St. Dominic Preaches Against Heresy Peacefully

We reached the inn as the last light left the sky. The horses stamped and blew in the yard while we unloaded the packs. Bishop Diego spoke quietly with the host about rooms and feed. Dominic stood apart, watching the street where a few lamps already burned.

The innkeeper brought bread and wine to the table. He was a lean man with quick eyes. When he set the jug down he asked where we came from. Diego answered Spain and the king’s business. The man nodded and said nothing more for a moment. Then he asked what we thought of the teachings that were spreading through the lanes beyond the river.

Dominic sat on the bench. He asked the man what he himself believed. The innkeeper spoke of two powers, one good and one that ruled the body and all it touched. He spoke without anger. Dominic listened. The lamps smoked. Outside, a cart rolled past on the stones.

I stayed near the door because someone had to watch the animals. The talk went on. Dominic asked one question after another. He never raised his voice. The innkeeper answered each time, then waited for the next. The fire in the hearth settled lower. No one else in the room spoke.

Midnight came and went. The bishop had gone to his room. Only the three of us remained at the table. The innkeeper’s hands rested on the wood. Dominic’s own hands were still. He said the body was not the enemy of the soul. He said the Word had taken flesh. The innkeeper listened. Once he looked toward the door as if he expected someone to enter and stop him.

Near dawn the man stood. He walked to the window and looked at the gray street. He turned back and said he could not hold the old teaching any longer. Dominic rose with him. They stood for a time without speaking. Then the innkeeper asked what he should do now. Dominic told him to come with us to the church when it opened.

I went out to the yard to water the horses. The air was cold and the stones were wet. When I came back the two men were still standing where I had left them. The innkeeper’s face looked older and quieter at once.

We left the inn before the sun was fully up. Diego had already spoken with the papal legates who were lodged nearer the cathedral. They had come with fine horses and servants in bright livery. Dominic watched them mount and ride out to their meetings. He said nothing until they were gone.

That same morning he took off his sandals. He walked the length of the street to the market barefoot. A few children followed at a distance. He carried no book, only the small cross he always wore. People stopped their work to look. He spoke when anyone asked, but he did not call out.