamphili now sidelined, was Francesco Cennini de' Salamandri (Siena). Cennini was 78 years young, and one of the last holdovers from the Paul V's papacy. As such, he treated Madrid as the Mussulmen did Mecca.
Across from their respective seats Mazarini and Albornoz exchanged a bitter smile.
With the loss of their favored prospects, each side now attempted to show the folly of their opposition by bringing forth an even more unpalatable choice so that the next ballot may give room for compromise. All eyes then turned on potential candidates who thus could fit and the next phase of the struggle was entered. Mazarini had instructed Grimaldi to have four men of the French party vote for Giambattista Altieri (Rome) to signal his compromise choice (and a 50 to one longshot per the taverns of Genoa). While Albornoz decided not to give the game away just yet, by having three men nominate a wholly unelectable Maculano (Tuscany). Maculano's politics ran not so much pro-Spain, as anti-Mazarini. And there was much bad blood between the two men. Thus, his nomination was both an insult to Mazarini and a signal that Albornoz would fight and fight to death for his true choice, once said choice was set to be revealed.
While these cunning stratagems were made, the Sea Wolf, in his namesake's church still, was visited by soberly dressed Olympia herself:
"All's well."
"I had no doubt."
"I did."
"You should not. You are smarter than all of them combined."
Olympia did not do well with compliments as we have told, but this one filled her hearth with warmth. There was to be some Devil's work ahead, and it helped to know you were on the side of angels as far as your beloved was concerned. But same could be said of Olimpia Maidalchini, who recovered her wits and now plotted afresh, still seized with a vision of her brother-in-law Pamphili wearing Triple Crown.
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