I could write of many other things about this council but I fear that I would weary you with so many unbelievable tales. Some sermons concerned my own writings but I am sorry to say that they were all very much mistaken. Another for some reason discussed the poetry of Venantius Fortunatus and attracted a surprising amount of interest. This discussion concentrated upon his ‘jewelled style, metrical verse’ phase, which, although it went, as they say, on good feet, I found worthy and stilted. I asked about Venantius’ cut-up, free-form and be-bop phases but sadly no one seemed aware of these more challenging works. These and his other compositions seemed to have been lost in the mists of time, even his seminal ‘Live in Metz’ album. How transient are the works of men, compared with the eternal merits of the saintly.

During a pause, I encountered a young scholar who claimed to have identified a text of Felix of Nantes. I spent some time lecturing this person on how it would be better for all if this discovery were in no way made public as it would only encourage him but alas my entreaties fell on stony ground. The sinful unwillingness of the attendees of this council to obey their bishops was very surprising. Some older churchmen bewailed this and other matters, saying that compared with the days of their youth or those of the Fathers of the Church, everything now was spoiled by theological correctness gone mad, and that you couldn’t just be yourself anymore.

The council was also attended by a great many members of the Guild of Scribes and Illuminators, who compete to encourage the clergy to allow them to copy and disseminate their theological and pastoral works. Some eminent prelates are seen to skulk and hide from the leading members of the Guild for they have tarried long in delivering the manuscripts of their wise words to them. Let that be enough of tardiness.

A great number of these transcriptions are sold at a special ‘conciliar discount’ and I was able to expand the cathedral library through the purchase of valuable and learned tomes. Agiulf, however, reproached me about this, saying that I never read these volumes and that it would be him who had to lug them all the way back to Tours. At this, I had to rebuke him with stern words, saying, “O insolent deacon! Take care with your rash speech, lest you incur my wrath like your rebellious predecessor Riculf and, like him, end up working behind the counter of Flunch in Nantes. Beware, lest, instead of assisting at the distribution of nourishing spiritual sustenance in the body and blood of our Saviour, you are reduced to serving the fried foods of a secular repast and asking men and women whether they would like salad with that!” At this he was contrite and fell silent.

On the first evening an eminent and venerable metropolitan bishop from those parts declaimed a great oration about a tractate which he had recently published. This bishop was surnamed Sylvester but he was neither the holy Sylvester who welcomed the emperor Constantine into the bosom of the Church, and nor was he the sainted Sylvester who wrote the universally-venerated Liber Quaestionis Visne Mecum Funkere.[1] This Sylvester’s text concerned the importance of paying tithes to the Church in order to enable charitable works to be done. Some found this spiritually enriching, but others grumbled, although all agreed that here and there the style was worthy of a churchman.

However, the most incredible part of this Council occurs on the last evening when, seemingly in violation (or so it seemed to me) of the Acts of the Council of Auxerre which clearly state that priests should not leap and sing at parties, the whole congregation attends a great dance! I was very concerned about the peril that such frivolous behaviour posed to the souls of so many churchmen and shepherds of the Lord’s flock. But behold a great wonder such as I had never before been worthy to witness! A certain man explained to me that, when the music is begun with a great beating of drums, plucking of stringed instruments, sounding of horns, and slapping of bass, the clerics, as though summoned by a divine compulsion flock into the empty space of the hall with a great commotion. However, they in no way shake their booty or, as it is vulgarly called, strut their stuff in a sinful or worldly fashion. Rather, which is marvellous to relate, they all offer praise to the Lord in a particular way. For, to the music provided by the officiant, who is called by those people the Rider of Discs, all perform different mimes of the manifold miraculous punishments and cures recorded in the lives of the blessed saints. Look! There you will see the man attacked by a swarm of bees as related in the miracles of the holy Marinus! There, the woman afflicted by a quartan ague and shaking from head to toe! In a third place, a man possessed by a demon and running around with a flailing of arms! Elsewhere, the man doomed by Saint Maurus to lumber about a church like an ox! And in yet a further place, that person struck with a holy paralysis, swaying and staring at the floor!

All this was wondrous to behold and the next day, with our spirits gladdened and enriched by so great and unexpected a display of holiness, Agiulf and I packed up our belongings and returned to Tours.

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[1] The Book of the Question Do You Wanna Funk With Me. This work is now lost – ed.