Temple of the Grail(129)

Now I understood better my master’s numerous sermons on prudence, and also the inquisitor’s cunning in summoning him to the dais, for if my master was to contest the inquisitor’s decision, he would be judged a protector of heretics, and his past would do little to help him.

‘I heal in the name of our Lord, your grace!’ cried Asa, diverting all attention back to him.

‘Peace, necromancer! I wish to hear no more plausible arguments, I wish only to hear a confession to the crimes that have been committed in this abbey!’

‘How am I to confess, your grace? I have committed no sin.’

‘I see . . . and what of the strange words used over the child? What of those?’

The infirmarian looked in the abbot’s direction, but remained silent.

‘Answer me! What are these words you use to occasion your hellish cures? Perhaps an innocent peasant who has never heard a man command the chiefs of infernal legions would think such words strange! Perhaps an uncorrupted soul may never have heard the names of the fallen angels Armaros, Barakel, Azazel, Batraal, Ananel, Amazarak, Zazel!’

The room became alive with the cries of anguished monks making the sign of the cross and reciting formulas against the evil eye.

‘Are these the captains of hell whom you call on to aid you in your fiendish work?’ he asked.

The infirmarian’s eye was steady as he answered, ‘No.’

‘Please enlighten us . . .’ He took in the entire congregation with his right arm, ‘We are waiting.’

‘We use words of comfort . . . holy words.’

‘Holy words, I see . . .’ he smiled malevolently. ‘Holy words, but to whom are they deemed holy, to God or to the Devil!’

The infirmarian did not answer.

‘Well then,’ the inquisitor resumed, ‘if you will not answer us, we shall have to accept this as a sign of your guilt.’

‘How shall I continue, your grace, for if I say ‘holy’ you ask to whom? If I say ‘good’ you say this good is bad because I say it! It has always been my understanding that holy meant holy and not otherwise!’

‘There are many heresies whose infernal doctrines are considered holy by their adherents! I only wish to know what these strange and magical words are,’ he ended mildly.

The infirmarian changed weight from one foot to another uncomfortably, ‘It is sacred, it cannot be openly discussed. I have taken an oath not to divulge it to anyone, on pain of death,’ he said.

‘So!’ Rainiero smiled, satisfied. ‘You are prepared to face death, rather than divulge your Catharan practices! You forget that I was once one of you. I know one gives the consolamentum just prior to death, this no doubt you gave the child, thinking it was going to die . . . but it lived! And alas you have been discovered. We need no further mention of these unlawful secrets for fear of staining our souls with their depravity, for it is enough that you will not divulge them. That is sufficient testament to your guilt!’ he thundered. It was at that moment that my master interjected.

‘Rainiero, I am ignorant in these matters and so I pray you will indulge me; I fail to see that there is much that associates the infirmarian, or indeed the cook, with the crimes of which they have been accused. There is no poison, no weapon, and as far as accusations are concerned, in many instances, as you know, they are falsely given. Heretics have been known to come forward and accuse pious men of heresy in order to confound the inquisition.’

The inquisitor turned his countenance in my master’s direction, a benevolent, patient smile on his angular features. ‘Firstly, brother Templar,’ he said very slowly, ‘we have heard that the cook has a history of heresy, we have heard that his soul became the seed bed of sin when he conspired with those whose intentions were to overthrow the church and the pope in favour of the emperor, by killing bishops and priests and defiling churches, and destroying the holy vessels! If this sin weren’t enough, we then hear how he bathed this abbey with the blood of three men! This he freely confesses!’

On this point my master could not argue further and he sat down. Rainiero, satisfied that he had won, continued, ‘Furthermore, it becomes obvious from his intimations that the infirmarian has aided him in this crime by supplying him with the poisoned herb! It is my belief that there is ample proof! Sorcerers often disguise themselves in the garb of physicians,’ he glanced at my master significantly, ‘because they can command the forces of evil without incurring suspicion! Because with their infernal cures they hope to secure the souls of their patients!’

‘And yet, your grace,’ Asa responded, ‘we are told that a physician should be honoured for his works . . .’