Startaker

by Marian Goddard

  He wanted to gallop the rest of the way, shout his joy to the rooftops. But he must carry himself with solemn dignity or he would not gain the ear of the learned. His youth would count against him.

  People watched from every window, eyes glittered in the shadows. He lifted his head higher and cantered on. There would be no spectacle today.

  He entered the gates of the university and ascended a wide flight of steps into a long hall, built up on either side in tiered rows. When his eyes became accustomed to the dim interior, he saw that each seat was occupied by a silent dour faced scholar, his black robe blending with the others into a dark whole, swallowing the light.

  A frowning, grey haired man dressed in the same dark robes pointed at him with a crooked finger “Approach young man.” He squinted along the length of his nose, peering down at him with undisguised disdain. “Our informants tell us you have spoken out against the educated men of this city, calling them ignoramus…calling them disreputable, accusing them of greed and evil doings.” Christian stood quietly, puzzled by this icy reception.

  He had said nothing against anyone.

  “We hear also that you are encouraging unnatural practices among the people, exhorting them to bathe, eat food meant for their betters, to disregard the humble station decreed for them by God. Well, insolent pup, we would hear your reply…or would you prefer to explain before the magistrate?”

  Murmurs of outrage trickled down as Christian doffed his cap and bowed low. This contempt had not been expected. Althotas was right.

  “Sire, my name is Christian von Germelshausen, from the forests of Thuringowa, near Hesse. My family is an old one. And noble.” He stood up straight and met the cold eyes of the masters.

  “Gentlemen of Seville, for years I have been travelling, across the whole of Sinus Arabica and beyond. And I have gathered knowledge as a bee gathers its nectar.

  Now I wish to share its divine sweetness with the learned of Europe.”

  The murmurs grew to muttering and sneering laughter. The old man’s face grew purple with anger “What… a boy barely out of his swaddling bands? And a German at that!”

  He waved his hand imperiously at the increasingly hostile crowd “What could you possibly have to teach these most educated men of this most civilised land? What further knowledge could you offer that our blessed Saint Isidorus has not already provided by his Etymologies?”

  Suddenly an inkpot flew through the air and splattered against Christian’s shoulder, leaving a wet patch of rusty ink on his dark cloak. He stood still, waiting for another volley and when none came spoke again, his voice stronger. “Sires, I know what you see before you is but a callow youth but I take oath before God… I have come to you with goodwill. In the city, I asked to be directed to the most erudite, the most profound.

  And I was told it was here.

  It is true, I will offer these treasures to others, for it is not just for princely men or wise scholars but for all, poor and rich, common and noble.

  I bring knowledge such as Adam after the fall received it and as Moses and Solomon used it. And I bring the learning of the ancients of the true nature of men, for just as an acorn contains the whole great tree, so the body of man contains the whole great world, vibrating in harmony with God, heaven and earth. So now can be revealed to him an understanding of man’s nobleness and worth and why he is called micro-cosmos… and of the deep knowledge of nature that has been entrusted to him.”

  An outraged shout from the tiers cut through the silence “This is blasphemy! You speak of science, not God! Reason without faith is heresy! I will not hear more.” and a large man pushed his way through the rows and swept up the aisle, catching against his arm and almost toppling him over.

  Christian spoke again “The Lord has sustained me through many trials. What I have learned has brought me closer to an understanding of His wonders. I am no heretic.” He wondered if his mother and father had pleaded their case before ones such as this, whose ears and eyes were closed and only their mouths opened. “Good sirs, the search for truth can bring only enlightenment. I do not rejoice that I can transmute metals, or that the devils are obedient to me but that the heavens open up and I see the angels of God ascending and descending and my name written in the book of life.”

  And now the gallery roared and thundered with shouting and tumult. The old man held up his hand and quieted them. “Ah, the lad is an alchemist then? And a sorcerer no less? Can you turn lead into gold…water into wine? And of course, you sit with Our Lord and the Virgin at the right hand of God, with the Pope at your feet.”

  He waved his hand in dismissal. “The boy is mad. Give him a few piastres and shove him out the door. Its time for our siesta.”

  Then a tall, bearded man rose from Christian’s left and called out, his voice steady over the clamour and noise. “Wait, I wish to hear what this young princeling has to say.” and the men became quiet again. ”Tell me…Do you not understand the penalty the church may impose if you speak words of heresy? You could be put to the torture, or left to rot in the dungeons, or tied about with faggots and burnt at the stake. And your noble birth will not save you.”

  Christian looked to the speaker standing with his head bent toward him, intent on his reply. “Thankyou sire, may I answer your question with another?” the man nodded and Christian went on.

  “Would it not be a wonderful thing to overcome disease and poverty, hunger and old age? And what if, there was a realisation so profound that if all other learning were lost, it would be possible to build from this again a great storehouse of truth? And to read in this one book all the books of the world from the time that is past and the time that is to come?

  And would it not be a desirable thing to have an understanding of all the countries of the world and the secrets they contain?”

  The man smiled and shook his head “What you speak of is utopian idealism, expounded by Plato and Plutarch and many after them. It has been the hope of man since Eve tempted Adam and God cast them into the wilderness. It is unattainable. We must be punished for our sins.”

  Christian shook his head. “No, it is possible…and with the joy and blessing of the Creator…If the pride of the learned was not so great that they could agree together, they could, were they united, collect a perfect method of all the arts. But they are loath to leave the old course, more esteeming popery and Aristotle and Galen, who if they were still living would soon see the error of their ways and rejoice, for it is not that which has the mere show of learning but that which is manifested in the clear light of truth…in mathematics, medicine, reason and the natural philosophies.” Grumbles and muttering began again but he went on, his voice rising.

  “Sires, we must beware the Old Enemy who is the first, middle and last cause of darkness and strife in the world and unite for the good of mankind.”

  The old man was incandescent with rage and shouted to Christian standing with his feathered cap in his hand. “What you say is impudent and without grounds. Let him who loves unquietness be reformed. We have done our best!”

  And the man on the left spoke again as the room fell silent “Young man, in what school have you attained your understanding?

  By what authority do you stand before us today?”

  Christian thought on this for a few moments and answered with a firm voice. “I have gained my knowledge in the mystery schools of the East.

  I come with the authority of the Brotherhood of the Rosy Cross.” Then the noise in the hall became a clamouring as they all began to talk at once.

  The old man raised his finger and sneered. “Brotherhood, eh? Strangely enough, we are very familiar with brotherhoods.” And he waved his hand at a slim, effeminate man in the first row of the gallery. “Senor Castelentor here says he is a high adept of the brotherhood of Alumbrados, though we are all sure he clings so tightly to his office so he can fuck his mistress and tell himself he’s doing it for God!”

  Ribald laughter rippled through the room as he poin
ted to a hawk nosed man in the back row. “And Professore Cortez believes he is the reincarnation of Horus and spends his nights inventing rituals to perform in the catacombs under the city, though the only brethren he has gathered so far are the rats that gnaw on the putrid flesh of the dead.”

  And again to a fat man who smirked at Christian and made a lewd gesture with his hand. “And here sits Pietro Diaz, the cream of Castilian aristocracy, who belongs to the brotherhood of Procurers of Virgin Boys. But these days we know very well he is more interested in the brotherhood of Gluttons and Evil Gossip.”

  The laughter pierced the air with its harshness, making Christian’s stomach turn. He knew that today was not the day to be heard. He addressed them again, now employing the power of speech he had been taught in the mountain at Damcar.

  “Learned gentlemen…With the permission of the mayor of Seville, I have installed myself in the Golden Tower by the harbour. And I have brought with me from the East great wonders and precious things. I would be honoured if you would attend me there, perhaps on the day before the feast of Corpus Christi, and partake of these riches.”

  Stony silence greeted him but the man who had been kind stood once more. “I will attend your home Christian Rosencreuz. I would know what knowledge you bring.”

  And he nodded imperceptibly as Christian bowed low with a sweep of his cap and walked quietly from the hall.

  *

  The city was abuzz with talk of the mysterious stranger so lately arrived.

  For months, a steady procession of wagons and carts had wended its way through the streets, driven by silent liveried servants. Drays filled with fresh cut grasses, slabs of quivering meat and baskets of fish all disappeared into the palm shaded courtyard, the big wooden gates closing swiftly behind them. Barges docked in the harbour, only feet from the great doors, the same wordless men unloading in the darkness, strange shaped bundles and barrels and covered cages. Workmen pounded and sawed and animals could be heard in the night, filling the air with fearful howls and grunts, whistling and roaring.

  He must be a nobleman, they said. Such riches! Such food! Such magnificence!

  But now, an incredible thing was happening.

  By the meanest huts, the darkest alleys, where the sick, the leprous and the hungry cowered in misery, wonderful smells would waft out, of new bread and spicy soup and roasted meat. And there would be a man, dressed simply in dark robes, beckoning.

  Those who were too weak to feed themselves, he would feed. And those who were sick, he would tend. And he would press a sliver of gold into the palms of all who came, placing his finger to his lips to beg for silence. Then disappear into the shadows.

  Night after night.

  *

  ‘Come and behold! The glorious wonders of God!’

  Notices had been nailed up in the squares and the cryers paid to spread the news among the people. And before the sun came up on the eve of Corpus Christi, the ragged poor of Seville gathered in their hundreds outside the gates. It was all they had been talking about for days. And now they stood in shy uncertainty, for the doors had opened and scarlet clad servants were emerging with pots of steaming food to place on trestles standing under the trees.

  Golden loaves of soft, white bread, whole roasted fowl, basted lambs and suckling pigs, barrels of sweet orange nectar and platters of fruit. And a wild boar trundled out on a dray, baked honey brown and surrounded by fragrant onions and garlic and peppers. They waited with haunted eyes and open mouths as the old and the young were led to the tables, then the rest, assured by the smiling servants that there was plenty for all, were invited to eat their fill. And more people came, clutching their rosaries and exclaiming in awestruck whispers. This was a glorious wonder of God indeed!

  Of the noble stranger there was no sight, until the devil and his wife poked their horned heads over the outer wall and sent people screaming in panic, knocking over the tables in their haste to flee. Then he walked down the wide stone stairs, a fair haired man dressed all in black, reassuring them that the impossibly tall beast that stood quietly ripping the new leaves from the trees were not devils, but magnificent wonders of nature.

  “Good people, what you see are giraffids, from the grasslands of Africa. God has provided them with long necks and soft mouths, to eat from the treetops. There is no danger.

  Today, I will show you many wonders.

  I have brought a crocodilus from Egypt and a hooded serpent from Arabia. There are flowers that hang like a cluster of golden stars from their stems and berries, one bite of which and the sourest fruit becomes as manna from heaven, for it is your right to see what marvels exist in the world.”

  ‘Right? We have no right,’ they said. ‘We are peasants, less than nothing. Even the leavings from the tables of the nobles and the priests are given grudgingly, with well aimed kicks and spiteful jests. Who is this lord who would provide a feast fit for kings and give it to the common people, who would care that their eyes beheld the wonders of God?’

  Christian would hear no protests. His servants gathered up the children and carrying the halt and lame on their shoulders, entered the courtyard, the soft trill of bird-song and playing fountains welcoming them in.

  Mothers and daughters stood wringing their hands outside. What if their loved ones did not return? But soon they could hear something that had never been heard in the sombre streets of Seville, squeals of laughter and joyous sounds. And the children came out smiling, carrying tiny monkeys on their shoulders, or pretty lizards, or clutching bright tinkling bells and delicate flowers. And the older folk held gifts too, miracle berries and liniments and soothing unguents.

  And the people jostled each other to be next to enter the golden tower of wonders.

  *

  It was nightfall before the crowds began to thin outside the gates.

  The boar was eaten down to the bone and the scraps wrapped in cloth to distribute among the people and the giraffes were now standing contentedly watching as the last of the curious emerged wide eyed, from the tower.

  Christian waited quietly on the steps, overwhelmed by disappointment. He’d searched in vain for the one face he truly thought he would see. The joy and exclamations of the people made his heart glad but it was the learned and the noble who had the power to change the world for good.

  And they had not come.

  He turned to the door to gather the instruments and simples for his evening ritual, and stopped as a carriage drawn by two dappled horses rattled to a halt outside the gates, a dozen black robed clerics riding donkeys, pulling up behind. He watched as a pink flushed face appeared at the window and a nervous page hurried to open the door, receiving an ill tempered cuff around the ears for his tardiness.

  Then his visitor stepped down in a flutter of red satin and a glitter of golden chain and crucifix, a cardinal’s wide brimmed hat jammed tight on his head. He held a pomander against his nose, screwing up his eyes in distaste at the few stragglers standing by the gates. And when he sketched the sign of the cross hastily over them and waved his hand in dismissal, they covered their heads and scuttled away.

  Christian felt a moment of unease. An aura of power and derision surrounded this man, a dangerous combination in a minister of the church. He walked down the path and knelt to kiss the ruby ring on his hand. “Your Eminence, It is an honour.”

  The cardinal’s eyes were pinpricks of black in pouches of wrinkled flesh, they held no smile. “Do not believe we are here for amusement, young man. We have heard rumours in the city…of heresies and sorcery…and also of one who has the arrogance to question that which Holy Scripture has already declared to be perfect!”

  The cold eyes moved up and down, taking in Christian’s fine clothes, his unflinching gaze. It was clear that this young man was not easily intimidated. No matter, there were many ways to frighten heretics into bowing to the will of the church.

  Christian straightened up, a broad smile showing his white teeth. “Even so, Eminence, you are very welc
ome.” He stepped off the path to give the cardinal and his entourage room and looked up to see the kindly man from the university walking toward him. This time his joy was genuine and unreserved as he grasped the other’s hand. “I bid you welcome, friend.” And the man smiled back.

  “Thankyou Christian Rosencreuz, I am Enrico Mendoza, professor of Laws at the General School. I am very curious about what is behind your doors.”

  He bowed to the cardinal, stooping lower to kiss his ring. “Your Eminence, how good to see you again!” and turned to Christian and laughed “What a stir you have made in the city, to warrant the visit of such an important man as Cardinale Roelas. I hope you have wonders enough to impress him.”

  Christian waited until the others had walked ahead and whispered “It is not a cardinal I wish to impress, Professore Enrico.” And he beckoned to the page standing quietly by the carriage. “Come, child, see the world that God has made for you.”

  *

  It was the ceiling that elicited the first gasps of surprise from his guests.

  As they passed through the ornate inner doors, their eyes were drawn upward by a riot of movement and colour, to see a multitude of stars in a midnight sky, all twinkling and flashing in soft hues of red and purple, rainbow pinks and blues. They watched fascinated, as a tiny orb of fiery light flew in a gentle arc across the void, only to disappear in a wink for another, brighter and bigger to take its place.

  “Sorcery” murmured the cardinal as he kicked away the page clinging desperately to his robes.

  But Christian was unconcerned. He intended to show his guests the workings of the marvel his artisans had toiled day and night to set in place. “I bid you look closely. Can you see through the coloured glass to the wheels and cogs behind it as they strike at the flints and spark? It is merely a shadow play of the true miracle that lies above us in the heavens.” and he pulled aside a wooden panel to reveal a large metal disc attached to a rod which in turn moved smaller wheels and rods high above them. “It is moved by the flow of water in the harbour.” The cardinal grunted but Enrico clapped his hands and laughed.