Stories from Heaven's Library - Vol. 12
The Perfect Ones - BOOK 3
As told by Sir Walter Scott
"Above all these things, put on love, which is the bond of perfectness" (Col.3:14).
VII -- GILES
Before dawn, Guillaume slipped out of the inn and went back to the castle. He and Malcolm had arranged that Malcolm would stay in the inn for the day, so that he would not be seen by outsiders. Guillaume would return that night and they would make their way back to the castle. There Malcolm would resume his sojourn in the dungeon and be ready to face trial the following morning.
Malcolm slept long. About mid-morning, Guy came to ask if he wanted to eat. Malcolm woke with a start as the young man knocked on the door and peered in. Out of reflex, he took his sword in hand. Guy looked apprehensively at the menacing blade pointed in his direction. It was a plain sword, unlike the fancy gilded and jewel-encrusted ones that nobility often wore. But Guy had noted the day before, as he carried it to the meeting in the woods, that it bore the seal of the city of Toledo. He knew thereby that it came out of the foundries of the world's finest sword smiths, and was made of Spanish steel, the strongest known alloy. It was a formidable weapon in the hand of any skilled warrior.
Upon seeing it was only Guy entering the room, Malcolm relaxed and placed the sword once again on the floor. After some pleasantries, Malcolm agreed to eat and Guy returned presently with the victuals and a pitcher of water. Malcolm opened the shutters of his window slightly, to let a little light in. His room faced the back alley, where another building blocked any sort of view there might have been.
After eating, Malcolm lay on his bed, contemplating all the things that had happened to him. He also reviewed the story that he had rehearsed with Count Raymond and Guillaume the previous morning.
Soon, however, Malcolm grew decidedly bored with his confines, and longed to get out of the place. Unfortunately, he knew that he had to stay where he was. Malcolm had inquired of Guy earlier whether his sister was there that day. Heloise was away on a family errand that Guy did not care to elaborate on, so Malcolm dropped the subject.
The day drew on. Malcolm got up and paced the room. For a while he practiced swordplay with an imaginary foe. He inspected his other weapons and armor, and polished some rust off his battle-axe. As he checked the honed edge of the instrument, he took note that it was slightly dull, but still sharp enough to accomplish the gruesome task for which it was designed. He also checked his mace, his shield, and the other assorted pieces of armor. After having busied himself with these things for as long as he could, he once again sank back down into bed to count the hours.
As evening approached, Malcolm could stay in the room no longer. He went down the hallway and looked over the balcony into the main room of the inn. The room was empty except for Guy and an older man with long silvery hair and a white beard. Malcolm saw they were engrossed in an intense conversation.
Suddenly, the other man looked up and saw Malcolm. Guy excused himself and went to Malcolm. "Sir," he whispered, "Lord Guillaume gave me strict instructions that you were not to show yourself out of your room today."
"Aye," said Malcolm, "but I cannot stand looking at those four walls any longer. Indeed, your abode is pleasant, but I am not a man to stay in a room all day. It is like death to me."
"Come down, young man," the old man called out.
When Guy saw that Malcolm was pleased with the invitation, he acquiesced. But before returning to his table, he bolted the door and shuttered the windows which looked out onto the main street.
Malcolm came down and walked over to where the old man sat. "You're Giles, aren't you?" he queried.
"That is my name. Come, sit down here with me, and enjoy master Guy's hospitality."
"Thank you," said Malcolm, taking the seat opposite. "I have heard much about you from Guy and his sister, and from the gypsy girl named Esme."
"And I have heard much of you. I have heard that you saved Esme's life, and as her spiritual mentor, I thank you for your kindness."
"It was the honorable thing to do. The lady was in distress, and they were villains who had set upon her."
"Nevertheless, you did not need to intervene, but God moved you to do so, and I thank you for that."
"God or no, I would have intervened. As I said, she was in distress."
"Well, I will make the conjecture that God had you there to come to her defense."
"That sounds like a good compromise. But tell me, master Giles, how did you become a teacher of this way, and a leader of these people called the Cathars?"
"I am no leader. I am a follower--a follower of our Savior, the Lord Jesus. I but teach what I have learned from those more honorable than myself."
"But from what I have heard of you and your teachings, it does not seem that you are of the same people. For I have heard of some of the Cathars' doctrines, and yet yours do not seem to be the same."
"When I began my quest," explained Giles, "I studied and read many books. But not finding any peace, I began a pilgrimage--not a pilgrimage to a shrine made of hands, but a pilgrimage in search of truth. I traveled to many cities. By and by, at Lyon, I met Peter Waldo, the leader of the people who are now called by his name. I saw that he preached a great truth--the truth of the Holy Gospels.
"For a while, I became one of his people. I traveled with a companion, and we preached God's Word. Peter Waldo sent us out to preach the good news in the vernacular, the language of the common people. He taught us that God's Word cannot be confined to one language; it is for all men, and all men should hear it in their own language. And so, many of the Gospels and other books of the New Testament were translated into the Provenal language of that region, similar to Langue d'Oc.
"But after a while, my spirit was moved within me and I longed to return here, to my home in Toulouse, to preach among my own kindred. It was here that I communed with those Perfects of the Cathars, and I found them to be true and good men and women. It was in talking with them that a new dimension was opened to me. You see, Waldo taught that the Word was to be obeyed to the most minute detail. We did everything as the Word instructed, and if the Word did not instruct, we did not do it.
"But when I met the Cathars, they taught me the great principle of love. Love, to them, overrode all law. I searched out this matter in the sacred Scriptures, and I saw that the greatest commandment was to love God with heart, soul, mind and body, and to love my neighbor as myself. I also learned that sometimes love stands contrary to the law. Although Peter Waldo taught me great things from the Scriptures, the Scriptures themselves are not love; the letter of the law is only dead works.
"I came to see that love is the greatest thing; that love is the way to true perfection. I began showing people from the Scriptures how these things be so. People listened. Soon I had small groups of believers who looked to me as their guide. Now I count myself a teacher of about twenty-five such groups, scattered throughout our city and surrounding towns. It was while traveling from one meeting to another that I came across Ricardo and his family. I preached to them, and that is how they came to be believers.
"Young Guy here did not know I had all these other groups, and so this is still all rather mysterious to him and his sister. I thought it best not to join all these groups into one big fellowship, but rather to keep each one small, so that they may survive in the evil time that is to come. For evil shall come, and it shall not be long in arriving."
Giles paused for a minute, as a look of deep consternation came across his face. Then he continued somberly. "I have seen in a vision, destruction and war. I have seen a black fist rise out of the North, pounding down on my beloved Languedoc. A black prince, of much malice, shall lead an army against us and shall prevail. He himself shall be brought low, but not before great wickedness and destruction is done to my people. And so, I keep my groups small and clandestine, that they may survive in the evil day."
Malcolm sat captivated, his eyes transfixed by the clear stare of the old man whose blue eyes shone with an unfathomable intensity. The same beautiful light shone from all these people's eyes, but even brighter in those of Giles.
Tears welled up in Giles' eyes, and Malcolm placed his hand on his shoulder in an effort to comfort him. "Dear sir," he said, "I pray this dreadful vision does not come to pass. But let it be known that if it does, I will come to the defense of your people and your beliefs. For when I heard your words, my heart did rejoice. Let me now dedicate myself to this cause. This is what I have been seeking."
The old man reached for Malcolm's hand and squeezed it in his. "You know not what you say, young man, nor what troubles you take upon yourself. But I am glad that you have heard the truth in my words, and I embrace you as a brother. May God strengthen you, and may the love of His Son dwell in your heart and lead you to all truth and all knowledge."
"So be it," said Malcolm quietly.
"So be it," said Giles. "Young man, I'm sorry I cannot stay longer, but I must be away. People are counting on me tonight. Yet know that I will be praying for you, for tomorrow, I hear, you must stand trial on false and heinous charges. Fear not, for the God Who is the Creator of all things shall send His angel to stand by your side."
"Thank you," said Malcolm, "but I am counting on Count Raymond to stand by my side. Well, at least that is his scheme."
Giles sighed. "Count Raymond is a good man, but powers greater than him will soon be coming. He will have to compromise to keep that which he rules, and he will succumb in the end. Now I must be away."
Guy, who had been standing aside, listening to the conversation, picked up the old man's cloak that hung on a peg by the door, and carried it to Giles. "Brother Giles," said Guy, "may I suggest you leave by the back door?"
"Yes," said Giles, slipping the cloak over his shoulders. "Farewell, young Scotsman. See that you be careful."
Guy saw Giles on his way, leaving Malcolm deep in thought at all he had heard.
After a few moments, Malcolm was shaken to his senses by a loud banging on the front door. Not to be seen, he rose silently from his chair, slipped up the stairs and disappeared into his room. From the cracked door he tried to make out what was going on.
Guy hurried back in from the kitchen area, and stood by the front door. "Who is there?" demanded Guy. "And why do you pound so heavily upon my door?"
"Open up, in the name of the bishop," shouted a familiar voice from the other side. Malcolm immediately recognized Bernard's voice. Guy opened the small peephole and looked out. "And what is my lord bishop wanting with me," asked Guy, "and with my humble inn?"
"We have reports that one Giles, the tailor, was seen coming to this inn. The bishop wishes to question this heretic."
"You are mistaken," said Guy. "I am the only one here."
"Open this door!" said Bernard. "How dare you defy the bishop by denying his soldiers entry!"
"I knew not that the bishop had authority to demand entry to my inn," replied Guy.
"Do you want me to break down this door?" bellowed Bernard.
"I most certainly do not," answered Guy.
"Then open the door!" shouted Bernard again.
"Under what authority am I to open the door?" said Guy.
"Listen, you impudent little pip-squeak," said Bernard, clearly agitated at this challenge of his authority, "if you value your life, you'll open the door and allow me to inspect your inn."
Suddenly, a new voice could be heard from outside the door. "My goodness, and what would the bishop's soldiers want with this little inn?" Guillaume's voice was clearly recognizable to Guy, and even to Malcolm, who was quite a distance away.
"I am conducting a search on the order of my lord bishop," answered Bernard.
"And what authority does the bishop have to conduct searches?" Guillaume inquired.
"By the authority vested in him from God," said Bernard, hesitantly.
"Oh, come, come, sergeant!" said Guillaume. "The bishop has no authority to order searches inside the city. That is the prerogative of my uncle, the count."
Bernard flushed. "Giles, a known heretic, was seen entering this inn, and, in matters of heresy, my lord bishop has authority."
"Yes," said Guillaume. "In matters of heresy your lord bishop does indeed have authority. But that authority does not extend to conducting searches within the houses of the city. That is the prerogative of the count. Once the heretic is apprehended, only then may he be brought for ecclesiastical trial before my lord bishop. Come, come, sergeant. You know that you can't do this!"
Bernard, by now, was losing his temper. "My Lord Guillaume exerts himself in matters too high for him!"
"Oh, I scarcely think so," said Guillaume. "I speak in the name of my uncle. Surely that is enough authority. Now, begone with you, sergeant, and leave this poor innkeeper to his pots, pans and night pots."
"And what, may I ask, are you doing here?" said Bernard to Guillaume.
"Why, just passing by," said Guillaume.
"Happenstance?" Bernard's eyes narrowed.
"My goodness!" said Guillaume. "That's a dreadful dent you have in your helmet. Did you get hit?"
Bernard's demeanor could now be described as very wroth. "You know very well I was hit!" he said through his clenched teeth. "It was reported by my lord bishop to your uncle the count, and I am sure that you have been well informed."
"Ah, that's right! A highwayman, wasn't it? Tsk, tsk! Well, must watch your back now, mustn't you? But go on, off with you now! Tell your bishop that you weren't able to find the man. Or, you can tell him that I refused to let you enter into the house, because you were breaking the law and demanding entry. Go on! Off with you now!" said Guillaume, his voice suddenly becoming stern. "Before it's more trouble for you!"
Bernard reluctantly moved away from the door. He angrily motioned at the two guards that accompanied him and they all stomped off down the narrow street towards the main marketplace.
Guillaume made a pretense of leisurely strolling the other way till he was convinced that the bishop's soldiers could not see him in the darkened street, then doubled back. A figure draped in a cloak hurried past Guillaume and disappeared into the blackness of the street ahead.
Guillaume turned back towards the inn, and entered the alley that led around to the back, where the stables were. He had left this way that morning. He made his way through the stables, and slipped inside the back door. Turning a corner while looking the other way, he ran straight into Guy, who was poised to strike a blow, a huge cast-iron frying pan in his hand.
The two stood there for a second in startled fright, then both broke out in laughter. "That is quite a vicious weapon that you wield," chortled [1] Guillaume.
"Aye," replied Guy. "I'm afraid I grabbed the best thing I could, thinking I was going to have to defend myself against that brute outside the door--though I scarcely think a frying pan would have done the subject justice!"
"Your little inn is certainly a hotbed of trouble today! But pray tell me, is it true that the bishop's guard was looking for Giles the tailor?"
"Yes, it is true, and he was here. He left not more than a few moments before they began to knock."
"And Malcolm?" queried Guillaume. "Is he still upstairs? He hasn't flown the coop, has he?"
"No, Malcolm is upstairs," said Guy.
Guillaume made his way upstairs, and back to the room, where Malcolm was.
"Malcolm, it is I," he said, as he slowly opened the door. He was careful to make sure Malcolm knew who was coming; for he had seen Malcolm's swordsmanship and did not care to risk being on the receiving end.
"Welcome, Lord Guillaume," said Malcolm. "That was quite a commotion outside!"
"Yes, I'm afraid the dear bishop's sergeant does not look too kindly upon me these days--and less now for interfering with his charge out there. I wonder why the bishop suddenly wants to arrest Giles?" Guillaume pondered aloud.
"Because Giles is a threat to his authority?" said Malcolm, trying to be helpful.
"Hmm, perhaps," said Guillaume. "But he has known about Giles for a long time. I wonder why he chose today to try and catch him? Oh well, no use trying to figure that out now. Come, have you eaten?"
"I have eaten once today," said Malcolm.
"Well, you need to eat again, for after your meal I must once again escort you to the castle, where you must await tomorrow--and your moment of truth."
"I place myself in your hands, and," Malcolm added in a voice that betrayed a decided loss of confidence after the talk with Giles, "into the hands of your good uncle."
VIII -- THE TRIAL
Malcolm was awakened by the heavy tromp of feet upon the stairs. Soon, Malcolm heard the sound of a key being placed in the heavy lock outside the door. The door swung open with a loud clang, and two figures walked into the dungeon cell. One held a flaming torch aloft, as the other--a lean and gangly fellow dressed in brown and obviously one of the jailers--roughly unlocked the manacles from the ring imbedded in the wall above Malcolm's head.
Still manacled and shackled, Malcolm was roughly pulled to his feet. "Come on, Scotsman," the man sneered. "Today you face the sweet justice of Toulouse."
Malcolm remained silent.
Without further ado, the man grabbed the manacle chain and led Malcolm out the door and through the narrow hallway. The other attendant followed. The three men marched up the spiral staircase and emerged into the daylight's glare.
Two soldiers took positions on either side of Malcolm, and the group marched across the courtyard and into the great hall of the castle.
There, at the far end, sat Count Raymond on his throne, flanked by Robert of Avignon and Sir Godfrey, Guillaume's father. Count Raymond's son, young Raymond, was next to Godfrey. Guillaume and an array of other notables--some of whom Malcolm recognized from the Tournament of Song--were also in attendance.
To the left of the count, and at a distance, sat Bishop Odo, surrounded by several priests, deacons, and other functionaries of the church.
Malcolm was marched to the wooden dock in front of the count. The two soldiers remained, spears in hand, on either side of Malcolm.
A notable of the court then arose, with a scroll in his hand, and read out the following. "Hereby, in the court of Count Raymond of Toulouse, is brought forth the matter of the attack on Bishop Odo's guardsmen of four days hence, the theft of three hundred gold pieces, and the disappearance of one of their number, presumed dead. The prisoner, one Malcolm McAlpin, a Scotsman, is hereby accused of being the perpetrator of these acts, several accomplices, at this point unidentified, being confederate with him in this crime. This matter is now brought for judgment before His Excellency Count Raymond."
Count Raymond turned to Malcolm. "How plead you to these charges?"
Malcolm looked first at the count, then across to the bishop, then back to the count. "Innocent!" he exclaimed in a loud clear voice.
A murmur rose from the gallery of spectators.
Count Raymond then turned to the bishop. "My lord bishop, where are the victims and the accusers of this man?"
The bishop nodded to one of his attendants, who hastened to a side door and opened it. In walked Bernard and the other guard who was with him on that day.
"These two men are the victims," bellowed Odo, "and they will hereby identify this felon as the one who set upon and robbed them, and murdered their companion."
Count Raymond turned to Bernard and ordered him to come forward. "Tell me your story," said the count.
Bernard then launched into his well-rehearsed story of how he and his companions had been on their way to deliver a letter and some gold to the papal legate's party, when only a short distance from Toulouse, where the road took a sharp turn and headed west, they were set upon by Malcolm and the others, knocked unconscious and robbed.
"And what happened to the message?" inquired the count.
"What message, my lord?" asked Bernard.
"The message you just said that you were carrying. Did you lose that too?"
"Uh, why no, my lord."
"And why would you be carrying a message to the papal legate?"
"It was church business, my lord," explained Bernard.
"Hmmm," said the count, with a hint of suspicion in his voice.
All this time, Odo was intently scrutinizing the count, for he realized that with all this talk of the message, the count might well betray the fact that he knew what the content of the message was, if indeed he knew. But Odo bided his time, and the count continued his questioning of Bernard.
Finally, Bernard turned and pointed at Malcolm. "This is the man, and I hereby accuse him of these crimes; and not I only, but the man--my surviving companion, who is with me at this time--can also attest that this is the scoundrel."
"Bring forward the other guard," commanded Count Raymond.
The man nervously came forward and stood beside Bernard.
"Do you also say this is the man?"
"Yes, your Excellency," the guard responded.
"And you both say, beyond doubt, that this was indeed the fellow?"
"Yes, your Excellency!"
"And could you identify any of the other assailants?"
"The others attacked us from behind, my lord," said Bernard. "We did not see them."
"Hmmm," said the count. "We have the word of two men against one. Very well, you may both step back. I will now question the prisoner." And with that, the count turned to Malcolm, still standing silently in the dock. "What were you doing on the road outside of Toulouse that morning?"
"I was going for an early morning ride, my lord," Malcolm answered.
"So, you do not deny that you were at the scene of the crime?"
"No, my lord, I do not deny that I was at the scene of the real crime."
"And what do you mean by that, Scotsman?"
"My lord, I came across these two fellows and their companion trying to have their way with a maid, down by the river."
A murmur rose from the suddenly very attentive audience. Odo's eyes narrowed and flashed at Bernard.
"Lies!" Bernard yelled out. "Those are heinous lies! He is lying to save his neck!"
"Silence!" ordered the count. "Go on, Scotsman, tell us your story."
"Well, when I saw these three brutes with the girl, I shouted at them to stop."
"What was their reaction?"
"The big fellow over there"--pointing to Bernard--"told me to be gone; that it was none of my business. But seeing that the woman was obviously distressed and being forced, I said that I made it my business; that I was duty bound as a gentleman and as a knight to defend her honor if she would choose me as her champion."
"And did you defend her honor?"
"Yes, my lord, I challenged the three of them."
"So, you challenged and fought these three men; you, one against three?"
"Well, my lord, they didn't seem too handy with their weapons."
A ripple of laughter went through the court.
Bernard fumed. "He is lying, my lord!" he said again.
"Be quiet," snapped the count. "So what happened?"
"Well, we fought, and I easily mastered the two of them, but then tripped, and that big fellow there was about to kill me, when to my surprise, someone hit him on the head and knocked him out."
"And who was this someone?" asked the count.
"A certain benefactor, my lord," said Malcolm.
"And who might this benefactor be?" asked the count.
"I cannot say, my lord," said Malcolm, "for I gave my word."
At this point, Bishop Odo interrupted. "This is a preposterous tale, Count Raymond! This man would have us believe that he fought three of my guards single-handedly in a noble effort to save the honor of some wench! He brings no witnesses, but just spins this fantastic tale. These two," he said, pointing towards Bernard and the other, "are my trusted men. They claim that this man accosted them and diverted their attention while they were set upon from behind by his fellow brigands [2]! That is what happened, not this preposterous, fanciful tale of supposed chivalry! That man," Odo now was waving his finger at Malcolm in an ever-mounting fit of fury, "is a highwayman and a liar!"
"Hmmm," mused the count. "It is true, we have the word of two. And, as the proverb says, 'In the mouth of two witnesses shall the truth be established.' I'm afraid, Scotsman, that I cannot believe your word, for two people contradict it."
A smile flashed across Odo's face as he heard those words.
But at that moment, the doors at the far end of the hall swung open. "My lord," cried a new voice, "I will contradict those men's statements!"
Everyone in the hall turned to see who was speaking. There, with one arm around the neck of Guy and the other leaning heavily on a crutch, stood the missing member of Odo's guard.
"And who are you?" asked the count.
"I was the third member of the trio that set upon the girl that morning," said the soldier, in a quiet, steady voice.
Another gasp arose from the crowd at this coup de thtre [3]. The soldier, assisted by Guy, hobbled forward to where the other attendants of the court stood.
Odo slumped into his seat in shock. Bernard and his fellow accuser were struck dumb, and for a few moments looked like two tormented specters [4] who had returned from the grave to witness the recompense of their foul deeds while living.
"My lord count," said the third soldier, whose name was Roger, "I beg two boons from you. Firstly, what I am about to testify to will put me in mortal danger, so I beg that I be placed under your protection till the proceedings are over. Secondly, my fever has now passed and I am of a clear mind, but since my leg is still grievously wounded from the fight that ensued, may I request to sit, my lord?"
"I shall grant both your requests," said the count. "Bring the man a seat." An attendant rushed up with a stool, and Roger sat heavily upon it and began his testimony.
"The Scotsman tells you the truth, for we saw the girl swimming naked in the river, and our lusts burned within us. We planned to have our way with her that morning, before continuing on our journey. But the Scotsman came upon us, and seeing our malicious intentions, challenged us. The three of us fought him, and he did grievously wound me on my leg, so that I collapsed and passed out from the pain.
"I have no recollection of what happened from that point on, except that I awoke to find the girl, the same one whom we had sought to most grievously dishonor, nursing my wound. She told me what was to transpire today, and that is why I am here. Even though this man is the cause of my present pain and crippled condition, I cannot let him suffer so ignobly at the hands of my former companions, when it was we who did the shameful deed--or at least, sought to."
"And what of the monies that you were carrying?" queried the count.
"Monies? We were carrying no monies, my lord, just a letter to His Excellency Peter of Castelnau," replied Roger.
Odo was up on his feet now, and stormed towards Roger. "And who were these people that took care of you?" he hissed, trying to divert attention from talk of the message and the monies.
"They were the gypsies, my lord bishop!"
"The gypsies? What gypsies?"
"They were camped near to the river where we had stopped to water our horses."
"And the woman--the girl, she was a gypsy?"
Roger nodded. "And a truer Christian woman I have never met," he added.
Odo now turned to face Count Raymond. "My lord count," he said, "it is obvious that this man has been bewitched! His brain has been addled [5] by these gypsies. They are heathens, my lord count, and are accorded no protection in Christendom. They are devotees of darkness--worse than the Cathars, who they are no doubt in league with. They have cast a spell on him, so he knows not what he says. To accord a gypsy girl the honor of being called a true Christian woman is an insult to all the noble ladies of our realm. This tale has gone too far. The words that this fool mouths are things impossible to believe. He betrays his own enchanted state."
A murmur of assent rippled through the superstitious crowd, who shared Odo's prejudice.
Count Raymond looked down at the man. "He seems in his right mind to me, my lord bishop."
"I am the judge of spiritual matters such as these," challenged Odo.
"But, my lord bishop," Raymond sternly replied, "I am the judge here. This is my court, not yours. In light of this man's concurring testimony, I can only declare the innocence of this Scotsman. Furthermore, it would appear that you have fabricated this story of monies stolen. I can only assume, then, that something happened to the message that these men were carrying, something which--I have noticed, lord bishop--you seem to prefer not to discuss!"
Odo looked fiercely at Raymond. "You have no right to accuse me! This man has been bewitched! I hereby demand trial by combat, to prove the guilt of the Scotsman!"
A smile crossed Malcolm's face, for the thought of doing combat with Bernard to prove his innocence was something he quite looked forward to.
The count turned to Malcolm. "Will you accept this trial by combat?"
"I will," said Malcolm, "for I am innocent of these charges."
"And who will be your champion?" the count inquired of Odo.
Odo turned to look at Bernard. It was obvious that Bernard was no match, for already he and his two soldiers had been beaten by this one man--or at least, almost beaten. Odo scanned the room until his eyes fell on a man in the back of the count's retinue.
"I ask for Albert of Aurillac, a noble knight and a true son of Mother Church, to hereby be the champion of the church in this matter!"
A loud murmur swept through the court. Guillaume's and Malcolm's anxious eyes met and locked. The situation had taken a dangerous turn, for Albert of Aurillac was arguably the greatest swordsman of southern France.
The count, his face notably grave, turned to Albert. "What say ye, Albert of Aurillac? Will you accept this commission?"
With scarcely a moment of hesitation, he thundered out, "I will!"
"Then," said the count, turning to Odo, "you have appealed to trial by combat, and, being a priest, it is your right to have someone fight in your stead. The two sides have agreed. Therefore, I decree that this afternoon in the royal lists [6], this combat commence. May truth and justice prevail, according to the laws of the Franks, which do govern our lands.
"And to the two combatants I say: Repair ye to that field at one hour past noon today, there to do deadly combat. And if either of you do not show, your guilt shall be declared, and you shall be branded an outlaw. Choose your seconds [7]."
Albert turned to the man next to him. "My cousin Theobald shall be my second."
"And you, Scotsman, who will you choose to be your second?"
At this, Guillaume stepped forward. "My lord uncle, this man is a stranger in our lands. It would be dishonorable for him, and for us, if he did not have a second. I hereby volunteer to be this man's second, and to arrange the details of the fight."
"So be it," said Count Raymond. "This court is adjourned, and will reconvene at the jousting field at the appointed time. And may God have mercy on us all!"
IX -- THE PAPAL LEGATE
As the court was about to disperse, a large commotion could be heard. It was coming from the direction of the city. A page ran into the great hall and approached Count Raymond.
"My lord," he said, "the papal legate, Peter of Castelnau and his retinue, have entered the city gates. They are presently making their way towards the castle."
"An auspicious moment for him to arrive," mused Count Raymond. "Well, my lord bishop," Raymond said, turning to Odo, "it looks like the papal legate has arrived just in time for the trial by combat."
Odo looked somewhat discomfited, but quickly put on a brave face. "Yes, my lord count," said Odo, "and he shall surely see the triumph of the truth and the vindication of the servants of our Holy Mother Church when the Scotsman falls under the blows of the mighty Albert of Aurillac."
"Yes, my lord bishop," said Count Raymond, "indeed he might. But, as you will recall, the Holy Father, Innocent III, has discouraged clergy from taking recourse [8] to trial by combat. His excellency shall be in a most awkward position."
Odo bowed in mock graciousness. "Excuse me, my lord count, I must be away and make preparations to receive His Excellency Peter of Castelnau and his retinue, at my residence. I pray thee, grant me leave to retire."
"Oh, most certainly," replied the count. "I pray that all will go well in your entertaining the legate. I will, of course, expect to see you and the legate this afternoon, at the lists."
"I shall be there," said the bishop, "but I cannot speak for the honorable Peter of Castelnau in this matter."
Odo hastily headed for the main door. His attendants scurried to keep up with him, and struggled to form some sort of orderly procession out of the great hall, down the steps, through the courtyard, and out the castle gate.
The normally languid [9] Odo marched along with a zealousness that his entourage was not accustomed to. Odo arrived at his palace, only to see the legate and his party already drawn up at the main gate. There stood the tall, angular figure of Peter of Castelnau, dressed in the distinctive white robes of the Cistercian order. Although he was just a friar and therefore nominally lower on the church hierarchy than Odo, Peter of Castelnau was a favorite of the pope and had often acted as his legate in the realm of Languedoc, particularly in efforts to stem the Cathar "heresy." Odo intended to show him due deference and thereby hopefully ingratiate himself with the powers that be in the papal court.
"Welcome!" proclaimed Odo, as he hurried forward to greet the legate.
"We have had an exhausting journey," said the legate. "I hope we will not impose too greatly upon your hospitality, but could you please find lodgings for the members of my party, and then take me to the apartments prepared for me."
"At once," said Odo. "We have been expecting you for some time. I do apologize that I was not here when you arrived, but I was in the attendance of the count on matters of some importance."
"Yes, I have heard news of this trial. Did everything run satisfactorily for you?"
"It did not go as expected," said Odo, somewhat downcast, "but the matter is not over yet. It is to be decided by trial of combat."
"What?!" exclaimed the legate. "Do you not know that the Holy Father expressly has forbidden the clergy to be involved in trials by combat?"
Odo shuffled nervously before the legate but did his utmost to present a gracious front. "There was nothing else that could be done. It was forced upon us."
"Humph," said the legate. "Let us hope that our God in Heaven smiles upon this venture, and that He will give strength to your champion."
"I have little fear that He will give strength to our champion," said Odo more confidently, "for the mighty Albert of Aurillac, the most feared knight in all of southern France, is to champion the Church."
"Well, we shall see, won't we?"
"Yes. Come, let me lead you to your apartments."
Servants scurried hither and thither as Odo waved his hands and glanced angrily at several who seemed not to be busy enough attending to His Excellency.
The two men walked up the main staircase to the second floor, and headed toward the guest apartments.
"What time shall be this trial?" inquired the legate as they paused at the door.
"One hour after noon this day, your excellency," replied Odo.
"Very well, then. Tell your servants to prepare a place for me. I shall be in attendance."
* * *
After the bishop's hasty exit from the castle's main hall, Guillaume ordered the jailer to remove the shackles and the manacles from Malcolm's ankles and wrists, telling the jailor that he would take charge of readying the Scot for the upcoming combat.
"Come, my dear man," said Guillaume softly to Malcolm. "We have much to prepare."
Just then Albert of Aurillac strode over to Guillaume and Malcolm.
"You look strangely familiar," he said, staring intently at Malcolm.
"Perhaps we have met before," remarked Malcolm.
"Perhaps we have, even though the time and circumstance escape me. But that is of no consequence." Albert had come to deliver a message, and would not be sidetracked. "I want you to know," said Albert, "that I enjoy fighting. I enjoy beating an opponent. I shall enjoy fighting you, and I shall stop at nothing, but to kill you."
"Sir Albert, you have such a way with words," said Guillaume, with a notable tinge of sarcasm in his voice.
"Popinjay [10]!" Albert grunted at Guillaume before turning once more to Malcolm. "I am a true son of Mother Church, and I shall defend her honor with every ounce of strength in my body. Make no doubt about that."
Turning to Guillaume, Albert added, "My second will meet you to discuss conditions."
"I shall await your cousin Theobald," answered Guillaume, "half an hour before the combat is to begin."
"Very well," said Albert. "Say your prayers, Scotsman, and be sure that your heart is prepared to meet your God."
"I believe my heart is prepared," said Malcolm, "more prepared than it has ever been in the past. But do not be so sure that I shall be the one to knock on the heavenly portals."
"Ha!" said Albert. "You are cocky, but it remains to be seen if you are as deft with your sword as you are with your tongue."
"And so we shall," said Malcolm.
* * *
Guy, after assisting Roger into the main hall for his court appearance, had stood a ways apart. Guillaume now motioned to him to come over. "We shall need the Scotsman's weapons," said Guillaume. "Arrange to have them brought to my tent, which shall be set up on the field of combat."
"I shall," said Guy, before turning to Malcolm. "Brother Malcolm, please know that I and as many of the others as I can notify shall pray for your strength, and skill, and courage for the time of battle. And most of all, we shall pray for your triumph today. We know that your cause is just, that our God is just, and that He is ever able to do the impossible. Your opponent is mighty, that is plain to see, but you are armed with truth and righteousness."
"Thank you," replied Malcolm. "Those are touching words, and they are a comfort to my heart. Yes, please tell the others to pray, for truly I shall need all their prayers this day!"
* * *
In all the commotion, everyone had forgotten about Roger, who had grown quiet, progressively feeling fainter while sitting on the stool. Guy finally noticed that the man was about to collapse, and rushed over to steady him. Guillaume motioned to two of his uncle's attendants. "Take this man to my quarters," said Guillaume, "and make sure that he is well cared for. Then ride to my father's estate and tell the steward that Roger, of the bishop's guard, is resting here in my apartment and could use the services of the person who has been nursing him. Then wait while he fetches the nurse and bring them back thither."
"Yes, my lord," said the attendant. He and his companion braced Roger from either side. With one of his arms over each of their shoulders, they helped him to the stairway which led to the private quarters of the castle.
Malcolm turned to Guy. "I shall need my horse, too."
"Yes, Malcolm, it will be there, along with all your armor."
"Thank you. You are a good friend."
"It is an honor to be called your friend," said Guy, as he turned and headed off.
"Well," said Guillaume, trying to act cheerful. "We are a somber lot now, aren't we? Come, let us go. I think you need a hearty meal, Malcolm. You cannot fight on an empty stomach. While you are eating, I will tell you of Albert's strengths and weaknesses, for I have seen him fight many times. Though formidable, he is not altogether unbeatable. You might well be the one to make the mighty Albert fall from his pedestal."
"I surely hope so," said Malcolm, "for if I am not, I shall not see another dawn."
"Come, let us be gone."
The two men walked off.
Unnoticed, it seemed, by the others, Robert of Avignon had observed the conversation from a discreet distance. He, too, turned and left the room.
* * *
The sun was high in the sky when Guillaume and Malcolm arrived at the jousting field. There was an annual tournament held in Toulouse, and to accommodate this, the lists had been built some time previously. It was a long field, situated just outside the city walls. A fence divided the field. When jousting with a lance, the two combatants would charge toward each other and ride along opposite sides of the fence. This was to prevent the horses from swerving and crashing into each other.
On one side of the field was a small grandstand where the count and other notables of the area would sit to observe the tourney. On the other side of the field was a fence, and behind it a knoll [11] from which the commoners would watch. At either end, the tents of the combatants would be pitched. There were only two tents pitched this day--one for Albert and one for Malcolm.
True to his word, Guy arrived at the field with Malcolm's horse and his armor. With him was the pretty Heloise. Before coming to the field, they had gotten word to Francis the baker, who promised to spread the word amongst the faithful--hopefully even to Giles--to pray for Malcolm.
Malcolm and Guillaume feasted well, though apprehensively, on pheasant, fruit and good wine. Malcolm had joked darkly that this "last meal" had been one of the better ones of his life.Guillaume, never much given to such melancholic thoughts, told Malcolm to cheer up. "As sure as there is a righteous God, He will give you strength for this battle!"
Guillaume thought for a minute, and noted with some amusement that he was now preaching the strength and grace of God--something that would have been quite out of character for him just a few days earlier. "Well, we need to get you suited up," he quickly added.
"Yes," said Malcolm, "we had better do that."
* * *
These were the days before heavily armored knights; heavy plate armor would only become common in the following centuries. At this time, knights wore a thigh-length shirt of mail called a hauberk. It consisted of small metal rings linked together. There were many thousands of these in one hauberk. Attached to the hauberk was a hood called a coif that covered and protected the head. The sleeves of the hauberk were also made of mail and ended in mittens of the same. A thick padded garment was worn under the hauberk.
On their heads knights wore metal helmets with a nosepiece that partially protected their face. Their legs were covered by mail leggings. Over the hauberk they wore a sleeveless tunic which bore an identifying emblem, called a coat of arms. Malcolm's was blue and bore the image of a lion standing on its hind legs. The shields most common in these days were round on the top and curved down to a long point, something like an inverted tear drop. Malcolm's shield was plain, though it was common for most knights to have their coat of arms painted on their shields.
At the appointed time, Theobald came to Guillaume's tent, and the two stepped outside to converse a short distance away.
"Normally," Theobald said, "your man would have the right to choose the weapons, but in this case Bishop Odo appealed to trial by combat to prove his innocence from the charges leveled by Roger. So now Albert stands in the place of the accused, and your man as the accuser. Therefore, Albert claims the right to choose the weapons."
"This is preposterous!" said Guillaume. "My man is the man in the dock, and your man stands in the stead of the accuser!"
"No," replied Theobald, "we must choose the weapons. Albert has instructed me to be very clear. He is to have the choice of weapons."
"Then I appeal to my uncle as the judge," said Guillaume. "Come, let us be off."
Heloise had stood a ways off during all the previous proceedings. Malcolm now turned to her. She blushed and looked down.
"Thank you for coming," Malcolm said quietly.
"I had to. Oh, Malcolm! I fear for your life!"
"Fear not, for was it not you who said your God was a strong God?"
"Yes, but at times like this, I am afraid my faith does waver."
"Mistress Heloise, I would ask you a boon."
"Pray, ask!"
"It is a custom that in the tournament, a knight will wear a token from his lady. I have no lady but I have found in you not only a lady, but a sister and a woman of rare beauty. I am not very good with words, and I am clumsy around women. Perhaps it is knowing that my death may be imminent that emboldens me to speak this way, but would you have a scarf or some other token that I could wear?"
Heloise blushed. "Oh, Malcolm, I would most gladly give you a token! For in truth, I care for you greatly. Do not die today! Fight with all that is in you. Here, let this be my token to you," she said as she pulled out a large linen handkerchief. "It is not the finery of silk that real ladies would have, but know that it symbolizes my love, truer and greater than any of them could have for thee."
Now it was Malcolm's turn to blush. "Heloise," he confessed, "from the first moment I cast eyes upon you, my heart was lost to you."
"Oh, Malcolm! I gladly give you mine also!"
"Now truly, I have something to live and fight for! Pray, bind that kerchief around my arm here, for it is my fighting arm. With each swing of my sword, I shall see that token and it shall give me strength."
Guy, who was standing by, felt increasingly awkward as he watched this encounter unfold. Finally he could take no more, and distanced himself to give the two more privacy. Presently, Guillaume came back.
"That was a close call, friend, but I have good news," he said. "Albert was trying to claim the right to choose the weapons, as he declared that in this instance our most ungracious bishop was the one offended. But my uncle affirmed that you are legitimately the accused, and therefore retain the right to choose weapons."
"Then I choose the sword," said Malcolm after a moment of thought.
"It is good," said Guillaume. "For with axe or mace, Albert is without peer. Even with the sword he has few equals. The combat will begin on horse. Hmmm, I see you've made a lot of progress in getting ready while I was away."
Malcolm smiled. "Yes, we have made a lot of progress," he said, as he turned to look at Heloise. For a moment, their eyes locked.
"I love thee, noble Malcolm," said Heloise.
"And I love thee, fair lady!" answered Malcolm.
"May God give you might and power!" prayed Heloise. "O Jesus, please bring this, my love, safely through the battle today." She rushed forward and embraced Malcolm ardently.
After a long, tender moment, Malcolm gently pulled himself away from Heloise's grasp.
"I must go now," he whispered softly, and, turning to Guillaume, said, "Come, help me get the rest of these things on. For I have a battle to fight."
To be continued
Definitions*:
1 chortle: chuckle gleefully
2 brigand: bandit
3 coup de thtre: a sudden, dramatic turn of events
4 specters: ghosts
5 addled: confused, muddled
6 list: a place of combat, such as for a jousting tournament
7 second: the official assistant of a contestant in battle
8 recourse: to turn to for security or help
9 languid: slow, lacking energy
10 popinjay: a vain, talkative person
11 knoll: a small hill
* These words are only defined generally and according to their use in this story.
(End of file.)
Copyright (c) 1998 by Aurora Productions