Heresy: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery (38 page)

She put her arms around him.

“But if it was because of them that you came back to me, I bless their names, whatever they are. I know you were more afraid for me than angry,
carissime
. There’s only one thing you can do about that.”

“And that is?” He bent to her upturned face.

Catherine looked into his sea-grey eyes. She wanted to make him promise never to leave again. She bit her tongue to keep the words from escaping. It was an impossible demand and unfair.

“Just trust in me,” she said finally. “As I do in you. And beyond that, we must both simply have faith.”

Edgar kissed her gently.

“In this world,” he admitted. “Faith is the only thing we can always hold on to. All the same,” he added grinning, as Edana yanked on his tunic for attention, “I intend to hold on to you for quite a while.”

Catherine grinned. She wanted to tell Edgar that she found his body much more comforting than faith. But that would be heresy, and of that, she had had quite enough.

What really happened?

The Council of Reims in 1148 is one I have been investigating for several years. My research has been a detective story itself, complete with false leads, hidden agendas and red herrings. The following few pages are a summary of that search.

But first, I want to state that the part about a mini-riot fueled by a rumor of an invading army of heretics and demons is total fiction, made up by me for the story. For that episode I drew not on a medieval source but on the recent irrational stories involving the year 2000, along with various panics resulting from rumors spread over the Internet. Our credulity hasn’t changed over the past thousand years, only the focus of our fears.

Now, who and what did I draw from historical records?

Astrolabe really existed. The son of Abelard and Heloise was born in Le Pallet, Brittany, at the home of Abelard’s sister, Denise, who raised him. No one knows for sure what happened to him, although it is possible that he eventually became a Cistercian monk or a canon at Nantes in Brittany. There is a letter of advice from Abelard to him and evidence that Heloise tried to get a benefice for him so he must have at least been in minor orders. I invented everything that happens to him in this book.

Bernard, abbot of Clairvaux (1090–1152), we know better as Saint Bernard (
not
the one the dog is named for). He was arguably the most charismatic preacher and most influential man in Western Europe from about 1129–1149. Many blamed him for the failure of the second Crusade, which he preached. He was also accused of trying to influence the decision of the council of Reims in the matter of Gilbert of Poitiers (see below). I have tried to fit him into several books, but he refuses to be caught. There are many biographies that try to explain the man who called himself “the chimera of his age.” One of the most accessible and interesting is Brian Patrick McGuire’s
The Difficult Saint
. And, yes, I did steal his title for an earlier book of my own.

Engebaud, Archbishop of Tours (d. 1156), and his fight with Olivier, bishop of Dol (d. 1153), was part of an argument between Tours and Dol that went on for almost a hundred years. It involved lots of name-calling, excommunications and trips to Rome. One of the times the bishop of Dol was excommunicated was at the council of Reims. It is my private belief that this is why Eon was brought to the council for judgment and this is what I’ve put in the book.

Eon, sometimes called Eon de l’Etoile, is an elusive character. The bare facts are that he was a Breton heretic who was brought before the council. He was deemed too simple to prosecute and was remanded into custody. After that the stories vary. I can find nothing written about him by someone who was actually at the council. The most complete story about him was written by William of Newburgh, some forty years after the council. William’s account makes for great reading but can’t be taken as fact. Otto of Freising’s account is probably closest to the truth, but still secondhand as Otto was with Conrad on the Second Crusade and not present at Reims.

Eugenius III (d. 1153) was born Bernard of Pisa and became a Cistercian abbot before being elected pope. He spent most of his time in office in France because the Romans had driven him from the city. He was a good friend of St. Bernard (see above) and also a former student of Abelard.

Gilbert de la Porrée, bishop of Poitiers (c.1075–1154), was a noted scholar and teacher before he became bishop of Poitiers. Most chroniclers of the council of Reims have concentrated on his trial for heresy there. I didn’t show this trial because it’s a book in itself. For those who are interested in the subtleties of his philosophy and the reasons why it was so important to intellectuals of the day, I can provide a reading list. Few modern readers will be surprised to learn that politics were involved in his trial. In essence, Gilbert was exonerated and remained bishop.

Heloise (d. 1163/4) is primarily known for her love affair with Peter Abelard that resulted in the birth of Astrolabe (see above) and Abelard’s castration by her angry relatives. Eventually, she became abbess of the Paraclete, a convent in Champagne founded by Abelard on land given to him. She remained there for the next forty years. However, she did not sit idly, but wrote, interacted with the community, and founded six daughter convents. She was in contact with Abelard until his death and he visited often. I am eagerly awaiting a forthcoming biography of Heloise as abbess.

Henri, count of Tréguier, did everything I’ve attributed to him. He installed his mistress in the abbey, throwing out the monks. He was excommunicated but didn’t seem to pay much attention to that. At some point he grew tired of the mistress and she married one of Henri’s vassals. We have the whole story from a letter Henri wrote to Pope Alexander III when he was in his eighties. I have quoted from this at the beginning of chapter seventeen.

John of Salisbury (c. 1115–1120 to 1180) was at the council of Reims and has left us the best firsthand account of it. In his many books and letters, John gave a fascinating picture of the world he lived in and of his own personality. At the time of the council he was about thirty years old, had been studying for most of his life and now couldn’t find a job. (Of course no one has this problem today.) Somehow, probably at Reims, he managed to get a letter of introduction from Bernard of Clairvaux to Theobald, archbishop of Canterbury and shortly thereafter became one of his clerks. John was a friend and companion of Thomas Becket and present at his murder. He ended his life as bishop of Chartres. Almost all of his work has been translated and is well worth the read. There is also a biography of John by Cary Nederman that will be out in 2003. I have mixed feelings about using John as if he were a fictional character but I like him and wanted to share him with the rest of you.

Marie, abbess of St-Sulpice (1136–1181), was the daughter of King Stephen of England. She probably wasn’t at the council but I had to add her because she fascinates me and I read through her charters in the archives at Rennes. In 1160, Marie left, or was taken, from the convent to marry Matthew, count of Boulogne. After the marriage was dissolved, she returned to an English convent, where she resumed the religious life.

Petronilla of Aquitaine (c.1124–1151) was the younger sister of Eleanor of Aquitaine. At the age of seventeen or so, she fell in love with Raoul de Vermandois (c. 1105–1152), count of Vermandois, cousin of the late king, Louis VI, married, and a good twenty years older than she. They arranged for friendly bishops to give him a divorce that most of Europe didn’t recognize, were married and had three children. The pope finally granted the divorce at the council. I believe that the circumstances may have been much as I have written. Two of the children married children of Sybil of Anjou and Thierry, count of Flanders. The son of Raoul and Petronilla died a leper and their daughters had no children. At the time, many thought this was because of a prophecy (or curse) supposedly made by St. Bernard.

Sybil of Anjou, countess of Flanders (c. 1110–1164), is one of the most remarkable women of the twelfth century. She was the sister of Geoffrey of Anjou, and the daughter of Fulk, who had become king of Jerusalem. She went to the Holy Land at least three times. The last time she remained, joining a convent. As related in this book, she governed Flanders while her husband was on crusade with King Louis. When the county was invaded, she directed the defense and earned much praise from her contemporaries. She did arrange a truce long enough to give birth, probably to her son, Peter.

There is no record of the name of the abbess of St.-Pierre-les-Nonnains at this time, so I have given her the name of an earlier one, Odile.

Any bishop or abbot mentioned in passing in the text did exist and was at the council.

While I do my best to do the research for all my books myself, the fact is that I always find I need help. The following people have given it to me freely and I am very grateful to them. Any mistakes are in spite of their help and all my own.

Professor Penelope Adair, Pan-American University, and Professor Karen Nicholas, SUNY Oswego, for sharing with me their research on Sybil of Anjou and for many great meals and conversations.

Katherine Christensen, Department of History, Berea College, Berea, Kentucky, for suggesting sources for the Council of Reims.

Professor Marcia Colish, Oberlin College, for her insights on Eon de l’Etoile and the Council of Reims. I’m sorry Peter Lombard wasn’t a larger part of this book, but he may turn up in the future.

Dr. Christopher Crockett, for helping me track down some of the bishops who attended the council, especially from the region around Chartres.

Professor David Crouch, Hull University, England, for bringing me up to date on the English bishops and for confirming my research on Marie, Abbess of St-Sulpice and daughter of King Stephen.

Dr. Betty Donoghue, for always being there for me and also for double checking my copy edit.

Mandan Noelle Khoshnevisan, M.A., for being my Stanford Library connection and finding an assortment of maps of twelfth-century Reims.

Dr. Mary McLaughlin, for allowing me to read her work in manuscript, for many spirited discussions on Heloise and for the translation of Abelard’s letter at the beginning of chapter four.

Professor Constant Mews, University of Victoria, Monash, Australia, for allowing me to use his translation of the letter of Hugh Metel to Heloise.

Professor Cary Nederman, Texas A&M, for sending me his monograph on John of Salisbury in manuscript, as well as passing on a thesis on Gilbert de Poitiers by one of Professor Mews’s students, Claire Monagle.

Dr. Martin Orvitz, pathologist, for giving me the finer points of throat cutting.

Jeffrey Russell, professor emeritus, University of California, Santa Barbara, for setting me to search for Eon, the Latin correction (especially the epigraph to chapter twenty that I had completely botched), as well as general advice and emotional support throughout.

The entire staff of the Department Archives of Ille et Vilaine, Rennes, for guiding me through the archives, letting me fondle twelfth-century charters and enduring my demands for more information.