Temple of the Grail(71)

14


Capitulum


Between Terce and Sext

Monks were already filing into the great rectangular room as we arrived. The scribes, assistants, judges, and armed men of the papal commission, sat on wooden benches flanking both sides of the dais, on which stood a great oak table. Here sat the senior officials and the inquisitor. The abbot was seated on a raised chair of red mahogany, carved in the most elaborate manner, at right angles to the table on the right side of the room. Next to him was his sacristan, with the rest of the obidientiaries dispersed on the benches along the walls.

We found a place among the general population of monks, facing the abbot and his men, so as to better observe both the defendants and the inquisitor. It was time, the inquiry was about to start.

I watched the inquisitor closely, noticing how his entire manner radiated certainty. Was he so pure that he should think himself worthy to judge and to condemn others? As he adjusted the papers on the table, a look of satisfaction mingled with profound gravity on his face, communicating the conscious dignity afforded him by power and position. On our way into the inquiry I had asked my master how an inquisitor knew that he was right in his judgement. He told me that it was not an inquisitor’s place to be right, only to be sure of the error of others. He told me that many times an inquisitor is not guided by the noble sense of truth that you or I might think is the epitome of justice, as much as he is guided by the usefulness of a lie.

As I sat in the chapter house I resolved to think no more, and to listen intently, not only out of a desire to record these events faithfully and with clarity, but also because I was curious to see if my master was correct in his assumption.

Suddenly there was a hush. Rainiero Sacconi, towering in black, a graven image of austerity, looked down upon us all from his great height. After a long moment, he spoke firstly about his duty and that of the judges to seek the truth; about the forces of good which must always overcome the forces of evil, explaining that the following proceedings were to remain an investigation until such time as evidence of guilt could be established. He pronounced the opening formulas, but not before saying that, besides the accusations of heresy which he intimated to be many and varied, the monastery was tainted with other crimes. One brother was at that moment awaiting burial, and the evil one roamed about the abbey. No one, he cried, was safe until those responsible were apprehended! As his first witness he would call the Abbot Bendipur to answer the accusations levelled against him and his order of monks, for whom he was responsible.

The abbot sat erect. His eyes I could see never once moved from those of the inquisitor, who, with a theatrical flourish, produced a parchment from which he began to read out the accusations:

‘Let it be known that monks of the monastery of St Lazarus, of the order of Cistercians, stand this day in the year of our Lord 1254, accused of . . .’ he held the document close to his face, ‘healing the sick by methods other than those authorised by the church or ecclesiastical authority: that is by the use of magic Cabbala or by other devilish means perhaps not known to this inquiry. Harbouring heretical tendencies and conducting rituals that have been deemed heresy by the Lateran councils. Harbouring and aiding Cathar heretics to escape God’s justice during the Albigensian crusades and, as such, defending them and their cause. Tainting their own souls with their heresy. Indulging in necromancy, astrology, alchemy, and other infernal practices which are too varied and multiform to name.’ He paused, and gave the abbot a hard look, a look that conveyed much, and served to increase the tension in the chapter house if that were possible. The abbot returned the stare though, one must say, being careful to convey an air of trust and humility. These are my sheep, his eyes said, I am the faithful dog, and you are my shepherd.

The inquisitor told the judges of the tribunal that they would now proceed with the hearing. There was another pregnant pause whilst he shuffled more documents, and a moment later he started to question the abbot in a friendly tone.

‘Abbot Bendipur, please enlighten this hearing with an account of the practice of healing conducted by the monks of this monastery.’ As though he had forgotten this vital warning he continued, ‘We trust that you are aware that this council is a council of God on earth, and that all you say will stand as testimony in the eyes of His judges also, therefore I need not remind you of the necessity for absolute honesty. You must tell this court all it needs to know, and further, even that which you may not consider important.’

‘I am your willing witness,’ Abbot Bendipur answered calmly.

There was a smile, ‘Please tell us a little about your order, the faith it holds, and your personal beliefs and, if necessary, I shall require you to swear.’