The Master of Verona

"Thank you." The poet's lugubrious lips formed a sinister, lopsided smile that Pietro knew well. Dante Alaghieri did not suffer fools gladly. "You have just made my point. There cannot be more than one Heaven, you say. But you then refer to the plurality — the heavens. How are we to reconcile this?"

The abbot, who bore a vague resemblance to the Scaliger, sputtered. "A figure of speech — the heavens refer to the skies, not the greater Heaven above!"

The little man with the bells spoke. "I am surprised, lord Abbot, that you are so public with your confessions."

"What?"

The little man flipped over to stand on his head. "Reading the Greek is heresy, and punishable by death. You must have friends in high places." The abbot blushed. "But I will join you on the pyre, for I too have read his works — worse, I've read The Destruction. As I recall, dear Abbot, Aristotle had a numerical fixation not unlike our infernal friend's here. But whereas Monsignore," he nodded to Dante, "obsesses in noveni, the Greek was more economical. Did he not say there were three 'heavens?'"

"Bait someone else, jester," replied the abbot. "He was acknowledging the common uses of the word. Aristotle then goes on to insist that there is only one Heaven, for nothing can exist outside of Heaven."

Cangrande sat eagerly forward, perfect teeth flashing. "Now I'm ashamed I haven't read Aristotle. Does that mean we are now in Heaven? Doesn't seem we have much to look forward to." The low ripple of amusement in the crowd was mostly genuine. The Scaliger ran a hand over the shoulders of a hound, his eyes narrowed. "I am interested, though, in the idea of three in one. Was it an early prophecy of the Trinity? Should we count Aristotle among the Prophets?"

The abbot snorted. "No doubt Maestro Alighieri would agree. He certainly made a saint of that pagan scribbler Virgil. So many pagan poets and philosophers got fine treatment, while good churchmen were lambasted. But you missed one, Alighieri! I didn't notice the Greek philosopher Zeno in your journey through Hell."

The aquiline lips curled beneath the black beard. "That doesn't mean he isn't there. There are so many souls, I did not have time to name them all. If there is anyone you are particularly curious about, I'll inquire on my next visit."

The crowd erupted. Only Pietro knew how hard Dante was working to maintain his composure. Embedded in his many fine qualities was a discomfort in crowds. Over the years he'd learned to mask it with an acerbic wit.

Above the noise the abbot leveled an accusing finger. "You, sir, are a pagan, posing as a Christian."

"Better than an ass posing as a lamb of God." Beneath a fresh spate of laughter Dante's head turned. Oh no, thought Pietro as his father crooked a beckoning finger. "My lords, this is my elder son, named Pietro for San Pietro himself. Son, remind our host, what were the three types of heaven Aristotle named?"

Pietro wanted to hide himself in the fluttering drapes. This is my punishment for being late. And for the hat. First the Abbot is put down for calling Virgil a scribbler. Now it's my turn. Not far off he spied his little brother's large grin. Shut up, twerp. Endeavoring to recall his lessons, Pietro took a breath. "The first he uses is closest to what we mean by Heaven. It is the seat of all that is divine."

"Correct. And the second?"

"Next, he uses heaven to encompass the stars, the moon, and the sun. The heavens of astrology."

Pietro hoped his father would expound and expand, but all he was rewarded with was a curt nod. "And the third?"

"The third… it's… well, ah — "

"Yes?"

Pietro took a chance. "It's — it's everything. The whole universe. It's the totality of the world, everything in and around us. Just as all the pagan gods were only aspects of Jupiter, or Zeus, so all living beings are — are aspects of heaven."

Dante gazed at his son. "Crudely put. But not inaccurate."

Relief. Thank God Antonia isn't here. Pietro's sister would have quoted it, exactly. In Greek.

Cangrande's voice was rich and deep. "Sounds like Bolognese rhetoric. The body, the body, the body is all. So, my dear Abbot, it seems Heaven is all around us. Is that your argument? Are we indeed inside Heaven without our knowing it?"

Before the abbot could answer, the fool in silk raised his head. "I don't know about your faith — I try not to learn more than I have to of the divine carpenter — but mine says that man was created outside Heaven. And that Lucifer was cast out of Heaven for warring against Jehovah. How can you be cast out of the infinite?"

"God logic!" sneered the abbot. "We need no theology here, however fashionable. What is, is!"