And now the gallery roared and thundered with shouting and tumult. The old man held up his hand and quieted them. “Ah, the lad is an alchemist then? And a sorcerer no less? Can you turn lead into gold…water into wine? And of course, you sit with Our Lord and the Virgin at the right hand of God, with the Pope at your feet.”
He waved his hand in dismissal. “The boy is mad. Give him a few piastres and shove him out the door. Its time for our siesta.”
Then a tall, bearded man rose from Christian’s left and called out, his voice steady over the clamour and noise. “Wait, I wish to hear what this young princeling has to say.” and the men became quiet again. ”Tell me…Do you not understand the penalty the church may impose if you speak words of heresy? You could be put to the torture, or left to rot in the dungeons, or tied about with faggots and burnt at the stake. And your noble birth will not save you.”
Christian looked to the speaker standing with his head bent toward him, intent on his reply. “Thankyou sire, may I answer your question with another?” the man nodded and Christian went on.
“Would it not be a wonderful thing to overcome disease and poverty, hunger and old age? And what if, there was a realisation so profound that if all other learning were lost, it would be possible to build from this again a great storehouse of truth? And to read in this one book all the books of the world from the time that is past and the time that is to come?
And would it not be a desirable thing to have an understanding of all the countries of the world and the secrets they contain?”
The man smiled and shook his head “What you speak of is utopian idealism, expounded by Plato and Plutarch and many after them. It has been the hope of man since Eve tempted Adam and God cast them into the wilderness. It is unattainable. We must be punished for our sins.”
Christian shook his head. “No, it is possible…and with the joy and blessing of the Creator…If the pride of the learned was not so great that they could agree together, they could, were they united, collect a perfect method of all the arts. But they are loath to leave the old course, more esteeming popery and Aristotle and Galen, who if they were still living would soon see the error of their ways and rejoice, for it is not that which has the mere show of learning but that which is manifested in the clear light of truth…in mathematics, medicine, reason and the natural philosophies.” Grumbles and muttering began again but he went on, his voice rising.
“Sires, we must beware the Old Enemy who is the first, middle and last cause of darkness and strife in the world and unite for the good of mankind.”
The old man was incandescent with rage and shouted to Christian standing with his feathered cap in his hand. “What you say is impudent and without grounds. Let him who loves unquietness be reformed. We have done our best!”
And the man on the left spoke again as the room fell silent “Young man, in what school have you attained your understanding?
By what authority do you stand before us today?”
Christian thought on this for a few moments and answered with a firm voice. “I have gained my knowledge in the mystery schools of the East.
I come with the authority of the Brotherhood of the Rosy Cross.” Then the noise in the hall became a clamouring as they all began to talk at once.
The old man raised his finger and sneered. “Brotherhood, eh? Strangely enough, we are very familiar with brotherhoods.” And he waved his hand at a slim, effeminate man in the first row of the gallery. “Senor Castelentor here says he is a high adept of the brotherhood of Alumbrados, though we are all sure he clings so tightly to his office so he can fuck his mistress and tell himself he’s doing it for God!”
Ribald laughter rippled through the room as he pointed to a hawk nosed man in the back row. “And Professore Cortez believes he is the reincarnation of Horus and spends his nights inventing rituals to perform in the catacombs under the city, though the only brethren he has gathered so far are the rats that gnaw on the putrid flesh of the dead.”
And again to a fat man who smirked at Christian and made a lewd gesture with his hand. “And here sits Pietro Diaz, the cream of Castilian aristocracy, who belongs to the brotherhood of Procurers of Virgin Boys. But these days we know very well he is more interested in the brotherhood of Gluttons and Evil Gossip.”
The laughter pierced the air with its harshness, making Christian’s stomach turn. He knew that today was not the day to be heard. He addressed them again, now employing the power of speech he had been taught in the mountain at Damcar.
“Learned gentlemen…With the permission of the mayor of Seville, I have installed myself in the Golden Tower by the harbour. And I have brought with me from the East great wonders and precious things. I would be honoured if you would attend me there, perhaps on the day before the feast of Corpus Christi, and partake of these riches.”
Stony silence greeted him but the man who had been kind stood once more. “I will attend your home Christian Rosencreuz. I would know what knowledge you bring.”
And he nodded imperceptibly as Christian bowed low with a sweep of his cap and walked quietly from the hall.
*
The city was abuzz with talk of the mysterious stranger so lately arrived.
For months, a steady procession of wagons and carts had wended its way through the streets, driven by silent liveried servants. Drays filled with fresh cut grasses, slabs of quivering meat and baskets of fish all disappeared into the palm shaded courtyard, the big wooden gates closing swiftly behind them. Barges docked in the harbour, only feet from the great doors, the same wordless men unloading in the darkness, strange shaped bundles and barrels and covered cages. Workmen pounded and sawed and animals could be heard in the night, filling the air with fearful howls and grunts, whistling and roaring.
He must be a nobleman, they said. Such riches! Such food! Such magnificence!
But now, an incredible thing was happening.
By the meanest huts, the darkest alleys, where the sick, the leprous and the hungry cowered in misery, wonderful smells would waft out, of new bread and spicy soup and roasted meat. And there would be a man, dressed simply in dark robes, beckoning.
Those who were too weak to feed themselves, he would feed. And those who were sick, he would tend. And he would press a sliver of gold into the palms of all who came, placing his finger to his lips to beg for silence. Then disappear into the shadows.
Night after night.
*
‘Come and behold! The glorious wonders of God!’
Notices had been nailed up in the squares and the cryers paid to spread the news among the people. And before the sun came up on the eve of Corpus Christi, the ragged poor of Seville gathered in their hundreds outside the gates. It was all they had been talking about for days. And now they stood in shy uncertainty, for the doors had opened and scarlet clad servants were emerging with pots of steaming food to place on trestles standing under the trees.
Golden loaves of soft, white bread, whole roasted fowl, basted lambs and suckling pigs, barrels of sweet orange nectar and platters of fruit. And a wild boar trundled out on a dray, baked honey brown and surrounded by fragrant onions and garlic and peppers. They waited with haunted eyes and open mouths as the old and the young were led to the tables, then the rest, assured by the smiling servants that there was plenty for all, were invited to eat their fill. And more people came, clutching their rosaries and exclaiming in awestruck whispers. This was a glorious wonder of God indeed!
Of the noble stranger there was no sight, until the devil and his wife poked their horned heads over the outer wall and sent people screaming in panic, knocking over the tables in their haste to flee. Then he walked down the wide stone stairs, a fair haired man dressed all in black, reassuring them that the impossibly tall beast that stood quietly ripping the new leaves from the trees were not devils, but magnificent wonders of nature.
“Good people, what you see are giraffids, from the grasslands of Africa. God has provided them with long necks a
nd soft mouths, to eat from the treetops. There is no danger.
Today, I will show you many wonders.
I have brought a crocodilus from Egypt and a hooded serpent from Arabia. There are flowers that hang like a cluster of golden stars from their stems and berries, one bite of which and the sourest fruit becomes as manna from heaven, for it is your right to see what marvels exist in the world.”
‘Right? We have no right,’ they said. ‘We are peasants, less than nothing. Even the leavings from the tables of the nobles and the priests are given grudgingly, with well aimed kicks and spiteful jests. Who is this lord who would provide a feast fit for kings and give it to the common people, who would care that their eyes beheld the wonders of God?’
Christian would hear no protests. His servants gathered up the children and carrying the halt and lame on their shoulders, entered the courtyard, the soft trill of bird-song and playing fountains welcoming them in.
Mothers and daughters stood wringing their hands outside. What if their loved ones did not return? But soon they could hear something that had never been heard in the sombre streets of Seville, squeals of laughter and joyous sounds. And the children came out smiling, carrying tiny monkeys on their shoulders, or pretty lizards, or clutching bright tinkling bells and delicate flowers. And the older folk held gifts too, miracle berries and liniments and soothing unguents.
And the people jostled each other to be next to enter the golden tower of wonders.
*
It was nightfall before the crowds began to thin outside the gates.
The boar was eaten down to the bone and the scraps wrapped in cloth to distribute among the people and the giraffes were now standing contentedly watching as the last of the curious emerged wide eyed, from the tower.
Christian waited quietly on the steps, overwhelmed by disappointment. He’d searched in vain for the one face he truly thought he would see. The joy and exclamations of the people made his heart glad but it was the learned and the noble who had the power to change the world for good.
And they had not come.
He turned to the door to gather the instruments and simples for his evening ritual, and stopped as a carriage drawn by two dappled horses rattled to a halt outside the gates, a dozen black robed clerics riding donkeys, pulling up behind. He watched as a pink flushed face appeared at the window and a nervous page hurried to open the door, receiving an ill tempered cuff around the ears for his tardiness.
Then his visitor stepped down in a flutter of red satin and a glitter of golden chain and crucifix, a cardinal’s wide brimmed hat jammed tight on his head. He held a pomander against his nose, screwing up his eyes in distaste at the few stragglers standing by the gates. And when he sketched the sign of the cross hastily over them and waved his hand in dismissal, they covered their heads and scuttled away.
Christian felt a moment of unease. An aura of power and derision surrounded this man, a dangerous combination in a minister of the church. He walked down the path and knelt to kiss the ruby ring on his hand. “Your Eminence, It is an honour.”
The cardinal’s eyes were pinpricks of black in pouches of wrinkled flesh, they held no smile. “Do not believe we are here for amusement, young man. We have heard rumours in the city…of heresies and sorcery…and also of one who has the arrogance to question that which Holy Scripture has already declared to be perfect!”
The cold eyes moved up and down, taking in Christian’s fine clothes, his unflinching gaze. It was clear that this young man was not easily intimidated. No matter, there were many ways to frighten heretics into bowing to the will of the church.
Christian straightened up, a broad smile showing his white teeth. “Even so, Eminence, you are very welcome.” He stepped off the path to give the cardinal and his entourage room and looked up to see the kindly man from the university walking toward him. This time his joy was genuine and unreserved as he grasped the other’s hand. “I bid you welcome, friend.” And the man smiled back.
“Thankyou Christian Rosencreuz, I am Enrico Mendoza, professor of Laws at the General School. I am very curious about what is behind your doors.”
He bowed to the cardinal, stooping lower to kiss his ring. “Your Eminence, how good to see you again!” and turned to Christian and laughed “What a stir you have made in the city, to warrant the visit of such an important man as Cardinale Roelas. I hope you have wonders enough to impress him.”
Christian waited until the others had walked ahead and whispered “It is not a cardinal I wish to impress, Professore Enrico.” And he beckoned to the page standing quietly by the carriage. “Come, child, see the world that God has made for you.”
*
It was the ceiling that elicited the first gasps of surprise from his guests.
As they passed through the ornate inner doors, their eyes were drawn upward by a riot of movement and colour, to see a multitude of stars in a midnight sky, all twinkling and flashing in soft hues of red and purple, rainbow pinks and blues. They watched fascinated, as a tiny orb of fiery light flew in a gentle arc across the void, only to disappear in a wink for another, brighter and bigger to take its place.
“Sorcery” murmured the cardinal as he kicked away the page clinging desperately to his robes.
But Christian was unconcerned. He intended to show his guests the workings of the marvel his artisans had toiled day and night to set in place. “I bid you look closely. Can you see through the coloured glass to the wheels and cogs behind it as they strike at the flints and spark? It is merely a shadow play of the true miracle that lies above us in the heavens.” and he pulled aside a wooden panel to reveal a large metal disc attached to a rod which in turn moved smaller wheels and rods high above them. “It is moved by the flow of water in the harbour.” The cardinal grunted but Enrico clapped his hands and laughed.
Christian turned to Cardinal Roelas “Your Eminence, within these walls are clockworks and musical inventions and unfamiliar animals and plants which concur with old philosophies. There are also manuscripts on mathematics, medicine and instruments of navigation and astronomy that may interest you. There is a relic from Constantinople… the fingernails of St. Sebastian, and an excellent painting of Our Lord and His Blessed mother.
And I have gathered stones from the depths of an Arabian mountain for the making of everlasting lamps. But there has been no sorcery.”
They looked around the circular hall, at the marble floor sparkling with reflections of the starlight above and in the centre, the magnificently jewelled armillary sphere that Saladin gave to the wise men of Damcar.
There were several large rooms leading from this central space and he led them to the first, for here was the icon he had promised. And now these pious men were moved, crossing themselves and taking up their beads, for it was rendered in such brilliant living colour, it seemed that the blood could be seen pulsing beneath the Saviour’s pale skin and the soft folds of the Madonna’s blue robe might be lifted to kiss. And so finely executed were the eyes, their glistening tears might be brushed away with a trembling hand.
The cardinal took a moment to regain his composure and turned, eyeing him with suspicion “The stink of the supernatural surrounds you, young man. Be warned. The Lord’s justice will be swift… and terrible in its execution. There will be no mercy.”
Christian said nothing, but walked to a golden ossuary set upon white damask, the Holy relic of St. Sebastian. He took down the small casket and placed it in the cardinal’s hands, then waved his arm to take in the whole room, hung with other precious paintings and lined with marble statuary “Your Eminence…for the people of Seville.” He gestured to another doorway. “Come, there is much more to see.”
Professore Enrico said little as he stepped over the threshold, until he realised what he beheld…books…from the floor to the lofty ceiling, continuing round in dark unbroken rows. Low divans were placed here and there upon wine red Turkish carpets, giving the large space a warm cosiness, enhanced by the soft glow of cand
lelight and the moon shining through the tall windows. He threw up his arms in amazement “By the blessed saints! It would take lifetimes to amass such a wonder.”
He let his fingers linger on an illuminated manuscript open upon a table…a work of Cicero. “Ah…can you not hear it whispering?” Christian smiled…and led them to another room.
And the child clutched at the cardinal’s robe again as a life-size clockwork knight mounted upon a prancing clockwork horse raised his arm in a salute as they passed through the door.
Here were small machines and inventions, all clicking and humming and turning, machines for pressing grapes, kneading dough, churning butter and another for spinning flax and wool and weaving it into cloth, all meant to ease the lot of the common people. And against the walls, musical instruments playing soft melodies, little ringing bells and water filled vessels that sang when touched.
Here also were unguents to ease aching joints, powders to preserve meat and sweeten water and medicines to ease the pain of broken bones, rotted teeth, childbirth and …death.
It seemed that his guests would linger but Christian guided them to yet another room, its shelves displaying measuring tools, hourglasses, instruments of navigation and curved enlarging lenses, to see lice on the skin or fleas in the mattress. And tethered by cords to the roof beams, wooden birds flew slowly around, whistling and chirping. They saw the skeletons of strange beasts and fishes and alone on a high carved chest, grinning blindly out at them, the skull of a full grown man.
This time Christian took them, not to another room but to a wooden gate leading to a walled enclosure and he waved them through, into a glorious garden…giant lilies hanging like church bells from painted arches, exuding a perfume that made them giddy with its intensity, and tiny white blossoms spread like an exquisitely woven carpet under their feet. And high above them, branches of golden flowers, cascading and tumbling down like falling stars into a pond alive with glittering, splashing fish.