The Devil Hates Latin
REGINA PRESS has released our first novel recently to significant popular acclaim. As a special gift for our loyal Regina Magazine readers, here’s a taste of Katharine Galgano’s work. (See customer reviews HERE.)
PROLOGUE
he Cardinal inhaled sharply. The
view from the papal apartments over St Peter’s Square revealed a stark late winter’s tableau that was pure magic. Before him lay a painting executed in grays and whites, the work of Italian genius etched against a ferocious sky.
The heavy black snow clouds had been massing over Michelangelo’s famous dome all morning, discouraging all but the hardiest tourists from waiting in the queue which normally snaked around Bernini’s magnificent Colonnade.
In recent weeks there had been huge crowds of tourists there, eager for a glimpse of the new pope. The sudden death of the previous pontiff had spurred the usual hoopla surrounding a papal election, though this time the many billions following on social media had ramped the chaos up to unprecedented levels.
Reporters unfamiliar with Catholicism scrambled to untangle it all -- conspiracy theories speculating wildly about the pope’s unexpected demise, leads leaked from chanceries around the world, even astute remarks from san pietrini, the Romans who had maintained the Basilica from time immemorial, and whose accustomed stance was one of dignified silence.
When the white smoke finally rose, the world’s media was utterly wrong-footed. They had speculated approvingly on the potentialities of a cigar-chomping, Harley-riding German liberal with massive funding, or a handsome Filipino with an infectious grin and smooth delivery. Uncertain about how to spin the narrative on a tiny, fierce Cardinal from an African backwater, most media had simply ignored him.
Now, the tall, lanky American Cardinal found himself on his knees, kissing the papal ring of the first black man to sit on the throne of Peter.
The new pope was a reserved man, and no longer young. He was, however, extremely focused, and intent on his purpose. After the briefest of pleasantries, he came immediately to the point.
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PROLOGUE
he Cardinal inhaled sharply. The
view from the papal apartments over St Peter’s Square revealed a stark late winter’s tableau that was pure magic. Before him lay a painting executed in grays and whites, the work of Italian genius etched against a ferocious sky.
The heavy black snow clouds had been massing over Michelangelo’s famous dome all morning, discouraging all but the hardiest tourists from waiting in the queue which normally snaked around Bernini’s magnificent Colonnade.
In recent weeks there had been huge crowds of tourists there, eager for a glimpse of the new pope. The sudden death of the previous pontiff had spurred the usual hoopla surrounding a papal election, though this time the many billions following on social media had ramped the chaos up to unprecedented levels.
Reporters unfamiliar with Catholicism scrambled to untangle it all -- conspiracy theories speculating wildly about the pope’s unexpected
demise, leads leaked from chanceries around the world, even astute remarks from san pietrini, the Romans who had maintained the Basilica from time immemorial, and whose accustomed stance was one of dignified silence.
When the white smoke finally rose, the world’s media was utterly wrong-footed. They had speculated approvingly on the potentialities of a cigar-chomping, Harley-riding German liberal with massive funding, or a handsome Filipino with an infectious grin and smooth delivery. Uncertain about how to spin the narrative on a tiny, fierce Cardinal from an African backwater, most media had simply ignored him.
Now, the tall, lanky American Cardinal found himself on his knees, kissing the papal ring of the first black man to sit on the throne of Peter.
The new pope was a reserved man, and no longer young. He was, however, extremely focused, and intent on his purpose. After the briefest of pleasantries, he came immediately to the point.