"Prelude to the Vatican Affair" for the Picfic Tuesday challenge

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Couldn’t resist going this route. This is a snippet from a work in progress (adapted to fit the PicFic of course) and is part of a longer story Hopefully I’ll be finishing it soon.

The prompt:

Napoleon and Illya were finally winging their way to Rome, coach of course. Posing as members of the Catholic priesthood who had taken vows of poverty fell right in line with the austere travel arrangements of U.N.C.L.E. so not enjoying first class travel was standard bill of fare for them.

Being dressed as priests had its pluses and minuses; for Illya it was about being left alone as no one seemed to want to bother a member of the clergy, for Napoleon...well, it was another matter being cut off from his ability to flirt and arrange dates with the lovely ladies on board the plane.

The American smiled at a pretty brunette stewardess as she walked down the aisle offering magazines, that was until Illya sharply elbowed him in the ribs.

“Ow, that hurt. What’d you do that for?”

“You were flirting, remember you are a priest who has taken a vow of celibacy,” Illya practically hissed at him.

“Hey, I can’t help it, I go on automatic when I see a pretty girl,” Napoleon shrugged.

“Well if you are not careful, you will blow our cover even before we make it to Rome. So rein it in if you please?”

“Well can I at least have a drink? I don’t think priests have to take the pledge.”

Illya peered over the top of his magazine, flashing his best frigid look.

“Hello fathers,” greeted the other stewardess, a blonde this time, looking quite attractive in her crisp blue uniform pencil skirt, white blouse and short matching blue jacket.

“What can I get you to drink?”

“Tea,” Illya spoke up first,”If you have some seedless raspberry jam to sweeten it, that would be most wonderful,” the sound of his voice had changed, and Solo knew the Russian was immersing himself in his role.

“I recognize that accent father, you’re Polish aren’t you?”

“Yes my child, is it that obvious?”

“Moja babcia była Polska. My grandmother was Polish,” she repeated in English for the other priest’s sake...he didn’t look like he’d understand.

“Gdzie w Polsce?” Illya asked.

“Oh she was from Warsaw but got out just as the war...well you know. The rest of her family died, it was terrible.”

“As did mine,” Illya bowed his head; for once he wasn’t lying as part of his cover. He looked up at her and made the sign of the cross with his right hand, blessing her.

“Błogosławię was moje dziecko.”

“Thank you Father.”

She turned her attention to Napoleon.”Oh I’m sorry Father, I wasn’t ignoring you...what would you like to drink?”

Napoleon smiled at her, suddenly putting on a bit of an Irish accent.

“Coffee would be grand but I wouldn’t suppose you could put a wee bit of whisky in it, could you now?” He asked her so innocently.

“Oh sounds like you want Irish coffee,”she winked. “I think we could manage that for you.”

She disappeared down the aisle towards the galley.

“Laying it on a bit thick. Since when did you get so good at playing a priest?” Napoleon whispered.

“I watched the movies ‘Going my way’ and the ‘Bells of St.Mary’s’ last night in our conference room. Section IV had the films on file,”Illya answered without batting an eye.

Napoleon found that quite amusing. “You better not start crooning like der Bingle.”

“Der Bingle? What is that?”

“Not what, who. It’s a nickname for Bing Crosby.”

Illya shrugged his indifference. “By the way, your accent sounded more Scottish than Irish and seeing as how your cover name is for a priest of Italian ancestry, I suggest you be a bit more careful my friend,” he chided.

“You know you can be a pain in the ass sometimes,”Solo whispered out of the side of his mouth.

“Father Cesare, please your language,”Illya snickered.

“Fine, going forward I’ll be more careful, Scouts honor tovar...Father Kumiega. By the way, what’s your first name, I don’t recall you telling me?”

“I kept my own name, just the spelling changes to Ilia.”

“Good then I won’t slip up.”

“Tell me you did not keep Napoleon?” Illya’s eyes went wide at the thought.

“Very funny. No my first name is Nero.”

“Oh classic, Nero Cesare.”Illya rolled his eyes.

“I think it has panache, but you can call me Antony since that’s my middle name,” Napoleon whispered as the stewardess brought their coffee and tea.

“Fathers I assumed you’ll be having the fish for dinner?” The stewardess smiled at them.

Both men suddenly drew a blank.

“It’ll be supper time just as we cross the international date line, and Friday,” she laughed.

“Oh yes right,” Napoleon recovered first.”I forgot about the date line. You must forgive us, we are both heading to Rome for the conclave as we are assistants to two of the Cardinals. It was such a shock, the loss of his Holiness the Pope and now we must rush to get to the Holy City in time.”

“Oh my goodness! I know it’s so sad the passing of Pope John.”

“Yes it is my child, yet still there is great hope and excitement in the election of the new Pope who will carry the church forward.” Napoleon did all he could to keep from flirting, but wow...her eyes were gorgeous.

Still he knew he needed to keep his mind on the assignment. THRUSH was planning to take over the papacy, and have one of their own named Pope, the trouble was they didn’t know who that man was. It was Solo and Kuryakin’s job to find out and prevent his election.

Solo and Kuryakin’s flight landed without incident at Fiumicino Airport in Rome. They had only small carry on valises as they were dressed in flowing black cassocks, and had little else to wear.

Their assignment was going to be a tricky one as they were there to find who was the T.H.R.U.S.H. infiltrator in the College of Cardinals at the Vatican. Waverly’s friend in New York, Cardinal Spelling, had alerted him to his suspicions that a nefarious party was attempting to be elected Pope.

Pope John XXIII had died on June 23rd at the age of 81 and the Cardinals from around the world were winging their way to Rome for the secretive election process for the new leader of the Catholic church.

Both agents would be admitted to the inner sanctum that was the Sistine Chapel, as each Cardinal was permitted up to two conclavist assistants to be present...of course they were sworn to secrecy as well.

Once the Camerlengo, closed the doors to the Sistine Chapel and locked the chains in place with two lead seals, everyone would be confined there, including the agents.

Napoleon would be the assistant to Cardinal Spellman, from New York, and Illya was now the assistant to Cardinal Stefan Wyszynski of Poland. He was a friend to the New York Cardinal and was aware of his concerns.

The flight to Rome had been uneventfully long for Solo as being disguised as a priest left him unable to be his usual flirtatious self with the stewardesses and female passengers, that and Illya’s elbow as a reminder to curb his enthusiasm.

Though the two cardinals were expecting the UNCLE agents, no special transportation arrangements had been made and Napoleon and Illya found themselves hunting down a taxi at the airport.

They weren’t having much luck as Rome was being inundated with travelers both religious and well as reporters from myriads of news agencies. They were all heading to fill St. Peter’s Square; it was there the election process of a new Pope was viewed. That consisted of the color of smoke emanating from a simple chimney.

A sea of people had already filled Via Della Conciliazione boulevard about half a mile away from the facade of St. Peter's Basilica at the Vatican where they would await the arrival of the lines of cardinals and watch as they would make their way to the the Sistine Chapel, and there they would cast their votes for the next Pope.

The boulevard and St. Peter’s Square had been filled only days before for the the body of the late Pontiff as it was carried across the square into the Basilica for public viewing.  John XXIII, who reigned from 1958 to 1963, was known as the Good Pope because of his benevolent and jovial nature. He made ecclesiastical history by convening the Second Vatican Council which brought the Catholic Church up to date with modern times.

With thousands of mourners outside hoping for a glimpse of the body, twelve pallbearers flanked by Swiss Guards carried the late pontiff's body on a crimson platform from the Sala Clementina, where it had lain in state since the previous day.

An official mourning period of nine days, called the Novendiales, had begun when the Pope died. The day of his death was counted as the first day and on each of these nine days the Mass said by each Cardinal was a funeral rite for the Pope.

Prior to his burial, and following private rites in the Sistine Chapel, the Pope was laid in state in St. Peter's Basilica, permitting the faithful to pay their respects. Between the fourth and sixth day after his death which was the 5th, 6th or 7th day of the mourning period, a Solemn Funeral was celebrated in the Basilica by the Dean of the College of Cardinals, with the other Cardinals.

The Pope was buried in the crypt beneath St. Peter's. The mourning period then continued until the nine days were completed.

The days after the funeral and before the Conclave began offered the cardinals an opportunity to discuss the state of the Church. They were not do so in a manner which constituted politicking or electioneering for office or for votes.

Luckily the U.N.C.L.E. agents would be staying at the Vatican since here in Rome as Napoleon put it, ’there was no room at the inn.’

They decided to hoof it and started walking, eventually a farmer with a lorry full of noisy pigs being taken to market picked them up and got them as close to the city as possible.

They said nothing to the driver about being privy to the election of the new Pope, and the conversation was limited to the passing of the former Pontiff, and the cost of feeding pigs, the raising of pigs, getting them onto the truck, among other things.

“Bless you,” When their ride ended Napoleon made the sign of the cross, as did the driver.

Once dropped off, again the agents needed to walk to the Vatican, and along the way Napoleon made sure he wore his capello romano, a brimmed hat generally worn by Italian priests.

Illya wore nothing on his head, letting his blond hair blow in the sunny breeze. Periodically he would tug at his collar as it wasn’t comfortable like his black turtleneck.

Solo was bringing up the rear, following his partner but his pace slowed as one beautiful olive-skinned signoria after another strolled past him.

The last one he couldn’t help himself and his head swiveled as he grinned at a dark haired girl wearing flowing red dress and high heels. He started to turn, having gone on automatic pursuit.

“Father!” Illya called. Getting no reaction, he tried again even louder. “FATHER CESARE!”

That got Solo’s attention and he spun around, catching up to his partner.

“Will you please stop ogling the women Napoleon?” Illya hissed. “You will blow your cover, and of course mine.”

“I couldn’t help myself. Did you see those gams?” Solo whispered.

“Gams, what are gams? Please do not tell me it is yet another crude term for a woman’s breasts?”

“No,” Napoleon flashed him the look. It was a unique combination of pursed lips, a crinkled nose and narrowed eyes.

“Gams, my dear Father Kumiega, is a word reminiscent  of the noir crime novels and films of the 1930s and 40s and the hardboiled patois of Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammett among others. In this sense however, it is actually considerably older, dating back to at least the late 18th century.  The word began as underworld slang, originally referred to the leg. Possibly a more straightforward origin simply traces it to the Italian word gamba, which as you know means leg.”

Kuryakin, known for his linguistic prowess was impressed, so much so that he was left speechless...for once.

“What no snide remark?”

“No.” Kuryakin’s eyebrows raised.

“Good, now let’s get going.” Napoleon tucked his red prayer book under his arm and took the lead now. He strode down the sidewalk wearing a smirk, quite pleased that he’d impressed his partner into silence.

Illya was now bringing up the rear; better he to do that and keep Napoleon from going astray...again.

Comments

[susanpr.livejournal.com]

Love your snippet. Perfect for the prompt, and I can picture Napoleon's struggles with playing a priest. I hope the rest of the story is done soon. It looks like it will be really good, going by this piece.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much! The main story is about 50 % done. I still need to finish my crossover story for Uncle du Jour...that story is a very very long one.

Oh PS I posted an Illya series story on FF.net called Privileged Information... "D

[threecee.livejournal.com]

Please do write the rest of this story, it has me eager for more.

Poor Napoleon playing a priest. The only role that would be worse for him would be pretending to be a eunuch harem guard.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

OMG a eunuch as a harem guard. THAT is a story that's begging to be written. I'll do my best to finish this story as quickly as possible. It's around 50 % done.

Thank you so much! :D

[garonne.livejournal.com]

Looking forward to the rest of this!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thanks so much. Am trying to get it done very soon. Still have to finish and polish my crossover story for Uncle du Jour! Yikes!

[pfrye.livejournal.com]

Oooh, looking forward to reading the full story. Very interesting.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you! It's a WIP and I don't want to post it until it's done. This is just a snippet, and the story itself is requiring a bit of research to say the least, as I'm endeavoring to be as historically accurate as possible. Luckily, growing up Catholic I do know some bits already as I went to Parochial school in kindergarten, grade school and high school. "D

[ssclassof56.livejournal.com]

Yes. Just my thoughts when I saw the pic: Napoleon's breaking his cover. :) Very entertaining and well researched.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you! Lots more to come in this story, hopefully sooner than later!

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

I'm very much looking forward to the rest of this. The snippet is so tantalizing. Poor Napoleon. A priest was never going to be an easy disguise for him, LOL.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I had Napoleon disguised as a Bishop and Illya as a priest in my AU story, The East Berlin Affair. Though their roles as clergymen was simple and not as involved as it will be with this story.

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

Napoleon can't help but ogle the girls and Illya can't seem to stop him. Can't wait to read the entire story!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

At least Illya cuts him off at the pass this time. This one is still a WIP with a lot of research but first I need to finish my Crossover story which is looking to be at least 20k word count. Holy Cow!

Thanks for reading and commenting. I will endeavor to finish this one asap.