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The Book(continued) The living quarters were downstairs, the observatory above. Anna had
often gone upstairs to dust, ever so careful not to disturb the charts,
instruments, and annotations on the walls and floor. She had hesitated
to open the windows, lest a breeze from the bay disturb the master's
things. He was sometimes too absorbed to notice her. But she had seen
the leaves of ivy he had drawn in the margins of his manuscript. Ivy
figured in her family's coat of arms. Georgius usually headed straight for the observatory. Today Anna led
him to the master's bedchamber, passing the nurse on her way out. Copernicus
was propped up with pillows, staring straight ahead and holding a quilt
to his chin. The room was damp, with the fire down to embers, and Anna
added wood and pumped the bellows. Rakowski, trusted physician, held a lancet and basin. These betokened
a bloodletting, which might relieve a hemorrhage of the brain. His great
girth, however, led Georgius to wonder, Can the doctor get close enough
to the bed? Copernicus stared at Rakowski, then at Georgius, but may not have recognized
them. His inner eye seemed fixed on some terrifying vision. Suddenly
he cried out, "They burned Novara!" "In Bologna," said Georgius, hoping to console the old man.
Executions for heresy were now confined largely to Italy and Spain. Rakowski muttered, "He doesn't hear you." Anna, eyes welling with tears, took the master's right hand as the
doctor rolled up the left sleeve. Copernicus looked at her vaguely,
doubtless haunted by the possible cost of his own breach of faith. Though
a Protestant canon, he had been raised as a Catholic, and the Inquisition
had a long reach. Then Rakowski called for her assistance, and she walked
around the bed to hold the basin while he tied a tourniquet to the patient's
arm. Shortly, her hands were spattered with blood. At length Rakowski tightened the tourniquet, applied a bandage, and
wiped the arm with a towel. Anna went out with the basin. Eager to show the proofs, Georgius placed the book on the master's
lap and removed the cover. Still the old man remained detached. He looked
up at Georgius and down at the book as though trying to comprehend.
Then, surprisingly, he riffled the printed pages, the trace of a smile
on his lips. At that moment Anna rushed in. "The bishop is here," she
said. "Georgius, go to the door and receive him while I hide." The loose pages now slipped off the bed, and Anna could barely gather
them before hearing a heavy tread. By the time the bishop appeared,
the pages were again before Copernicus, though in disarray, and Anna
had escaped to the sewing room. His Excellency, pompous in his vestments,
crucifix in hand, approached the bed. His first words were, "What
is this, pray tell?" as he pointed to the scattered book. "A manuscript," said Georgius in haste, then realized his
blunder, for the printed title was in full view. "I'd best take it with me — for safekeeping," said the
bishop. "Obviously, Doctor Kopernik is in no condition to read
or work." There was a hint of contempt in his use of the master's
Polish rather than Latin name. "I'll assemble it," said Georgius. Anna had overheard the exchange and wondered how Georgius could avoid
handing over the book. Presently she heard him say, "I'll put it
in the vestibule for Your Excellency to take on the way out." But the other responded with blunt authority, "I'll have it now." Anna sensed her lover's frustration in the ensuing silence, which indicated
compliance. Hooves on the cobblestones, visitors' voices... Peeking
out, she seethed, watching the prelate mumble a blessing and shuffle
off with the book. At least she could emerge from hiding and look to the master's supper.
Later she would meet Georgius at his house, and they would scheme to
acquire another set of proofs and, defying His Excellency, launch the
publication themselves. But if they succeeded — she shuddered at the question —could
the guarded acclaim of a few enlightened savants save the master from
persecution, if indeed he survived?
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