Temple of the Grail(17)

My master’s face reddened, and I saw his fists clench in his lap.

‘The order shall soon stink of dog.’

‘Then it shall smell like a most learned dog,’ Andre remarked, ‘for that dog speaks not only Latin, Rainiero, but six other languages, even as he does his mother tongue.’

In my mind I admonished Andre, for it seemed that he was praising Eisik’s accomplishments as a way of justifying their friendship, and I suspected that Eisik may have been right in thinking that he had become prey to culpable sentiments.

‘He is a follower of Maimonides?’ the Dominican raised his brows and narrowed his eyes.

‘I believe so.’

There was a smile, ‘Not only is he a Jewish dog then, an unbeliever, but also a heretic into the bargain!’

‘A heretic in whose eyes? Some would say your order had no place in burning Maimonides’ books. After all, he was not baptised and so not bound by Christian laws.’

‘That may be . . .’ the inquisitor dismissed. ‘However, all books, especially those of the Jews, contain heresies that undermine the very principle of faith! Even the infidel,’ he said with a grin turning up the corners of his mouth, as if to say to my master, ‘I should be very pleased to see your infidel carcass upon a burning dais’, ‘even the infidel,’ he continued, ‘who is the Devil himself, as you no doubt know, preceptor, finds no affection for this animal. Intellectual pride, this is at the root of all evil!’ he said pointing one finger at Eisik. ‘Maimonides rejected the resurrection of the body, and said that we can prove neither eternity nor the creation of the world! Furthermore, he approved the saying that ‘a bastard who is a scholar takes precedence over an ignorant priest’ . . . That he who studies the law, is closer to God, than he who follows it!’

‘He said this, Rainiero, at a time when Jewish priests had become decadent, lazy, and so ignorant of the laws which they enforced. No doubt you understand? However there is much to be said for a priest who does nothing more than what he is told.’

‘Exactly!’ exclaimed the inquisitor, thinking my master had finally come to his senses. ‘Ignorance is a blissful state, preceptor, one obeys what one is told to obey. After all, obedience is the cornerstone of our rule, obedience! Learning, however, is the way to apostasy, the way to wilfulness and the gratification of self.’

There were whispers of acquiescence among the various delegates. The bishop and the others sat back with fraternal indulgence, patting their ample bellies in communal understanding.

‘And yet,’ continued my master, biting into a hunk of cheese as though he wished it were the inquisitor’s neck, ‘should one be forced to accept religion without reason?’

The Bishop of Toulouse frowned and leant over the table, his mouth framed by two huge, wet, lips. ‘But it is the church that decides what is reasonable,’ he waved a hand imperiously, ‘and not the individual, preceptor, that is common and undisputed knowledge!’

There were nods and smiles, their faces aglow with the fire of wine that by now they had all consumed, despite their previous apprehensions.

‘Then, your grace,’ my master said, his dark, Arabic face filled with the thrill of restrained battle-anger, for his eyes shone a brilliant metallic green, ‘I see how the church must be burdened.’

‘Burdened . . . yes . . .’ the Friar de Narbonne answered, in somnolent vacuity, and then frowning, as though suddenly confused, he asked, ‘by what in particular, preceptor?’

‘Why, burdened by a deep contradiction friar, namely, that the Roman church has come to rely so heavily on those learned men whom it despises, and on whose wisdom rests an entire body of theological material that has become the foundation of its own philosophy.’ Satisfied, he bit into a dumpling, and waited for a reply.

‘Why should this concern the church, preceptor?’ asked the bishop, shrugging his fat shoulders, lacking a little, if I may say, in what the Greeks call intellect.

‘Perhaps it should not concern the church at all. After all, the world is ruled by contradiction, nature itself is the greatest paradox . . . and yet,’ my master paused, and I saw the churchmen move forward a little in their seats, ‘it bears consideration. There may come a time when the canon lawyers and theologians disagree with the pope. One can only then imagine the dreadful circumstance, my brothers . . . Shall we have a pontiff whose weakness is ruled by the wisdom of earthly men, and not by the wisdom of God? Or shall we have a pope who ignores the wisdom of his theologians because he is ignorant?’ My master then quoted Plato in Greek, saying, ‘What is just or right means nothing, but what is in the interest of the stronger party.’