Temple of The Grail Read Free Page B

of the
archers, a wise and usually sensible man, advised that we should take the lower
road. The bishop, however, alighted from his carriage and demanded, since he
was an Italian and therefore more versed in the ways of mountains, that we
should under no circumstance travel any other save the higher road. Others
joined in and soon one man raised his voice against the other until there
ensued an intense disagreement, with each voicing his opinion in a heated and
discourteous manner.
    The mountain is a changeable beast
and without warning generated a wind that parted the mist and played with the
ecclesiastical vestments of the retinue. Nervous and suspicious, the archers
looked about them, having been taught to notice and react to the slightest
thing, but the churchmen and the captain of the guard continued in argument,
raising their voices higher and higher so as to be heard over the rustling of
the trees. That was when, of a sudden, a gust swept our little party, taking
the bishop’s skull cap from his head and sending it rolling forward into the
middle road like a little wheel. Clutching at his exposed, tonsured head, the
large man turned in dismay and took to running after the small black article, stumbling
over the rocky ground, almost grasping the cap before another gust set it in
motion.
    From the corner of my eye I saw my
master mount his Arabian. ‘It seems the bishop has taken matters into his own
hand’, he said, signalling his animal forward in pursuit. Needless to say, in a
general state of bewilderment, the retinue was forced to follow. Moments later
the narrow path miraculously widened to a safe and level road, seemingly well
kept despite a snow cover that, as it happened, turned out to be shallow.
    ‘A most astute choice,’ my master
congratulated the bishop in his carriage.
    The bishop’s round face peeped
through the aperture and creased into an uncertain, pale smile, ‘ Deus vult,
deus vult ,’ he nodded, ‘God wills it my son, God wills it.’
    Presently Andre joined me at the
back, allowing the captain of the guard to resume his position, and we rode in
silence, hugging our cloaks for warmth. I refrained from asking any questions.
It was he who spoke first, without turning in my direction.
    ‘Well . . . Have you learnt anything,
Christian?’ he said.
    I deliberated a moment. ‘That God
works mysteriously, master?’
    There was a long silence. The trees
moved like living things around us and snow fell from the branches over our
heads.
    ‘So this is what you have learnt?’ he
said presently. ‘Ten years at my side and this is what you have learnt?’
    ‘Why?’ I retorted with indignation. ‘Is
there more?’
    He paused and his obedient animal
paused also. He looked at me with mild irritation. ‘Have I not told you more
times than I can count, Christian, that a good physician and a fine philosopher
have much in common?’
    ‘But how does that . . .?’
    ‘That they both endeavour,’ he
interrupted, ‘to establish a standard of perfection in their minds to which
they can turn, and this I have been trying to teach you, but I can see it will
require some attention. Would you like me to enlighten you?’
    I sighed, knowing there was nothing
else I could say, ‘I am ready, master.’
    ‘Good . . .’ He jiggled the reins and
the horse obeyed. ‘Now firstly, what you should have learnt is the difference
between knowledge and opinion. Knowledge and opinion . . .’
    ‘You infer that they are not always
the same?’
    ‘An intelligent observation,’ he said
smiling – though I suggest that he meant the opposite. ‘Knowledge we know
to be eternal and immutable, am I right?’
    ‘And ignorance is the knowing of
nothing,’ I added.
    ‘Precisely.’
    ‘All the same,’ I argued, ‘where does
one place opinion?’
    ‘Opinion, Christian, fluctuates
between the two states. Between what fully is and what absolutely is not, and
so it is never reliable.’
    ‘But what has this to do with