LORD SCALES. So you left the furrows, exposing your true identity. Was that not a reckless thing to do? Especially when you were about to perform so many miracles? Or was it fame that you desired? Clearly your lessons in humility were all for naught, for you show great pride, comparing yourself to Christ in this manner. I do cures today and tomorrow. What arrogance of spirit! But curiously, this also demonstrates an awareness of your own destiny. Do you think you were predestined to be caught by the Inquisition?
JACQUES. I knew the inquisitor was close on my heels, but even so, I felt compelled to stay and do the work of God. Christ did not evade the Jews; why should I evade the Catholics? Considering all that happened at the abbey, I knew my capture was a forgone conclusion. I had planned to abscond within a week. But the power in my hands was overflowing: a heat that suffused my body both day and night. Krew had made things quite clear: I was to fulfill my birth rite, or be damned by Heaven. I chose the former. Besides, I firmly believed that if I was His instrument, then He would save me from the snares of the inquisition. But little did I know what would happen at the grotto…
LORD SCALES. Before you speak of your mircales, let us return to the unfathomable mystery of His Tomb: for whilst trudging the furrows, you were pondering His resurrection. I have, from time to time, throughout my life, thought hard upon this mysterious event. The spontaneous dissociation of matter is an arcane art with which every diamon is familiar; but whilst we succeed most admirably in the dematerialization of our own emanations, we are always flummoxed by the resurrection of The Christ. Since you raised the dead yourself, perhaps you would like to enlighten us…
JACQUES. I did not raise Maria. Krew did.
LORD SCALES. And the festering babe, who was dead for more than a week?
LORD SCALES. Krew or Christ?
JACQUES. Oft’ I am at a loss to know the difference.
LORD SCALES. Then let the Cyclops explain. Krew?
KREW. I feign to put in words the substance of a miracle. For no man can comprehend the ineffable mysteries of God. Jacques has already spoken of the Monads and the Essence. But what are the forces which uphold the material edifices? What phenomena can be relied upon to demonstrate the dissociation of matter? A stream of lava? A flash of light? A shower of atoms emitted at impossible speed? Phosphorescence, glowing orbs, angelic bolts of flame? The dissociation of matter by the Light Stream is an imponderable mystery. And what radiations of the rainbow contribute to resurrection of the flesh is a secret of the Seraphim. I could impress you with some great generalization capable of explaining all these forces, but I fear that to do so would be a complete waste of time; besides which, I do not have my apparatus, and if the court were to witness my electric emissions, I am sure they would be horror-struck and flee in panic.
Lucretius was wrong when he said that the atom was the smallest body in Nature; for he believed it represented the last term of division: an atomic corpuscle of unchangeable essence. Some alchemists have supposed – without being able to furnish any proofs – that miracles are due to electric particles, and consequently believe that all spiritual substance is of an entirely electromagnetic origin. Nothing can be further from the truth. For there are certain emanations that are not particulate, neither solid, liquid or gaseous, but which can pass through all obstacles, and have no property common to matter, except a certain affinity by which atoms can be broken down, modified and re-assembled. Some latter alchemists have called this mysterious substance “ether”, but they are incorrect also, as the Light Stream of the Great Invisible is as different from ether as chalk from cheese. The radiant sun Sul Minerva is the source of all life on earth; but besides Her warmth and Light there are other invisible solar emanations which affect all living tissue, primarily the brain, which is both receiver and transmitter of this interstellar force. This is the secret of the Light Stream: all substances behave in accordance with this force of the Great Invisible, and the consequence of engaging mental thought with this Holy power is that ordinary matter can be changed at will. I have published many experiments on fleshy bodies, and my observations confirm the first occult law: thoughts are real. Mental apparitions are not insubstantial ghosts, but material things, made manifest by the spiritual sun. I do not refer to the solar wind – but a corresponding spiritual substance beyond the measure of any material instrument. And further, every equilibrium in Nature is only sensitive to the appropriate excitant, and ’tis this excitant which must be discovered in order to obtain the required effect… Once a specific excitant is found, only a slight change is required to modify the equilibrium of atoms, and bring about effects which greatly exceed that of the exciting cause. In this manner, very insignificant forces can produce stupendous transformations in matter. The part played by resonance cannot be understated – and a healer must always resonate with Divine Will to procure an effective and permanent cure. Of course, the healer is only a channel, but will soon find this work mentally and physically exhausting – even to the point of degrading his own bodily tissue. With this in mind, let me tell what happened at the grotto…
DEMON DOCTOR. I object my Lord. Krew is too familiar with the accused in this respect. The Cyclops has a vested interest in these miracles since he himself bestowed the healing gift. Let us call another witness.
LORD SCALES. I concur: Krew is too close to the accused. Another witness is required. For the confession here states that amongst the many miracles performed at the grotto, there was also a curse and two deaths. Even when doing God’s work, Death stalks the accused like a shadow. Where is the gypsy with the club foot? Is she here?
SATYR. No my Lord. But her father is. Gypsy, would you please come forward and address the bench. Stand there. Now, don’t be shy. No demon here can hurt you if you speak the truth. Would you like some water? No? Then speak plainly and tell the jury what happened at the grotto…
GYPSY. Ŏ beng sas –
LORD SCALES. Oh dear, oh dear, he speaks in his native tongue. Is there any one here that understands him?
IMP. I do my lord. I have spent a good deal of my life with gypsies. I recognise the words at once. He said: “It was the devil –”
LORD SCALES. Did he indeed? How very interesting… Well Imp, in that case, you shall translate. Er, I presume you can write?
IMP. Aye my Lord, but only in Impish.
SATYR. My lord, I must protest: Impish is a very harebrained tongue, and nigh impossible to read. And just what will remain of the gypsy’s testimony after that Imp has squeezed it through his tiny quill, I dread to think!
LORD SCALES. That may be so, but Impish must suffice. Imp, come sit with me on the bench. Er, mind my scales if you please – they are most delicate; I don’t want to incur any errors when weighing Jacques’ soul. Sit there, you can use my weights as a stool. Are you comfortable? Good. Scribe, a quill and some parchment for the Imp, if you please. Excellent. Now, would the Gypsy start again, so that the Imp can transcribe from the beginning.
GYPSY. Lomin thyláry ģanés? [Do you know the gypsy tongue?]
IMP. I do indeed Gypsy. Be not afraid. You are not on trial here. Just tell the court how you ended up at the grotto and what happened there. Take your time. In your own words. Just tell it however you like…