The de Montfort Histories - The Dove and the Devil (8 page)

Arnaud nodded and sat down as he had been told. The warmth of the fire
soon seeped through his bones and lifted the chill that the walk to the cottage
on this December evening had given him. “I need somewhere to live, and I must
also seek some kind of employment. Bertrand spoke of someone who might help me,
a glove maker, I believe,”

“That’s my brother-in-law,” Saissa said. “Guillaume Lagarde. He’s
married to my younger sister Perella. Nice couple. No children yet, though.”

“If
 
Bertrand says he thinks
Guillaume can find you some work, he probably will be able to.” Pierre and
Saissa exchanged a glance that did not go unnoticed by Arnaud.
 

“Everyone has been very kind to me. More than kind, really. I am
wondering what interest Bertrand has in me. Surely it is not just for the sake
of my wife or my baby.”

“Never fear, friend,” Pierre said. “God has His plans for you, which
will be revealed in good time. Doubtless, Bertrand will be the instrument for
the revelation.”

“What revelation?” Arnaud was instantly intrigued, but neither Pierre
nor Saissa would be drawn in any further.

“You can stay here the night till you get lodgings tomorrow. I’m sorry
we can’t put you up permanently where you could be close to Maurina, but as you
can see, we are pretty crowded and will likely be more so when the animals come
indoors for winter.”

While speaking, Saissa had pulled out another straw-filled palliasse for
Arnaud. There were no refinements such as bed linen, to which he had been
accustomed at home, but nevertheless, the mattress was comfortable enough and
it wasn’t long before the whole household was asleep.

They were awakened abruptly by a loud banging at the cottage door. The
dogs jumped up in alarm, making more noise, and both babies started to wail in
unison. Pierre struggled into his leggings and threw open the door. Standing on
the doorstep was a very dishevelled Elder. Immediately, Pierre was alarmed. The
Elders never looked dishevelled! While they generally had an aura of calm about
them, this man was far from calm. He pushed Pierre aside and bade him close the
door quickly, looking over his shoulder as he spoke.

“What is it?” Pierre asked. He forgot to bow, the act of veneration
being the last thing on his mind at that moment. “What has happened? Has
someone died?” He could have bitten his tongue as he said that, since Arnaud
had awoken and was listening intently to the conversation.

“No one we know, but news has been received from the Perfecta who leads
our house in Troyes.” He paused dramatically. “There have been eight burnings
in the town centre there. Five of our brothers and three of our sisters have
gone to greater glory, burned by the order of the Archbishop. I am afraid it
has begun, my friend!”

“What has begun?” Arnaud looked puzzled.

“It is a long story and perhaps Pierre here will tell you about it. I
must go and spread the news and warn our people of what is happening.” With
that, the Elder left as quickly as he had arrived.

“We have always lived our lives according to what we believe to be
right. The corruption and decay in the Catholic Church is easy to see. They
don’t even try to hide it! Many priests do not even bother to obey church laws.
They sell justice. If you can’t afford to buy a pardon from the priest, then
you are dammed. All poor people are dammed! Not so the rich! They can afford to
buy their salvation. When was the last time you ever saw an archbishop in this
diocese? They never even bother to visit, to see what is happening. They
believe, or perhaps they don’t even care, that illiterate priests pass on God’s
word. Many monks have taken mistresses; in principle I do not care if a man has
a mistress but I do if that man has sworn a vow of chastity! Some, even more
unworthy, have become money lenders. Their church forbids this but what do they
care? They live very well on the profit which they have bled from their poorest
parishioners.” Pierre’s eyes were alight as he spoke. He clearly had little
time for the Catholic clergy.

“But why burn your people, the believers? What harm do you do?”

“They fear us, my friend. We are a growing group. Already there are many
thousands who are believers and more come every day!”

“I still do not understand why they should burn you.” Arnaud was clearly
very troubled. “I have received nothing but kindness at your hands. My wife was
one of you. She was a good person who never harmed a fly. What is it that Holy
Mother Church fears?”

“They fear the lies they teach may become apparent and then their power
would be dissipated. Where would the church be without all the poor souls who
regularly pay for the upkeep of the bishops’ fine palaces? We are beginning to
find that even the most devout amongst Catholics doubt the sanctity of the
church! And this is the fault not of the Pope, perhaps, but certainly of some
of his priests. We are happy to live side-by-side with everyone, but it appears
we are a great threat.”

Arnaud looked from Pierre to Saissa, who had been listening all the
while her husband was speaking. No one could look less threatening than this
couple!
  
“Are there many
believers in Lavaur? I know there are some because my wife’s parents live here
in the town.”

“There are several hundreds of us, I think,” she replied. “We meet
regularly, not as a whole group but separately, sometimes outside, sometimes in
each other’s houses. You would be surprised by the names of some of the
believers. Many are very rich and some have become
perfecti
.” Saissa smiled. “Would you like to come to one of our meetings?
You would be made welcome and you could learn more, perhaps, to interest you.
We must be careful, though. It seems as though we are in for a period of
trouble. We have not had much of that for the past twenty-five years, even
though the Pope declared our beliefs anathema then. We were cursed for all time
and shortly after that, one of his bishops besieged our town and they tried to
make our families recant their beliefs. We never did, of course, but our lord,
Raymond-Roger, did so on our behalf. Poor man, he tried very hard to persuade
us to return to the Catholic Church.” She looked sombre. “It was before my time
but my mother has told me the story many times. Not one of us gave in to the
persuasion of Raymond-Roger and he was stuck with as many of us as he had
before the siege. It was a good thing he was as tolerant as he was. I don’t
think the bishop who led the siege ever came back.”

“I should certainly like to come to one of your meetings and learn more
of what you are about. I had no idea that burnings were permitted and do not
think any God would forgive such a thing. How the poor people must have
suffered!” Arnaud shuddered at the thought.

“I am not so sure of that,” Pierre said. “It is a fact that even though
they are given the chance to recant their beliefs before they burn, I have
never heard of anyone who did!”

Chapter Five

Northern France

November, 1199 AD

The de Montforts

Amaury stretched and opened his eyes.
Had last night been a dream
he wondered, as he looked around him.
All seemed as usual. Guy was there in bed beside him and the younger pages were
curled up on their palliasses in the corner of the room. Pushing off the
coverlet, he clambered past the heavy bedhangings. Although he could hardly see
in the dim grey light that filtered through the arrow slits, there was just
enough light to see that he had not been dreaming.

 
While the boys had slept,
someone had delivered the oak chest with his armour to their room. It was
there, at the end of the bed, begging to be opened once more. Remembering his
struggle to lift the heavy lid in the great hall the previous night, he ran and
shook one of the young pages awake and asked him to help him. Only too pleased
to oblige, the youngster ran to help the young master, and between the two of
them the contents of the chest soon lay revealed. Amaury ran his hands lovingly
over the polished metal. How proud he was to be the owner of such a set of
armour! And how proud he was of his papa who had obtained it for him!

Thinking of his papa reminded him that today was the day Simon would
fight in the lists. He wished he was old enough to take part, but that was a
long way in the future. He must go to his uncle of Leicester first and begin
the training that would culminate in his becoming a knight.

“Wake up, Guy! Wake up!” Amaury shook his little brother more roughly
than was necessary. “I’ve got something to tell you.”

“What’s wrong, Amaury? What’s happened?”

“Look in the chest here. See what Papa has given me,” Amaury said
excitedly. As he lifted up the hauberk, the links clinked gratifyingly against
each other.

Guy’s eyes opened wide. “Is it really yours?” he breathed.

“While you were sleeping last night in the hall, he gave it to me in
front of all the guests. And not only that,” he went on, “I am to leave for my
uncle of Leicester’s estate next week!”

Guy was aghast. In all his four years, the family unit had been secure.
Even at his tender age, he realised that things were about to change in a major
way and he was not sure he liked the idea. His lower lip began to quiver.

For once, Amaury did not become impatient with his little brother. “Guy,
you know we all have to go away. Look at Francois here, and look at Raymond.
They have left their families, but they visit them from time to time. One day soon,
your turn will come.”

“I’ll never want to leave Montfort and maman and papa,” Guy said
emphatically.

“Wait until you’re old enough before you decide.” Gone were the
uncertainties of last night. In Amaury’s imagination, he was already in
Leicester practising the quintain and wielding a large lance!

If yesterday had been an almost perfect day for the jousts, today was
just the opposite. The rain pattered down in that resistant drizzle that was so
typical of this part of France. One would not be aware of getting wet, so light
was the shower. It was its persistence that did the damage. Ten minutes out of
doors would see a costume soaked, shoes ruined and the previously hardened
ground turned into a quagmire. The gloriously brave and colourful pennants of the
day before now hung limply from their masts, and all the storekeepers huddled
for warmth under cover of their makeshift booths. There would be fewer people
in the crowds today than yesterday, but perhaps the sun would come out later
and brighten everyone’s spirits. The knights who were to compete in the lists
would not be too unhappy at the change in the weather, however. It gave them a
chance to practise in a variety of weather conditions, which was not a bad
thing.

By the time the boys were ready to go outside and join the crowds, the
tilting had started. Already several knights had been ignominiously unhorsed to
the greater glory of their victors, who could not help strutting around as they
received the adulation of the crowds and particularly those ladies whose
favours they wore. It was a noisy scene.

In the crowd, the boys, once more in the care of Guy’s nurse, could not
hope to see their papa. Alicia was already in the stands with Marie de
Joinville. A roof of gaily coloured silk had been improvised over the dais on
which they sat. As long as the material wasn’t touched, it would keep off most
of the rain. Great braziers stood by; already prepared for lighting should the
weather turn colder.

As to the ladies themselves, when they were seated, Alicia noticed that
Marie looked calmer than she had yesterday. In the last couple of days, she had
seen many knights unseated but not injured, so was feeling a little less
agitated for the safety of her husband. As always, Alicia was placid, serene in
the knowledge of Simon’s skill on the field. Her tranquillity would soon be
marred, however!

She looked up as a great roar went up from the crowd and Simon appeared
at the far end of the lists. Caparisoned in the de Montfort colours, his great
black destrier gleamed, the wetness of the day giving an added sheen to its
already shining coat. In his right hand, Simon carried his great lance; in his
left, his shield emblazoned with the great lion rampant of Leicester. What a
proud sight he was! Even at this distance, his horse looked enormous, and he
sat on it as proudly as any king. His opponent, who was positioned closer to
Alicia, looked every bit as fearsome, and she noted with some apprehension that
it was Thibaut himself who had been drawn against Simon. Neither of these two
men was used to losing, and Alicia felt dread forming in the pit of her
stomach. She knew no quarter would be given; both men were too proud—not
only to give it, but to take it! This would be as real a battle as could be
found off a battlefield.

The herald sounded the horn for the contest to begin, and the thunder of
hooves filled the air, drowning out even the roar of the crowd. There was a
mighty crash as lance met shield, but the horses galloped to the end of the
lists, where they turned to continue the contest. Simon caught Alicia’s gaze as
he turned his huge mount around at the end of the concourse. He tilted his
lance towards her in a salute and spurred his horse on again. The great beast
reared up and in one fluid motion flew towards Thibaut’s oncoming lance.

The suspense was unbearable; Alicia closed her eyes. But it was soon
over. With a powerful thrust of his lance, and before Simon even saw it coming,
Thibaut knocked him from his horse. The applause for the victor was thunderous,
for he was a popular and brave young man. He waved to the crowd in
acknowledgement before quickly dismounting to help Simon’s squire haul his
master from his inelegant and dangerous position beneath the horse’s hooves.

“Well done, Thibaut.” Simon said grudgingly, looking up at the victor.
He was not pleased, especially since the mount he rode, which was one of his
best, was now forfeit to his host. But there was little he could do in the
circumstances, especially as he was Thibaut’s guest.

“You rode well,” Thibaut rejoined, “but you were no match for my new
lance. You must look at it later. That German armourer balanced the tip for me
and it is much easier to carry now. I saw the quality of his work
 
last night when you showed us your
boy’s armour. It seems an early visit to his tent this morning was worthwhile.”

Simon did his best not to scowl, but he despised losing. He knew very
well that Thibaut was not the soldier that he, himself was, and he determined
to have a look at the lance later on.

Later, when he was in his tent having his armour removed Alicia
appeared. For once she was flustered, her usual calm having deserted her. With
several years of marriage behind her, she knew that nothing she could say would
restore Simon’s pride—which was all that appeared to be
bruised—but, nevertheless, she was solicitous when she spoke to him. “My
Lord, it was ill luck that dogged you today.”

“’Twas not ill luck,” Simon growled, “but ill judgement. I deserved to
be unhorsed because my armour was not prepared properly. Thibaut had his lance
rebalanced this morning. That armourer found a way to lighten the weight by
some means or other. I should have had the wit to consult him myself. I was in
his tent only yesterday, getting Amaury’s armour!” He paused. “Where’s my
Squire?” he roared. “He should have checked it, too!”

Alicia trembled for the fate of the squire, who should have better
attended his master’s equipment. She knew Simon’s temper of old. He did not
suffer fools gladly, even if he himself was the fool!

Their discussion was cut short by a great commotion outside the
pavilion. Looking out, they saw a man dressed in wet grey rags wriggling in the
restraining hands of two men at arms.

“What’s going on?” Simon called.

“It’s this scoundrel, milord,” one of the men called back. “One of the
stallholders just saw him steal a purse from one of the ladies. We gave chase,
milord, and have captured him.” The soldier looked mighty pleased with himself,
no doubt already envisioning the reward he would receive.

“Oh, please, milord,” the pickpocket begged. “I’ve never done this
before, but my family is starving. I have five mouths to feed and nothing to
feed them with.” He held up the purse with its few coins rattling inside.
“Please take it back,” he pleaded.

By this time a crowd had gathered. There were murmurs of sympathy for
the man. Many amongst those watching knew the pinch of an empty belly and the
sound of a hungry child’s cry. The man positively shook with fear. It was not
just a question of being brought before the law. A man accused of stealing
might face a stiff enough penalty in front of the justices, but here on the
estates of the Count of Champagne, Thibaut himself was the law and he was not
noted for his leniency, young as he was.

“The judgement is not mine to make,” Simon said. “If it were, I would
separate your nose from your face to teach you a well deserved lesson. Have you
not heard the words ‘thou shalt not steal’?”

“I have, milord, but I cannot abide the sound of my children’s cries.”
The man looked pitiful in his rags as he wrung his hands.

“Take him to milord Thibaut.” Simon motioned to the men at arms. “Let
him decide. It’s not my judgement to make, but had you been on my estates at
Montfort, you would now be missing your nose.” With that, Simon stalked back
into his tent.

“Papa, would you really have cut off his nose?” Amaury asked. He had
pushed through the crowd to reach his father. “Would you, Papa?”

“Yes indeed, my boy. It is the only way to keep discipline. Punishments
should fit the crime. By rights his hand should be struck off, but then he
would never be able to earn his living. Far kinder to take his nose, don’t you
think? Everyone can then recognise what he is and avoid giving him the
opportunity to steal again.”

Amaury considered this. “But Papa, if his children are hungry and he can
get no work, what is he to do? It doesn’t seem fair!”

“Life is never fair, Amaury, something you must learn. If you are to be
a great soldier and a great lord, you must be cruel to be kind, for the likes
of him, given the opportunity, would do the same thing again. We would be back
in the same position we are now, and two people would have been robbed.”

Amaury couldn’t argue the logic of this but went away disquieted at the
thought that the poor man was soon to lose his nose. In fact, however, the
thief did not lose his nose, largely because Thibaut’s wife prevailed upon him
to give the poor wretch another chance. Her pleadings and his own good humour
at his victory over Simon won the day. The man was given a job in the enormous
kitchens of the chateau, where there was never a shortage of food. His family
would have fuller bellies than they could ever remember. At a stroke, Thibaut’s
family had gained the most loyal servants in the Chateau!

Later that afternoon, Fulques de Neuilly began to preach the sermon that
would have such far reaching effects in the years to come. The rain had stopped
and a huge crowd had gathered. Fulques’ reputation as a speaker had preceded
him, and the throng of people assembled there looked forward to his fiery brand
of preaching. They all knew that although he preached sin and forgiveness and
the ideal of living the good life, he did not always altogether follow his own
teachings. Still, the crowd thought of him as one of their own who had risen
high in the ranks of preferment in the church, and they applauded him for his
success, all the while wishing they themselves could do as well!

Fulques had hardly started when he began to harangue the crowd. He had
been sent here with a mission, which was to recruit as many knights and their
retainers as possible for the next Holy War in Jerusalem. It was fewer than ten
years since the last Crusaders had been sent packing from the Holy City with a
flea in their ears. Jerusalem itself had been retaken by the Muslims, and
Richard Coeur de Lion, the English king, had returned to England after being in
captivity for a year and after a huge ransom had been raised to effect his
release. The whole affair had cost the nobility of France in particular, a
great deal of money. Many of them had been killed in the fighting or, worse
still, had died of dysentery before they even reached Jerusalem. There had been
no appreciable gain in the aim of securing Jerusalem for the Christians. Most
Frenchmen at the time deemed that the Crusades, if not a lost cause, was one
they were not interested in fighting. It was Fulques’ mission to change their
minds! Pope Innocent the Third had given him very precise instructions as to
what he wished to happen that day at Ecry-sur-Aisne, the site of the
tournament.