John the Pupil. David Flusfeder

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СКАЧАТЬ to make a firecracker to amuse children, the powder that is antidote to the most deadly snake bite, the slaying of poisonous things with the lightest touch. How to make an instrument of a year-old hazel twig that will vibrate to the natural powers of the earth. These things are offered to the Pope, not to a knave and his band.

      It is the world, I told them, in a book.

      A bible?

      Almost as important.

      It was a heresy for them to presume to take it, and an awful danger too, that they might read of the consuming fire that no water can put out, or of how to manufacture the crack louder than thunder that Gideon employed to defeat the Midianites.

      The vicious company was stopping. We stopped behind the shelter of three trees. They were in a rough circle near a roadside altar beneath which twigs and leaves had been laid for pilgrims to make a votive fire.

      We are higher up than they, and we have the advantage of suddenness, Brother Bernard said.

      An advantage that would quickly turn to its reverse if we have nothing to support it with.

      We have the sun at our backs, Brother Andrew said. Maybe they will be blinded as we ambush.

      It was clear that he did not have the capacity for a fight and I could hardly blame him, but guilt at his earlier desertion was driving him to affect an appetite for battle.

      I looked at the might of our tiny army. I examined our armoury. I made as if Master Roger was with us, to counsel us, to general our legions. And I asked Brother Andrew to repeat what he had said, and he did, and the spirit of God directed me.

      Phaeton and his chariot will help us, I said.

      I got to my knees to open the bag that contained the apparatus for the model to demonstrate to the Pope.

      What are they doing? I asked.

      What are you doing? Brother Bernard said. Praying?

      Just tell me what they are doing.

      They are standing, maybe they are disputing, Brother Andrew said.

      One is reaching for the box but Simeon will not let him have it, Brother Bernard said.

      Do not let them open the box, I said.

      I had thought that constructing the apparatus under the scrutiny of my Master would prepare me for the work of assembling it at any occasion. My Master’s eyes are stern and steady, the faculty for being observed is most acute under his scrutiny. But here, on the side of the hill, our most precious work the possession of a company of unworthy thieves, my hands were shaking, my fingers fumbling, my skin pricking with labour and fear, the metal support legs fell on to their sides, like a giant insect falling dead to the earth.

      Some of the other men seem to be grasping for the box too, Brother Andrew said.

      And a smaller number are shoving against them. They are arguing, Brother Bernard said – but how are we going to stop them?

      I do not know. Think of something. Sing. Dance.

      The Palmer is shaking his head, Brother Andrew said.

      He’s losing the argument, Brother Bernard said.

      One of them is putting on your cloak, Brother Andrew said.

      Maybe, I feared, my Master was wrong and the villagers were right, and his powers had nothing to do with investigation and repetition; and at my touch, no power would assist me.

      They are about to open the box, Brother Bernard said.

      Were it not for the apple! Brother Andrew sang walking lightly down the hill towards the robbers.

      We should not have been saved! Brother Bernard sang walking more quickly to catch up with him.

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