Warm sunlight spilled down from the dome, sketching out magnificent, many-colored hues. The cries of seabirds came from above the dome, faintly like distant, drifting jeers. At that moment, the Abencerrajes Hall was filled with a flurry of discussion, mingled with low laughter. The great nobles of Castile and Aragon chatted among themselves as if no one else were present. Scholars from various places argued fiercely without end. It seemed no one cared about Columbus, the "great navigator," who stood frozen before the crowd, awkward and at a loss.
"Mm. Seeking islands on the sea, attracting true navigators, preventing France from meddling in the Atlantic... out of political considerations..."
After listening to the account from Antonio, the Aragonese scholar of navigation, the elderly Castilian royal scholar Pedro pondered for a while, then slowly nodded. He cast a faint glance at Columbus, who had been ignored by everyone, then looked at King Fernando's back not far away, and suddenly recited in a low voice, in Latin, a knotty ancient Greek maxim.
"The ancient sages knew it long ago! When all truth becomes entangled with politics, it breaks away from the scholar's objective calculation and abandons the Sage's pursuit of truth... Even proposals that are more absurd and divorced from reality than any other no longer seem quite so absurd. Only the black hand that manipulates politics will, beneath the radiance of truth, show an even deeper shadow and vileness!..."
"Ahem! May the Lord protect us, may the Lord bless us!..."
Hearing Pedro's pointed mutter, the Aragonese scholar Antonio broke out in sweat across his forehead and hurriedly cut him off. Words like these, mocking King Fernando of Aragon, were something Pedro could boldly say aloud, but Antonio did not dare get involved.
Pedro was very old and possessed outstanding prestige. He