“And if the miller doesn’t speak Latin.”
“Yes?”
Dr. van Haag spreads his arms and smiles again.
“Can I ask a question?” says the miller.
“A book that one is forbidden to possess, dear colleague, is a book that one is forbidden to possess, not a book that one is merely forbidden to read. The Holy Office speaks deliberately of having, not of knowing. Dr. Kircher?”
Dr. Kircher swallows, clears his throat, blinks. “A book is a possibility,” he says. “It is always prepared to speak. Even someone who does not understand its language can pass it on to others who can read it very well, so that it may do its wicked work on them. Or he could learn the language, and if there’s no one to teach it to him, he might find a way to teach it to himself. That’s not unheard of either. It can be achieved purely by examining the letters, by counting their frequency, by contemplating their pattern, for the human mind is powerful. In this way Saint Zagraphius learned Hebrew in the desert, merely out of the strong yearning to know God’s word in its primordial sound. And it’s reported that Taras of Byzantium comprehended Egyptian hieroglyphs solely by examining them for years. Unfortunately, he left us no key, and so we must undertake anew the task of deciphering them, but the problem will be solved, perhaps even soon. And lest we forget, there’s always the possibility that Satan, whose vassals understand all languages, endows one of his servants overnight with the ability to read the book. For these reasons the question of understanding is to be left to God and not his servants. To that God who will look into our souls on the Day of Judgment. The task of the human judges is to clear up the simple circumstances. And the simplest of them is this: if a book is forbidden, one is not permitted to have it.”
“Besides, it’s too late for a defense,” says Dr. Tesimond. “The trial is over. Only the verdict remains to be delivered. The accused confessed.”
“But evidently under torture?”
“Yes, of course,” cries Dr. Tesimond. “Why else should he have confessed? Without torture no one would ever confess anything!”
“Whereas under torture everyone confesses.”
“Thank God, yes!”
“Even an innocent man.”
“But he is not innocent. We have the testimony of the others. We have the book!”
“The testimony of the others who would have been subjected to torture if they had not testified?”
Dr. Tesimond is silent for a moment. “Dear colleague,” he says softly. “Naturally, someone who refuses to testify against a warlock must himself be investigated and charged. Where would we be if we did things differently?”
“Very well, another question: What does the unconsciousness of the warlocks actually mean? In the past it was said the unconscious ones had congress with the devil in their dreams. The devil has no power in God’s world, as even Institoris writes, therefore he must use sleep to instill in his allies the delusion he is giving them wild pleasure. Now, however, we condemn warlocks for the very acts we formerly declared illusions inspired by the devil, but we still indict them for the sleep and the delusional dreams. Well, is the evil deed real or imagined? It cannot be both. That doesn’t make sense, dear colleague!”
“It makes perfect sense, dear colleague!”
“Then explain it to me.”
“Dear colleague, I will not allow the trial to be debased by drivel and doubt.”
“May I ask a question?” the miller calls out.
“Me too,” says Peter Steger, smoothing his robe. “This is taking a long time, can we take a break? The cows’ udders are full, you can hear it yourselves.”
“Arrest him,” says Dr. Tesimond.
Dr. van Haag takes a step back. The guards stare at him.
“Take him away and bind him. It’s true that the Procedure for the Judgment of Capital Crimes permits the condemned an advocate, but nowhere does it say that it is decent to set oneself up as the advocate of a servant of the devil and to disrupt the trial with stupid questions. With all due respect to a learned colleague, I cannot tolerate that, and we will clear up in a rigorous interrogation what induces an esteemed man to conduct himself in this fashion.”
No one moves. Dr. van Haag looks at the guards; the guards look at Dr. Tesimond.
“Perhaps it is thirst for glory,” says Dr. Tesimond. “Perhaps something worse. Time will tell.”
Laughter goes through the crowd. Dr. van Haag takes another step back and puts his hand on the hilt of his sword. He really could have escaped, for the guards are neither fast nor brave, but now Master Tilman is standing beside him and shaking his head.
That’s all it takes. Master Tilman is very tall and very broad, and his face all at once looks different than it did just a moment ago. Dr. van Haag lets go of the sword. One of the guards grasps him by the wrist, takes the sword, and leads him to the shed with the iron-reinforced door.
“I protest!” says Dr. van Haag, as he goes along without resistance. “A man of rank must not be treated like this.”
“Permit me, dear colleague, to promise you that your rank will not be forgotten.”
While walking, Dr. van Haag turns around once more. He opens his mouth, but he seems suddenly to have no strength. He has been completely taken by surprise. Now the door is opening with a creak, and he disappears into the shed along with the guard. A short time passes. Then the guard comes back out, closes the door, and secures the two bolts.
Dr. Kircher’s heart is pounding. He feels dizzy with pride. It’s not the first time he has watched someone underestimate his master’s determination. You are not the sole survivor of the Gunpowder Plot for no reason; you do not become one of the most famous religious witnesses in the Society of Jesus just like that. Time and again there are people who don’t know whom they are dealing with. But without fail they find out.
“This is the great trial,” Dr. Tesimond says to Peter Steger. “This is not the time for milking cows. If your cattle’s udders are hurting, then they are hurting for God’s cause.”
“I understand,” says Peter Steger.
“Do you really understand?”
“Really. Yes, yes, I understand.”
“And you, miller. We have read out your confession. Now we want to hear it, loud and clear: Is it true? Did you do it? Do you repent?”
It grows quiet. Only the wind can be heard and the mooing of the cows. A cloud has drifted in front of the sun; to Dr. Kircher’s relief, the play of light in the crown of the tree has ceased. Now, however, the branches are rustling and whispering and hissing in the wind. It has grown cold. Probably it will soon rain again. Even the execution of this warlock won’t do any good against the bad weather, for there are too many evil people, all of whom together are to blame for the cold and the failed harvests and the scarcity of everything in these final years before the end of the world. But one does what one can. Even if one is fighting a losing battle. One holds out, defends the remaining positions and waits for the day when God will return in glory.
“Miller,” Dr. Tesimond repeats. “You must say it, before all the people here. Is it true? Did you do it?”
“May I ask a question?”
“No. You shall only answer. Is it true? Did you do it?”
The miller looks around like someone who doesn’t know exactly where he is. But this too is probably a feint. Dr. Kircher knows well that one mustn’t fall for it, for behind these apparently lost people the old adversary is hiding, ready to kill and to destroy wherever he can. If only the branches would quit making their noises. The rustling wind is suddenly even worse than the flickering light was. And if only the cows would be quiet!
Master Tilman steps beside the miller and puts his hand on his shoulder as if they were old friends. The miller looks at him. Since he’s shorter than the executioner, his gaze goes upward like that of a child. Master Tilman bends down and says something in his ear. The miller nods as if he understood. There’s an intimacy between the two of them that confuses Dr. Kircher. This is probably due to the fact that he is not paying attention and is looking in the wrong direction, directly into the eyes of the boy.