Temple of the Grail(30)

‘You are monks?’

He did not answer.

‘But you are very far from Paris!’ I exclaimed. ‘Is there a Dominican house in these parts? And what of your habits?

Once more he did not answer me exactly, ‘Yes, we are a long way from Paris, we have travelled on foot for many days, as did our beloved and sainted founder, called by a spirit voice. We needed no directions, no maps, we simply followed our hearts and the spirit has guided our sinful souls to this very place. Is it not wondrous? And since our arrival, I have had one dream that lasts even as the daystar rises in the sky!’ he looked at me in awe. ‘Even now I am within this dream, as you are within this hut. I see him . . . In this dream he leads me to the waters . . . Sometimes he is an eagle, sometimes he is a man. He says that he will lead me to the Temple, and there I will gain the knowledge that will allow me to proceed with my life’s work, to reconcile Aristotle and Christianity.’ He noted the interest in my eyes. ‘You have heard of the Greek philosophers?’

‘I thought everyone knew about them?’ I answered truthfully.

The man smiled, ‘They will . . . they will. Now I must write my Summa, and yet it is not always possible to say what one must say, you know . . . There is so much to do, and so many forces working contrary to the purposes of God! And yet here, I can be one with the eternal light that rules the world, and I can dream of a time when the minds of men will not be clouded by fear, a time when the mind will be free . . .’ After saying these things Thomas became quite dull, as though he had lost his faculties.

Reginald moved closer, whispering to me, ‘He has been this way since we arrived some days ago . . . He is in the throes of an ecstatic vision!’ he beamed with deep admiration. ‘On his face one sees sadness alternate with joy (there are moments in which his despair appears to be very deep, and other times he becomes joyful like a little child). He has passed these last days without eating or drinking and I must confess to having despaired that he was suffering from some terrible illness of the mind, for his estimative virtues have been disrupted; he cannot remember the day or the hour, at times he does not even recognise the face of his friend. And yet in moments of lucidity he assures me that he is quite well, and that he will soon return from the worlds which he frequents. Here there is peace for his work,’ he affirmed.

I was astonished. This man Thomas, whose face was now filled with a saintly fire, had travelled here to find peace? I wondered what he would think if he knew of the events occurring behind the great gates.

‘The brother needs to rest, you must leave.’ Reginald stood.

Feeling very perplexed, I emerged from the hut, and almost immediately I heard the bell toll matins.

‘Christian de Saint Armand,’ a voice called out after me, ‘life takes us on many divergent paths, and yet we shall meet one more time! Not in the flesh, but in the sun, man’s home, homo hominem generat et sol! In the sun . . .’

I awoke as I have said, to the sound of the bells, still in my pallet. I had dreamed that I had dreamt.





6


Capitulum


After Lauds

The sun had only risen a half-hour before, and as we walked the cloisters in quiet meditation, we could see only a little sky that, through the arches, echoed its brilliance.

One had to appreciate these moments of rare stillness and beauty, for I was learning that at this altitude the climate was never constant or predictable, but in perpetual transformation. Even now one could see clouds chasing away the indigo blue, stirred by a high impetuous wind that signalled a storm.

My master sniffed the air pensively. We had so much to contemplate. Aside from the strange dream that I had not the occasion to mention, there were other considerations. The more we examined the unsettling course of events since our arrival, the more confounding they became. Not only because we were witness to the untimely death of a poor monk, but also because the rose cross, for instance, and the black Madonna in the church, signalled that this was indeed no ordinary abbey.

We walked, observing the monks engaged in various contemplative pursuits. How could they seem so untouched by events? Like the seasons, that irrespective of human vicissitudes continue to grace the earth with regularity, bringing order to chaos. I wondered what they thought of us. What else could they think of us, I answered myself, but that we were the messengers of their misfortune? I shuddered a little from the cold. Soon they would prepare to leave for the dormitories, to change into day shoes before a wash in the lavatory. And we, too, observing their custom, but for now we continued in silence, respecting the rule, until finally the bell rang and we were alone.