“I will not give this up!” The Friar’s voice cracked in passion and despair. “It would be to sin against the Light.”
“No, no! Let us—let us sanctify the little animals of Varro,” said Thomas.
Stephen leaned forward, fished his ring out of the cup, and slipped it on his finger. “My sons,” said he, “we have seen what we have seen.”
“That it is no magic but simple Art,” the Friar persisted.
“’Avails nothing. In the eyes of Mother Church we have seen more than is permitted to man.”
“But it was Life—created and rejoicing,” said Thomas.
“To look into Hell as we shall be judged—as we shall be proved—to have looked, is for priests only.”
“Or green-sick virgins on the road to sainthood who, for cause any mid-wife could give you——”
The Abbot’s half-lifted hand checked Roger of Salerno’s outpouring.
“Nor may even priests see more in Hell than Church knows to be there. John, there is respect due to Church as well as to Devils.”