Jack Whyte - The Sorcer part 2 - Metamorphosis

"No, not at all. I heard them spoken of at the Debate, but understood little of it. I have been sympathetic to his teachings although unfamiliar with the meat of them, simply because an old friend of my father's, Bishop Alaric, subscribed to them, and Alaric was all that is best and finest in true men of God."

"I knew him, when I was very young, and I agree. Very well. Six points Pelagius made, and I shall keep them brief. Each of diem bore on one, or both, of two central tenets of the Christian Church: the original sin of Adam, and the divine gift of grace. Bear in mind, though, we speak of heresy here, so do not be seduced." As he began to speak, he enumerated the points he made with his fingers, starting with the little finger of his right hand.

"One, and first above all: Pelagius averred that life is inseparable from death/He taught that even if Adam had not sinned, he would have died. Two, and even more seditious: he maintained that Adam's sin was personal. It harmed only Adam himself, and not the entire human race. In case number three, which is based upon number two, he claimed that newborn children are in a state of innocence, as was Adam before his fall. Four, perhaps the most unacceptable of all his claims, he asserts that the whole human race neither dies through Adam's sin or death, nor rises again through the resurrection of our Blessed Christus. Five." He paused before stating this point, and I waited, holding my breath. "Pelagius would have us all believe that the ancient Hebrew writings, the Old Testament containing the Laws of Moses, are as sure a guide to heaven as are the Gospels..."

I waited for him to continue, but he seemed lost in thought, apparently upon the latter point, which, of all the five, had meant the least to me. Finally I cleared my throat. "And six?"

"What?"

"You said there were six points. You gave me only live."

"Oh, forgive me. Let me see... Six: Pelagius swore that even before the advent of the Christ, there were men who were without sin."

I sat back quickly, resting my shoulders against the cold wall and breathing deeply. That last point had hit home unpleasantly to me. I had heard it spoken, although differently phrased, by my father. He had been taught by Bishop Alaric that, even before the Christ and his Redemption, good and noble men had known the difference between right and wrong, between good and evil. There was much difference between the two. versions of that thought, I realized, and for the first time since my journey to Verulamium so many years earlier, I found myself unwilling to peer into the metaphysical abyss that suddenly yawned in front of me. Men, and particularly clerics, I recalled again, had infinite capacity for splitting hairs of meaning. Enos, however, had noticed nothing of my reaction and continued speaking as though we had never left the point he now pursued.

"Agricola and Fastidius were the champions of Pelagius in Verulamium, as Germanus himself and Lupus of Troyes, who accompanied him, were the champions of the Church. Both men agreed to abide by the decrees established at the Great Debate, and both indeed did so, overtly at least, for several years. In recent years, however, both have recanted and returned to their heretical ways.

"Your question was couched in disbelief that they could be so wilfully intransigent, and in conscience I must inform you that, in their own minds at least, they are guilty of no sin in their reversion. Arrogance may be reprehensible, but it is not a sin, save when it is viewed as pride. They choose to disbelieve in Adam's original sin, and in the divine grace that is the Church's vehicle to Heaven and salvation. They adhere, arrogantly, be it said, to the ancient wisdom of the Stoics of Greece, which avers that the moral strength of man's will, when reinforced by asceticism, is sufficient force to generate salvation. Hence the simplification of their creed: men have always had the will to chose between goodness and evil; those who choose goodness, so be it they deny their baser natures, eschew sinfulness, and aspire to God, may gain salvation on their own merits. It is a very seductive and sweet seeming path that beckons to the unwary. "

"Aye, " I said, speaking for the first time in what seemed like hours. "And particularly here in Britain, where men have always felt that moral rectitude and personal probity are admirable. "

"Quite so, indeed. " Enos glanced at me sharply, however, as he agreed with me, and I wondered whether he had thought to detect some irony in my last words. "But that has nothing to do with the recognition that the Fathers of the Church have spent long years and written many volumes concerning their analyses of all Pelagius taught, and have decided in their wisdom that, doctrinally, Pelagius is unacceptable. He is declared heretical, anathema, and all his works condemned. Agricola and Fastidius have made their choice, and stand condemned, but the danger they pose to others cannot be ignored, and so Germanus will return to Britain in the coming year.

"Forgive me, I may have spoiled your delight in my friend's letter. I had not wished to tell you anything of that before you read the tidings in his letter, but Germanus himself decided I should inform of you of his intent, since that would remove the need for him to spend long hours explaining it to you in his letter."

I sat stunned, so that all I could do was question what I had already been clearly told. "Germanus is returning? To where?"

'To Verulamium."

"That is impossible, Enos! Verulamium is in Saxon hands today. The entire east is overrun with Danes, Saxons, Anglians and others. These people are utterly savage and pagan, with no concept of love or tolerance or any other thing the sweet Christ teaches. They'll devour any Christian bishop fool enough to show his face there."

I saw him shake his head and tried to discern the expression in his eyes, but it seemed to me like pity. "Caius Merlyn," he said, quietly, "what is it that you think we do, we bishops? What tasks do we perform? Do you know?"

"I—" His question left me blinking, and I began again. "You minister to others, teaching them the way of God, and the way of the Church."

"That is correct, but who are these 'others' of whom you speak?"

"Why, your Christian flock."

"And whence came this flock?" He took pity upon me then, indeed. "I work among the Anglians of the eastern shores, the Saxon Shore, as you call it. So do my brethren here, all ten of them. We minister to the souls of those poor folk whom you scorn as 'invaders.' Not all of them, of course, for some are still... well, 'arriving' is a kinder word, I find, and the one that I prefer to use in speaking of diem. Many of the newcomers are fierce and warlike, there is no disputing that. But their belligerence is rooted deep in fear, for they are newcomers and have to win the land on which they will support and rear their families. When they are settled, secure and more content, their bellicose and hostile ways will settle into calm, and they will lend themselves to the teachings of the gentle Christus.

"Germanus will go into Verulamium in peace, and the Christian people there, Anglians all, will see to his protection. I have no fear for Germanus, nor does he. Our flocks in that region have held their land for years, some of them for generations. They are no longer pagan, and they are no longer dangerous to God's servants."

"But there are some who are." I could not bring myself to countenance what he was saying.

"Some, that is true. But in the fullness of God's time that, too, will change. God's Will will prevail over men's forever. The emperors of Rome, when Rome was at its peak, could not stifle His word, nor His love. Think you these unlettered Saxons will be stronger than imperial Rome?"

"So, are you saying that when you leave here you will go over to the Saxon Shore, to preach to these... pagan peoples?"