Falconer and the Death of Kings by Ian Morson Read Free Book Online

sparkled with intelligence. It was the Roger of old, as driven and opinionated as ever. Falconer strode across the small room and hugged Bacon, who had risen stiffly from his stool. Falconer saw that the friar had added a stoop to his catalogue of ageing, but his demeanour was as bright and lively as before. He pushed Falconer out to arm’s length and surveyed his friend.
    ‘You have aged, William. I hope your brain has not suffered as much as your face over the years.’
    He laughed, and shook Falconer’s hand vigorously. Then he saw Thomas hovering in the doorway.
    ‘Who is this? Do you have an acolyte now? He is too young to be anything other than a fresh student.’
    Falconer laughed.
    ‘This is Thomas Symon, and he is old enough to be a master of Oxford University. Do not let his boyish looks deceive you. He is well versed in the Quadrivium and Trivium. And he is now broadening his knowledge of medicine here in Paris.’
    Thomas blushed as the famous Roger Bacon – Doctor Mirabilis to those who admired his works – examined him closely.
    ‘So William has you dissecting bodies, does he?’
    Thomas gasped. His pursuit of understanding how the body worked by means of cutting it open had to be a well-kept secret. Dissecting corpses was strictly forbidden by the Church, except in very specific circumstances.
    ‘How did you… ?’
    Falconer waved a dismissive hand.
    ‘Roger is prone to wild guesses and speculation in his hunt for knowledge. Tell him nothing, and he will only construct a life history about you from looking deep into your soul.’
    Bacon grinned at Thomas.
    ‘If what William says is true, then you might as well tell me the truth in the first place.’
    Falconer patted the friar on his shoulder, helping Symon out of his dilemma.
    ‘Thomas is here to help me carry out the task you set me through Pecham. So, to answer your earlier questions, yes, I have been here two months and was despairing of carrying out what you wanted of me. I have been bored stiff having circular debates with scholars too scared to listen to the truth, and Thomas has whiled away his time in one medical school or another. They stopped me seeing you until today, and now they act as if there was no impediment in the first place. What is going on, Roger?’
    Bacon grimaced.
    ‘This has been going on since my old comrade, Guy de Foulques, died. When they made him Pope Clement, he took an interest in my work. Eight years ago he asked to see my writings. This was the result.’
    He pointed at a cupboard with openwork doors. Inside, Falconer could just make out stacks of parchments that had been roughly stitched together to form three books.
    ‘The first is the Opus Maius , covering causes of error, Christian philosophy, languages, mathematics, perspective, experimental science and moral philosophy.’
    Bacon pulled a face and indicated the thickness of this first tome.
    ‘It became rather a large work, and I then thought that Clement would not have the time or the patience to read it. So I wrote the Opus Minus . A sort of summary.’
    Thomas stared at the second tome, which seemed to him almost as thick as the first. Falconer simply laughed out loud.
    ‘You haven’t changed, Roger. You could never sift out the essential from the merely interesting.’ He then pointed to the last weighty tome. ‘And the third book?’
    ‘The Opus Tertium .’
    ‘Let me guess. There was so much you omitted from the first and second books, you just had to write it all down in this third volume.’
    Bacon looked rueful.
    ‘You are exactly right, as ever, William. I sent them all to the Papal Curia through the agency of one of my students. But hardly had John got there, when Guy went and died. So here they lie, gathering dust.’
    He rattled the cupboard doors, showing they were locked.
    ‘I was allowed to keep them, but they are safely locked away beyond my reach. And I was hidden away to gather dust too.’ He shuddered. ‘William, they forced