Temple of the Grail(32)

‘But have you considered that I might, in the course of my investigations, uncover something that is in any case doubtful?’

‘That has occurred to me, and I admit that under other circumstances I would not desire such an intrusion. But with the inquisitor’s presence in our midst we are faced with difficult decisions. After all, we are brothers . . .’

‘We are all brothers since the fall of Adam, your grace, but I must point out that nothing can influence the course of justice.’

‘No, indeed it should not,’ the abbot agreed, ‘but a matter can be handled delicately or indelicately, preceptor.’

We followed the abbot in uneasy silence, meditating on his last words. He led us to the highest point of the compound, near the graveyard. From this vantage one could see over the walls to the mountains that rolled eastward whose form could be seen faintly. We stood gazing out and for a brief moment the clouds above us parted, and through them a shaft of light descended over the abbey in a mystic blessing. For the first time since our arrival I saw the rugged mountains that towered above and beyond in majestic peaks and chasms. Undulating northward, they touched the sky’s vast canvas only a little where clouds, suddenly arrested by the unearthly stillness, reached down from the heavens to caress mortality.

‘From this great height,’ the abbot said, ‘one observes creation as a whole in all its generalities, raised above petty particulars to witness the boundless. Sometimes it is best to see things from a distance, to look at the whole rather than the part, the universal rather than the singular. We must look beyond ourselves and what we don’t understand, preceptor, in order to see things clearly.’

‘Sometimes that is so,’ my master answered.

The sun disappeared then, behind the clouds, casting a gloom over us like a delicate shroud, and once again we were broaching dangerous things.

‘You and I, preceptor, have much in common, united by the divine light of St Bernard. That is why I come to you now. Not because I wish to distort the course of God’s heavenly justice (His authority will prevail despite our human machinations), but because there is much in the balance . . . You must not misunderstand me. Like you, I believe that to die in God’s name is perhaps the most glorified sacrifice, and if there is suffering all the more so! But it is not death that I fear, preceptor . . . because as Ecclesiastes tells us, we must praise the dead who are already dead more than the living who are yet alive. What I fear, I cannot tell you. Such words my mouth dare not utter. I request that you seek what must be sought, before even greater catastrophes befall us.’

‘Perhaps there is something else that impels you to seek my service in this desperate manner?’ My master paused a moment. ‘Perhaps this is not the first death under similar circumstances?’

Suddenly the abbot was robbed of the composure suitable to a man of his station. ‘Who told you?’

‘Why, you have told me yourself,’ my master said calmly to the measure of the other man’s distress.

‘Do not play games with me, brother!’

‘I do not mean to be impertinent, your grace, however yesterday you were clearly reserved when I asked if I could question the monks and inspect the abbey, and yet today you are most anxious that I do that very thing. In the first instance you behaved like a man who wished to hide something, in the second, like a man who knows there is no hope that it will not be discovered. My conclusions are only logical.’

There was an uneasy silence.

‘But how could you know?’

‘It is simple. You see, I noticed the fresh grave in the cemetery from my cell window the day of our arrival. Later I saw that, inscribed on the small cross above it, was the name Samuel. When I mentioned it to Brother Ezekiel, he was very fearful, saying the words ‘The Devil will kill us all’. Your reaction, abbot, merely served to seal my hypothesis.’ My master cleared his throat. ‘In light of this I assume that you will give me permission to access the tunnels?’

‘Tunnels?’ The abbot was like a vessel assailed by one great wave after another.

‘The tunnels below the abbey, your grace .’

‘The catacombs beneath the church are not to be approached. The tunnels that lead to them are very old and perilous and I have forbidden their use.’

‘I see.’

‘No, I don’t think that you do. As abbot of this monastery I absolutely forbid you to enter upon this subject again.’ His feathers truly ruffled, he tried to regain his composure by smoothing his grey habit over his ample belly. ‘In any case,’ he continued in a moderate tone, ‘the combinations have been forgotten, and so it is for the best. Let the bones of the dead lie unmolested, they can do nothing to help you in your search.’