JOAN OF ITALIA

Chapter 13 The Devil You Know

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: The historical notes on alchemy and on Galileo are from the 1960's science documentary THE ASCENT OF MAN. Some of the other tidbits are from books on the history of science by Isaac Asimov)

Two things surprised Luke on his tour of Rome. One was that Michel was also on the tour; somehow it was hard to remember that Michel, though Italian, was as new to Rome as Luke would have been to New York. The second surprise was that one of the highlights of the tour was a stop at the Rome Post Office. It was an ancient building and "Post Office" was just its current function; three and a half centuries ago it was a meeting place of the Inquisition, and the site of their most famous inquiry, with Galileo Galilei.

"People often mistakenly think that the persecution of Galileo was typical of the Church's attitude toward science," said the guide. "Actually it was an example of its times. The seventeenth century was one of the bloodiest centuries in European history, where religion and politics were in a poisonous embrace and questioning any authority could be treated as treasonous and heretical. In Germany there was the Thirty Years War between Catholics and Protestants, which is thought to have killed millions of people. In England there was a three-way battle among the Anglicans, Catholics, and Puritans far power; it included the beheading of a king. Even in far-off America there were the Salem witch-burnings--"

"Hangings," Luke said without thinking.

"Perdonate?" said the guide, annoyed.

"Nobody was burned in Salem," explained Luke. "That's a widespread myth. The victims were hanged, which was bad enough."

"Um, yes," said the guide, and he soon picked up another subject. "It's also of interest that Galileo was not executed, was not tortured, was not even put in prison. He was kept under guard at his own villa, which by the standards of the time was quite lenient. The real victim of persecution was Giordano Bruno--"

Afterwards, on the tourist bus, Michel was careful to sit by Luke.

"Interesting about Salem," he said.

"Yeah," Luke said glumly. "I should have kept my mouth shut. How would I like it if somebody interrupted my lecture, even if I was wrong and the heckler was right?"

"Ha, people always like the melodramatic over the truth, so it's good to set the record straight once in a while. Par exemplo, the story is that before the time of Cristoforo Colombo, people thought the Earth was flat. That is nonsense; Dante described a round Earth two centuries earlier, and even pointed out that the time of day depended on where you were on the globe."

"I'd heard that. Some Greek philosopher even estimated its size, and got it RIGHT."

Science wasn't Michel's only interest at the moment. He looked around the bus. "So. Is your bella donna on the tour?"

Luke was puzzled; to him "belladonna" was a poison mushroom. Then he remembered that bella donna was literally Italian for "fair lady", which was still an odd way to describe Grace.

"Grace is visiting the countryside south of here, riding horses. It's not just for fun; she's demonstrating skill for a job--" Luke started to explain about SEEDS.

"Missionary work?"

"Not exactly. Grace is Jewish. A secular version of it."

"Good for her."

Luke, in turn, asked politely about Marghareta, though Joan had already told him about their own trip yesterday. Then he asked about what really interested him. "Have you written any more of your story?"

"Sempre la storia!" exclaimed Michel in mock exasperation. "No. I have a vague idea that the Time Travellers will continue their attempts to change history, and Oidli will try to thwart them. But I have not thought of a conflict for them. Work requires my attention, so does Marghareta. And I certainly enjoy giving Marghareta my attention."

It was disconcerting to Luke that Michel paid so little attention to a story that loomed so large in Luke's imagination at the moment. Of course, Michel knew nothing of their secret; he had just been inventing a whimsical version of the Joan of Arc story. His tale had awakened misgivings that Luke had perhaps already had subconsciously, bringing them to the surface.

Ryan Hunter had made some unsettling remarks, if one divorced them from vicious actions such as vandalizing places of worship. Joan had repeated Hunter's remarks to Luke after encountering the man in Neptune, California:

Lots of religions teach of an Adversary: a devil, as in Christianity, or a God of Evil, as in Zoroastrianism. Since God had not lived up to my expectations, I thought the Adversary might have been maligned.

"I have an idea for another chapter," said Luke.

"No, no, I've exposed myself to possible ridicule enough. It's your turn. Let me see your creation."

"I haven't written any fiction, though I enjoy reading it. I was busy writing up a theory in biochemistry last spring."

"Could I see that?"

"If you like. Come by out hotel after the tour. I think it's on my laptop."

When they arrived at the hotel Luke was rather relieved that the maid had tidied up the room. He was not good at household chores, while Grace considered it a matter of pride not to do anything housewifely. The bed, the scene of some rather passionate action earlier, looked good as new.

Luke found his write-up about 4-acid DNA and printed it out for Michel, who seemed amazed that the joke had gone this far. About to leave with the papers, he turned for a last remark. "About the story -- if you have a good idea, write it yourself. I will give you credit if it goes that far."

"Grazie, Michel."

Luke sat at his laptop. It seemed silly to play with his computer when a brave new world was available for exploration outside the windows, but he felt that there were ideas that he must express, and could not express openly due to his friends' secret. When he had written and polished his story, it looked like this:

Oidli trudged along the streets of the German town. He had thought that he could outlive his former friends by going into suspended animation for a few decades, but it had not worked. The people around the Temporal Computer had also extended themselves: by bearing and raising children in their ideology, and by recruiting a few locals fascinated by their technology. What was worse, these new opponents had never been friends with Oidli, and thought of him only as a traitor and enemy. Oidli badly needed an ally, but where in the early Renaissance could he find one?

He had heard of a local alchemist with a reputation for cleverness. Alchemy had a bad image in Oidli's culture, but the best of the alchemists were intelligent and observent men, the fore-runners of modern chemists.

Oidli was about to approach his house when it blew up.

Flames shut up, somehow more violent than Oidli expected from a regular house fire. Other villagers noticed it too; Oidli could hear them as they gathered at a safe distance.

"What has happened?"

"The sorcerer has brought the flames of hell into our village!"

"Maybe he will fall in and take the flames back with him."

"No! There he is!"

The crowd seized the man and debated whether to tear him to pieces or throw him into his own fire. Oidli had a third opinion. Using his finger to focus his weaponry, he knocked out the two men holding the alchemist most firmly. The crowd naturally thought it was witchcraft, but blamed the alchemist rather than Oidli. He rushed forward and seized the scientist while the crowd was still fearful..

Midieval towns had no artificial lighting, and it was a moonless night. Once they got away from the fire, darkness made them nearly invisible, particularly as they kept quiet. Some pursuers even ran straight past, convinced that some distant light or movement represented their quarry. Oidli led the freed man to his own inn. The landlady, who might have gossiped about his guest, was gone, probably looking at the fire herself and making up a huge tale about it.

"You have saved my life," said the alchemist. "How can I repay you?"

"Tell me what you have been researching."

The alchemist frowned; keeping discoveries secret was part of the alchemical philosophy. But he kept his promise. "Very well. I was seeking the Philosopher Stone. But I made a grand discovery: the Stone is not a stone, or even Earth. It is an air."

The Philosopher's Stone, the key to eternal life, was nonsense, of course. But Oidli was intrigued by the reference to air. Air was one of the four elements, but it was usually ignored, even by the philosophers. It would be a century before scientists starting studying things such as air pressure and the role of friction in slowing down objects.

"I found a way to capture the Air," said the alchemist. "It brought health to the animals to whom I exposed it, and I'm sure that some component of it, if isolated, would be the Elixir. But when I lit a fire, it went madly out of control."

"Ah!" Oidli said, realizing that everything made sense now. "Oxygen!"

"Oxygen?"

"As you say, a component of the air. It supports burning, and also is necessary to life, but it does not bring immortality."

The other, who had been speaking Latin fluently, switched to German to swear.

"Do not feel shamed. Your discovery of oxygen in itself is a sign that you are a genius."

"You sound as if you have access to much knowledge."

"I do." Oidli's quest for an ally was working out, though not exactly as he had intended it. "And if you will swear to work with me, I will share it all."

"I now have no home, no instruments, and my fellow townsmen seek my life. I have little choice. Very well. I, Faust, do solemnly swear--"

TBC