The poisoned chalice

'Oh, yes. Why do you ask?' 'Well, if that bastard can rest,' I wailed, 'why can't I?'
    'Come, come, Roger, time is passing. Dacourt has received letters from His Majesty the King and Cardinal Wolsey. Both Henry and my dear uncle expect results and, so far, we can report on nothing.' Benjamin gazed up at the blue sky. 'Vauban's guards are still there,' he said, 'scattered round the castle, but they are great eaters and drinkers and Dacourt has generously supplied them with a cask of malmsey. They'll either be drunk or sleeping it off, so we'll leave now.' 'I'm hungry,' I moaned, 'thirsty and tired.'
    Benjamin's smile faded. He came close and pushed his long face into mine. 'Roger, I tell you this: if we are not successful in these matters, we'll have more to worry about than meat or drink!'
    Well, you know me, put like that I had little choice. I re-saddled my horse and within the hour we'd slipped through a postern gate, following the path round the lee of the hill and down to the church of Maubisson village. Cure Ricard was not pleased to see us. The poor fellow had scarcely recovered from the fright of Vauban's visits. Oh, he invited us in, but only the sound of Benjamin's clinking purse made him a more genial host. His housekeeper served us bowls of pottage, liberally garnished with peppers and peas, and watery beer he must have made himself. 'I suppose,' the yellow-skinned priest began, 'there's no crime in talking to people who patronise our church?' 'What do you mean?'
    'Well, the English envoys, Sir John Dacourt and Sir Robert Clinton, often came here to watch the Abbe Gerard celebrate Mass. They gave him gifts and the old priest liked to hear the gossip of the English court.' 'Did they ever ask about His Majesty's book?'
    'You mean St Augustine's work On Chastity! No, they did not.' 'But Vauban has?'
    'Well, yes,' Ricard stammered. 'He has, but I tell you, masters, it can't be found. I say again the same to you as I have to them. The Abbe Gerard claimed he would take it to heaven, that it would be with him in Paradise.'
    The priest looked nervously over his shoulder at the silent girl who crouched before the hearth as if carved from stone.
    'The abbe was like that,' he continued in a half-whisper. 'He was always making little jokes.'
    'What did the abbe do?' I asked curiously. 'I mean, he had the care of souls, the duties of this parish, but what was he interested in? After all,' I glanced slyly at the girl, 'everyone needs some respite from the tedium of life.'
    Ricard sniffed and pointed to huge copies of the Bible which lay chained to a heavy lectern in the far corner.
    'He studied scripture. He claims to have heard the lectures of Erasmus and Coelet. He was forever translating different passages from the Gospels.' 'Was he a Lutheran?'
    'Of course not!' Ricard snorted. 'But he had his theories.' 'About what?'
    'About miracles. He was fascinated by the miracles of Christ and speculated whether Jesus performed them because he was God or because he was a perfect man.'
    'May I have a look?' Benjamin asked and, without waiting for an answer, rose and went over to open the great Bible.
    'The New Testament,' Ricard called out. 'He was forever studying the New Testament.'
    Benjamin nodded and found the place easily enough; the pages were worn by many thumb prints. For a while he stood and studied the book in silence, then he smiled and waved me closer. 'Look,' he whispered.
    Benjamin was studying a chapter from St Matthew's gospel, where Christ walked on the waters during the storm on Galilee Lake. Now, my master was a biblical scholar, hence his speed and dexterity in finding the place, but he'd been helped by the Abbe Gerard who'd carefully underlined each word and scribbled his own commentary in the margin. Benjamin peered at this and translated it for me. 'Did Jesus really walk on water?' the abbe had written. 'Or did the sea of Galilee have shallows?' 'What does it mean?' I asked.
    Benjamin made a face. 'There are some scholars,' he whispered, turning his back so Ricard, who was craning his neck, couldn't hear him, 'who maintain that certain of the miracles in the New Testament can be explained by natural phenomena. Now Jesus walking on the waves is one of these: they claim the Sea of Galilee is very shallow and what the apostles thought was Christ walking on the waters was really Christ walking along some sand bank.'
    'Very interesting,' I answered. 'But do they explain how Jesus stilled the storm? And can