Stories from Heaven's Library - Vol. 16
The Perfect Ones - BOOK 4
As told by Sir Walter Scott
"Above all these things, put on love, which is the bond of perfectness" (Col.3:14).
X -- TO THE DEATH
Fully armed, Malcolm walked out of the tent and peered down the long jousting field. At the far end, he could clearly make out Albert of Aurillac pacing back and forth in front of his tent, obviously impatient to get on with the fight. The sun stood high in the sky, and Malcolm knew that the trumpet would soon sound to summon the two warriors to come before the count.
Malcolm took out his sword and checked it one more time. He knew he was physically ready now, and he also felt a reassurance that he was ready in spirit. A confidence was building in him--not an overconfidence in his abilities, but a confidence that the prayers of his newfound brothers and sisters would carry him through this ordeal.
He knew that doing battle was foreign to many of the Cathars, who shunned violence of any form, but he was thankful that Guy, Heloise, and those in their fellowship were praying that he would come through this encounter victoriously.
A trumpet blast jolted him out of his reverie. It was the call that the two combatants had been waiting for. Malcolm strode over to his horse and deftly swung into the saddle.
Guillaume walked beside him, as they slowly moved down the field towards the central grandstand where Raymond, Odo, Peter of Castelnau and the other dignitaries were seated.
A large crowd of common folks had gathered on the other side of the field. Apparently, word of the trial by combat had spread quickly amongst the townspeople. Albert's reputation had ensured that a good crowd would be there to witness this event.
Within a few minutes, Malcolm and Guillaume were standing in front of the grandstand. They hadn't spoken on the way down; all that needed to be said had already been said.
Guillaume mounted the stairs and took his seat to the right of the count. Albert and his second had arrived at about the same time. Theobald also left his cousin to take his place in the stands. Albert and Malcolm eyed each other momentarily, before a herald stood up to proclaim the purpose of the fight.
"Hear ye! Let all here gathered this day listen and understand. Today it has been decreed that these two combatants have brought their grievance, to be settled by trial of combat, before the court of Count Raymond of Toulouse. The fight shall be with swords, such as was chosen by the accused, Malcolm MacAlpin.
"You two shall mark off a distance of twenty paces, and you shall charge one another on your horses. If one of you shall fall, then he shall continue fighting dismounted. The fight shall be to the death, and may God grant strength to he whose cause is the righteous one. Go now, and take your positions. At the blast of the trumpet, the combat shall commence. So it is decreed by His Excellency, Raymond the Sixth, Count of Toulouse."
Malcolm and Albert now rode away from each other, to where a marker showed the required distance that they were to have between them at the initiation of the combat. Malcolm braced himself in the saddle, his body tense and ready for the assault which was about to begin.
Albert was bigger and burlier, but Malcolm was obviously the more athletic of the two. This was going to come down to a contest of brawn versus agility. Malcolm peered over the top of his shield at Albert, took his sword out of his sheath, and held it at his side. His left arm bore his shield, leaving his hand free to grasp the reins of his horse.
The trumpet sounded, the two riders spurred their mounts, and the horses charged towards each other. The first clash of the men's swords rang out across the field of death. The two whirled around and came at each other again. Albert's sword struck Malcolm's shield with deadly force. Malcolm reeled in his saddle and struggled to regain his balance. Desperately, Malcolm swung his sword sideways, clipping Albert's shield and almost causing it to spin out of his hand.
The two turned again and charged at close range. This time they stayed locked in battle, swinging their swords at each other with all the force that they could muster. Albert was the bigger man, and his blows came down with a deadly force.
The heavy blows from Albert's sword did their damage upon Malcolm's shield. Malcolm, however, was content to absorb the pounding for now, for he was conserving his strength. Albert was swinging wildly, and Malcolm knew that the bigger man would eventually start to tire--and that would be when he would seize his chance.
But Albert was a canny fighter himself. His eyes glared at Malcolm from underneath his helmet, as he let out a continuous stream of curses.
"You foreign dog," he snarled between blows. "I shall chop you up and feed you piece by piece to the ravens. You pig! You cur [1]! You swine!"
Albert kept up his voluble [2] stream of curses, while Malcolm deemed it wiser to concentrate on his fighting than on cursing.
Albert spurred his horse away a few yards, then turned again to charge at Malcolm. Malcolm spun his steed around in time for his shield to meet another onslaught of blows from Albert's sword.
It was time for Malcolm to go on the offensive. He swung his blade and hit Albert's shield with a force that the Frenchman clearly had not expected. Unsteadied in his saddle, Albert leaned far to the other side. Malcolm pressed his advantage. Again and again and again he beat down upon his adversary. Suddenly, the big fellow toppled from his horse. A roar erupted from the crowd.
Jumping to his feet, Albert whirled around to meet the next charge.
Malcolm clearly had the advantage now, and was about to spur his horse on, when, as if by a sudden inspiration, he caught on to Albert's intentions. The French knight's sword was poised to strike a lethal blow to Malcolm's mount and bring the animal down, hopefully pinning Malcolm underneath. Malcolm reined his horse in.
"Come on, you coward! You scum!" Albert taunted. "Charge me!"
Malcolm quickly considered his options. A battle horse was an extremely valuable animal, and one that he could not afford to lose in such an encounter as this. Nimbly, Malcolm dismounted and gave his horse a whack on its flank to send it trotting away in the other direction. Albert's horse had already been grabbed by some attendants and led away from the battlefield.
Malcolm and Albert, now on equal terms, circled each other warily. Chain mail was an ample defense against the slashing blows of a sword, but it could easily be penetrated by a sudden forward thrust, whether from a sword, a spear, or bolts from a crossbow.
Albert lunged again. Malcolm, more nimble on his feet than the bigger man, deftly sidestepped. Albert charged past him.
Albert turned, his face glaring red and his eyes burning with an intense hatred. He swung again at Malcolm with all his force. Malcolm took the blow on his shield. The blow was a heavy one, and Malcolm slipped slightly. Albert tried to press home his advantage, pushing and shoving Malcolm in an attempt to topple him.
Malcolm halted, almost fell backwards, and then, mustering all of his athletic ability, threw his weight to the side. Once again the big man went flying past him. Another roar rose from the crowd.
"You think you're so smart!" said Albert. "You think you are such a swordsman! All you know how to do is run! Stand and fight!"
Malcolm now thought it time for him to reply to some of Albert's curses. "I am standing and fighting," he said. "It is you that keeps running past me!"
"Why you scummy dog!" cursed Albert, as he lunged towards Malcolm again.
The two continued swinging at each other. Malcolm tried to conserve his strength. Surely the other man must be tiring. But Albert kept up the pressure.
Then, in a momentary lapse of concentration, Malcolm missed fully parrying [3] a blow. Albert's sword swung down and hit Malcolm on the shoulder. His coat of mail absorbed much of the blow, but some of the links broke and the sword cut through to his flesh. Blood soaked through to the blue surcoat that Malcolm was wearing, and the crowd let out a gasp. Heloise, who was standing afar off, covered her eyes, and started to sob.
Albert, clearly invigorated by being the first to draw blood, continued to aggressively attack Malcolm. Malcolm was in pain and clearly at the disadvantage, but he valiantly held up against the renewed blows of his adversary. Albert kept the pressure on.
Another heavy blow from Albert's sword forced Malcolm onto one knee. Albert lifted high his sword to swing down for the final blow. In that moment of overconfidence, he inadvertently pulled his shield away from fully guarding his front. Malcolm seized the opportunity and, with all the strength he could muster, thrust his sword into Albert. Through the mail it went, and through the heavily padded undergarment, striking flesh. Deeper the sword went, until it had come out the other side.
A look of horror and disbelief was fixed on Albert's face. He staggered backwards, reeled around once, and collapsed on the tournament field with a loud thud.
Theobald, Albert's second, and several attendants rushed over to the man. Guillaume also took to the field. Malcolm had risen to his feet, but was obviously quite wobbly. Guillaume caught the exhausted man and held him steady.
Albert lay sprawled on the field, belly up, and Malcolm's sword was still lodged deep in his chest, as it had been wrenched from Malcolm's hand when Albert had staggered backwards. His eyes, opened wide and transfixed skyward, were filled with unspeakable horror.
Theobald ran his hand over Albert's face and closed the dead man's eyes. "He's dead," he said solemnly. "You have killed him!" Without another word, Theobald walked away.
The attendants rolled Albert's body onto a litter, and with one mighty yank Guillaume pulled Malcolm's sword from the cadaver [4] and handed it to Malcolm. The attendants carried Albert's body to his tent.
Heloise and Guy, at the far end of the grandstand, stood practically paralyzed in disbelief--and relief--at what they had just seen.
Guillaume steadied Malcolm by the shoulder again, and whispered in his ear. "Come, we must now stand before the count, so that you can receive your acquittal."
Malcolm nodded, but he was clearly exhausted from the combat. Summoning all his reserves, he tried to look as dignified as he could, as he walked over and stood before the count.
The count looked over at Odo. The prelate was white as a sheet--shocked and incredulous at what had just transpired. The mightiest knight of southern France, the knight who had championed the church, lay dead!--And Odo's scheme lay in shambles!
Castelnau glared at Odo. Without a word, the legate rose and walked off.
Raymond, summoning all his diplomatic skill, scarcely managed to hide his delight in seeing the bishop so discomfited. He arose and beckoned Malcolm to come forward.
"This day you have been vindicated, Malcolm MacAlpin. According to the laws of the Franks, which do govern this land, I hereby acquit you of all charges that have been laid before you in this court. You have proven your innocence. And to your accusers, I say: Take note. God has acquitted this man this day, and has seen fit to deliver him. Those who accused him shall now need to give account of their false testimony."
And having said that, he turned to where Bishop Odo now stood. "I will expect you to appear before me tomorrow morning.--And bring those two brigands that were in your employ, so they may give a truthful account of what happened."
The bishop looked as though he would vomit, but somehow managed to maintain his composure. "You do not have authority over such matters," he said haughtily, "for these are most certainly ecclesiastical matters which cannot be judged in a secular court--only in my court! These men were on holy business, and they therefore do not fall under your jurisdiction."
"Those two men are not clerics," the count roared back. "They are soldiers, and as such, are subject to secular law. Have them there tomorrow morning, and we will have an end of this mess!"
Turning once again to Malcolm, Count Raymond added, "God has smiled on you this day, for I did think you were a dead man!"
"Thank you, my lord," said Malcolm. "But I will be first to admit that it was not I who had the strength today, but I felt a supernatural strength within me. I, too, thought I was a dead man, but something came upon me that I knew not of, and gave me power to slay my tormentor and silence the lies of my accusers. I lay the glory and credit at the feet of God, for I believe it was only through the earnest prayers that were said for me that I have come from this field victorious."
"Very well, then," said the count. "Go and have your wounds dressed, and when you have recovered, come and see me again. I have need of a man such as you in my service."
"Thank you, my lord," replied Malcolm.
Having so said, Malcolm's face turned a deathly pale, as if all the life had drained from him, and, to the horror of all those present, he collapsed on the ground.
XI -- TROUBLE IN TOULOUSE
Heloise and Guy rushed over to Malcolm. Guillaume fell to his knees and put his fingers on Malcolm's neck.
"He's fainted," said Guillaume, "probably from the loss of blood. Quickly, let us get him on a litter and carry him to my room. Come along, you two," he added to Guy and Heloise. "Our Scotsman is going to need some nursing back to health."
Heloise fell down beside him, put her face close to Malcolm's, and kissed him. Tears streamed down her face. "Thank You, Lord! Thank You, Lord! Thank You, Lord!" she kept saying, over and over again. "Thank You for sparing my Malcolm! Thank You for giving him victory, Jesus! Thank You, thank You, thank You, Jesus!"
Attendants hurried forth with a litter, loaded Malcolm upon it, and carried him away. Guillaume, Guy and Heloise followed closely behind them.
"Don't worry," said Guillaume, "He is a strong man, our Scot. He will survive."
"I know he will," said Heloise.
As they headed back into the city, curious onlookers stopped to look at Malcolm. Small groups paused to relate to each other what they had seen or what they had heard of the events that had transpired on the tournament field; how the mighty Albert of Aurillac was now dead, and how the young Scotsman had collapsed at the end of the fight. That day there was much joy in the hearts of those who knew that God had given Malcolm MacAlpin the victory, for certainly the odds had been against him.
As they traveled up the main street of the city towards the castle, they passed the shop of Francis the baker. Guy and Heloise cast furtive glances in that direction.
Francis was standing in the window, and he gave them a quick smile and a wink as they passed by. They knew this meant that he had gotten the word out to the others; indeed, today's victory had been a victory wrought in prayer.
Further on, they passed a cloaked figure walking in the other direction. For a few seconds, the man's silver beard and hair were visible, and Guy and Heloise immediately recognized Giles. He surreptitiously [5] raised a finger to his mouth, in a motion for them not to let on who he was.
He paused for a moment to look down at Malcolm as the litter went by, then he continued on his way.
Presently, the small group came to Raymond's castle, and Guillaume gave instructions for Malcolm to be taken to his quarters, which, as the reader will remember, were also occupied at that time by Roger, the wounded guardsman.
After conferring for a few minutes with Guy, he told him and Heloise to go there also. Guillaume had a few things that he needed to take care of before he could join them.
Guy and Heloise followed the attendants up the inner staircases to Guillaume's apartment, which was located in a turret [6] of the castle. As they opened the door, a figure slipped into a small niche in a corner.
Esme heaved a sigh of relief as the familiar faces of Guy and Heloise entered the door. But her relief quickly turned to concern as she recognized that it was Malcolm who lay unconscious on the litter. The attendants picked him up and placed him on a second bed that servants had just set up.
Roger, who had been sleeping, upon hearing the various voices and the small commotion that was made, now awoke. He looked over and saw Malcolm, and immediately wanted to know what had happened. Guy and Heloise took turns telling the story to both Esme and Roger.
After they had finished telling all that had transpired, Heloise turned to Esme and said, "It is a good thing that you are here. For now I am afraid that you have a second patient to nurse to health. The wound on his shoulder--I don't know how serious it is."
Esme walked over to take a closer look. "We must get his armor off," she said. "Come, you two. Please help me."
Between Guy, Heloise and Esme, they somehow managed to lift Malcolm and pull off the heavy chain mail armor. Still unconscious, Malcolm started [7] and flinched several times during the process. The ordeal reopened the wound again, and more blood began to flow.
"Quick, we must staunch [8] this flow of blood!" said Esme. "Bring me towels, cloths--anything!"
Guy turned to the attendants, who were still standing in the corner of the room. "Fetch us what linens and cloths you can. Quickly now!"
"And bring hot water!" requested Esme. "We will need to bathe this wound."
Esme looked intently at the slash. "This could well have been a mortal wound," she said. "It seems that God has smiled on Malcolm. He is very weak, though, from the shock and loss of blood. It is a good thing that I have my herbs and potions, which I brought when I came to attend to Roger."
After what seemed like hours to the anxious occupants of the room, an attendant returned with a pile of cloth, and a pitcher of hot water.
"Pour some of the water into this basin," Esme instructed, "and leave the pitcher here."
The attendant, not used to receiving instructions from gypsy girls, hesitated for a moment.
"Do as she says!" said Guy. "This is a matter of urgency. This man's life is in her hands."
The attendant complied.
"Take these cloths," Esme said to Heloise, "and soak them in the hot water. Then, gently start cleaning the wound. Here, I will pour some of this in--it will act as a cleanser and a purifier." Esme poured some powder into the basin, which turned the water a light blue color.
Heloise busied herself with carrying out Esme's instructions, while Esme started soaking some other herbs and petals. "Let this steep for a little while," she said to Guy. "The water will draw the purifying agents. Then we shall mix the herbs and a little of the water they are steeped in with flour to prepare a poultice. Oh, I forgot to ask the attendants to get flour! Please, bring me back some flour from the kitchen," said Esme, turning to the servant.
The attendant disappeared again, and soon returned with a bowl of flour.
"That is good," said Esme. "Now, let us mix the petals and herbs with the flour and some water to make a thick paste."
Having done that, she walked over to Malcolm. Heloise was nearly finished cleaning the wound. "Look carefully that there are no shards from the mail left in the wound," she said, "for they will hinder the healing."
"It is such a gruesome task!" said Heloise, who was not used to the sight of so much blood. Bravely but gingerly she wiped the wound clean. "All this blood makes my head swim!"
"Malcolm will appreciate your efforts when he recovers," smiled Esme, as she placed a hand on Heloise's shoulder. Esme returned to preparing the poultice. "We will have to apply this regularly, but it should help the healing," she explained as she placed the thick paste back in the bowl where the flour had been. "If we left him to the count's physicians, they would have taken a hot sword and cauterized [9] the wound. But that would never allow it to heal as it should. See, look! You can see the scars on his body where this has been done before." Malcolm's bare torso bore several broad scars, where wounds received in previous encounters had been seared by hot irons.
Having applied the poultice, Esme ripped some of the linen that had been brought her, to use as bandages. "Now," said Esme, "all we can do is pray and wait. I will prepare some teas and a hippocras [10] for him to sip. They will help dull the pain once he has regained consciousness."
She took some willow bark from a bag and, turning to the attendant, instructed him to take it to the kitchen, boil it for half an hour, and then bring it back.
"Well," said Esme, as she looked down at Malcolm, "now we are even, noble Scot. You once saved my life--now I have repaid."
Heloise touched the gypsy girl on the shoulder. "Thank you, my dear," she said.
Esme looked at her. "Truly, I think there is not a more noble man in all the world than Malcolm--except perhaps " her voice trailed off, but Heloise and Guy finished the sentence in their minds; they both knew that she was thinking of the dashing Guillaume.
"Come," said Heloise to Esme, "let us sit and talk. I must admit, you are the first gypsy that I have ever met, and I have always had well, let me say, there were tales that colored my opinions of your people."
Esme and Heloise sat on a bench in the corner of the room, and settled into a long conversation--a pastime at which the fair sex seem peculiarly adept. Guy glanced over at Roger, who was propped up on one elbow, surveying all that was taking place.
"Well," said Guy, "your life has certainly changed!"
"Indeed it has," replied Roger. "Those who I had despised have become my benefactors [11]. And yet, more than benefactors--they have become my saviors. For my life was lost; I knew it. But she to whom I had sought to do much wrong has nursed me back to health. Truly, I am in awe."
* * *
The scene now changes, and we are once again in the residence of Bishop Odo, who we find sitting, still ashen-faced, on a chair in the middle of his quarters. A furious Peter of Castelnau is pacing back and forth, shaking his finger at Odo.
"The timing of this couldn't be worse!" bellowed Castelnau. "Here I come all this way, and you pull a stunt like this! Your men have been caught bearing false witness--for which they shall be punished! And you have been found aiding and abetting their cause! Do you not realize that you have seriously weakened my hand in persuading the count to purge these heretics from his land? For he will say, 'Look, these people are peaceful, law-abiding, honest. It is the representatives of the church who resort to lies, and then bring evil accusations. First put your own house in order, before you come to tell me to put mine in order.'"
Odo sat silently.
"Why don't you say something?" said Castelnau.
"I have nothing to say," muttered Odo, but then added, "It is obvious that the heretics put a curse on Albert, and he succumbed [12] to that curse. That ragtag Scot was a dead man. It was obvious! I cannot understand; I just cannot understand! That fool of Aurillac!"
"He died championing the church," said Castelnau, still glaring at Odo. "He died in trial by combat, championing the church. The pope has expressly forbidden clergy to resort to trial by combat, whether themselves or by proxy. You went against the Holy Father's orders in this, and your fate is sealed. Make no doubt about this: I shall make a full recounting of this to the Holy Father when I see him. I shall make no secret of the fact that your office and bishopric are in jeopardy. It would have been one thing to win, but you lost! And as you know, His Holiness Innocent III plays to win! He has little patience with losers!
"This evening, I shall make my appeal to Raymond. Your presence will not be necessary, for you have some matters to sort out with these incompetent idiots you hired as guards!" With that, Castelnau headed for the door, brushing past the priest who stood in attendance.
After the legate had left, Odo looked up. "Get out and close the door," he snarled at the priest, who dutifully complied.
Odo sat there, considering his options. Although it was the King of France who retained the right to appoint bishops throughout the realm, Odo knew that if he incurred the displeasure of Pope Innocent III--the most powerful man ever to sit on Peter's throne--the chances of him retaining his position, let alone advancing in the church, were nil.
Peter of Castelnau, Odo knew, was a renowned preacher and a confidant of the pope. It was obvious that the legate was not going to be dissuaded from the course of action that he had settled upon. Odo did not take long now to conclude what must happen. With a sigh, he stood up, walked out of the room through a door at the other end, and into his private chamber.
"Send for Bernard," he told the priest who was sitting in the corner, writing with a long quill pen.
The priest silently stood up, bowed dutifully to Odo, and left the room. Odo sat pensively in his chair. He was deep in thought when Bernard entered the room. Odo glared at the man. "You have lied to me!" he snarled. "All that the Scotsman said was true, wasn't it?"
Bernard shuddered. "Y yes, your eminence."
"Tomorrow, I could turn you over to Raymond, and you know the penalty for perjury."
Bernard shuddered again.
"But I will give you one last chance to redeem yourself. However, know that from this point forward, you are no longer in my official service."
Bernard's eyes narrowed. "A chance?" he asked.
"Yes," replied Odo. "A chance! And be sure you do not botch it this time, for surely you shall die if you do! Close the door, for what I have to say is for your ears only."
* * *
At the end of the evening meal, a herald notified Count Raymond that Peter of Castelnau had arrived.
"Show him in," said Raymond.
The tall, dignified churchman strode confidently into the room, and bowed deeply before the count. Peter of Castelnau was a noted orator and papal diplomat. He had engaged some of the more eloquent of the Perfects in debates several times, and though neither side had convinced their opponents of the righteousness of their cause, still Peter of Castelnau had gained the reputation of being a persuasive, charming, and incisive [13] speaker.
"My lord count," he began, "I bring you greetings from the Holy Father, Innocent III, who has asked me to convey to you his felicitations [14] and his prayers, for you and for the people of the County of Toulouse."
"The Holy Father's prayers and felicitations are well received," said the count. "Please convey mine to him, for we are grateful for his care and understanding."
"Indeed," said Castelnau, "for he does care for you deeply, and for the souls of those here within your realm. He has asked me to beseech you to help rid your county of this plague of heresy that does sorely threaten to damn the souls of your people."
"Say on," said the count, not wishing to take issue at this stage in the proceedings.
"Count Raymond, your county is rife with heresy. Many of God's flock are being led astray into the realms of darkness and eternal damnation, for these heretics do not preach the true Gospel. They do mock the Holy Church, which was instituted by Jesus Christ when He laid the keys of the kingdom upon the holy apostle and founder of the true church, Saint Peter--of whom the Holy Father is successor on Earth. You must make efforts to stamp out this heresy, for your own soul is in jeopardy. God has instituted your office, and you but hold it by the grace of God--and at the pleasure of the Holy Father!"
Raymond's blood began to boil at this last comment. Pope Innocent III--who claimed the title of Vicar of Christ on Earth, and therefore God's proxy--contended that all temporal leaders, be they kings, emperors or counts, and, in fact, all nobility, held their office at his pleasure. This was not a new doctrine, but Innocent had asserted this claim more than any of his predecessors.
Raymond deeply resented anyone who claimed to rule over him at their pleasure. Even his cousin, the king of France, dared not belabor [15] the fact that Raymond was his vassal. It was all he could to control his anger.
"I thank the Holy Father for his concern," Raymond replied, attempting to put on as pleasant and congenial [16] a demeanor [17] as possible, "but my family has held this county and lordship for many generations before the pope decided to assert this authority, given him neither in God's Word, nor yet by tradition."
Castelnau smiled politely. "We know the Holy Father is God's representative on Earth, therefore what the Holy Father claims is what God institutes. If God now chooses to reveal to the pontiff [18] that secular rulers should make themselvessubservient [19] to him, the Vicar of Christ on Earth, then who are we to question the Holy Father's wisdom?"
"Wisdom?" rebuffed Count Raymond. "I would call that a lust for power!"
The two men stared at each other intently, their fixed smiles failing to mask the growing anger and hostility evident in their eyes.
"Pardon me, Count Raymond," said Peter obligingly. "I am sure the Holy Father does not want me to assert his primacy [20] at this time. He only asks that you honor your duty and join him in ridding your land of this heresy, this pestilence that does poison the people."
"I see no evidence of poisoning," answered Raymond indignantly. "My people are industrious. The county flourishes, our trade is prosperous, our agriculture is good. The land is at peace. Brigandage [21] is virtually unknown--except as practiced by certain employees of the church." Count Raymond paused at this point to let what he had just said sink into the ears of Castelnau and the others present.
"I take it you are referring to Bishop Odo," said Castelnau, "and those men who were in his employ."
"Indeed it would appear so," said Raymond. "For have we not just had a demonstration of the probity [22] and uprightness of the Holy Father's representatives in our realm?"
"The Holy Father is ill-served by these people," said Castelnau, "as it appears he is ill-served by you at this time! Could it be that he who tolerates heresy is guilty of it himself?"
At this, Raymond stood up. "You are accusing me of heresy now? You go beyond what is acceptable!"
"I surely think not!" said Peter. "I only state the obvious."
"You stand in front of me, and in front of my assembled courtiers, and dare to insult me?" said Raymond, glowering at the legate.
"You insult yourself, sir," said Castelnau, "by being party to the heresy that afflicts your realm."
"Listen, you miserable excuse for a servant of God!" Raymond was infuriated. "Get you from my domain! We are doing quite well without your interference!"
"Then it is with heavy heart that I must take my leave from you," said Castelnau, "for I will have to tell the Holy Father of your intransigence [23]. I can only assume that the severest of penalties shall be forthcoming, and that a bull [24] of excommunication will be issued."
"Don't threaten me with excommunication!" yelled Raymond.
"Would you prefer an interdict [25] on your entire land?" asked Castelnau. At this, Raymond stood up and bellowed at the man. "Get out, before I think seriously of doing you harm!" Raymond ran his hand over the hilt of his dagger, which lay sheathed on the table in front of him.
The implication was not lost on Castelnau, who bowed low before the count and took a step backwards. "Fear not, Count Raymond, for I shall take my leave of you now, and I shall begin to remove myself from this accursed land by sunrise tomorrow."
"And that would be none too soon!" said Raymond. "Pray that the sun doesn't rise on the wrath that I feel for you tonight, for God help you if it does!"
The legate bowed deeply again, turned and marched quickly out of the great hall.
XII -- TREACHERY
That night was a restless one for our main characters. Malcolm had remained unconscious the entire afternoon, occasionally stirring and, in his delirium, muttering unintelligible things about Scotland, his father and brothers, and some oath. Esme and Heloise, who had stayed at his side to nurse him through, exchanged puzzled looks. What ever could he be talking about?
Guy left early in the evening, to go back to the inn, as there was no one watching over it except their aged father who needed watching over himself.
It was late when Guillaume returned to the castle. He told Esme and Heloise of the confrontation between the count and the legate, but he never told them where he had been that afternoon. Something was afoot, and Guillaume was being tight-lipped about it.
Count Raymond did not sleep well that night. After the legate left, he had retired with Robert of Avignon and his brother-in-law Godfrey into a small room that they sometimes used for private meetings. The count was fretting, and his anger had gotten the better of him. He was a powerful magnate [26], after all. Apart from the king, the Count of Toulouse was the greatest of all ruling nobles in France. He was cousin to the French king, but there was no love lost between the two. The count ruled a greater area than the lands ruled directly by the king. The king, however, expected at least the nominal allegiance of most of the nobles in the French area, and claimed sovereignty over them--including Raymond.
The count held his lands as a fief [27] of the king, yet, unlike the other nobles of France, he was not required to pay homage to the king annually. He also had allies in some of the Iberian kingdoms to the south. Yet the count knew that in Innocent III he had a formidable opponent, if the pope were to decide to move against him. He talked long into the evening with Robert and Godfrey, weighing their options.
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FACT BOX ON FEUDALISM
Feudalism: Feudalism was the political and economic system of Western Europe during much of the Middle Ages. A king, or other men of influence, granted fiefs, usually consisting of land and labor, in return for military and political allegiance. The contract was sealed by oaths of homage and fealty (allegiance). The grantor of the fief became the lord of the grantee, or vassal, but both were free men, and social peers.
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Odo also sat long at his desk. Things had not gone well, and the course of action that he had now decided on was even more risky than any he had undertaken so far. He, too, weighed up the odds. Deep into the night, after much thought, he arose from his desk and fell upon his bed exhausted.
Peter of Castelnau was also very busy that night. Preparations needed to be made for an early departure in the morning. His post as papal legate provided him some protection, and surely only the most foolhardy of men would seek to hurt him, yet Castelnau was a cautious man, and he had seen the look of anger in Count Raymond's eyes. He knew that noblemen--especially those as powerful as Raymond--did not take kindly to having their authority challenged. He had clearly overstepped the mark with Raymond, and the result of their confrontation had not been as he had hoped. He counted it prudent to withdraw without further encounter.
After all the arrangements had been made for him and his retinue to depart at first light, Castelnau fell into a troubled sleep.
He was up again in a few hours, at dawn's first light. Soon he and his retinue marched out of the city gates. A cloaked figure watched them depart, then mounted his horse. Keeping a discreet distance, the man followed the legate's party.
* * *
Later that morning, a priest arrived in the great hall with a sealed message for Count Raymond. It was from Bishop Odo. Robert of Avignon received the communiqu [28] from the cleric and took them both to the count. The contents of the note came as no surprise to Raymond, who nevertheless vented his wrath on the hapless friar. According to the message, the two guardsmen that were supposed to appear before the count that morning had stolen away during the night, leaving no trace.
After a protracted [29] tirade [30] from the count, the cowed [31] friar hurried away to convey the count's displeasure to his superior.
Malcolm awoke mid-morning. At first, his eyes could barely focus, then slowly, the unfamiliar surroundings became clearer. Realizing that he was in a room he had never been in before, he instinctively reached for his sword, but could not find it. His hand searched more frantically, until the movement caught the attention of the others in the room.
Esme and Heloise had slept lightly, and they too had been up at first light. The two were becoming fast friends. Malcolm looked up at the two women--both different, but both beautiful--as they came over.
"I've died and gone to Heaven," muttered Malcolm weakly, "and the Almighty God has sent forth two angels to greet me!"
The two girls looked at each other and smiled.
"Well," said Heloise, "I don't think we have to worry about him!--He looks to be in fine form."
"Yes," smiled Esme.
"Come, my noble Scot," said Heloise, "there is broth prepared for you and I think it is time for you to have some nourishment."
"I'm ravenously hungry," said Malcolm, "and all you're going to feed me is soup?"
"It shall be sufficient for now," said Esme, trying to sound a little sterner. "You suffered quite a blow on your shoulder and have lost much blood. It will be a while before you are up and about."
Malcolm looked down at his right shoulder, which was bandaged. He tried to move himself with his left arm, but winced from the pain. "Ouch! I was rusty to have let that blow get through!" he chided himself. "What happened? Where am I?"
"You collapsed from a loss of blood and the pain, I fear--just as you were receiving your acquittal from the count. You are now in Guillaume's room. He left this morning early, and said he might not be back for a day or two."
"You and I are left alone with these two charming ladies!" Roger piped up. "I suppose this must be the best infirmary in all the world!"
Malcolm looked over at Roger. "Hmmm," he muttered, "I guess I'll just have to make the most of it."
"That you will," said Heloise. "My brother should be returning to visit us some time after noon. He'll be pleased to see the progress of our champion."
* * *
The first day's journey from Toulouse went well for the legate. He and his party maintained a torrid [32] pace and put considerable distance between themselves and the irate [33] Count of Toulouse.
The next day, as they continued on their journey, Peter's boldness returned and he felt more at ease. He began rehearsing in his mind the report that he would submit to Pope Innocent. It seemed the die had been cast, and there was nothing more to do than for the pope to take more decisive action. He would suggest that the count be excommunicated, and the fief of Toulouse be declared forfeit due to Raymond's siding with the proponents [34] of heresy. His Holiness the pope would then invite the King of France to reclaim it, and award it to another noble more compliant to the church.
By mid-afternoon the following day, the party reached the banks of the Rhne River and prepared to be ferried across. Peter rode his horse into the water a few yards from shore, and the animal bent down to drink. As he looked back along the road he had traveled, he was puzzled to see a horseman carrying a spear in an upright position and galloping towards him at great speed.
Presuming that the rider bore a message, the legate turned his horse to face the approaching horseman. Castelnau's guards and the remainder of his party milling around on the riverbank stopped and watched, expecting him to rein up as he approached the retinue.
But to their horror, the horseman lowered his spear to a charging position. Spurring his horse forward, the black-garbed rider galloped past the attendants and headed straight towards the legate, who sat on his horse, defenseless and transfixed in terror. Before he could move, Castelnau was impaled.
The horseman raised his fist in a sign of victory and shouted, "Freedom for Toulouse!" Then he spurred his horse northward along the riverbank and disappeared into the distance.
The legate's attendants watched in shock as Peter's body tottered back and forth on his beast, and then tumbled into the water with a loud splash.
Although the horseman had been dressed in plain black clothing, several of the attendants had seen a coat of arms embroidered on the saddlecloth of the assassin's horse. It belonged to the Count of Toulouse.
Once Peter's body had been pulled from the river, one of the attendants was immediately dispatched to take the news to the pope.
* * *
Guillaume hadn't been seen at the castle for several days. Malcolm had made good progress in his recovery, and was feeling much stronger. Esme was still there, caring for the two injured men. Heloise had also wanted to stay, but she had duties to perform at the inn, so after the second day, she had reluctantly gone back.
Malcolm missed her a lot--her sweet smile and sunny disposition, and her frail form that seemed to cry out for a strong man to protect her. Malcolm had fallen in love.
Sometimes he felt happy; other times he felt uneasy and confused. Grappling with these new emotions was not easy. Esme observed all. Although she was not very wise in the ways of love herself, she watched Malcolm's moods with a certain amusement.
Mid-afternoon on the fourth day, Guillaume returned. Although he tried to be his normal, cheerful self, it was obvious that he was troubled.
"What's the matter?" Malcolm asked.
"We have just heard some very disturbing news," said Guillaume. "Peter of Castelnau has been murdered at the Rhne River while on his way back to Rome. The country is rife with speculation about who did it, and many people believe it is my uncle who perpetrated the crime. He and Castelnau had argued that last night he was here in front of many witnesses, myself included. There are reports that the saddlecloth on the horse that the assassin rode bore my uncle's coat of arms. The situation is even graver than before. We have a crisis!"
"What do you think will happen?" asked Malcolm.
"Many things could happen," said Guillaume. "I don't know what action the pope will take, nor do I know my uncle's plans as yet. The pope, though, will not take this lying down, and my uncle is the prime suspect. Robert of Avignon told me that when the count heard the news, he turned pale and went off to his room. This could mean war, and if that is the case, it will be us against the rest of the world. My uncle and his lands are the envy of all Europe. There are many who would relish this chance to seize the county of Toulouse."
"If this is war," said Malcolm, "you can count on at least one soldier here. I will fight for your uncle with all that I have!"
"Brave words, Scotsman! Yes, I know you will fight, and you are worth ten men. Our allies will also fight with us. But to fight the rulers of other fiefdoms is one thing--to fight a pope who terrorizes the souls of men with threats of eternal damnation is quite another matter! Men are easily made afraid of losing their immortal souls. They fear hellfire, and they fear being placed under the ban."
"Then you will need to rely on people who do not fear the pope nor his bans. Surely the Cathars, who have flourished in your county, will fight for you!"
"The Cathars are a mixed lot," said Guillaume. "Some will surely fight. Others shun the idea of fighting--their principles will not even allow them to defend themselves! No, I am afraid we will have an uphill struggle from the start. But don't fear, my uncle is an astute [35] man. I trust him. He is a noble warrior, a good general, and skilled in the tactics of war. Yes, if it must come to war, we can have no better leader than my uncle."
"There are many in the north who look with envy upon this land," said Malcolm, "but let us hope for the best. Surely your uncle will send messengers to the pope, maintaining his innocence."
"Surely he will," said Guillaume, "but why should the pope accept such a messenger? For even if my uncle is innocent of this crime, the pope will press forward. He has the advantage, and now he will be able to demand that my uncle accept his terms regarding eradicating [36] the Cathars from our midst."
Esme, who had been listening quietly to the conversation, sank to her knees. "Oh Lord, save us!" she cried. "Save us from this tyranny! Deliver Your children from that which is to come!"
Guillaume walked over and put his arm around her. "Come, come, Esme," he comforted her. "Nothing will happen quite yet. There is still time for things to work out. Don't worry, I will protect you!"
Esme turned and hugged him tightly. Guillaume drew her close to him. His hand pressed her head against his chest, and he kissed her gently on her forehead.
Roger and Malcolm exchanged glances.
"Well, it looks as though there's going to be a lot of work for men in our profession," said Malcolm.
"It certainly does," said Roger.
To be continued
Definitions (These words are only defined generally and according to their use in this story.):
1 cur: an inferior or undesirable dog
2 voluble: a steady flow
3 parry: to deflect or avoid
4 cadaver: a dead body
5 surreptitiously: with a hidden motion
6 turret: a small tower or tower-shaped projection on a building
7 start: to move suddenly or involuntarily
8 staunch: to stop or check a flow (of blood, for example)
9 cauterize: to burn a wound closed
10 hippocras: a potion made from wine and flavored with spices, formerly used as a medicine
11 benefactor: one that gives aid
12 succumb: yield to an overpowering force
13 incisive: penetrating, clear, and sharp, as in operation or expression
14 felicitations: a formal expression of good wishes
15 belabor: to discuss repeatedly
16 congenial: friendly, sociable
17 demeanor: manner or presence
18 pontiff: the pope
19 subservient: under the rule of, obedient to
20 primacy: the state of being foremost or first
21 brigandage: acts of crime committed by brigands (bandits)
22 probity: confirmed integrity
23 intransigence: refusal to reach a compromise or accept a mediation
24 bull: an official document issued by the pope, and sealed with a 'bulla', a round papal seal
25 interdict: ecclesiastical penalty, usually a ban on performing masses, baptisms or the last rites within a given area
26 magnate: a lord or other powerful or influential person
27 fief: the estate or domain of a feudal lord
28 communiqu: an official message or announcement
29 protracted: lengthy
30 tirade: an angry or violent speech
31 cowed: frightened by threats
32 torrid: hurried, rapid
33 irate: enraged, extremely angry
34 proponents: those in favor of a cause
35 astute: wise, discerning, shrewd
36 eradicate: to get rid of entirely
(End)
Copyright (c) 1998 by Aurora Productions