Inquisition by Alfredo Colitto Page A

bowls, cutting boards and spoons, he didn’t even feel the slightest pleasure at the thought of eating. He’d not yet received any news from Gerardo and the joy of the banquet was ruined by the thought that if the young man had been arrested, it would be his last supper.
    ‘Magister, what a pleasure to see you at my humble table,’ said the graduate, coming over to welcome him. He was a tall, bulky man of about thirty-five, with drooping cheeks. Mondino was convinced that he would make a good physician, once he had returned to his distant syracuse.
    ‘I wouldn’t have missed the graduation banquet of one of my best students for the world,’ Mondino answered, in an affable tone. ‘Not to mention that many of my colleagues only got through the rigours of lent by thinking of this event.’
    The student laughed, replied that Mondino was too kind and that he hoped he would not disappoint his guests’ expectations, then he accompanied Mondino to his place and went back to supervising the last preparations.
    Mondino noted with satisfaction that he had been put at the centre table where the roasts would be carved. It was a sign of great respect. Seated there were the rectors of the two universities, ultramontane and cismontane, and the two head bursars, whom Mondino went to greet before going to take his place next to Liuzzo. The black or brown robes of the notables from the Studium contrasted with the red robes of the physicians. The other guests had been anything but sober in their choice of dress and the room was a riot of colour. There was not a bare head in the place and even in headwear there was noticeable variety, although everyone had chosen light materials because the warm season was approaching and with the wine and dance they were likely to sweat.
    ‘I came by to collect you, Uncle, as we had agreed, but you had already left,’ said Mondino, as soon as he sat down.
    ‘I had to go out on rather a strange errand,’ Liuzzo replied. He seemed to have recovered his temper since the day before.
    ‘A murder in an inn near the Basilica of Santo Stefano.’
    ‘But haven’t you seen plenty of murders before?’
    His uncle looked at him, as if uncertain whether to go on or not. Liuzzo sighed. ‘The fact is that the man who was killed, a German who had arrived in the city not long ago, had something particularly horrible about him. The woman who found the body ran out of the inn screaming. Some passers-by heard her and went to have a look. Then someone went to inform the authorities. They said the thorax was opened in the manner of a dissector and the heart transformed into a block of iron, so the judge thought that it would be better to take a physician along with him, and he sent for me before going to the house. But is there something wrong?’
    Mondino called on all his strength to put on a strained smile. ‘Nothing, Uncle. It’s just that these stories are not made to increase the appetite. But what you are saying is interesting. Please go on.’
    ‘I don’t know if I should, Mondino. You’ve gone very pale. Are you sure you are feeling quite well?’
    ‘Yes, yes, I’m fine. You were saying that the heart had been turned into a block of iron? that seems incredible.’
    ‘I thought so too,’ agreed Liuzzo. ‘In any case we didn’t have the chance to see anything for ourselves. The innkeeper had informed the priests and when we arrived, the Inquisition barred the door. I was already late for the banquet, so I made my apologies to the judge and left. It seems that the dead man was a Knight templar in disguise, and the Dominicans want to use this death to demonstrate that the templars are involved in devilish practices. Just imagine, they didn’t even want the cadaver to be removed. They asked for nothing to be touched until it has been seen by Uberto da Rimini, who is returning from his visit to the archbishop in Argenta this evening.’
    ‘You mean to say that the dead man is still there?’ asked