Clark The Sky's Dark Labyrinth

The Sky's Dark Labyrinth Book I
1. Auflage 2011
ISBN: 978-0-85790-014-2
Verlag: Polygon
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, Band 1, 288 Seiten

Reihe: The Sky's Dark Labyrinth Trilogy

At the dawn of the seventeenth century everyone believed that the sun revolved around the earth. Yet some men knew that the heavens did not move as they should. And some men began to suspect that this heresy was in fact the truth. As Europe convulsed in conflict between Catholic and Protestant, these men prepared to die for that truth. This is the story of Kepler and Galileo, two men whose struggle with themselves, with the evidence and with the forces of reaction changed not simply themselves but our world. The Sky's Dark Labyrinth is the first of a trilogy of novels inspired by the dramatic struggles, personal and professional, and key historical events in man's quest to understand the Universe.

Stuart Clark is a widely read astronomy journalist whose career is devoted to presenting the complex world of astronomy to the general public. Stuart holds a first class honours degree and a PhD in astrophysics. He is a Fellow of the Royal Astronomical Society, a former Vice Chair of the Association of British Science Writers and is the cosmology consultant for New Scientist.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Clark, Stuart

Leseproben

1

Rome, Papal States

1600

Scarlet robes were the only sure way to achieve anonymity in public. Even in the narrowest streets, people would shy away as though the garments hid a leper. When physical distance was impossible because of the crush, they lowered their eyes and scuttled past, driven by the fear of judgement. Only children would gaze openly.

Most of the other cardinals took litters so that they could enjoy looking down on their charges, and escape the worst of the summer stench, but Cardinal Bellarmine liked being among the people. Only from within the crowds could he truly feel their respect, their fear. That man in the emerald silk had the clothes of rank and privilege, but not the demeanour. With eyes darting this way and that, his garments were probably bought from the profits of short-changing his customers. Then there was the glutton leaning against the wall, still rubbing his paunch from last night’s meal that could doubtless have served an entire family. And the blonde woman with tired eyes, bare shoulders and bold cleavage; her sin was clear for all to see. All of them avoided his gaze, becoming awkward and self-conscious. Such reactions convinced Bellarmine of the need for his work to continue. It gave him courage, especially on a day like today.

‘I don’t understand why the prisoner has remained unsentenced for so long. He was arrested seven years ago. As a heretic, he should have been burned within fifteen days,’ said his companion.

‘Capital punishment is a last resort, young man.’

‘With respect, I’m thirty years old, hardly a young man.’

‘You’re half my age, Cardinal Pippe. You’re a young man to me.’

They were squeezing through a passageway, knocking shoulders as they headed out of the town while the throng plodded in. The sun was not yet high enough to slice into the alley, making it a popular shortcut for those eager to escape the heat-drenched boulevards. As the pale stone walls funnelled the pedestrians together, Pippe accidentally placed his sandalled foot in the running gutter. He growled in disgust.

‘But it shows weakness to prevaricate like this. Rome must be strong. In the north of Europe, I’ve heard that witches are burned every day.’

‘We are not Lutheran barbarians with their superstitions and summary executions. Everything must have due legal process – even for a heretic,’ said Bellarmine.

They turned into a wider street, the sun now fully in their eyes. It was no less of a crush, and the cardinals were still walking against the flow of people. A farmer drove an old sow patiently around them, the smell of the farmyard lingering long after the animal passed from view. Young men with flapping shirtsleeves dodged in and out, hurrying to find work for the day. Scrawny dogs followed scents, and a young girl waved the grimy air away from her nose as her mother dragged her onwards.

Old houses – survivors from the sacking of the city seventy-three years ago – lined the dirt road, which was furrowed with cart tracks and cracked for want of rain. A low cloud of dust shrouded feet and ankles.

A family had chosen that day to move home. Their belongings spewed out of the door across the dirt, slowing people down and causing much head-shaking and muttering. Their donkey flicked its tail at the buzzing flies, occasionally catching one of the passers-by. A burly man lashed another chair onto the donkey’s already laden back and, in the midst of it all, the mother did her best to organise the swarming children into some kind of team.

The crack of trampled wood brought a thunderous glare from the man and an apology from someone in the crowd. The two clerics took their turn in stepping around the chattels and the children.

‘Why do these people clutter their lives so?’ asked Pippe, openly staring at the jumble.

‘It is how they define themselves. The rich have land; the poor have knick-knacks.’ Bellarmine dabbed his forehead with a lace-trimmed handkerchief. On any other day he might have been amused by the young man’s annoyance.

‘Shouldn’t they turn to God for definition?’

‘They do that too.’

They paused at a crossroads to allow a small cart to rumble by. Pulled by a slender boy, it was piled high with bolts of cheap cloth that not even the sun could brighten. Still, it was a start for him. Pippe tapped his foot impatiently, raising more dust. ‘I have read that the prisoner talks of the Earth moving through the heavens.’

‘We cannot burn him for that; the Church has no position on those teachings.’

‘But, Cardinal Bellarmine, the Bible talks of the Sun moving across the sky.’ He flung an arm upwards to the brilliant blue dome.

The older man ignored the gesture and began walking once more. ‘I agree. The Sun’s motion is obvious. I have talked to Father Clavius of the Jesuits …’

‘The Jesuits.’ Pippe spoke the name as if it were a curse. ‘More layers of grey. Why must we continually seek their approval on matters that are so clearly black and white?’

Bellarmine glanced around the crowd, satisfying himself that no one had taken any notice of the outburst. ‘We need the Jesuits,’ he told the younger cardinal. ‘Their missionaries are fearless. They are staunching the spread of Lutherism across Europe every day.’

‘But they seem more interested in natural philosophy than theology.’

‘Not all of them. But, since you mention it, natural philosophy is interwoven into our theology. It remains as it was handed down by Aristotle. The Lutherans attack us there because they think it’s our weak spot, but the Jesuits can defend us; their mathematicians are without equal. Are you old enough to remember when Pope Gregory ordered ten days of October to be dropped, to bring the calendar back in line with the seasons?’

‘I was twelve in 1582, of course I remember it,’ said Pippe wistfully. ‘How could I not remember it? My birthday falls on one of the days skipped that year. A hard lesson for a twelve year old who was left wondering if he’d have to wait another twelve months to turn thirteen.’

‘Father Clavius made those calculations,’ said Bellarmine. ‘The old way of calculating the length of a year had thrown Easter into confusion. Now, thanks to the Jesuit method, we have the most accurate calendar in the world, and the Lutherans are still arguing about whether to swallow their pride and adopt it. The Jesuits have put us ahead.’

‘And they know it. They’re arrogant. The Black Pope …’

Bellarmine grabbed Pippe by the arm and dragged him to a nearby doorway. ‘Who have you heard call him that?’

Pippe stared at Bellarmine.

Bellarmine demanded again, but Pippe did not answer.

‘You refer to the head of the Jesuits as the Praepositus Generalis, never as the … that term,’ said Bellarmine.

‘But there are rumours he’s going behind our backs, advising the Pope privately, rather than working with the cardinals.’

Bellarmine shook his head curtly. ‘Jesuit Catholicism is not in doubt.’

‘Are you afraid of them?’

Bellarmine looked away. Eventually he said, ‘If the Church’s hierarchy is no longer simple, it is because times demand it. The Pope will always be the head, but the Jesuits are now the backbone.’

Pippe lifted his chin. ‘Well, I don’t trust them.’

‘Stop talking, cardinal, before you say something that both of us will regret.’ Pippe frowned, then looked directly at Bellarmine. ‘You’re one of them …’

Bellarmine nodded slowly, watching the effect of his admission. Pippe bit his lip. For a moment, it looked as if he might flee, but he controlled himself and stood his ground. ‘I didn’t know,’ he said meekly.

‘I say this as a friend, it’s better to have Jesuit respect than contempt. Now let us put this conversation behind us, along with this reeking doorway.’ Bellarmine cut back into the street, forcing Pippe to catch him up.

‘Now, as I was saying, I’ve spoken to Father Clavius, and he assures me the ideas of Copernicus that Giordano Bruno advocates are unworkable. Ingenious but unworkable. They require even more mathematics than the method they’re designed to replace, and their predictions for the positions of the planets are less accurate than traditional methods. The philosophers will reject Copernican ideas on those grounds alone. Of much greater concern are Giordano’s comments about Christ’s divinity. You have read the reports?’

‘Yes, cardinal. He believes that Christ was just a man skilled in the arts of magic.’

Bellarmine nodded. That was only the start of it. Bruno also refuted the transubstantiation of the sacrament into the blood and body of Christ, and openly denied the Virgin birth. ‘His list of heresies is a long one. I’m afraid for him.’

‘Afraid for him? We should be afraid for Rome. We cannot risk another Martin Luther. The world still reels from his wickedness. Half of Europe’s Catholics cleaved off into Lutheran heresy because of his demonic vision.’

‘That, young man, is why I have to end this business with Giordano one way or another today.’

The pair arrived at a quieter part of town. Though just a few turns from the main streets, the people had all but vanished, the hubbub dissolved in the soupy air. The calm was eerie, and Bellarmine shuddered as the gaol’s oak door scraped open.

‘Welcome, gentlemen, it’s not often we have such distinguished visitors.’ The gaoler fussed around them...