F0154 · The Maroon Kingdom / The Size of the World
Alberto remarked that the world had been known to be round since the time of the Greeks. And indeed, only superstitious and uneducated people could imagine that the world was flat. It was an optical illusion that could easily be dispelled through logic. Jorge asked Alberto please not to enter into Thomistic disquisitions. Nothing in this castle can sum up that outmoded sanctimonious fellow, he said. Indeed, the world was known to be round, but there was no way to confirm that it was. And more than that, there was no way to confirm its size. The most exact measurements based on trigonometry were not entirely reliable. They were dealing with a theory. A theory whose time had come to be confirmed. Of course, Jorge said, it was not merely a purely theoretical interest; the idea could work from a commercial point of view. Since the eastern route had been closed because of the fall of Constantinople, which had affected him personally so much, it had been necessary to find a new route, and this was the opportunity. The problem was clear, this Jewish man, this former Portuguese spy. He embraced Alberto as though he were a son. He asked him to come with him and spoke to him of Salvador Fernández, of how he had been recruited and how, from that day on, he would learn things it was better not to reveal. Alberto promised that he would reveal nothing.
The monk stopped dressing as one. He acquired a magnificent wardrobe paid for by Isaac. The slave accompanied him to the finest tailors in Rome and dressed in silk and armín. Touch and the other lesser senses, taste and smell, seemed to awaken too. He took pleasure in the scent of oranges and Farid’s bittersweet aroma beside him; he took pleasure in the feel of the fabrics they bought together, without forgetting the greater senses that told him of the slave’s beauty, of his voice.
F0154 · The Maroon Kingdom / The Size of the World
Alberto remarked that the world had been known to be round since the time of the Greeks. And indeed, only superstitious and uneducated people could imagine that the world was flat. It was an optical illusion that could easily be dispelled through logic. Jorge asked Alberto please not to enter into Thomistic disquisitions. Nothing in this castle can sum up that outmoded sanctimonious fellow, he said. Indeed, the world was known to be round, but there was no way to confirm that it was. And more than that, there was no way to confirm its size. The most exact measurements based on trigonometry were not entirely reliable. They were dealing with a theory. A theory whose time had come to be confirmed. Of course, Jorge said, it was not merely a purely theoretical interest; the idea could work from a commercial point of view. Since the eastern route had been closed because of the fall of Constantinople, which had affected him personally so much, it had been necessary to find a new route, and this was the opportunity. The problem was clear, this Jewish man, this former Portuguese spy. He embraced Alberto as though he were a son. He asked him to come with him and spoke to him of Salvador Fernández, of how he had been recruited and how, from that day on, he would learn things it was better not to reveal. Alberto promised that he would reveal nothing.
The monk stopped dressing as one. He acquired a magnificent wardrobe paid for by Isaac. The slave accompanied him to the finest tailors in Rome and dressed in silk and armín. Touch and the other lesser senses, taste and smell, seemed to awaken too. He took pleasure in the scent of oranges and Farid’s bittersweet aroma beside him; he took pleasure in the feel of the fabrics they bought together, without forgetting the greater senses that told him of the slave’s beauty, of his voice.
F0154 · El Reino Cimarrón / El tamaño del mundo
Alberto comentó que se sabía que el mundo era redondo desde tiempos de los griegos. Y en efecto, sólo la gente supersticiosa y sin educación podía imaginar que el mundo fuera plano. Se trataba de una ilusión óptica que fácilmente con el uso de la lógica podía desmontarse. Jorge le pidió a Alberto que por favor no entrara en disquisiciones tomistas. Nada en este castillo puede resumir a ese santorro pasado de moda, dijo. En efecto, era sabido que el mundo era redondo, pero no había modo de confirmar que lo era. Y más, no había modo de confirmar su tamaño. Las mediciones más exactas basadas en trigonometría no eran del todo confiables. Se encontraban en una teoría. Una teoría que había llegado el momento de confirmar. Por supuesto, dijo Jorge, no se trataba sólo de un interés puramente teórico, la idea podía funcionar desde el punto de vista mercantil, desde que se había cerrado el camino del este a causa de la caída de Constantinopla que a él, personalmente lo había afectado tanto, había sido necesario encontrar un camino nuevo y esta era la oportunidad. El problema era claro, este hombre judío, este antiguo espía portugués. Abrazó a Alberto como si fuera un hijo. Le pidió que lo acompañara y le habló de Salvador Fernández, de cómo había sido reclutado y de que a partir de aquel día se enteraría de cosas que era mejor no revelar. Alberto prometió que no revelaría nada.
El monje dejó de vestir como tal. Se hizo de un magnífico guardarropa que pagó Isaac. El esclavo lo acompañó con los mejores sastres de Roma y vistió de seda y armín. Pareció despertar también el tacto y los otros sentidos menores, el gusto y el olfato. Se complacía en el olor de las naranjas y el agridulce aroma de Farid junto a él; se complacía en el roce de las telas que compraban juntos sin olvidarse de los sentidos mayores que lo informaban de la belleza del esclavo, de su voz.