“I am flattered, of course. But such matters are not for me to decide.”
“Well, I understand that, of course. But I wouldn’t dream of asking your abbot if the idea displeased you.”
Brother Kornhoer hesitated. “My vocation is to Religion,” be said at last, “that is — to a life of prayer. We think of our work as a kind of prayer too. But that—” he gestured toward his dynamo “-for me seems more like play. However, if Dom Paulo were to send me—”
“You’d reluctantly go,” the scholar finished sourly. “I’m sure I could get the collegium to send your abbot at least a hundred gold hannegans a year while you were with us, too. I—” He paused to look around at their expressions. “Pardon me, did I say something wrong?”
Halfway down the stairs, the abbot paused to survey the group in the basement. Several blank faces were turned toward him. After a few seconds Thon Taddeo noticed the abbot’s presence and nodded pleasantly.
“We were just speaking of you, Father,” he said. “If you heard, perhaps I should explain—”
Dom Paulo shook his head. “That’s not necessary.”
“But I would like to discuss—”
“Can it wait? I’m in a hurry this minute.”
“Certainly,” said the scholar.
“I’ll be back shortly.” He climbed the stairs again. Father Gault was waiting for him in the courtyard.
“Have they heard about it yet, Domne?” the prior asked grimly.
“I didn’t ask, but I’m sure they haven’t,” Dom Paulo answered. “They’re just making silly conversation down there. Something about taking Brother K back to Texarkana with them.”
“Then they haven’t heard, that’s certain.”
“Yes. Now where is he?”
“In the guesthouse, Domne. The medic’s with him He’s delirious.”
“How many of the brothers know he’s here?”
“About four. We were singing None when he came in the gate.”
“Tell those four not to mention it to anyone. Then join our guests in the basement. Just be pleasant, and don’t let them know.”
“But shouldn’t they he told before they leave, Domne?”
“Of course. But let them get ready first. You know it won’t stop them from going back. So to minimize embarrassment, let’s wait until the last minute to tell them. Now, do you have it with you?”
“No, I left it with his papers in the guesthouse.”
“I’ll go see him. Now, warn the brothers, and join our guests.”
“Yes, Dome.”
The abbot hiked toward the guesthouse. As be entered, Brother Pharmacist was just leaving the fugitive’s room.
“Will he live, Brother?”
“I cannot know, Domne. Mistreatment, starvation, exposure, fever — if God wills it—” He shrugged..
“May I speak to him?’
“I’m sure it won’t matter. But he doesn’t make sense.”
The abbot entered the room and softly closed the door behind him.
“Brother Claret?”
“Not again,” gasped the man on the bed. “For the love of God, not again — I’ve told you all I know. I betrayed him. Now just let me — be.”
Dom Paulo looked down with pity on the secretary to late Marcus Apollo. He glanced at the scribe’s hands. There were only festering sores where the fingernails had been.
The abbot shuddered and turned to the small table near the bed. Out of a small collection of papers and personal effects, he quickly found the crudely printed document which the fugitive had brought with him from the east:
HANNEGAN THE MAYOR, by Grace of God: Sovereign of Texarkana, Emperor of Laredo, Defender of the Faith, Doctor of Laws, Clans Chief of the Nomads, and Vaquero Supreme of the Plains, to ALL BISHOPS, PRIESTS, AND PRELATES of the Church throughout Our Rightful Realm, Greetings & TAKE HEED, for it is the LAW, viz & to wit:
(1) Whereas a certain foreign prince, one Benedict XXII, Bishop of New Rome, presuming to assert an authority which is not rightly his over the clergy of this nation, has dared to attempt, first, to place the Texarkanan Church under a sentence of interdict, and, later, to suspend this sentence, thereby creating great confusion and spiritual neglect among all the faithful, We, the only legitimate ruler over the Church in this realm, acting in concord with a council of bishops and clergy, hereby declare to Our loyal people that the aforesaid prince and bishop, Benedict XXII, is a heretic, simoniac, murderer, sodomite, and atheist, unworthy of any recognition by Holy Church in lands of Our kingdom, empire, or protectorate. Who serves him serves not Us.
(2) Be it known, therefore, that both the decree of interdict and the decree suspending it are
hereby QUASHED, ANNULLED, DECLARED VOID AND OF NO CONSEQUENCE, for they were of no original validity…
Dom Paulo glanced at the rest of it only briefly. There was no need to read further. The mayoral TAKE HEED ordered the licensing of the Texarkanan clergy, made the administration of the Sacraments by unlicensed persons a crime under the law, and made an oath of supreme allegiance to the Mayorality a condition for licensing and recognition. It was signed not only with the Mayor’s mark, but also by several “bishops” whose names were unfamiliar to the abbot.
He tossed the document back on the table and sat down beside the bed. The fugitive’s eyes were open, but he only stared at the ceiling and panted.
“Brother Claret?” he asked gently. “Brother…”
In the basement, the scholar’s eyes had come alight with the brash exuberance of one specialist invading the field of another specialist for the sake of straightening out the whole region of confusion. “As a matter of fact, yes!” he said in response to a novice’s question. “I did locate one source here that should, I think, be of interest to Thon Maho. Of course, I’m no historian, but—”
“Thon Maho? Is he the one who’s, uh, trying to correct Genesis?’ Father Gault asked wryly.
“Yes, that’s—” the scholar broke off with a startled glance at Gault.
“That’s all right,” the priest said with a chuckle. “Many of us feel that Genesis is more or less allegorical. What have you found?”
“We located one pre-Diluvian fragment that suggests a very revolutionary concept, as I see it. If I interpret the fragment correctly, Man was not created until shortly before the fall of the last civilization.”
“Wh-a-at? Then where did civilization come from?”
“Not from humanity. It was developed by a preceding race which became extinct during the Diluvium Ignis.”
“But Holy Scripture goes back thousands of years before the Diluvium!”
Thon Taddeo remained meaningfully silent.
“You are proposing,” said Gault, suddenly dismayed, “that we are not the descendants of Adam? not related to historical humanity?”
“Wait! I only offer the conjecture that the pre-Deluge race, which called itself Man, succeeded in creating life. Shortly before the fall of their civilization, they successfully created the ancestors of present humanity — ’after their own image’ — as a servant species.”
“But even if you totally reject Revelation, that’s a completely unnecessary complication under plain common sense!” Gault complained.
The abbot had come quietly down the stairs. He paused on the lower landing and listened incredulously.
“It might seem so,” Thon Taddeo argued, “until you consider how many things it would account for. You know the legends of the Simplification. They all become more meaningful, it seems to me, if one looks at the Simplification as a rebellion by a created servant species against the original creator species, as the fragmentary reference suggests. It would also explain why present-day humanity seems so inferior to the ancients, why our ancestors lapsed into barbarism when their masters were extinct, why—”
“God have mercy on this house!” cried Dom Paulo, striding toward the alcove. “Spare us, Lord — we know not what we did.”
“I should have known,” the scholar muttered to the world at large.