Chapter 14
I sat in the professor’s house that night with a glass of wine, which seemed to do more for the milk crate’s comfort level than the mint julep had. Wine has its own special quality, more expansive and reflective. It was making me mellow, which is not an emotional state I’m particularly familiar with.
Andrew had already switched gears and driven off into a new obsession. No more about the Mongols and the Buryats; now he was fascinated with the prophecies of Joachim of Fiore.
“I’m not really sure I need to hear about the prophecies of Joachim of Fiore just now,” I said. “I’m pretty confident you’ll just spin out some crazy theory again and then laugh at your own cleverness.”
“About Joachim of Fiore I am absolutely serious. The very model of a mad prophet. But if you don’t feel
