“And how will Galileo’s trial assist?” d’Avaux asked, after granting Ducos a moment to compose himself.
“It had been said that the pope would surely instruct the Holy Office that there was to be no revision of scriptural interpretation, seigneur. It was further said that there was no prospect of Galileo’s book remaining lawful to possess anywhere in Italy, and there had been some suggestion that Galileo might be prevailed upon to flee to the Swede’s territories. To that end, he had been kept under close watch while his ill health prevented him from traveling to Rome.”
“And you have reason to doubt this?” D’Avaux was intrigued.
“Until today, seigneur, no. However, there is a factor that is the talk of the lower ranks of the Holy Office here, and that is Mazarini.”
“The legate?”
“The same. He has been to and from Venice and Rome repeatedly while the Americans have been here, and it is now emerging that the American priest, Mazzare, has been in communication with Rome. He is commanded to Rome to speak at the trial of Galileo, seigneur.”
“I confess I cannot see why.” D’Avaux spent a moment turning it over in his mind. “What is the pope thinking? The American is neither inquisitor nor natural philosopher, and he has no name as a doctor of theology.”
“It is thought that all these Americans have a great command of natural philosophy, seigneur. It is reported to me—with what accuracy I cannot at present judge—that Mazarini impressed this upon either the Holy Office or the pope himself. For this reason they seek this American priest as amicus curiae or some such.” Ducos made a small, dismissing wave of the hand. “I confess I know little of the proper procedure in such matters, and this may be entirely normal.”
“It is not, as it happens,” d’Avaux said, musingly. “It is not at all. I cannot see that even the See of Rome will lightly prevail upon a priest’s vows of obedience to call him away from a secular mission imposed by his prince—even if, in this case, the prince involved calls himself a ‘prime minister.’ There must be more to it.”
However, this troubling issue was not a matter to be discussed with a heretic like Ducos, d’Avaux reminded himself. He crooked a finger to invite Ducos to continue. “But we digress. You were explaining why the Holy Office will kill Buckley.”
“Seigneur. Buckley has publicized the scheme with the Galileo books. Every town with a printing press can print copies of the book for a sum less than the bounty offered, and so—”
“A profit margin, yes. And I see the humor in it, Ducos.” There was a trace of frost in his voice. “Up to a point.”
“The seigneur is most kind. I understand that there was an argument some weeks ago whether a bounty was to be paid on copies that had been bound with the ink still wet. Many pages were apparently blurred and unreadable. The concluding argument was that if the Inquisition wished to announce that the book was now acceptable in the booksellers of Venice, the pious citizens would cease buying up the copies and turning them in. Since there is as yet no firm order banning the book, the Inquisition is in a tricky position carrying out its orders to suppress the thing.”
D’Avaux was impressed. Even for Ducos, that had been deadpan. “Do go on.”
“Yes, seigneur. Buckley has published a further piece roundly denouncing the folly of the scheme and encouraging others to use the printing press to break the Inquisition. He has even coined a phrase: ‘Information wants to be at liberty.’ It is beginning to be passed as a slogan, seigneur.”
” ‘Information wants to be at liberty.’ ” D’Avaux turned the idea over and over in his mind. “What a remarkable proposition. Is he some manner of pagan, then, believing that mere thoughts and words have their own animating spirit that might express such a desire?”
“Most droll, seigneur. It is nevertheless a slogan that people may act upon. The Holy Office is most concerned.” Ducos reported it flatly, in the tones of one remarking that the weather continued fair, rather than the tones of one suggesting that the feared Inquisition was growing vexed with someone.