‘Only a heretic would be so well acquainted with Apocryphal writings!’ he cried sharply, showing all how well he knew them, ‘but should we honour sorcerers and whore-mongers, and murderers, and idolaters? Should we venerate whosoever loveth and maketh a lie? I say no! For I have further proof that you have been dabbling in the pot of Mammon!’ He produced from the folds of his habit a small jar. ‘You see what one finds when one searches the infirmary of an infidel? One finds jars on which strange Arabic, and therefore diabolical, letters have been inscribed.’
‘This was given to the abbey many years ago by a brother who had just returned from the East where he came upon this most wonderful cure for ulcerations,’ Asa explained.
‘The benefits of this infernal medicine are not my concern! It is better for a devout man to die than to be healed through the labours of the sons of mischief. And this!’ He held up the strange instrument that Asa had used a short time ago on the young Trencavel to measure his fever. ‘This is the tool of Satan.’
All faces were aghast. Many nodded their heads, perhaps because it was easier to believe the inquisitor and escape his justice than to remain loyal to a man who was already burnt flesh.
‘It is becoming clear now that we are not dealing with a simple physician who works through orthodox prayer, using his simple hands to care for the infirm. NO! Answer me, oh, irreverent villain! Did you, or did you not, supply the herb by which three good men were killed at the hands of the cook?’
The man was silent. Oh dear reader, what a terrible silence it was! A sign of guilt?
‘Perhaps . . .’ Asa answered. ‘There are many instances in which herbs and compounds of various kinds are used in a monastery . . . I could have given it to him unwittingly.
‘Nothing done by the followers of Satan is done unwittingly, but willingly and gladly! Now answer me, do you or do you not conduct heretical practices on patients whose simple souls you seek to put to fiendish use?’ he shouted, moving off the dais and onto the floor.
‘I heal the sick when it is possible to do so, that is my job.’
‘And you will tell us that your conduct has been authorised, nay, condoned by your abbot and master?’
Now Asa looked visibly unsure, oppressed by the weight of a thousand divergent thoughts.
‘Answer me, by God!’
‘I alone am responsible for the infirmary.’
‘That is not what I asked you!’
He looked to the abbot, who, on his elevated seat, gave his monk a stern look.
‘I am a physician!’
‘Answer me!’
Asa was defiantly silent. The inquisitor’s eyes narrowed and he moved around the infirmarian as does a cat, about to pounce on a mouse. ‘If you do not answer me, I shall have to resort to measures which are odious and do no less than revolt the soul of the most hardened man. For the law is clear, God’s justice must prevail, as it has since the beginning of time.’ He raised one hand. ‘Show this devil the instruments by which the truth shall be extracted and then take him to a place of confinement. Let his arms and legs be bound with irons. Let guilt ferment in his soul, for a time let him reflect on the evil which he has perpetrated. By degrees, for we will not be inspired by haste, we shall see how long his lips remain sealed!’
‘I invoke the bier right! Jus feretri, jus cruentationis! ‘ Asa cried and the congregation was startled, the abbot stood as did my master and the other members of the legation.
Rainiero gestured to his archers. ‘Bring in the body and we shall see it if bleeds at the touch of the murderer!’ and the men responded immediately.
There was confusion. I did not know what a ‘bier right’ was, or what it meant to ‘bleed at the touch of the murderer’ and I wished more than ever that I had my master at my side to enlighten me.
Moments later three men carried in the body of the dead Brother Daniel, blue and lifeless, his head now black with congealed blood. Around me monks were praying, holding up their crucifixes as the archers set the body down rather carelessly and stood aside. The inquisitor moved forward and began the prayer:
‘Oh God, just judge, firm and patient, who art the author of peace and judgest truly, determine what is right, oh Lord, and make known Thy righteous judgement. We humbly beseech Thee that iniquity may not overcome justice, but that falsehood may be subjected to truth. Let this man come forth and touch the corpse, and if he be the murderer, oh Lord, let the corpse bleed from the nose or the mouth or any wound, so that Thy grace may detect diabolical and human fallacies, to confute the inventions and arguments of the enemy, and to overcome their multiform arts. May the guilty be justly condemned through Thine begotten Son, our Lord Jesus Christ who dwelleth with Thee. Amen.’