The Quest: A Novel

death.”
    No one responded.
    “Why did he say Anna? Why didn’t he mention his other sister or brother?”
    The obvious answer, as they all knew, was that Giuseppe Armano had indeed gone home to Berini, then returned to Ethiopia with the happy knowledge that Anna was still alive, and that she would be waiting to hear from them about his last hours on earth.
    Purcell said, “The rational side of me says that Anna was closest to him.”
    No one responded.
    Purcell continued, “But I like the other possibility better. He went home.”
    The proprietor saw they were still sitting in his chairs and he came out to see why. Mercado greeted him and asked politely for three glasses of
vino rosso
and
acqua minerale
. The man seemed all right with that and disappeared inside.
    Mercado said, “The last strangers he saw were wearing British Army uniforms.”
    “He looks the right age to be your cousin.”
    Vivian returned to the subject. “Father Rulli seemed a bit confused, or even suspicious, that we didn’t know about the Vatican delegation or much else.”
    Mercado assured her, “Catholic priests know better than anyonethat the Vatican moves in mysterious ways.” He added, “Rome is Rome.”
    Purcell said, “The Roman Church, in my opinion, is a continuation of the Roman Empire, also not known for openness or enlightenment.”
    Mercado replied, “The Church of Rome preaches and practices the word of God.”
    Purcell thought that every time Henry Mercado heard the word “God,” he also heard a choir of heavenly angels. He said to Mercado, “You lied to the priest.”
    Mercado replied, “I was as confused as he was and I may have misspoken.”
    “You need to go to confession.”
    Mercado changed the subject. “We may be able to get some information on Father Armano’s military unit from his family. But to be honest with you, the Ministry of War is not going to be cooperative in regard to providing us with maps or logbooks.” He added, “We have been shut down.”
    Purcell agreed. “This is not a productive trip. But it could be good background for our story—though not the one we write for L’Osservatore Romano.”
    Vivian reminded them, “We also came here to inform his family—to tell Anna—of his death and to tell them we were with him at the end.”
    Purcell pointed out, “The Vatican beat us to the death notification.” He added, “And whatever else we tell them might contradict what the Vatican delegation has already told Father Rulli and the family.” He advised, “Keep it short, general, and upbeat.”
    Mercado reminded Vivian, “He was unconscious most of the time.”
    Vivian replied, “Lies just breed more lies.”
    Purcell said, “When in Rome.”
    Their wine and water came with a bill written on a slate board, and Mercado gave the proprietor a fifty-thousand-lire note. He said to his companions, “It’s pay as you go.”
    “We look shady,” Purcell agreed.
    The proprietor made change from his apron and Mercado tookit, explaining, “Overtipping is in poor taste.” He left some coins on the table.
    Mercado raised his glass, “God rest the soul of Father Giuseppe Armano.”
    “San Giuseppe,” said Purcell.
    Mercado pronounced the wine drinkable, then informed them, “Sainthood moves very slowly. We will not see his canonization in our lifetime.”
    “Well, not your lifetime, Henry.”
    Mercado pointed out, “None of us knows how much time we have left here, Frank.” He nodded toward San Anselmo, where men, women, and children, dressed in black, were climbing the steps as the church bells tolled slowly and echoed through the piazza.
    Vivian said, “Let’s go to this burial Mass.”
    Purcell inquired, “Did you know the deceased?”
    “I want to see Father Armano’s church.”
    Purcell and Mercado exchanged glances, then Mercado said, “All right.” He went inside to say
arrivederci
to the proprietor, then came out and informed his companions, “You never leave without saying good-bye.”
    Purcell said, “I’m impressed with your rustic etiquette.”
    Vivian said, “I think I could live in Sicily.”
    Purcell informed her, “Half the Italians in America are Sicilian. They couldn’t live here.”
    “Maybe summers.”
    They walked across the piazza to the church and Vivian draped her scarf over her head as they climbed the steps.
    The church of San Anselmo was big, built, Purcell thought, when more people lived here. The peaked roof showed exposed beams and