watching you and judging you and, at that time, when the flames begin to lick their bodies, the Grand Master of the Templar Order curses you and summons you to the Tribunal of God within a year. Naturally, you are afraid. You try not to think about it but you can’t help it. You have nightmares, you are obsessed. You want to carry on with your normal life as a Pastor of the Church but you know that there is a sword hanging over your head. So your nerves get the better of you. Not everyone has the same nature, Jonas. There are people who can handle great physical pain but crumble when they are faced with a problem of the soul. Others, however, manage problems with great integrity but roar like animals at the slightest of pain. I’m sure that our Pope was a weak and gullible man and began to feel hellishly tortured while he was still alive. Fever is a symptom that you can see in both ill and healthy patients. Nerves can also lead to fever and very frequently, vomiting or ‘closed stomach’. Do you remember how the Pope didn’t want to eat anything at the inn? Laborious breathing is also a sign of different ailments but ruling out a heart problem, given that his lips had a good color to them and he didn’t have any pain in his body, the only other cause would be his lungs, or again, his nerves. In the case of Clement I think that everything came down to a bad case of excitement.”
“Is that why he got better when he drank the emeralds?”
“He felt better because he thought that he was getting better.”
“And was that true?”
“Evidence shows us otherwise,” I said, laughing.
“But the black blood … the bleeding from every orifice ….”
“Well, there are two explanations to chose from: One, which seems the most probable seeing as how he died, is that the Pope suffered internal cuts to his stomach and intestines from shards of badly-ground emeralds that led to bleeding, and the other, purely speculative, is that those two Arab doctors were in actual fact two Templars in disguise who gave him some sort of poison in the potion.”
“And which one do you think it is?”
“Come on, Jonas, think a bit. I have simplified your work as much as I can. Now show me your deductive abilities.”
“But I don’t know!” he said, irritated.
“O.K., but I’ll only help you because we are just getting started. Later you will have to help me.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“Let’s see …. Someone like the Pope, accustomed to a comfortable life, who doesn’t know what it is to be cold, nor hungry, who has dozens of people waiting on his every demand, chefs who cook only for him, council fathers who serve as lackeys, and many similar people, someone like that, do you think they would drink a potion in which emeralds, capable of shredding his intestines, first pass through his mouth and throat?”
“Of course not,” he confirmed, biting his bottom lip and looking carefully at the flames of the fire. “Somebody like that would have protested as soon as a tiny shard had touched his tongue.”
“Exactly. So, we go back to the Templar’s poison. You must know that there are thousands of poisons and thousands of ingredients which, without being poisonous, become so when they are mixed with other equally innocent substances. Many of the preparations we use to cure illnesses contain poison in quantities that herbalists and doctors must control very carefully so as not to produce a negative effect. Which is why, if those two doctors were Templars, and given the great knowledge of their Order in these subjects thanks to their many years of contact with the Orient ….”
“You could also say that about the Hospitallers.”
“Thanks to their many years of contact with the Orient,” I repeated, “it is almost impossible to know what substance they added to the innkeeper’s mortar while they ground the emeralds. What we can deduce is that it was very powerful and very fast-working. The innkeeper told us
“Is that why he got better when he drank the emeralds?”
“He felt better because he thought that he was getting better.”
“And was that true?”
“Evidence shows us otherwise,” I said, laughing.
“But the black blood … the bleeding from every orifice ….”
“Well, there are two explanations to chose from: One, which seems the most probable seeing as how he died, is that the Pope suffered internal cuts to his stomach and intestines from shards of badly-ground emeralds that led to bleeding, and the other, purely speculative, is that those two Arab doctors were in actual fact two Templars in disguise who gave him some sort of poison in the potion.”
“And which one do you think it is?”
“Come on, Jonas, think a bit. I have simplified your work as much as I can. Now show me your deductive abilities.”
“But I don’t know!” he said, irritated.
“O.K., but I’ll only help you because we are just getting started. Later you will have to help me.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“Let’s see …. Someone like the Pope, accustomed to a comfortable life, who doesn’t know what it is to be cold, nor hungry, who has dozens of people waiting on his every demand, chefs who cook only for him, council fathers who serve as lackeys, and many similar people, someone like that, do you think they would drink a potion in which emeralds, capable of shredding his intestines, first pass through his mouth and throat?”
“Of course not,” he confirmed, biting his bottom lip and looking carefully at the flames of the fire. “Somebody like that would have protested as soon as a tiny shard had touched his tongue.”
“Exactly. So, we go back to the Templar’s poison. You must know that there are thousands of poisons and thousands of ingredients which, without being poisonous, become so when they are mixed with other equally innocent substances. Many of the preparations we use to cure illnesses contain poison in quantities that herbalists and doctors must control very carefully so as not to produce a negative effect. Which is why, if those two doctors were Templars, and given the great knowledge of their Order in these subjects thanks to their many years of contact with the Orient ….”
“You could also say that about the Hospitallers.”
“Thanks to their many years of contact with the Orient,” I repeated, “it is almost impossible to know what substance they added to the innkeeper’s mortar while they ground the emeralds. What we can deduce is that it was very powerful and very fast-working. The innkeeper told us
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