‘So you say that magic is only in the mind?’
‘A man is so constructed that when his desire is strong enough, Christian, he will find the means of realising his objective. This is quite natural, and not in the least magical. In many cases it is science that is mistaken for magic because, you see, even learned men have not yet lifted their minds out of the dung heap of superstition.’
‘But a physician is a scientist as you have often told me.’
‘And that is why a physician must be as prudent in his cure as he is in his failure to cure.’
‘So you say that it is better not to cure an illness if it will be seen as something diabolical?’
‘No, that is not what I said.’ He stood, and straightened his bad leg with difficulty. ‘What I meant was that a cure often engenders more suspicion than a failure to cure, and so it must be approached with care. Do you know that there are several ailments that can be healed almost immediately? If one does so, however, one risks many things, not the least of which may be one’s skin! So one must bring the patient to health, so that his state of wellbeing comes about gradually. One chants many prayers, one cauterises, and bleeds the patient, advising him to visit his priest very often for confession. In this way after a few weeks he is cured and believes it to be God’s grace, and so, quite natural.’
‘So you keep your secrets to yourself, like Brother Setubar seems to keep much from Brother Asa?’
‘Here is another thing . . . When we surpass the world with our knowledge, we must be careful whom we allow to share in this knowledge. This is the art of prudence.’
‘But this art you call ‘prudence’ sounds like avarice, master, covetousness. Surely the world should have a share in a wise man’s accomplishments. Those who imparted their knowledge in the books we have just admired must have felt this way.’
‘They are truly wonderful books, and deserve praise to their authors, but as you have seen, they are hidden from public view, and quite wisely, for there is more wisdom in a prudent silence than there is in a thousand books.’
‘But I thought you loved books, I thought you believed in knowledge?’ I asked, confounded as always.
‘I do ... I do ... but it is important to know when and how information is to be distributed. In this way something good cannot be mistaken for something evil, and also misused by those of evil disposition. Look around you at this abbey, whose cures have brought it to the attention of the pope. Need I elucidate further?’
‘But is that not in essence what the abbot said on our first day here, about drawing a veil over things not understood . . . but then you disagreed with him?’
‘I disagreed with him because there is a distinction between the arcana – the mystery – of nature (whose celestial seal must not be broken irreverently) and the arcana of men, whose accidents may lead to heresy, and as we have seen, to the death of others.’
‘So what you are saying, master, is that there is no magic at all, only science, but that we must not allow others to know this,’ I said sadly.
‘I am afraid so . . .’
‘There is not much use in looking for something that has no magical or holy powers, is there?’
‘And yet we cannot discount that whatever lies beneath all this intrigue may indeed be something magical.’
‘But you do not believe in such things!’ I was becoming annoyed, believing that he was taunting me.
‘That has nothing whatever to do with it!’ he replied, astounded at my ignorance. ‘The fact that others believe is an important tool in solving our riddle. It is the riddle that concerns me, as it should interest you if you are to be a good physician. A good physician must first and foremost have a strong desire to solve riddles.’
‘What riddles do you speak of? There seem to be so many.’ I looked at him boldly, and he seemed pleased. He moved around the organ, with a curious smile on his face, and I heard his voice echo from various points behind it.
‘The greatest riddle of all . . . the riddle of man! The complex mystery of the universal human being as he stands within the threshold of universal laws. This is the most fascinating puzzle! Every riddle starts with a question. For instance, one might ask: does this organ exist?’
‘Of course it does. I can see it and touch it.’
‘So you say because to satisfy any inquiry in a scientific way we must first hypothesise, and we do that by either affirming as you have or by denying, as I shall . . .’ he said, moving around to the front of the organ, knocking some musical papers from their place over the keys and onto the floor. ‘But our inquiry does neither alter its existence, or its nonexistence, it serves as a starting point from which we set about proving our postulation. As the Greeks tell us in their profound wisdom, ‘the beginning is everything’. You saw me pacing the graveyard on our first day, after our conversation with the abbot. You were as annoyed with me as you are now . . . am I right?’