It was through this door that we entered another tunnel rank with the smell of mould and rotten vegetation, and a flight of steps ascended to another door that this time my master opened with ease. We did not, however, come out as we thought in the infirmary. We came out in the scriptorium! Our bearings utterly confounded, we entered through an identical map to the one through which we had left the library moments ago.
My master shook his head, taking the compass from my hands. ‘By the curse of Saladin, boy! How long has the needle been stuck on east?’
I lowered my head, and said all that I could say; that I did not know, but that I had dropped it in the dark in the last tunnel before the library.
The door that led out of the cloister was locked, so we made our way stealthily to the church. As we were about to enter the south transept, however, I noted that my sandals were soiled with a reddish mud, so I cleaned them on the stone flags before entering – lest I leave tell-tale footprints on the church floor. My master viewed this with a pensive frown, saying that interestingly his shoes and also Eisik’s left no marks because their soles were smooth. Mine were sandals given to me by the hospitaller, and were indeed the same as all other monks in the abbey. They were patterned, and therefore less slippery, but they also allowed much dirt to gather in the grooves. He said nothing further, only continued to frown as we said goodbye to Eisik, who scurried into the darkness of the north transept, his robes flapping like the wings of a bird. The hour was near, so we waited in the church for the intoning of the bells, and this gave my master further opportunity to inspect the organ.
The instrument was surmounted by no fewer than twenty pipes, and it was through these that one heard melody when the organ was played. On the upper level there were ten pipes in the centre with the rest flanking either side a level lower. The entire wooden structure was supported by little columns, with a console of keys equally divided on two separate levels. A beautifully carved seat was placed before it, and some papers with musical notation resided on a little rest made of wood, directly above the keys.
‘If, as Sacar says, this organ runs on the water channelled beneath the abbey, it may have some connection to the tunnels. A switch of some kind must divert the water to the pump that drives it, as our brother intimated. The question is what to look for?’
I watched him for a time, a slow feeling of tiredness overtaking me, and to keep awake, I asked him if he believed there was something magical about this ‘Final Work’. Perhaps, I ventured, it was a relic endowed with special powers, a stone or a cup, as portrayed in the romances.
‘Romances fill your head with nonsense and are not recommended reading for monks. Relics, on the other hand, exist, that is quite natural, and the way of the world,’ he answered.
‘But it must be something of great significance, valuable, even holy, to be secreted in such a way, master, with so many tiresome puzzles and traps to protect it?’
‘Relics are usually highly venerated, but we must not speculate on what we are to find, nor on its efficacy,’ he said, looking up from his work. ‘You think too much, and too much thinking often leads to error.’
‘And so you do not believe in magic?’
‘I believe in the magic of science, mon fils, and in the magic of nature, but never in the magic of men. Very often the language of magic is merely a symbolic language for something else.’
‘But you do not deny that a potion made from dragon’s blood destroys devils?’
‘Firstly, I have never seen a dragon, have you? Secondly, have you ever wondered, as there are so many potions to kill and ward off devils, why their population never seems to decline? Remember what I have told you about knowledge and opinion.’
‘But –’
‘What you call magic,’ he interrupted, ‘is nothing more than a clever suggestive art, that uses fear and superstition as its loyal agents. Of course, much can be accomplished by its use. Let us say that you come to me (the magician) because you want something very badly. I would tell you that you must pick a certain herb from a cemetery every night at midnight.’ He paused for a moment to inspect beneath the keys of the large instrument.
‘And, where was I? Yes, I say you must pick a certain herb at midnight and lay it on the steps of a church. If you were to follow my instructions precisely as I have told you, getting up at midnight, going to the cemetery, pulling out the herb, and so on, it is more than probable that your longing for achievement and your faith in such instructions will bring about what you desire. If you omit even one night of this ritual then I, the magician, cannot be blamed in the event of failure.’