Ambassador. (walks past to the Papal Throne, humming to his grandson)
(bows) Your Holiness. (he is forced to wait longer than usual, as the Pope walks slowly in a rocking motion to keep the baby calm)
There we go! that's nice, isn't it? (sits down with the baby held to his chest) So, how can we be of assistance?
(stands up, rather loudly) The whereabouts of Alf-
(gestures for him to keep his voice down) Shhhh! Pion isimo!
(more quietly) Alfonso of Naples is still at large. (the Pope pretends to look surprised) We have reason to believe that he infected his own city with the pestilence that plagues it.
Oh- but how could that concern us? We would have the Ambassador gently remind the King, that Naples has the habit of rejecting those who would conquer it. (the baby begins to fuss) The Moor, the Turk, the Norman- shhhh (quiets the child) Why should the French be any different?
But, Your Holiness invested King Charles with-
SHHHH! Pion isimo! (to the baby) It's all right, darling, it's all right. (to the Ambassador. sharply) We granted the King his wish- Naples. He has Naples; he regrets that fact. That is his tragedy, and not ours! (the baby starts to fuss again) And now you've woken the child; shame on you, Ambassador! (walks past him, to the baby) Shh-shh-shh, it's all right, it's just the nasty Ambassador. Let's go and find your mama.
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