‘We pray for peace, venerable master.’
‘Ahhh, peace!’ he nodded and then added, a little astonished, ‘but you are a man of war?’
‘I pray for inner peace from which, one hopes, sprouts the seed of the outer.’
‘Yes, yes, one hopes! If peace be your request none other can intercede on your behalf with as much influence as our lady.’
‘Venerable master, you are a wise and prudent man.’
‘I should be prudent! My life has taught me many things, but we old ones desire most what we need most urgently, and what I need most urgently now are some raisins. My mouth tastes of death. Perhaps I am dying, perhaps I am dead? If only Jupiter would bring back the years. And yet soon . . .’ He was suddenly exceedingly lucid and I marvelled at the convenient frailty of his venerable mind. ‘So you want to know about the tunnels?’ he said. ‘I know this is why you have come.’ He looked around him. ‘He told me not to tell . . . but the world will soon know everything, is that not so?’
‘Who told you not to tell?
He lowered his eyes, like a little child caught stealing sweet cakes. ‘That I cannot say . . .’ Looking around him once more suspiciously, ‘What do you want to know?’
‘The catacombs, are they reached through the tunnels?’
‘That is common knowledge, preceptor. The secret does not lie in where they are reached, but rather how. In any case,’ he narrowed his eyes, ‘what do you want with the catacombs?’
‘The abbot,’ my master said patiently, ‘has asked me to investigate the recent terrible murder.’
The old man looked at my master anxiously. ‘You know then that the evil one works through a monk who has ignored
the interdictum – the prohibition?’
‘You mean someone has entered the tunnels?’
The man nodded, closing his eyes.
‘How do you know, Brother Daniel?’
‘I know because it is the duty of every monk to guard his fellows, to keep them from sin. Had this been observed perhaps much would have been prevented. In any event, the crypts are unsafe . . . a labyrinth of tunnels and channels of water. Anyone going there would never return. Only the Devil could find his way out, that is why this monk must be the Devil himself!’
‘But how does one enter it, brother?’
‘There are many entrances . . .’ he grinned and answered in Virgil’s words, ‘Facilis descensus Averno – that is to say, easy is the way down to the underworld . . . but to retrace one’s steps and to make a way out to the upper air, that is the task, that is the labour. It has only one exit.’
‘Perhaps I should have asked regarding its exit.’
‘But there is the abbot’s prohibition . . .!’
‘I understand but the monastery is endangered, venerable Daniel, by many foes. The inquisitor will make a judgement, perhaps not favourable – more monks may die . . .’
The man fell silent. Indeed, I thought that he had fallen asleep, for he hung his head on his chest and made snoring noises. He then spoke, lifting his eyes to meet my master’s with gravity. ‘I will tell you, only because I fear for those brothers who are innocent, but I will tell you without telling you,’ he said with a sigh, ‘so that I do not sin against the rule. The combinations you must calculate for yourselves. I am old, my mind is weary . . . the signs . . . the time of day . . . it is too difficult . . .’ He pointed to an area to the right of the Virgin, near the exit to the graveyard. ‘There, Procul este, profani! But you must not enter!
Spirits guard the tunnels. They follow the seven letters in number and order, but he who would seek to go against the seven churches . . . he will perish!’ Drawing his cowl, he said, ‘Look for vanity in the one who commits these heinous crimes, this one sin begets all others. You may pray for Brother Samuel, my dearest friend, for Ezekiel too, and also for me if you wish . . . but you must be vigilant.’
‘Thank you, brother, we will use this knowledge wisely.’ My master prepared to leave, but at that very moment Setubar entered the Lady Chapel. It seemed to me that he was following our every move, listening in on our conversations. Such was the feeling he instilled in me when his eyes cast their hot, piercing gaze on us.
‘There you are, dear one, I have been looking for you.’ He removed his cowl. Fixing Daniel with a stern look, he handed the old man something.
Daniel beamed like a little child. ‘Ahh, you remembered.’
‘As always,’ he said benevolently. Turning to my master, he asked, in an amiable way, if we had found the abbey interesting. ‘I have seen you wandering about, asking many questions, observing, as does any good physician.’