The Book

By Bill Carrigan

Anna Szyling meets the astronomer Georgius Rheticus at a tavern in Frombork, a town in northern Poland on the Baltic Sea. The year is 1543.


The reverence with which he accepted the book, expressed in his eyes and eager hands, was ample greeting. Anna followed him to a niche by a window, where he placed the unbound book on the table. A shaft of May sunlight fell on its wooden cover tied with cord. "This is it, the complete proof?" he asked. They removed their hooded coats, throwing caution aside in the dim public house seldom frequented by clerics.

"Yes, finally. Including a foreword, unsigned, by Osiander."

The tavern keeper, often host to their rendezvous, cast a knowing glance. His young son slowly turned the spit over a sizzling fire. The room smelled of beer, wood smoke, and burning grease. A few patrons sat drinking or awaiting the evening meal.

Georgius spread both hands on the book and gazed at her. "I'm in a quandary. Is it your beauty or your courage that impresses me most?" His anxiety had mounted as she defied the bishop, both in securing the book and remaining in Frombork.

"In the end," she said, "the printer seemed glad to release it, after thirteen years of indecision. He could assemble others, though, from hidden sheets."

"Excellent." He continued to gaze into her warm brown eyes, thinking she was just as beautiful at thirty-four as when they had met six years ago. Well-educated, the daughter of an acclaimed artisan, she served the master for little more than honor.

Georgius untied the cord and removed the cover. But now he muttered, "Osiander must have done this. De Revolutionibus with the added Orbium Coelestium translates On the Revolution of the Heavenly Spheres."

"So?"

"That excludes the Earth, which isn't considered a heavenly sphere. Our self-appointed editor goes too far." (He saw connivance in Bishop Dantyszek's confirmation of Andreas Osiander's role.)

"And the unsigned foreword," said Anna. "Wouldn't you assume the master wrote it?"

"Of course. And I see the words 'theory,' 'hypothesis,' where clearly these pages contain proof." For Anna, there was no need to add: proof that the Sun, not the Earth, is the center of our planetary system.

"My heart, we must hasten to get it to him. Since you saw him last, he has taken a turn for the worse: paralyzed on his right side, his fine mind clouded. If the bishop finds out, he may pay a dutiful visit. Who knows, he might even seize the book. And he must not find me there."

Both knew that the bishop's poisonous letters had forced the master to discharge her, that she had sent a trunk to Gdansk in pretense of leaving town. There was no telling what Dantyszek, once known as "King of Banquests and Carouses," would do next as the sanctimonious Bishop of Warmia. She had glimpsed, "Be rid of her, whether concubine or servant, lest her loose ways tempt the other canons." As if her years of housework for the master had been spent warming his bed!

Enemies everywhere. Through politics, ideology, or envy, many who had offered their aid — Osiander, the bishop, his toady the vicar — had proved false. And all closing in now, with the great work primed to blaze forth and radically change man's view of the cosmos and his own importance. Could certain egos bear to be so diminished?

Anna was determined to do all she could to brighten the master's last hours. She had summoned his brother and sisters, the savants who revered him, the rich uncle who had sent him to the world-renowned Krakow Academy. They would visit or send condolences. And loyal Georgius would be at his side. She recalled how Georgius had copied the entire manuscript in Latin over ten grueling weeks. Without his brilliant introductory pamphlet, would a major Nuremberg publisher have accepted the book?

Georgius retied the package and held Anna's coat, anticipating the meeting and, later, a long-awaited night with his love. They slipped out and headed for the tower in which Nicolaus Copernicus, soon to be hailed as having "stopped the Sun and moved the Earth," dwelt, dreamt, and explored the skies.