The Compendium of Srem (5 page)

Could philosophy succeed where faith had failed?

“For the sake of the Faith, let us pray you are right.”

Tomás did pray—all that night. And in the morning, when he stepped into the hall outside his room, an acrid odor assailed his nostrils. It seemed to issue from Adelard's workroom at the end of the hall. He approached the closed door as quickly as his painful hips would allow and pulled it open without knocking.

Inside he found Adelard holding a pair of steel tongs. The gripping end of the tongs suspended a glass flask of fuming red-orange liquid over the
Compendium
. The
Compendium
itself rested on the tile floor.

Adelard smiled at him. “You are just in time, Prior.”

Tomás covered his mouth and nose and pointed to the flask. “What is that?”

“
Aqua regia
. I just now mixed it. The solution will dissolve gold, silver, platinum, almost any metal you care to name.”

“Yet the simple glass of its container appears impervious.”

“Glass is not metal. But the
Compendium
is.”

Tomás felt his hackles rise. “This smacks of alchemy, Brother Adelard.”

“Not in the least, Prior. Aqua regia was first compounded over one hundred years ago. It is simply the combination of certain of God's elements in a given ratio. No spells or incantations are required. Anyone with the recipe can do it. I will show you later, if you wish.”

“That will not be necessary. What I want to know is, will it work?”

“If gold cannot stand against aqua regia, how can the
Compendium
?”

Tomás remembered having similar confidence about holy water last night.

“Please stand back, Prior. I am going to try a small amount first.”

Tomás held his ground. “Start your trial.”

He watched as Adelard tilted the flask and allowed a single drop of the smoking liquid to fall onto the cover. It stopped fuming on contact. It neither bubbled nor corroded nor marred the patterned surface in any way. Frowning, Adelard slowly poured a little more over a wider area with similar result. A container of spring water would have had the same effect.

Adelard used his sandaled foot to flip the cover open, revealing a random page onto which he emptied the flask. The corrosive had no more effect there than on the cover.

Adelard's shoulders slumped, and Tomás imagined his own did as well.

“I see no recourse but a deep-sea burial,” Tomás said.

Adelard lifted his head. “Not yet, good Prior. I am not yet ready to surrender. Give me three days before I must admit defeat.”

Tomás considered this. Yes, they could spare three days.

“Very well. Three days, Brother Adelard, but no more. And may God speed.”

Tomás spent those three days in prayer, often with Brother Ramiro at his side. Tribunal matters were postponed, meetings were canceled for the time being. Two
relapsos
awaited their
auto da fé
but Tomás delayed the sentence until this more pressing matter was resolved.

They did not know what Brother Adelard was up to, but Tomás was aware of the monk making many trips to and from his workroom carrying mysterious bundles of materials. Questions were raised by other members of the order, inquiring as to the cries of anger and anguish, the cacophony of hammering and sawing and smashing glass issuing from behind the closed door. Tomás was able to put them off with the simple truth: Brother Adelard was engaged in the Lord's work.

Toward the end of the third day with no results, Tomás called Ramiro to the tribunal room. He squinted at the stains and sawdust on the monk's black robe. Ramiro must have noticed the scrutiny.

“I have been making some changes in the library, Prior—doing the work myself since I no longer have a carpenter to call on.”

Tomás wasn't sure if he detected a barb in that last remark. Never mind…

“While Brother Adelard's efforts have been heroic, every time I pass him in the hallway he reports no progress. I have given up hope of success by philosophical means. I see the ocean bottom as the only remaining option.”

Ramiro nodded. “Yes, Prior. I am afraid I agree. I will be happy to make the voyage.”

Tomás smiled. “How well you anticipate my thoughts. I was just about to tell you that I was assigning you the task. I do not think Brother Adelard has slept at all these past three days and he will be in no condition to make the journey.”

“It is the least I can do after all his efforts.”

Just then they heard a voice calling in the hallway.

“Prior Tomás! Prior Tomás! I have done it!”

Praying that Adelard was not mistaken, Tomás allowed Ramiro to help him down the hall to the workroom.

“I have been trying one combination of elements after another,” Adelard said, leading the way. His eyes looked wild and his robe was pocked with countless holes burned by splashes of the corrosive compounds he had been handling. “Finally I found the one that works—quite possibly the only combination in all Creation that works!”

He reached the door and held it open for them. The workroom was full of fumes, which billowed out and ran along both the floor and ceiling of the hallway.

Ramiro waved his free arm ahead of them, parting the fumes as they reached the threshold. Tomás squinted through haze to see an odd structure sitting in the middle of the floor. It appeared to be a wooden cabinet but a deep glass bowl took up most of its upper surface. Through the smoke rising from the bowl Tomás spied what appeared to be a rectangular block of metal, immersed in a bubbling, fuming orange solution.

“What is happening here?” Tomás said.

“The
Compendium
! It is dissolving!”

Tomás prayed he wasn't dreaming. The letters and designs had been eaten off the cover, and the whole book appeared to be melting.

“But how—?”

“Through trial and error, Prior! I kept adding different compounds and solutions to the aqua regia until… until
this
! Isn't it wonderful?”

Yes. It was indeed wonderful.

“Praise God. He has worked a miracle.” Tomás looked at Ramiro. “Don't you agree?”

Ramiro's expression was troubled, then it cleared and he offered a weak smile. “Yes, Prior. A miracle.”

Tomás wondered what was distressing him. Jealous of Adelard's success? Or disappointed that he would not be going on the ocean voyage?

They watched for nearly an hour, with Adelard periodically adding fresh solution, until the
Compendium
was reduced to a mass of semi-molten metal. Adelard used tongs to remove it from the solution and lay it on the floor.

“As you can see,” he said, his voice full of pride, “the
Compendium
of Srem is no more. The solution has fused it into a solid mass. It is not even recognizable as a book.”

“I'll dispose of the remains,” Ramiro said.

Adelard stepped forward. “Not necessary, Brother Ramiro. I—”

“You've done quite enough, Brother Adelard,” Tomás said. “Go rest. You have earned it.”

“But Prior—”

Tomás lifted his hand, halting discussion.

He did not understand Adelard's uneasy expression.

Tomás awoke to soft knocking on his door. It reminded him of that night not too long ago when Adelard had shown up with that accursed tome.

“Yes?”

“It is Brother Ramiro, Prior. I must speak to you on an urgent matter.”

“Come, then.”

He remained supine in his bed as Ramiro entered with a candle. “Good Prior, I must show you something.”

“What is it?”

“It would be better to see with your own eyes.”

Tomás looked up at him. “Tell me.”

Ramiro took a deep breath and let out a sigh. “I wish to show you the
Compendium
.”

“It was not destroyed?” Tomás closed his eyes and groaned. “How is this possible? I thought you buried what was left of it.”

“I regret to inform you that what you saw dissolving was not the
Compendium
, Prior. That was a sheaf of tin sheets.”

“But—”

“In addition to gold and silver and platinum, aqua regia dissolves tin.”

The meaning was suddenly all too clear.

“You are accusing Brother Adelard of deceiving us!”

“Yes, Prior. Much as it pains me to say it, I fear it is so.”

“This is a terribly serious charge.”

Ramiro bowed his head. “That was why I wanted to show you.”

“Show me what?”

“Where he has hidden the
Compendium
.”

Tomás realized he would have to see for himself.

“Light my candle and wait for me in the hall.”

Ramiro pressed the flame of his candle against the cold wick of the one on the desk and left. Tomás struggled from his cot and slipped on his black robe. He grabbed his cane and joined Ramiro in the hallway, then followed him to Adelard's workroom.

“I found it here,” Ramiro said, opening the door.

He stepped to the acid-scarred cabinet in the center of the floor. The glass bowl in the top still contained residue from the dissolution they had witnessed yesterday. He knelt and removed a panel from the side of the cabinet. Then he removed a board from the base of the inner compartment.

“A false floor,” Ramiro said.

From within the hidden compartment he removed a blanket-wrapped parcel. He placed it atop the cabinet and unfolded the wrapping, revealing…

The
Compendium
.

For a moment Tomás did not know what to think. Was this a trick? Was Ramiro so jealous of his fellow monk that he would—?

Just then Adelard rushed in, gasping. “Oh, no! Prior, I can explain!”

No denial on the young monk's part, only the offer of an excuse. Tomás felt crushed by this betrayal.

“Oh, Adelard, Adelard,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Preserving heresy.”

“It is not heresy if it is true!”

“It goes against Church doctrine, and it will raise dangerous questions. We have discussed this.”

“But Prior, it won't burn, it won't be cut, it laughs at the most corrosive compounds we have. It is ancient and it is a wonder—truly a wonder. The Colossus of Rhodes, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, the Lighthouse at Alexandria—six of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World are gone. Only the Pyramids at Giza remain. Yet we hold the Eighth Wonder here in our hands. We have no right to keep it from the world!”

Tomás had heard enough—more than enough. Adelard was condemning himself with every word.

“Brother Adelard, you will confine yourself to your quarters until members of the Inquisition Guard bring you before the tribunal.”

His eyes widened further. “The tribunal? But I am a member!”

“I am well aware of that. No more discussion. You will await judgment in your quarters.”

As the crestfallen Adelard shuffled away toward his room, Tomás had no worries that he might run off. Adelard knew there was no escape from the Holy Inquisition.

What concerned Tomás was bringing a member of the tribunal before the tribunal itself to be judged. It was unprecedented. He would have to give this much thought. In the meantime…

“Brother Ramiro, wrap up that infernal tome and make certain that no one else sees it. Prepare to take it to sea on the earliest possible voyage.”

“Yes, Prior.”

He watched him fold the blanket around it, then carry it off toward his quarters. Tomás made his way to his own room and was just about to remove his cowled robe when he heard a knock on the door.

Was he never to have another full night's rest?

Ramiro's hushed voice came through the door. “I am so sorry, Prior, but I must speak with you again.”

Tomás opened the door and found the portly friar standing on the threshold with a stricken expression. He held the wrapped
Compendium
against his chest. The blanket looked damp.

“It floats,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“I dropped it into a tub of water in the kitchen. It will not sink.”

Tomás was not surprised. Why should it sink? That would make it too easy to dispose of.

“We will place it in trunk weighted with lead and wrapped with iron chains and—”

“Trunks rot in salt water, as do chains. Sooner or later it will surface again.”

Tomás could not argue with that.

“What do we do, Brother Ramiro?”

“I have an idea…”

Tomás stood to the side while the two
relapsos
dug a deep hole at the rear of the Royal Cloister.

King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella would be arriving in a week or two to spend the summer, and the cloister would be empty until then. The queen had wanted a patio on the north side that would be shaded in the afternoon. Since the royal treasury was funding the monastery, her every whim was a command. The area had been cleared and leveled, and was now half paved with interlocking granite blocks. The remainder was bare earth. That was where the
relapsos
labored. Lanterns placed around the hole illuminated their efforts.

“Here, Prior,” said Ramiro from behind him. “I brought you a chair.”

He set the leather upholstered chair on the pavers and Tomás gladly made use of it. He had been holding the wrapped
Compendium
against his chest. Standing for so long had started an ache in his low back.

“This is a brilliant plan, Ramiro,” he whispered.

“I live to serve the Faith. I would like to think that the Lord inspired me.”

His plan was simple and yet perfect: Bury the
Compendium
in a section of the grounds that was scheduled to be paved over with heavy blocks. The
Monasterio de Santo Tomás
would stand for centuries, perhaps a thousand years or more. The
Compendium
would never be found. And if it ever were, perhaps the monks of that future time would know then how to destroy it.