“‘And the serpent said to the woman: God doth know that in what day soever you shall eat thereof, your eyes shall be opened, and you shall be as Gods, knowing good and evil.’ “

“ — twelve centuries, if every direction of speculation is to he closed off and every new thought denounced—”

“It never was any better, it never will be any better. It will only be richer or poorer, sadder but not wiser, until the very last day.”

The scholar shrugged helplessly. “You see? I knew you would be offended, but you told me — Oh, What’s the use? You have your account of it.”

“The ‘account’ that I was quoting, Sir Philosopher, was not an account of the manner of creation, but an account of the manner of the temptation that led to the Fall. Did that escape you? “And the serpent said to the woman — ’ “

“Yes, yes, but the freedom to speculate is essential—”

“No one has tried to deprive you of that. Nor is anyone offended. But to abuse the intellect for reasons of pride, vanity, or escape from responsibility, is the fruit of that same tree.”

“You question the honor of my motives?” asked the thon, darkening.

“At times I question my own. I accuse you of nothing. But ask yourself this: Why do you take delight in leaping to such a wild conjecture from so fragile a springboard? Why do you wish to discredit the past, even to dehumanizing the last civilization? So that you need not learn from their mistakes? Or can it be that you can’t bear being only a ‘rediscoverer,’ and must feel that you are a “creator’ as well?”

The thon hissed an oath. “These records should be placed in the hands of competent people,” he said angrily. “What irony this is!”

The light sputtered and went out. The failure was not mechanical. The novices at the drive-mill had stopped work.

“Bring candles,” called the abbot.

Candles were brought.

“Come down,” Dom Paulo said to the novice atop the ladder. “And bring that thing with you. Brother Kornhoer? Brother Korn—”

“He stepped into the storeroom a moment ago, Domne.”

“Well, call him.” Dom Paulo turned to the scholar again, handing him the documents which had been found among Brother Claret’s effects. “Read, if you can make it out by candlelight, Sir Philosopher!”

“A mayoral edict?”

“Read it and rejoice in your cherished freedom.”

Brother Kornhoer slipped into the room again. he was carrying the heavy crucifix which had been displaced from the head of the archway to make room for the novel lamp, He handed the cross to Dom Paulo.

“How did you know I wanted this?”

“I just decided it was about time, Domne.” He shrugged.

The old man climbed the ladder and replaced the rood on its iron hook. The corpus glittered with gold by candlelight The abbot turned and called down to his monks.

“Who reads in this alcove henceforth, let him read ad Lumina Christi!”

When he descended the ladder, Thon Taddeo was already cramming the last of his papers into a large case for later sorting. He glanced warily at the priest but said nothing.

“You read the edict?”

The scholar nodded.

“If, by some unlikely chance, you would like political asylum here—”

The scholar shook his head.

“Then may I ask you to clarify your remark about placing our records in competent hands?”

Thou Taddeo lowered his gaze. “It was said in the heat of the moment, Father. I retract it.”

“But you haven’t stopped meaning it. You’ve meant it all along.”

The thon did not deny it.

“Then it would be futile to repeat my plea for your intercession on our behalf — when your officers tell your cousin what a fine military garrison this abbey would make. But for his own sake, tell him that when our altars or the Memorabilia have been threatened, our predecessors did not hesitate to resist with the sword.” He paused. “Will you be leaving today or tomorrow?”

“Today I think would be better,” Thon Taddeo said softly.

“I’ll order provisions made ready.” The abbot turned to go, but paused to add gently: “But when you get back, deliver a message to your colleagues.”

“Of course. Have you written it?”

“No. Just say that anyone who wishes to study here will be welcome, in spite of the poor lighting. Thon Maho, especially. Or Thon Esser Shon with his six ingredients. Men must fumble awhile with error to separate it from truth, I think — as long as they don’t seize the error hungrily because it hasa pleasanter taste. Tell them too, my son, that when the time comes, as it will surely come, that not only priests but philosophers are in need of sanctuary — tell them our walls are thick out here.”

He nodded a dismissal to the novices, then, and trudged up the stairs to be alone in his study. For the Fury was twisting his insides again, and he knew that torture was coming.

Nunc dimittis servum tuum, Domine…Quia viderunt oculi mei salutare…

Maybe it will twist clean loose this time, he thought almost hopefully. He wanted to summon Father Gault to hear his confession, but decided that it would be better to wait until the guests had gone. He stared at the edict again.

A knock at the door soon interrupted his agony.

“Can you come back later?”

“I’m afraid I won’t be here later,” answered a muffled voice from the corridor.

“Oh, Thon Taddeo — come in, then.” Dom Paulo straightened; he took a firm grip on pain, not trying to dismiss it but only to control it as he would an unruly servant.

The scholar entered and placed a folder of papers on the abbot’s desk. “I thought it only proper to leave you these,” he said.

“What do we have here?”

“The sketches of your fortifications. The ones the officers made. I suggest you burn them immediately.”

“Why have you done this?” Dom Paulo breathed. “After our words downstairs—”

“Don’t misunderstand,” Thon Taddeo interrupted. “I would have returned them in any event — as a matter of honor, not to let them take advantage of your hospitality for — but never mind. If I had returned the sketches any sooner, the officers would have had plenty of time and opportunity to draw up another set.”

The abbot arose slowly and reached for the scholar’s hand.

Thon Taddeo hesitated. “I promise no effort on your behalf—”

“I know.”

“ — because I think what you have here should be open to the world.”

“It is, it was, it always will be.”

They shook hands gingerly, but Dom Paulo knew that it was no token of any truce but only of mutual respect between foes. Perhaps it would never be more.

But why must it all be acted again?

The answer was near at hand; there was still the serpent whispering: For God doth know that in what day soever you shall eat thereof, your eyes shall be opened: and you shall be as Gods. The old father of lies was clever at telling half-truths: How shall you “know” good and evil, until you shall have sampled a little? Taste and be as Gods. But neither infinite power nor infinite wisdom could bestow godhood upon men. For that there would have to be infinite love as well.

Dom Paulo summoned the younger priest. It was very nearly time to go. And soon it would be a new year.

That was the year of the unprecedented torrent of rain on the desert, causing seed long dry to burst into bloom.

That was the year that a vestige of civilization came to the nomads of the Plains, and even the people of Laredo began to murmur that it was possibly all for the best. Rome did not agree.

In that year a temporary agreement was formalized and broken between the states of Denver and Texarkana. It was the year that the Old Jew returned to his former vocation of Physician and Wanderer, the year that the monks of the Albertian Order of Leibowitz buried an abbot and bowed to a new one. There were bright hopes for tomorrow.

It was the year a king came riding out of the east, to subdue the land and own it. It was a year of Men.