I lowered my eyes. How could he read me so well?
‘At the time, Christian, I was asking the ‘first question’ . . .’
‘So what was the answer?’
‘I did not say that I answered my question, I resolved to let the nature of things speak their truth to me, even if at first I denied an absolute truth.’
‘But why would you want to deny an absolute truth?’ I asked, because such an idea seemed ludicrous.
‘Because there are no absolute truths, except the existence of God, and because sometimes a man must begin with doubt, in order to end in certainty.’
‘Oh,’ I said, no further enlightened.
‘In any case, as Hippocrates tells us, observation holds the key to success in all such cases, and so observe we shall, and reserve our judgements. By the son of Apollo, boy, what has got into you today? You are taxing my mind! Now I have forgotten what we were doing!’ He picked up the papers, and holding them in his hand, uttered his thoughts aloud. ‘Some device, some key, redirects the body of water, and I believe that was the sound we heard, the loud sound in the last chamber. Someone diverted the water flow in preparation for entering the tunnels and that is why we heard footsteps coming from the direction of the church . . . Perhaps the same monk we caught the other night sneaking behind the curtains?’ my master said pensively. ‘Where would the clue be? Where to place a formula? Somewhere you would readily see it. If I was about to play this instrument . . .’ He sat down on a stool before the complicated conglomeration of pipes, keys, and knobs. ‘I would need to simply see it . . .’
This could take forever, I thought dismally, yawning so hard that I almost displaced my jaw.
‘Look here, boy, for your eyes are better than mine, to the spot where these papers reside. What does this say?’ He pointed to an engraving on the wooden surface, barely distinguishable in the dim light. It read in Latin, Cantus Pastoralis – the shepherds’ songs – and beneath a set of Roman numerals.
CL: IV
CIII: XIX
CXLII: IV
CXLIII: VI
XC: XII
CXLIV: IX
CVII: XXXIII
That was when the bell rang for matins, rhythmic and peaceful. I noted down the numerals on the back of my map and replaced it hastily within the folds of my habit. Soon there was the sound of many footsteps coming down the night stairs, and the long procession of monks made their way, cowls drawn, into the church.
We took our place in the darkened stalls before anyone could see that we had been inspecting the organ. Brother Sacar intoned Domine labia mea aperies, and we replied et os meum annuntiabit laudem tuam. My master noticed Brother Daniel missing from his place beside Brother Setubar in the choir and whispered in my ear that I should expect the worst. Later, when the reader announced that the homily would be lectio sancti evangelii secundum Mattheum xxi, and began the words in illo tempore, and there was still no Brother Daniel, we saw the abbot call a monk to his side, and after some anxious whispers the brother hastily left by way of the south ambulatory.
After the prescribed lessons we did not sing the Te deum because of the proximity of Easter when songs of jubilation are not appropriate. Instead we prepared to intone the previous responsory by replacing our cowls and standing. My master and I, noting that all the others had their cowls drawn and could not observe us, glanced in the direction of the organist, Anselmo, as he prepared to play the instrument. He sat down and placed his hands over the keys but we could see nothing else because of the angle of our seating.
I heard my master utter some terrible thing under his breath and I sang a little louder so as to disguise his indiscretion, ‘Domine Deus auxiliator’, praying not only that my master might be wrong about Brother Daniel, but also asking God to release me from the bonds of all my doubts and anxieties when, at that moment, the monk entered the church, his face struck with terror.
He made his way to the abbot who calmed him with a gesture, but on hearing what the man whispered in his ear, his face, too, became very pale, and he rose, rushing out of the church.
The singing stopped abruptly, and my master pulled me to my feet, but by now others had done the same, and we found ourselves pushing our way through a group that seemed on the verge of hysteria.
On our way up the night stairs Andre pushed me past many monks until we were beside Brother Macabus, and asked him if he knew what had happened.
‘Brother Daniel of Carcassonne,’ he whispered loudly as we neared the last step, and the landing, ‘dead!’
My master shook his head. I felt my stomach tighten into a knot.
We were at once in a darkened hallway, dotted with apertures leading to small individual cells. Arriving at an open door, we followed the librarian, the inquisitor, and the abbot, leaving the others, including the members of the legation, outside.