Temple of the Grail(75)

Brother Asa answered with a tremor in his voice ‘There is such a thing as you have described . . . Mumia, though it is very rare, and I am afraid I have never seen it, though I believe such a thing to be filled with the forces of destruction. We have not called on such procedures, as you have just now mentioned, your grace.’

‘Your impertinence would astound me, had I not been exposed many times in the past to the fox-like ways of the heretic! You evade my questions thus because you know there are so many diabolical procedures that I, a man who knows little about such things, cannot point to any one method in particular, and so it will go on and on, you will deny them all until I, by chance, name one you have used . . .’

Brother Asa said nothing, and this fuelled the inquisitor’s anger.

‘Do you then swear that you have never learnt anything contrary to the faith which we say and believe to be true through such manuscripts?’

‘Willingly, your grace.’

‘Then do so.’

‘If I am commanded, all I can do is swear.’

‘I do not command you, but if you wish to do so I will listen,’ he said mildly.

‘Why may I swear, your grace, if I am not commanded to?’

‘Why . . .? To remove the suspicions that have been brought against you and your fellow monks that you are heretics, and as such, believe that all swearing of oaths is unlawful and sinful!’

‘I am innocent!’

‘Then you have nothing to lose by swearing,’ the inquisitor’s lips curled in a terrible smile.

‘I swear by the holy gospels that I have never learnt or believed anything contrary to those same gospels.’

‘And does that include what the holy Roman church believes and holds to be orthodox?’

‘Does the Roman church follow the holy precepts and laws as they have been given to us by the great fathers of the church, your grace?’ Asa asked humbly.

‘Of course!’

‘Then inasmuch as they do, I swear.’

‘You writhe like a snake, SWEAR!

‘I swear!’

‘And yet you may well swear a thousand oaths and I will not believe you, as I know heretics are told they may swear any number of times and it means nothing, inasmuch as they do not believe in the swearing of oaths!’

And in this way the interrogation came to an end.

We remained in the chapter house after the procession of solemn-faced monks left. Lingering in the shadows like thieves, we hoped to have a look in the great book of life.

On a lectern facing the abbot’s throne was the large manuscript bound in goatskin over thin wooden boards. Once again, the rose cross adorned the central panel, stitched elaborately over a gilt parchment background.

‘It reminds me of coptic binding, Egyptian,’ my master said to himself.

Inside the book was made of the most exquisite vellum, with the perimeter of each page gilded in finest gold. All matters of importance were recorded in this book in endless rows of dates and names. I did not know what my master was seeking exactly, but he seemed to know because it did not take him long to make some remarkable discoveries. The first was that the commencement of the book was marked with the date 1187. This was interesting, my master said, because it coincided with the fall of Jerusalem. I did not understand the connection between the two, but he was convinced that there had to be more to the grand master’s interest in the abbey. Could it be, he argued, merely that our preceptory held the titles to the land? No, he was sure there were other reasons, and too, he reminded me of the Templar grave we saw in the cemetery. Merely a coincidence?

So we continued looking through the old book searching for any more strange connections with our order that might lead to an elucidation of these things. When we finally arrived at the end, my master closed it and turned to me with a bewildered look.

‘There are four names added only recently,’ he said.

‘How recently, master?’

‘Only ten years ago.’

‘Then they must be novices, but how could they be when there are only two novices?’

‘There are four entries; Amiel, Hugo, Poitevin and I could not make out the other, the lettering is smudged . . . no other details are given. We should expect to see where they were from and their ages and so on . . .’

‘A clerical error?’

‘No. It is not likely. Everything else has been chronicled very precisely. Why omit the origins and ages of four monks? Besides, the names of the only two novices in the monastery are accounted for, Anselmo, and a certain Jerome.’

‘Come to think of it, I have not seen this other oblate.’

‘Very odd . . . it is a mystery,’ he said, I believe annoyed.

We left the chapter house, looking about us a little anxiously, now knowing with a little more certainty that things were not as they appeared, and I was glad when we were out in the common grounds.