“Then you know that translates asthe Supreme Sacred Congregation of the Roman and Universal Inquisition. In 1908, it was renamed theSupreme Sacred Congregation of the Holy Office, then it was retitled the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. Finally, only a few years ago, it was renamed the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith. But of course, you know all this.”
“Yes, of course,” said Armagh. He had met many tiresome religious like this country priest in his life, but he couldn’t help but find himself genuinely intrigued by the collection. It wasn’t odd at all—it was in fact quite splendid. As he looked around, he realized there were some truly spectacular things in here and was amazed to find them in such a backwater—including antique crucifixes, a medieval chalice, some lovely old surplices, silver thuribles, a gem-encrusted aspergillum, and a magnificent ciborium decorated with gold thread. Incongruously, in a far dark corner were stacked some antique contraptions and devices made of iron and wood.
Moore went on relentlessly, “We’re working to reestablish the Tridentine Mass, and we have other projects as well.” Moore paused, eyeing Armagh. “My friends and I arealwayslooking for more support, now that we have a new pope, especially from those of our conviction.”
“Very nice,” Armagh said. He was not a fan of the Tridentine Mass, the traditional Latin mass that had been retired decades ago. Father Moore was mistaken about his convictions. However, he didn’t see any use in correcting the priest.
“There are some high points in the collection,” said Moore. “Here, for example”—he indicated a framed document with heavy wax seals and ribbons—“is the first printedIndex Librorum Prohibitorum, the index of banned books, issued in 1582. And this”—he pointed to another document—“is a heretical manifesto by a miller named Domenico Scandella, who wrote in here that God was created from chaos. He was investigated by the Inquisition.”
“What happened to him?”
“He was burned at the stake by Pope Clement in 1599. But he recanted just before the fire was lit. So you see, Niall, while we certainly can’t approve of the cruelty of it, the important thing is that he’s now in the kingdom of heaven. This is what I mean about thekindnessof the Inquisition. It may sound strange, and even contradictory, but the truth is this: If Domenico hadn’t been disciplined by the Inquisition, he wouldhave persisted in his heresy, and right now, he’d be suffering eternal damnation.”
“I see.” Armagh had a very different view but did not care to express it. This priest had gone from annoying to creepy.
“That,” said Moore as Armagh’s gaze fell on a gem-encrusted, miniature gold spire with a glass window, “is a reliquary from France that once held a foot bone from Saint Lidwina—the skating saint.”
The skating saint. “Quite lovely,” said Armagh. “But I’m afraid—”
“Andthis,” said Moore, “is my most valuable item: a letter from Giordano Bruno in which he denies the divinity of the Virgin. You know who he was, of course.”
Armagh did know: Bruno was an infamous heretic burned at the stake. But Armagh had had enough. “Thank you so very much, Timothy, for this thought-provoking tour of your museum. But I fear I must be getting back to my hotel.”
“Of course, of course. Such a pleasure to show my little museum to someone who can appreciate it.”
Armagh hurried outside. Back on the main street of Burns, Armagh took a deep breath of the summer air. He was relieved to get out of the stuffy little room and away from the voluble priest and his hobbyhorse. As soon as he could get the relic from the police, he was going to take his leave. While the mountains were beautiful, he was beginning to long for the cool, silent, stone-scented corridors of the basilica, the candles flickering in the chapels, and above all, his morning prayers to the holy relic of Saint John the Baptist, Forerunner of Christ, restored to its former state.
