Part 2: "Even if a man should live for thousands of centuries in this mortal condition, never would he attain the perfection of knowledge." -- Roger Bacon, Computus Naturalium [Late spring, 1240. Franciscan Monastery associated with Oxford University, England] "I cannot believe it... even though I witnessed it with mine own eyes." Enkidu exhaled loudly, rushing into the solitude of his meager cell, with a breathless Roger Bacon in hot pursuit. "Either believe it, or not, Roger. I have told you the truth." "Let me look upon it again." Falling to his knees, beside the monk, Roger pushed aside the drab gray robe, running his trembling fingers along the bare, flawless flesh of the Immortal's left shin. "It was broken! The bone pierced the skin! And, yet, now it is whole -- the bone, and the wound it had caused!" Twisting away from the uncomfortable examination, Enkidu wrapped his rough monk's robe more tightly around his lower body. "Yes, yes, as I told you. All my wounds heal. I am Immortal." "Immortal!" Rising to his feet, Roger stared up at the plank ceiling of the cell. He raised his hands in supplication to the heavens. "Immortal! The promise of eternal life, made manifest upon the earth!" Wincing, Enkidu shook his head. How could he shake Roger's belief that the existence of Immortals somehow affirmed his own particular brand of Christian theology? Was it worth it to even try? What was the harm? The harm was Roger's outspoken nature, his tenacity as a ferreter of facts, his unwavering devotion to knowledge, for knowledge's sake. Could he be counted upon to be discrete? To be sure, Enkidu had grown to respect and trust the thirty year old lecturer, over the past five years. Could he, however, trust Roger with the most important secret of them all? Turning back to face the wide-eyed mortal, Enkidu forced his voice into a low, soothing tone. "Be it a gift, or a curse, I do not know. None of my kind has that knowledge. Perhaps, it is better that way. Some of us are born to become as I am." He paused, licking his nerves dried lips. "Most, my friend, are not." The momentary glint of disappointment in Roger's eyes made it clear that the veiled suggestion was understood. Pausing for a moment, Roger soon rebounded from disappointment to his previous frantic enthusiasm. Raising a hand, he gestured at the Akkadian as he did to the students in his philosophy lectures. "Nature has shown us that true Immortality exists! She has lit a lamp, shining bright with the flame of knowledge. It is up to us mere mortals to follow the beacon of its light, to discover the secrets she holds. To discover the magic behind eternal life!" Smiling, he lowered his hand, clasping his fingers together in front of him. "God does not wish for us to perish, Eduoardo." He paused a moment, then reverently added his friend's newly-admitted correct name. "Enkidu. God wishes for us to be like him -- without sin, possessing true knowledge." The smile grew brighter. "Immortal." Not waiting for Enkidu to protest, Roger turned away, walking toward the door to the cell. "Experimentation is the key to understanding all of nature's secrets. I already have a well equipped lab. I will turn my attention to unlocking this most profound puzzle." "Roger." The mortal stopped, and turned around to face the Akkadian. Enkidu smiled sadly. "There are some secrets nature may not wish to divulge, even to its most devoted student." Chuckling, Roger dismissed that cautionary admonition with a wave of his hand. "God gave us brains, so that we might learn, and discover. The Devil, himself, tries to sway us from that path. Is not the unfathomable ignorance of our times, the very proof that the time of the Anti-Christ is nigh? No, nature can be made to surrender *all* her secrets, given sufficient time, perseverance, and wisdom." He raised a hand to his chest. "Yes, I feel my faith, my hope restored! Your very existence is a candle in the darkness of these ignorant times, my friend! You can show us the way. We can aspire to be like you, to attain your gift! You have the power to learn, to experience, to grow in wisdom for lifetimes untold. The only hope for our salvation is that we do the same. One cannot hope to achieve all knowledge in one lifetime, nor a hundred. But one might attain *enough*, to save him from sin." Smiling sheepishly, he moved into the doorway. "Look at me, prattling on. I waste precious time! I must begin my experiments -- now!" With that, Roger rushed from the door of the cell, leaving an exasperated Enkidu to collapse down onto his hay mattress. ############################### "So, what happened?" Richie sat on the edge of the couch, hanging on Enkidu's every word. "Nothing of consequence, or, so I thought, at the time," Enkidu uncomfortably admitted. He stared at the leg he crossed over his knee, and idly picked a piece of lint off his pants. "Roger immersed himself in his experiments, mostly alchemical in nature. He had always been something of a recluse, as far as his experiments were concerned, so no one thought anything was amiss. He and I continued to be friends, but we never spoke of my Immortality, again -- at least, not while I was at Oxford." Richie listened to this fantastic tale with the wide-eyed wonder of a child. "What *kind* of experiments? Was he trying to bring back dead animals, like Dr. Frankenstein?" "I am not exactly sure how he spent his time," Enkidu admitted. "I believe he accidentally poisoned numerous small animals, in a futile attempt to grant them eternal life. He asked me my advice on herbs, and exotic plants, and I always answered his questions as truthfully as I could." "He never found the *fountain of youth*, right?" Enkidu nodded slowly. "Not for a lack of trying. There were rumors about his experiments, of course, which gave some in the college further ammunition to use against him." He chuckled softly. "Although, his publicly criticizing both the administration, and the teaching staff, certainly provided sufficient reasons for his popularity to wane. He became increasingly dissatisfied with the opportunities afforded him at Oxford, so he traveled to Paris, to study for a doctorate. As you can well imagine, his decision was most eagerly approved by the Oxford hierarchy." Chuckling, Richie nodded sharply in understanding. "Yeah, got him out of their hair for a while. So, what happened to him there." The uneasiness reappeared in the Akkadian's body language. "I lost track of him for a few years. I left Oxford, myself, shortly after Roger transferred to Paris. I traveled to Spain, where I met Isaac, and became his teacher. Two years later, he, Methos, and I aided Mariah in the futile attempt to save Montesegur." Sadness dampened the enthusiasm in the young man's expression. "Yeah, I remember you telling me about that." He paused, remembering a few particulars of that period in Enkidu's history. "So, you eventually caught up with him, again, right?" Enkidu nodded. "Yes. I heard rumors that he was in Paris, through a Franciscan monastery I had retained ties with. In 1249, I decided to visit him. Partially, to catch up with a man I considered a friend." "You also wanted to check up on his *experiments*, right?" Richie correctly surmised. "Yes," Enkidu affirmed. "Although, I did not believe he could unlock the secrets of our existence, nevertheless I was deathly curious as to what he believed he could uncover." His voice became hushed, and grim as death. "I also needed to be sure he was as discrete, and secretive, as he had been in Oxford." A chill shimmied down Richie's back. He understood the inherent threat in that comment. "So, was he?" he whispered. "Despite the company he was keeping, or, rather, because of it, yes." "Company?" Enkidu sighed loudly. "Roger was not only studying at the university, he was also the private pupil of one Peter de Maricourt. Recluse, genius, retired Watcher." "Retired? I didn't know you could do that without a bullet in your head?" Richie lamely teased. "Trust me, if bullets had been invented, he would have been their first victim," Methos added, icily, before sipping his beer. Richie pondered Methos' response, then turned back to Enkidu. "Okay, I'll bite. What'd he do?" "Yeah, what *did* he do?" Methos parroted, smugly, obviously already knowing the answer to that question. Lingering in a disapproving stare at his eldest friend, Enkidu sucked in a loud breath. "He was dismissed from the Organization for his... unauthorized experiments." The hairs raised on the back of Richie's neck. "Experiments? What *kind* of experiments?" "Think Galvani and the frogs' legs, just five centuries earlier, and with human corpses," Methos suggested with copious disapproval. "*Immortal* corpses." Richie whipped his head around to face Methos. "Huh?" "Peter was obsessed with deciphering the secrets of Immortality, Richie, just as Bacon was. However, Peter had access to... materials... Bacon did not. He conducted secret experiments, crude ones, to be sure, on the corpses of dead Immortals he came upon during his Watcher duties. He never broke his vow, in a strict sense. The victims who provided him experimental data were already dead when he brought them to his lab. He wasn't interfering, merely studying the remains, much as a physician of his times might work with a cadaver." "Nice rationalization," Methos interjected sarcastically. "Next, you'll be trying to convince us he should have been awarded a Nobel Prize in Medicine." "Whether you agree with his methods or not, he was discrete, and harmed no one," Enkidu firmly rebutted. "Except, in the end, himself." "Okay, give. Now I'm dying to hear what happened," Richie pushed. Methos snickered, as he increased his sprawl, with one leg thrown over an arm of the easy chair. "How appropriate." Ignoring the elder man's crack, Enkidu picked up the tale. "I had not seen my friend in nearly a decade. Given the rumors, I did not know what to expect. Was he a heretic, a madman, or merely a troublemaker? The man I found in Paris was all these, and more...."