Temple of The Grail (31 page)

He pushed, but it did not come away. ‘Ahh
the Devil take you!’ he exclaimed, and in a fit of temper hit the door or
rather, as he was to tell me later, the skull. Suddenly there was a snapping
sound and my master began to push it open, and this occasioned a terrible
creaking that echoed loudly and made us jump.

‘Master, we shall be heard!’ I said
alarmed.

‘Nonsense, we are too deep in the
ground, besides, we either go through this door, creak or no creak, or we take
our chances and go back the other way. Which do you prefer?’

I knew he was right and said nothing.
A moment later my master slipped through the opening, and we behind him, not
knowing what we would find.

We entered into a room of generous
proportions with five sides. Only one lamp, much like the ones that we had
brought with us, stood on a bracket, illuminating the darkness, casting long
shadows along the pentagonal apartment. We saw that four out of five walls were
of a red colour, and covered in shelves holding hundreds of bound
codices
or
books. In the centre of the room two long wooden benches, one longer, one
shorter, formed the shape of a cross, or
tau
, and on this various
curious items could be discerned in the dim light. Receptacles of glass, held
by metal brackets so that they were perched over unusual lanterns, were placed
here and there and beside them unfinished parchments and other assorted
paraphernalia; quills, pumice stones, and inks. Also, glass receptacles filled
with liquids and powders, vials, and ampoules, mingled with large volumes that
had been haphazardly scattered about. There was no other door that we could see
ahead of us.

Eisik, who until now had been
muttering unintelligible things under his breath, became even more morose. My
master, conversely, became exceedingly excited. He found some tapers on the
table, lit his lamp, and began inspecting volumes, one by one.

Numerous books resided side by side,
denominated by the classification of
Ars Aeris
,
Ars Aquae
,
Ars
Ignis
,
Ars Terrae
. I wondered, as I walked along the shelves, how
many hands had leafed through these countless pages? How many tired copyists
had laboured, sometimes an entire life, so that the knowledge of one book could
be passed over to one more generation!

‘I will wager that many sins have
been forgiven here,’ my master remarked, reading my thoughts.

‘Sins?’

‘In order to keep monks from tiring,
Christian, they were told that God would forgive them one sin for every line
they copied. In fact, Ordericus Vitalis informs us that one monk escaped the
fires of hell by the narrow margin of one single letter!’ He paused, looking
around. ‘Marvellous!’

I was taken a little by his
contagious excitement. And, perhaps because knowledge is a seductress that
promises a man false comfort and security, or perhaps because there is
something wistful, even familiar and friendly about the smell of books, we felt
immediately at ease, completely forgetting that moments before we had been in
peril of our lives if not our souls. Eisik was right when he admonished us to
beware of learning’s artful ways, for very soon we would come to regret our
carelessness. But I speak prematurely. Instead I shall tell how presently my
master took a large book off a shelf from the
Ars Aeris
denomination and
cried out in ecstasy,

‘Here there are several works on
Greek astronomy . . . and one on Arabic mathematics. Very fine specimens . . .
and,’ he cried once again, ‘an astronomical text written by Abu’l Fraghani of
Transoxiania, this is a treasure! And another, in which we find the
measurements of planetary movements, and the study of the spots on the sun!’

Moving along to
Ars Terrae
my
master brought out a manuscript. ‘A book of plants written by Abu Hanifa al
Dinawari, a Moslem biologist whose works were based on Deioscorides, Christian,
but adding many plants.’ My master’s face was afire with excitement and I
wondered, looking at him, if my sin was any worse than his. He seemed to
experience as much pleasure from discovering such repositories of the intellect
as another man would draw from undressing his wife! A moment later I felt truly
ashamed and humbly asked God’s forgiveness for my foolish thought, reminding
myself that there was indeed a great difference.

‘If the infidel is so learned,
master, why does he not believe in the highest wisdom?’ I retorted, because I
was angry with myself.

‘He believes his own wisdom to be
higher, that is all.’ He paused, replacing the book and taking out another. ‘Oh!
Ten treatises on the eye by Hunain ibn Ishaq. And
Liber continens
, the
Latin translation of Kitab al Hawi!’

‘Arabs may be infinitely wise in the
healing arts,’ Eisik moved towards us, drawn, despite himself, by the medical
books, ‘but very often, even you have to admit, Andre, they do not follow
strict principles.’

‘I disagree, many times their methods
have proved successful,’ my master retorted. ‘Such as the case of Jibril ibn
Bakhitisha, who is said to have cured his Arab ruler of a persistent illness by
prescribing that he should learn to play chess.’

‘Impossible!’ I said sceptically.

‘It is a mystery . . . but in a few
days the man discovered that his cure was commensurate with his propensity to
win, which was considerable. It is true that he felt such relief that he
rewarded the physician 800,000 dirhams! But the man also had to teach many of
the Arab’s servants how to play the game, making sure that they always knew
discreet ways to lose.’

‘I see!’ I marvelled. ‘The power of
mind over matter.’

‘No Jewish physician would ever have
prescribed such a treatment,’ Eisik sniffed.

Now in an excited state, I browsed
through other books. ‘Here is another by that same author,’ I said, taking an
enormous volume from the shelf, ‘Why Ignorant Physicians, Laymen, and Women
Have More Success than Learned Medical Men.’

‘Ahh yes,’ he said, taking it from my
hands with a smile, ‘no one could say that the man did not have a genial side.
Come, Eisik!’ he waved a hand to the old Jew. ‘So many treasures!’

But Eisik was lost in thought,
inspecting the articles to be found on the table.

‘Look here!’ my master cried in
jubilation, bringing a large manuscript down off the shelf. I wandered over,
and peered inside at a page containing a frightening illumination of the human
body dissected, revealing the inner organs being attacked by devils. I winced
and my master, seeing the cause of my distress, laughed a little. ‘Medicine is
not for the faint-hearted, my young squire. Now, what do we have here,’ he
continued. ‘A treatise on drugs used to induce sleep . . . hashish . . .
mandrake . . . aha! Poisonous herbs . . .’ he gasped, ‘in this treatise,
mandrake is denoted for being a subtle poison. The victim, it says, agonises
for three days before dying. Here we see the antidote which consists of all
these together, honey, radish, butter, oxymel, rue, sweet wine, castorium,
dill, borax, leaves of watermint, absinthe, assafetida . . . Then, if all this
were not enough, the victim should have his head bound, and rose oil poured
into one nostril. Furthermore, it goes on to say, should this fail to restore
him, a tea of mint and leaf of almond is poured hot over his head while he sits
in a bath.’

‘I would consider it preferable to
suffer the poison!’ I said, and my master laughed.

‘But wait,’ he continued, ‘here we
have a number of concoctions which use poisonous herbs, and a mention of a
substance used by witches. By my sword! Now I remember!’

‘What, master?’

‘Devil’s ointment! That’s it! At the
time I was in Paris, Christian, attending university, I heard the trial of a
Cathar woman accused of communion with devils. It was a terrible, public
affair!

The woman, after many days of
questioning before the judges of the tribunal, and also much humiliation, and
many nights of horrible torment, was persuaded to confess to flying into the
arms of Satan with the aid of an ointment. I do not know if she really used
this ointment, but when asked what was contained in it, she gave a perfectly
scientific explanation for her symptoms. It was a compound of atropa
belladonna, and wolfbane mixed with wheatflour, and (so she said) the fat of a
stillborn child.’

I cringed, ‘Surely not?’

‘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.’