Part 3: "The man is insane who writes a secret in any other way than one which will conceal it from the vulgar and make it intelligible only with difficulty even to scientific men and earnest students." -- Roger Bacon, Letter on the Secret Works of Art and the Nullity of Magic [Late summer, 1249. Paris Franciscan House] "My friend! I heard you were in town!" With a brilliant smile beaming on his face, Roger greeted his Immortal friend with a warm hug. "Paris is the bane of secrets, it seems," Enkidu teased, somewhat warily. Parting gently from the genuine embrace, he studied his friend's appearance. The years had been less than kind to the mortal, the supplementary years adding harshness to the already prominent facial features. Dressed in the stiff, black robes of the teachers of Paris, Roger seemed confined by both his position, and his dress. "Only some," Roger retorted, happily. "To some, it is a marvelous friend." Enkidu turned away, and poured mugs of water for them both. "The secrets of Master Peter, I assume." "The highest secrets that exist!" Adjusting his robes, Roger sat down upon a stiff, narrow wooden bench, then accepted his drink. "He has told me of the power which your kind share, and how it transfers from one to another, upon the moment of death. He believes it to be a kind of magnetic force, as is the means by which you communicate your presence to another. Oh, the stories he has told me, about his observations of Immortals!" "Indeed, I can well imagine." Roger sensed the dripping disapproval in his friend's tone, as he scooted aside and made room for the Akkadian. "So, you know of his studies of your kind," he offered, more a statement than a question. Enkidu nodded. "Fortunately for his health, not many of *my kind* share in that knowledge." "Why? He did nothing wrong. He harmed no one. He did not even break his vow. He was cast out from the Organization for no good reason than jealousy." Lines of confusion crossed the monk's face. "Jealousy?" "Yes, jealousy. Of his intellect, of his zeal, of his commitment to the cause of learning, for the mere sake of increasing knowledge." "He was not banished from the Watchers because of jealousy, Roger! He disobeyed direct orders to cease his experiments...." "Yes, but were the orders just?" Roger excitedly interrupted. "What is more important -- the rules, or the truth?" "The Watchers cannot exist without rules," Enkidu warned. "Their safety, as well as that of my kind, depends on strict adherence to a protocol of secrecy and discretion. Roger was unswayed. "Who better to keep a secret than the alchemist? Who else would understand the possible misuse of the information he has gleaned from nature, should it fall into unenlightened hands. We never share what we know with the outside world, we never write, save in code. No, my friend, Peter's work was never a danger to you and yours. Neither is *mine*. " "*Yours*?" Enkidu questioned. "You are carrying on experiments, even now?" "Yes!" Pushing up from the bench, Roger excitedly paced around the stone cell. "My experiments at Oxford were crude, childish in their simplicity. Peter has helped me to refine my powers of observation and deduction, taught me how to better design an experiment." He stopped, suddenly, his eyes locking into Enkidu's fear-tinged gaze. "Then, I found it. The book." "The book?" Nodding vigorously, Roger resumed his frantic pacing. "Yes, 'Secretum Secretorum,' they call it, translated from the Saracen tongue. Aristotle, himself, is said to have written its sage words." Kneeling, suddenly, at Enkidu's bare feet, he grasped the monk's robe-covered knees with his hands. "And, oh, what sage secrets are contained within its pages! Herbs, metals, the signs of the stars, long forgotten philosophies and religions. Ways of knowing, you can only begin to understand." "Yes, I can understand them *well*," Enkidu firmly stated, covering the mortal's hands with his own. "You forget -- I was alive when those *long forgotten* philosophies were first conceived by man. I knew Aristotle -- the man, not the mage you make him out to be. There is no harm in studying herbs, or metals, or even the motions of the heavens. But do not believe there is some deeper secret to be found." Smiling gently, he softened his tone. "Study them for knowledge's sake. Nothing more." "No, you are wrong, Enkidu." Pulling his hands away from the monk, Roger stood, and resumed his animated pacing. "Knowledge is the salvation from sin, and sin stands in the way of knowledge. You and your brethren have achieved Immortality -- not only of the soul, but of the body. I *must* know why!" "So you can become like us?" "So *all* men, if they abandon the ways of sin, may attain what God has promised," Roger corrected. "He who liveth and believeth in Him shall never die. It is only the evil of our ways which prevents us from attaining our true purpose. You and yours have been put here for a purpose -- to show us the way. To teach us that God's word is the truth! Even more proof that Joachim was right, that this is the final age of humanity, and the Evil One walks amongst us." Enkidu was well aware of the underground climate of apocalyptic fervor fermenting in certain religious quarters of the continent. He had lived through many similar movements in his lengthy life, and had learned to pay them no mind. This, too, would pass. How could he convince Roger of this fact? He could not. Sadly, Enkidu realized that there was only one course of action. Inaction. Roger had set down a path which would lead to only one conclusion. He was a clear collision course with the Church, the University, and his peers. He would fade into obscurity, his devoutly held teachings soon enough to become curiosities only. No one would take his wilder notions seriously. Enkidu had seen it before. Far too many times, in fact. No, it did not give him any satisfaction, but it extinguished his fears that Roger would, somehow, alert the world to the existence of Immortals, or Watchers, for that matter. Let Roger enjoy his fruitless dabblings in the secrets of nature. He had tasted of the apple, and desired more. His penance, whether he realized it or not, would be banishment from the Eden of academe. Hanging his head, the Immortal nodded, sadly. "I trust you to keep our secrets, Roger. I only hope you are not disappointed, when you find Nature to be a more elusive bride than you expected." ####################################### "Wow, you really musta trusted him! I can't believe you just let him go on with his experiments!" "What could I do, Richie?" "Would you like a suggestion? I'm sure your years with the Inquisition have taught you a thing or two, since then." Ignoring Methos' snide comment, Enkidu calmly continued. "He was not committing any crimes. To the best of my knowledge, he never saw an Immortal corpse, let alone directly carried on the work of de Maricourt. No, it was as I had foreseen. Roger returned to Oxford, after his teaching contract and studies at Paris ended. There, he continued to carry on his secretive work, much to the whispered dismay of his colleagues. When his family's financial support was finally withdrawn, he took on the gray robe, and joined our order. That only served to fuel his zeal for speaking out against corruption, in the Church, and in the Academy. He was denounced by Bonaventure, the Minister General, as a Joachimite heretic and general troublemaker, and sent to the Paris house for 'observation'." Richie seemed genuinely concerned with Roger's fate. "What happened to him there?" "He was treated fairly, of course, but was not able to conduct his experiments. He wanted to write, but Bonaventure had decreed that all Brothers' work must be reviewed for *correctness* before publishing. He finally managed to get word to the Cardinal of Sabina, suggesting that he might productively spend his monastic time compiling scientific knowledge for the good of the Church. When the Cardinal became Pope, he sent word to Roger to send the work for his perusal, thinking it was an already written work which should be inspected." "Oops -- guess ole Roger bit off more than he could chew," Richie joked. "An ordinary man would have had to admit the mistake. Roger rose to the occasion, writing his Opus Majus, Opus Minus, and Opus Tertium, in record time." Enkidu paused. "Of course, the Brothers of Paris were appalled when they discovered Roger had a mandate from the Holy Father to put pen to parchment. They could do nothing but aid in his project, any way they could." "So, he became famous, right?" Methos sniffed loudly. "Hardly. His name never reached *my* ears -- not in his lifetime, that is." Enkidu continued. "Roger continued to write, and was eventually allowed to return to Oxford, and his experiments, and where he, once more, managed to run afoul of the Heads of the Order. He was again summoned to Paris, where he was kept in solitary confinement for fourteen years." "Geez, that sucks. What finally happened to him?" Pausing, Enkidu shifted nervously on the couch. "I visited him at Oxford, just after the end of his confinement. I disguised myself, so I would not be recognized by the few remaining Brothers who might remember me from decades past. Richie lowered his voice to a hushed, reverent whisper. "What did you find?" "A bitter man... and a book."