Free Temple of The Grail by Adriana Koulias Page B

believe it shall continue to do so for many
more, the evil of which I speak is ignorance. I believe it to be the worst sin,
because it leads to all other sins . . . It was ignorance that nailed our
Saviour to the cross that fateful Friday, and it would be ignorance that would
burn him at the stake today if He were to threaten the power of the Church, in
the same way that He threatened the power of Caesar.’
    Alas, my fears were realised. All
eyes enlarged and mouths gaped open in incredulity and I knew at once that my
master had made a terrible mistake.
    But the moment was rescued by the
abbot, who invited us to be quiet and listen to the reading of the rule, which
he said had been specially requested by the inquisitor. It consisted of an
admonition to all spiritual fathers as to their teachings and the obedience of
their disciples. We were told that any lack of goodness found in his flock
would be accounted the shepherd’s fault at which point the reader’s voice broke
a little and he gazed up from the holy book in the direction of the abbot’s
table. The abbot gestured for the reader to continue, though a worried frown
graced his brow.
    Later, after the customary
formalities, we departed in silence through the great doors that led to the
cloister and from there headed in the direction of the chapel in quiet
procession. More than once I thought I caught the evil eye of the inquisitor
and his men cast in our direction, and I prayed for God’s protection, though at
the time I did not know how much we would come to need it.

4
Capitulum
    Completorium (Compline)
    A nd so it was that the last service of the day began in the
usual manner, after the sun had descended below the horizon. Firstly the abbot
gave the master of music the signal to intone, ‘ Tu autem, domine, miserere
nobis, ’ with our response, ‘ Deo Gratias ’, followed by the abbot’s
reply, ‘ Adjutorium nostrum in nomine Domini ,’ to which we replied in
chorus, ‘ Qui fecit caelum et terram ’.
    This is the time of day when a good
monk prepares to place his soul into God’s hands. For sleep is a preparation
for death, in which the external world is extinguished, and the world of the
spirit is illuminated by the light of the soul. In this death, we are told,
there is the promise of life and so, sitting in the shadows of the stalls,
comforted by the warmth of many bodies, I was reminded that our life is not
without end, that in the same way the orb of the daystar sinks into the bosom
of the dark horizon, so too our bodies return to the earth. Yet it is from out
of this darkness where things seem most hopeless that the sun journeys back to
triumph. So too, we are told that man must triumph over death to find a new
horizon awaiting him in the cradle of divinity. At this moment I wanted to
believe that the world was good, that the captains and hallowed judges that
formed the body of the Holy Inquisition (surely a reflection of God’s infinite
justice and mercy?) were righteous and pure. Why then was I assailed by
sentiments so close to those I felt that day on the banks of the Nile? I looked
about me at the faces of the congregation, trying to dispel my fears by
reminding myself of my vows. Had I not yearned for a cloister? To be safely
sequestered from the vicissitudes of a vain and depraved world, where one feels
only an intense peace? Now I was realising that dangers lay not only in a
battlefield, and I shuddered. I turned my mind to the intoning of the opening
versicles and responses, ‘ Converte nos . . . Et averte . . . ’ and ‘ Deus
in adjutorium ’ which were now beginning and determined to think no more of
such things. Surely I was tired? Tomorrow a day would dawn anew and my fears
would dissipate along with the darkness, which now oppressed my soul. Was not
my master, who sat beside me, a bastion of strength, a fortress of wisdom?
Moreover, who could contest the authority of the king? I realized that perhaps
the inquisitor was right when