Page 99 of The Grey Wolf
“Yes,” said Beauvoir.
“Which makes it sound as though he arrived in Rome recently.”
“Probably, yes.”
“Which means that Frère Sébastien and this American monk could not have met in the Curia,” said Gamache. “Sébastien left Rome a couple of years ago. And the American just arrived.”
“So they must have met somewhere else. We need to find out more about this Sébastien,” said Jean-Guy. “But his records were burned. Simon told us that’s their ritual.”
“His application to the Gilbertines was burned—”
“But not necessarily his original application and records with the Dominicans.” Beauvoir was smiling broadly. “I’ll get on it as soon as we get back.”
“Good, good. It makes sense that if there’s something nasty going on, a Dominican would find it.”
“Why do you say that?”
“The Inquisition. It’s no longer active, but the Dominicans are clearly an order given to inquiring. Not that different from what we do.”
“There’s a world of difference,” said Jean-Guy, flaring up. “The Inquisitors found and punished what never existed. They used the excuse of sacrilege to exact revenge and gain power. At least the Gilbertines only burned paper. The Dominicans burned people.” He glared at Gamache. “And we do neither.”
Armand had never asked his son-in-law why he loathed the church and now was not the time. But the time would come. And perhaps sooner rather than later.
Instead, he said, “That was hundreds of years ago.”
“You’re no longer a practicing Catholic,patron.”
Gamache tilted his head, wondering about what seemed a non sequitur, but suspected it was a sequitur.
“That’s true.”
“You rarely go to church,” Beauvoir continued. “And when you do, it’s the little chapel in Three Pines, which, from what I can see, has no actual denomination.”
“Oui.”
“And yet when you do go into a Catholic church, for a wedding or funeral, or during an investigation, you cross yourself and give a little genuflect. You even do it here.” Beauvoir waved vaguely toward the chapel.
Gamache frowned. He hadn’t realized that anyone had noticed. It wasn’t a secret, but it was, he thought, private.
“Also true.” His frown turned into a grin. “Just in case.”
“You don’t believe a little curtsy will get you into Heaven. It serves no purpose. But you do it anyway. You believe in God, but you don’t believe that going to church, or any of its rules and rituals, brings you closer to God. And yet you still go through what you were taught.” Beauvoir crossed himself and genuflected. “Just in case.”
Gamache nodded, wondering where this was going.
“Do you really think,patron, that the Dominicans are any different? Aren’t centuries of ritual, of their vocation, even more deeply ingrained in them?”
“You think the Dominicans—”
“Not just them, but the whole Office of the Protection of the Faith or whatever the hell they call it—”
“Doctrine of the Faith—”
“Doctrine, protection, comes to the same thing.”
“You think it’s still conducting an Inquisition?”
“Yes, I do. Just in case. It’s cloaked in secrecy, hiding behind incense and chants and all sorts of magic tricks, to distract. For all we know, they’re behind what’s happening. Turning water into poison or power. Do you think we can really trust what these monks, once we find them, will tell us?”
