Bob Mustin - Gerberts Book

GERBERTS BOOK

GERBERTS BOOK

Bob Mustin

atmosphere press

Copyright 2020 Bob Mustin

Published by Atmosphere Press

No part of this book may be reproduced

except in brief quotations and in reviews

without permission from the publisher.

Gerberts Book

2020, Bob Mustin

atmospherepress.com

CONTENTS

3 | The Geometria of Gerbertus

5 | The First Testimony of Zosimus

17 |The Second Testimony of Zosimus

38 | The Third Testimony of Zosimus

43 | Testimony and the First Addendum of Theodore

45 | The First Testimony of Gerbert

66 | The Second Addendum of Theodore

72 | The Fourth Testimony of Zosimus

91 | The Second Testimony of Gerbert

104 | The Fifth Testimony of Zosimus

127 | The Third Testimony of Gerbert

139 | The Fourth Testimony of Gerbert

165 | The Third Addendum of Theodore

176 | The Sixth Testimony of Zosimus

189 | The Fifth Testimony of Gerbert

205 | The Seventh Testimony of Zosimus

219 | The Sixth Testimony of Gerbert

238 | The Eighth Testimony of Zosimus

243 | The Fourth Addendum of Theodore

The Geometria of Gerbertus

Anno Domini MXII

I

, Zosimus, of the monastery of Saint Remi, born Sosimo of Rouen, have been rewarded with the sacred task of writing an account of the life of Gerbertus of Aurillac for the edification of our Most Holy Father, the Eighth Benedict, Bishop of Rome. My own testimonies have been interspersed with those taken from the writings of Gerbertus, or Gerbert, the man crowned the Second Pope Sylvester by the Third Otto, Emperor of the Romans. Insofar as my recollections allow, I shall provide in my account verbatim conversations between Father Gerbert and others with whom we were mutually acquainted. Most Holy Father Benedict has allowed me the liberty of making similar adaptations of Father Gerberts diarium. For reasons that shall immediately become evident to this books readers, my work is to be called THE GEOMETRIA OF GERBERTUS. May God strengthen my thoughts, make clear my memory, and guide my hand.

ADDENDUM

Anno Domini MXIV

Benedict, Bishop of Rome, Pope of the one true Church, has instructed that I unbind this book in order to include pages reflecting my own knowledge of Holy Father Sylvesters life, and to remove various sketches of geometria put in place by Father Zosimus. These addenda are included in order to provide knowledge of events beyond that of Father Zosimus.

Theodore, scribe of Benedict, Bishop of Rome

The First Testimony of Zosimus

An Accounting of My Authority to Create This Book

October of Anno Domini MXII

W

hat a wonder is Rome! It has been a decade since I last stood before this most venerable of cities. As I looked out over the River Tiberis to the ridges over which the city spread so long ago, historys ghosts rose to life before me. The pagan Romans palatial estates on the Collis Palatinus. To my left, beyond the river bends opposite bank, the Forum Romanum, gateway to Collis Capitolinus. To my right, the Circus Maximus, and then Collis Aventinus, upon which many of the less wealthy Romans made their homes. Hidden yet from my view was the Flavian Amphitheatre, or as the Roman masses called it, the Coliseum. In the distance, the Collis Quirinalis, where our Most Holy Fathers have in recent decades spent their summer seasons. Other hills greeted me as well, but the sight of them to my mind remains as dim as their history.

Years before this visit, when I first accompanied Father Gerbert to Rome, he took in the city from this same vantage and sighed his dismay at its deteriorating state.

Youre sad, Gerbert, I remarked, hoping he might find relief to some degree by speaking of it. For what seemed an eternity, he didnt speak at all, his eyes fixed on the city, as if trying to remake it through the power of his holy visage.

Yes, he said in that deep, resonant voice of his. You know, Zosimus, I have often wondered, since our Lord, upon his return to Heaven, has seen fit to anoint Rome as the seat of His Holiness, why He hasnt sent his angels to urge those most capable to restore His Holy Citys physical state. But then I think He wouldnt be as concerned with having their attention on structures born to inevitable decay as He would in having them lift their eyes and hearts to the true Eternal City where He now resides. Then he turned a smile my way. What say you, my friend?

This was as Father Gerbert always spoke, considering most complex and sacred things, as if he had been promised a seat beside Jesus the Christ in Paradise. And as always, I replied, It is beyond my station.

He shook a finger playfully, his smile remaining, and he said, Someday, Zosimus, someday you will see the Kingdom of Heaven as I have learned to see it. Its our true home, you understand? If you cannot see it as such, you will never truly be at home there. You will desire the world of the senses, a return to that which will forever be in turmoil, forever in a state of rebuild, decay, restore, fall from grace.

He had never spoken this way to me before. Truly, I knew not what to say. So, I glanced to the waning sun and replied, Well never arrive at our destination if we sit astride our horses and talk, even of sacred things.

Laughter erupted from him. You are correct, my friend. That is exactly what I was just saying.

Besides, I said in a tone of voice more sardonic than I intended, why does it have to be one or the other? Why cant we have both the temporal and the eternal?

He looked deeply into me, as if trying to plumb the true source of my question. He touched his heels to his horse, clapped the reins, and I followed him into the city.

It is true that Romanorum animus, bent on civilizing the baser instincts of mankind in ancient days, now sings of Christ, even though wickedness still lurks among Romes edifices. But, I wondered as I looked across the seven hills, was Rome now about to provoke the same despair in me that broke Holy Emperor Ottos young heart and aged an already elderly Father Gerbert? Perhaps, I mused as I prepared to enter the city, our Most Holy Father, the Eighth Benedict, Pope of Christs Church, has found a balm for his city, and for Christendom.

It was our Holy Father who summoned me to Rome from Reims in early autumn of this year, against the wishes of my Archbishop, Arnulf. I, Zosimus, of the monastery of Saint Remi, had somehow captured Holy Fathers attention. But how? And why? Was there some sin from our tumultuous time in Rome, now uncovered and begging for atonement? Or was it more of Father Gerberts politics, lying fallow in Roman soil and now, like weeds, tainting the city?

These questions tumbled through me the way the windswept falling leaves across the countryside near Reims as I prepared for my journey to Rome. You must have faith, Zosimus, I thought over and over as my horse and I traveled the roads leading eastward to Italia. The Holy Fathers a good man, Gods servant, and so theres no need for fear. A series of clear, cool rains followed me across the White Mountains and down the Roman coast and this day swept all imperfections from the sky, leaving it a dome of Mediterranean blue. And so, I crossed the Tiberis south of its bend, just past the island Insula Tiberina, on that magnificent stone bridge. The rain and an accompanying coolness managed to tame the rivers odiferous nature. Despite the sounds of clattering carts, workmens hammers, yelling vendors, and citizens chattering in conversation, a peaceful hush seemed to prevail. Then memory led me down the streets toward Collis Caelius and Holy Fathers palace.

A palace priest, a short, pale man with the lithe physicality of a cat, took my documents and disappeared into the palaces bowels as I took in the suns last gleaming. Some time later, the priest returned and led me to a vacant servant room. At my insistence, he ordered water for my bathing and, finally, he brought food. For a while, as stars began their mischievous winking in the ultramarine sky, I felt as though I were in Emperor Ottos court once again, this room so spacious, so well lighted with its abundance of candles, so different from my cell within the monastery of Saint Remi. But I wasnt able to enjoy such opulence. Holy Fathers summons once again began to worry me. But after some time, I fell asleep and dreamed of Francia.