A Canticle For Leibowitz

The abbot recoiled in mock horror. “Accoster of pilgrims! Molester of novices! I shall send you the Poet-sirrah! — and may he descend upon you and rest forever. Bring the thon past your lair! What an outrage.”

Benjamin shrugged again. “Very well. Forget that I asked it. But let’s hope this thon will be on our side, and not with the others this time.”

“Others, Benjamin?”

“Manasses, Cyrus, Nebuchadnezzar, Pharaoh, Caesar, Ha

“Well, Benjamin, I’ve had enough of you now to last me another five years, so—”

“Insult me, rail at me, bait me-”

“Stop it. I’m leaving, old man. It’s late.”

“So? And how is the ecclesiastical belly fixed for the ride?”

“My stomach — ?” Dom Paulo paused to explore, found himself more comfortable than at any time in recent weeks.

“It’s a mess, of course,” he complained. “How else would it be after listening to you?”

“True-ElShaddai is merciful, but He is also just.”

“Godspeed, old man. After Brother Kornhoer reinvents the flying machine, I’ll send up some novices to drop rocks on you.”

They embraced affectionately. The Old Jew led him to the edge of the mesa. Benjamin stood wrapped in a prayer shawl, its fine fabric contrasting oddly with the rough burlap of his loincloth, while the abbot climbed down to the trail and rode back toward the abbey. Dom Paulo could still see him standing there at sundown, his spindly figure silhouetted against the twilight sky as he bowed and munched a prayer over the desert.

“Memento, Domine Gomnium famulorum tuorum,” the abbot whispered in response, adding: “And may he finally win the Poet’s eyeball at mumbly-peg. Amen.”

17

“I can tell you definitely: There will be war,” said the messenger from New Rome. “All Laredo’s forces are committed to the Plains. Mad Bear has broken camp. There’s a ru

“King Goraldi is a doddering fool!” said Dom Paulo. “Wasn’t he warned against Ha

The messenger smiled. “The Vatican diplomatic service always respects state secrets if we happen to learn them. Lest we be accused of espionage, we are always careful about—”

“Was he warned?” the abbot demanded again.

“Of course. Goraldi said the papal legate was lying to him; he accused the Church of fomenting dissension among the allies of the Holy Scourge, in an attempt to promote the Pope’s temporal power. The idiot even told Ha

Dom Paulo winced and whistled. “So Ha

The messenger hesitated. “I suppose I can tell you: Monsignor Apollo is under arrest. Ha

“So now Marcus,” the abbot murmured sadly. “And what of Thon Taddeo?”

“I don’t quite see how be expects to get across the Plains without picking up a few musket-ball holes just now. It seems clear why he hadn’t wanted to make the trip. But I know nothing about his progress, Father Abbot.”

Dom Paulo’s flown was pained. “If our refusal to send the material to his university leads to his being killed—”

“Don’t trouble your conscience about that, Father Abbot. Ha

“The world could ill afford to lose him, I hear. Well — But tell me, why were you sent to report Ha

“Ah, but I’ve told you only the begi

“But wouldn’t that involve supply lines across nomad country? It seems impossible.”

“It’s extremely difficult, and that’s what makes the next move certain. The Plains form a natural geographical barrier. If they were depopulated, Ha

“But even so,” the abbot wondered, “the nomads—”

“Ha

“But why? Surely Ha

“No, m’Lord. But the nomad tribes will be disrupted, Denver will be shattered. Then Ha

“To do what with them? It couldn’t be a very rich empire.”

“No, but secure on all flanks. He might then be in a better position to strike east or northeast. Of course, before it comes to that, his plans may collapse. But whether they collapse or not, this region may well be in danger of being overrun in the not-too-distant future. Steps should be taken to secure the abbey within the next few months. I have instructions to discuss with you the problem of keeping the Memorabilia safe.”

Dom Paulo felt the blackness begi

His fist exploded onto the desktop. “We kept them outside our walls for a thousand years,” he growled, “and we can keep them out for another thousand. This abbey was under siege three times during the Bayring influx, and once again during the Vissarionist schism. We’ll keep the books safe. We’ve kept them that way for quite some time.”

“But there is an added hazard these days, m’Lord.”

“What may that be?”

“A bountiful supply of gunpowder and grapeshot.”

The Feast of the Assumption had come and gone, but still there was no word of the party from Texarkana. Private votive masses for pilgrims and travelers were begi