‘That might explain Ezekiel’s last words, and the cook’s delirium . . . atropa belladonna!’ He walked over to a shelf denominated Ars Ignis, still mumbling to himself, and came upon another discovery. ‘Look here! Several volumes devoted to musical subjects; Al-Kindi, al-Farabi, Avicenna, and others! A treatise, Ars cantus mensurabilis by Franco of Cologne, laying down a system for indicating the duration of musical notes. He opened another book and I heard him say with veneration. ‘Ah . . . Guido of Arezzo . . . here . . .’ he pointed to a passage, ‘he names the first seven notes of a musical scale by taking the first syllables of each half-line of a hymn to John the Baptist. Ut queant laxis, Resonare fibris, Mira gestorum, Famuli tuorum, Solve polluti, Labii reatum, Sancte Johanne . . . Ut or do, resonare or re, mira or mi, famuli or fa, solve or sol, labii or la and sancte or si!’ he explained.
He browsed through another manuscript, like a starved man who eats a little of this and a little of that, not able to eat everything in sight but desiring to nonetheless. ‘Notket Balbulus together with Odo, Abbot of Cluny, used the Greek device of naming notes using the first seven capitals of the Latin alphabet for the first octave of a scale.’ He closed the book.
Eisik spoke from his position at the table. ‘Now it is I who have found something interesting . . .’
‘What?’ my master looked up from his various meditations.
‘There is a manuscript here,’ he held the vellum close to his face. ‘The last date entered was today, they have even included the hour, which is nones . . .’ He read to himself for a moment, and continued aloud, ‘It looks to be a commentary on a Gospel…written by Thomas Didymus!’ He looked up, his face full of amazement.
‘The Doubter!’ my master said.
He began reading,‘When finally the solution is taken out of the Terrestriaet, and is strengthened by long digestion, it is set free from the Crudae Materiae, and is prepared and reborn in the most subtle form . . .’
My master walked over, shining the light on the Jew’s pale funereal face. The two men seemed to know what these things meant. I sensed that some fascinating secret had been discovered and I wanted to ask many questions, but something in their demeanour told me it would be best not to interrupt them.
My master took the manuscript from Eisik’s hands and read aloud, ‘The raw material or crudae materiae, cometh from the astris and constellation of the heavens into its earthly kingdom, from which is then drawn the universal spirit or the spiritus universi secretur . . . amazing!’ My master was now in a frenzy. ‘Look, come here . . . come here.’ He waited for me to bring the lamp to him before proceeding to read,
‘He lies hidden in the grave
The spirit stands near
And the mind comes again from heaven
Take care at all times
That the mind is elevated,
And again return from above
To that which is below.
Thus it unites the friendly powers of heaven and of earth:
And with its rich gifts
It will bring the body to life again.’
‘What is it master? Some terrible magic?’
‘I do not know exactly,’ he answered, perhaps as perplexed as I was. ‘It could be that our monks are . . . Look here,’ he said, pointing to a date on another page.
‘But master, this date must be wrong, it reads two days away.’
‘Yes . . .’ he said, reading the entry under this date.
‘In our heavens stand
Two beautiful lights:
They indicate the great light
Of the great heaven.
Unite them both
As if woman were led to a man:
So that the marital status be induced . . .’
The blood drained from my limbs. With all the excitement of entering the library, I must confess to having forgotten my sin, and I must have swayed, for my master steadied me, at the same time, shouting, ‘Christian! What has got into you today? Pay attention, boy!
‘The sun and moon
Are husband and wife
And they too,
Multiply their kind.
Ex deo nascimur,
In Christos morimur,
Per Spiritum Sanctum reviviscimus.
In God we are born, in Christ we die In the Holy Spirit we are reborn
He will rise on the fourth day.’
‘I had a dream, master!’ I cried suddenly, tears welled up and were set free, and I recounted the dream, omitting nothing.
‘Calm . . . calm . . .’ my master stroked my head lightly, ‘so that is why I found you saying paternosters . . . Don’t be alarmed, no matter, no matter.’ Seeing that I was in need of more comfort, he added, ‘Christian, I do not believe as others do that such things are evil, at least no more evil than . . . say . . . the desire to eat when you are hungry or to drink when you are thirsty. We are monks, and so we abstain from many things. However, it is never easy. A man who fasts can no more deny his hunger than a man who shuns physical love can deny his desire for it. And as far as that goes I cannot help reflecting that as God, in his wisdom, is continually replenishing this gift to . . . procreate, that he might also find ways for any excess to be . . . dissipated . . . for instance, an overabundance of matter within the earth erupts in volcanic . . . no that’s not it . . . like a dam that is overfull bursts . . . Ahh!’ He sighed. ‘Christian, one cannot help it at times.’ His voice faded and he seemed at a loss. Perhaps he had embarrassed himself. ‘It is more the case that those who enjoy deprivation derive a certain pleasure from pain and humility and the adoration they engender. One must work on one’s soul slowly; this is also true, though you must try not to do it again . . . I absolve you. And before you say anything, these are special circumstances,’ he said, putting a hand on my forehead, making the sign of the cross, ‘But you must ask for the Lord’s confirmation.’