‘Oh Thomas, Thomas, wash out your mouth. How can you talk like that? What is all this nonsense about “various orders” of friars? What is the point of seeking out “various orders” of specialists when you see before you the perfect doctor? Your fickleness will be the ruin of you. Mark my words. Do you really believe that my prayers, and those of my holy brothers, are not enough for you? That is ludicrous. If anything, you have given us too little. Give one convent a half-load of oats. Give another convent twenty-four pence. Give this friar a penny and let him go. Give that friar – well, you get the idea. No, no, Thomas, that is not right. That is not proper. What is a farthing worth if it is divided into twelve? A thing whole and complete is stronger than anything that is divided and scattered. That is common sense. I am not going to flatter you, Thomas. That is not my style. You want to get our prayers for nothing. Is that not so? But God Himself, great ruler of the universe -’ and here the friar raised his eyes up to the ceiling ‘- He has declared that the labourer is worthy of his hire. I’m not interested in your money. For my part, I wouldn’t touch any of it. But the fact is that the whole convent is praying for you. And we also need funds for the new church. I am reminded of the life of Saint Thomas of India. That blessed man built many churches that were very pleasing in the eyes of God. Oh Thomas, Thomas. You are lying here all eaten up by anger and impatience. The devil has inflamed you. That’s what it is. That’s why you are so foul to that lovely little woman, your wife. What an innocent she is! So meek. So patient. Listen to me, Thomas. Trust me. Leave your wife alone. Think about what I’m saying. It’s not just me. It is the word of the wise: “Never have a lion in the house. Do not terrorize those who are subject to you. Don’t make your friends afraid of you.”
‘Thomas, let me say one thing more for your benefit. Be careful of the anger that lies in your heart. It is like the serpent that glides through the grass with its poison hidden in its fangs. Listen to me. Don’t be so restless. Twenty thousand men, to put it no higher, have lost their lives because they have become angry with their wives or their mistresses. What is the point of quarrelling with your sweet wife? You know that if you tread on the tail of a snake it strikes back in anger? That snake is not half so cruel as a wife who believes herself to be wronged. All she wants then is vengeance. “Vengeance is mine,” said the Lord. But she is too fired up to listen. Revenge is one of the seven deadly sins. Revenge turns on the sinner, leading to destruction. Every common cleric – every parish priest – will tell you that anger leads to murder. Anger is at the mercy of pride. I could tell you so many stories of deadly anger that I would still be here tomorrow. No. All right. I won’t. But I will pray for you. I will pray, day and night, that God curbs the might of all angry men. It does great harm to set up a man of ire and vengeance as a ruler.
‘That noble gentleman Seneca has told the story of a magistrate of terrible temper. One day, during the course of his reign, two knights went out riding. It so befell that one of them came back. The other did not. The knight, returned home, was brought before the court where the judge pronounced sentence upon him. “You have murdered your comrade,” he said. “So I sentence you to death.” Then he turned to another knight in the court. “Take this man to the scaffold,” he said. “At once.” Now it so happened that, on their way to the executioner’s block, the other knight suddenly appeared. He was meant to be dead, but he was very much alive. So everyone thought that the best thing was to return, with both knights, to the court. “Sir,” said the knight who had accompanied the condemned man. “This knight has not killed his comrade. The dead man stands before you.”
‘“By God,” the judge replied. “I will have the heads of all three of you.” He addressed the first knight. “I have already condemned you to death. My word still stands. You will die.” Then he addressed the second knight. “Since you are the cause of this man’s death you, too, must be executed.” Then he turned to the third knight. “Since you disobeyed my order, I sentence you to beheading.” And that is what happened. All three men were executed.
‘Do you know the case of Cambises, king of Persia? He was a drunk, and a quarrelsome drunk at that. He was a bully. There was a lord in his household who was a proper and virtuous man. Now it happened one day that this good lord said to the king, “If a lord is vicious, then he is lost. Drunkenness is itself a blot on the name of any man, but especially on that of a ruler. A lot of people are watching him. He does not know all the eyes and ears that surround him. So, for God’s love, sire, drink more temperately. Wine can affect the brain. It can affect the body, too.”
‘“Is that what you think?” Cambises replied. “I will prove to you how wrong you can be. The exact opposite is the case, as you will soon find out for yourself. No wine on earth is going to affect my eyesight, or my limbs, or my strength. Watch.” So then he began to drink much more than he had ever done before – a hundred times more, I should say. When he was thoroughly pissed, he ordered the son of this courtier to be brought before him. He told the boy to stand upright in front of him. Then he took out his bow and arrow, and stretched the bow-string right back to his ear. Then he let go. The arrow killed the child, of course. “Don’t you think,” he asked the grieving father, “that I have a steady hand? Has my strength gone? Has my eyesight suffered? Has my judgement? I don’t think so.”
‘What use was the answer of the courtier? His son was dead. There was nothing more to say. So beware, my friend, how you deal with kings and lords. Just say, “If it please you, sir” or “I will do whatever I can for you, sir.” You can tell a poor man what you think of him, vices and all, but you cannot berate your master. Even if he seems to be going straight to hell, say nothing.
‘Think of that other Persian king, Cyrus, who in his anger destroyed the river Gyndes because one of his sacred white horses had drowned in it on the way to Babylon. He drained the river by diverting it into various channels, so that in the end women could cross it without getting their skirts wet. What did wise Solomon tell us? “Never make friends with an angry man. Never walk in company with a madman. You will be sorry.” I will say no more on that matter, Thomas.
‘So swallow your anger. You will find me as straight and firm as a carpenter’s square. Don’t thrust the knife of the devil into your heart. Your anger will do you infinite harm. Come now, Thomas. Give me your full confession.’
‘No way,’ Thomas replied. ‘I have already confessed to the curate this morning. I have told him everything. There is no need to repeat it all.’
‘In any case, give me some of your money. Give us gold to build a cloister for the Lord. We friars have been forced to live off oysters and mussels while people like you have drunk and eaten well. Think of what we have suffered to raise that cloister. Yet God knows that we still have not completed the foundations. The pavement is not laid. Not a tile has been put in place. We owe forty pounds alone for building materials. Can you believe it? So help us, Thomas, in the name of He who harrowed hell! Otherwise we will have to sell our books. If we cannot preach, then the whole world will suffer. To take us from our pulpits and our preaching crosses will be to take the sun out of the sky. I am being serious. Who can preach and do good works as we can? We are not some novelty. There have been friars around since the time of Elijah. And that was a very long time ago. There are records mentioning us. I need your charity, Thomas! For God’s sake, charity!’ And at that the friar fell down upon his knees, and crossed himself.