Pagan's Vows Read Free Page B

congratulated for something. His face, perhaps?
    ‘Fetch two more seats, Bernard – you know where they are.’ Clement lowers himself onto one of the stools, his joints cracking like nut-shells. ‘Everybody sit. Sit. You – Pagan – what are you looking at? Look over here, I’m talking to you. Now, before proceeding, I have to point out for the benefit of newcomers that normally we would be speaking Latin, but because Ademar has no Latin, we are obliged to use the vulgar dialect of this country. Of course Latin is always to be preferred. It is the only civilised tongue. Tell me, Roland, do you have any Latin?’
    Roland hesitates, his backside poised above the stool he’s just received. For a moment he’s silent.
    ‘A little,’ he says at last, and sits down. His face is expressionless. Watch it, Roland. There’s Latin and Latin, you know. Something tells me that yours isn’t the kind they use around here.
    ‘And Pagan?’ Clement turns his head. ‘What about you? Do you have any Latin?’
    ‘Yes, I have.’
    ‘ Verbum quid est? ’
    (Pardon?)
    ‘ Verbum quid est? ’
    Verbum quid est? What is a verb? What do you mean, ‘what is a verb’? Oh – wait a moment. Wait a moment, I remember now. That’s from Donatus! From the Ars grammatica! How could I have forgotten? Donatus’s Ars grammatica: they must have read it to us about five hundred times, back in Saint Joseph’s. God, those lessons with Brother Benedict. The way he used to thrash us if we didn’t get the questions right. What is a noun? What is a syllable? What is a sentence? I haven’t thought about Donatus in years . . .
    ‘VERBUM QUID EST?’
    Christ in a cream cheese sauce. What is a verb? Think, Pagan. A verb is – a verb is –
    Ah yes. A verb is a part of speech with time and person, but without case.
    ‘Verbum est pars orationis cum tempore et persona sine casu. ’
    ‘Correct.’ Clement nods. ‘It is clear that you do have Latin. Where did you learn it?’
    ‘In a monastery.’
    ‘The one in Bethlehem?’
    ‘Yes.’
    A whisper from somewhere behind me. Clement raps his stick on the floor.
    ‘Silence!’ he snaps. ‘One more word from you, Gaubert, and it’s a four-day fast. So, Pagan. You read Donatus, at this monastery?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Yes, Master. You must call me Master.’
    ‘Yes, Master.’ (God preserve us.)
    ‘What else did you read?’
    ‘The Rule of Saint Benedict. Master.’
    ‘What about Priscian?’
    ‘No, Master.’
    ‘Cato? Aesop?’
    ‘No, Master.’
    He grunts, and turns away. What a ravening beast. What a dragon. Be merciful unto me, oh God, for a man would swallow me up.
    ‘And you, Roland,’ he continues. ‘If I were to say postula a me et dabo tibi gentes hereditatem tuam , what word, do you think, would govern the me most suitably?’
    Oh Lord. Poor Roland. This is a disaster. Roland – Roland! Look over this way! Roland! He swallows, and takes a deep breath.
    ‘The me . . .? ’ he says, in a bloodless voice. God have mercy. Just tell him, Roland. Tell him you can’t read. Tell him your only Latin is the Lord’s Prayer. It’s not your fault that you don’t have any grammar. Knights just aren’t raised to read books.
    ‘Yes, that’s right. The me. ’ Clement’s growing impatient. ‘Which word governs the pronoun me? ’
    ‘ Deus. ’
    ‘ Deus? ’
    A snicker from Bernard. Shut up, you poisonous bed-louse. Clement’s squinting at Roland as if he can’t believe his eyes. ‘ Deus? ’ he repeats. ‘You mean ‘God’? Is that what you mean?’
    Roland nods.
    ‘But I don’t understand,’ Clement mutters. ‘Why do you say that?’
    ‘Because God governs all things.’
    This time Bernard laughs out loud. Right. That’s it.
    ‘Shut up!’ (You pus-bag! You maggot!) Don’t you dare laugh at Roland! Don’t you dare!
    ‘Silence!’ Whomp! Clement’s stick hits the floor. ‘Pagan! That’s enough. I will not warn you again.’
    ‘But –’
    ‘ Silence! ’ (Whomp!)