Heresy: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery (10 page)

“They look like plague victims,” Catherine grumbled as she poured water over James, who was standing naked in a tub protesting the removal of his artwork. “Stay still, James! You’ve been very naughty.”

Next to her, Emily was washing Edana and trying not to giggle.

“You’ll have to explain to them about ostentatious piety,” she said. “No, Edana, the cross the priest put on stays until tomorrow.”

“So I can show it to Papa?” Edana asked.

“Yes,” Catherine said. “As soon as he arrives.”

If he arrives, Catherine thought. She should have sent one of the guards on to Nogent to wait for Solomon and Edgar. What if they were wasting time going back over the route, looking for them? She scrubbed James’s legs harder and then his cheeks. He lifted his chin and set his lips, not willing to admit that she was hurting him.
Oh dear
, Catherine nearly laughed.
Who is he being now, a martyr being gnawed by lions or a hero facing an army?
She wiped the soot off more gently.

Margaret had dutifully walked in the procession and attended Mass, but when the other nuns and boarders went back to the dormitory to pray or study, she had gone to the guesthouse. Astrolabe found her sitting at the window, watching the empty road.

“They’ll be here soon,” he assured her.

Margaret looked up at him with a rueful smile.

“I know,” she said. “And staring at the road won’t make them arrive any more quickly. I’m glad you’re here, of course,” she added. “I was so surprised to see you dressed like a guard. I hardly knew you.”

They stood together in silence for a while. Margaret seemed so frail and lonely that Astrolabe was tempted to put his arms around her and tell her to cry until she didn’t hurt anymore. But he didn’t want to insult her with pity so he simply stayed near.

“Astrolabe,” Margaret said after a while, “Catherine said that it wasn’t right for her to tell me your secrets, but will you tell them to me? Someone said you were rescued from a band of Breton heretics. That can’t be true, can it?”

“Oh, dear.” Astrolabe shook his head. “I appreciate Catherine’s unusual discretion, but I’d rather you understood the truth than add to your worries with rumors about me. Come over here and sit down. I’ll tell you all about it. You can still see the road from the bench.

“It all started when I went to visit my aunt Denise in le Pallet.” He began the story as he had to Solomon, Edgar, Catherine and his mother. But somehow telling Margaret was easier, and he found himself making it more a story and less a defense.

“One day,” he continued, “an old friend came to see me. He comes from Dol and has a small holding there. He told me that he needed help. A cousin of his had invented some sort of strange belief and then hidden himself in the forest of Broceliande. He had begun preaching and had gathered a group of followers who were causing trouble.”

“Why didn’t the bishop of Dol stop him?” Margaret asked.

“I asked that,” Astrolabe told her. “He said that the bishop had his hands full with more serious heresies, bandits and lords who were flaunting his authority. No one cared about Eon.”

“That’s a funny name,” Margaret said.

“It’s an old Breton one, but that was what caused all the trouble.” Astrolabe smiled. “His family knew he wasn’t very bright and sent him to a monastery where they thought he would be safe, not likely to come under the influence of anyone unscrupulous. Well, one day he was listening to the monks praying and heard the words “ ‘
per eum qui venturus est judicare vivos et mortuos, et seculum per ignem…
’ ”

“Through him, who shall come to judge the living and the dead and the world through fire,” Margaret translated.

“Right, but poor Eon was entranced by the word
eum
. He thought they were saying his name so he asked what the passage meant and someone told him. He must have brooded on this for a long time because eventually he decided that he was the one the prayers were talking about and that he must be the son of God.”

Margaret gasped. “But surely the monks would have explained it to him!”

“I don’t know if they even knew.” Astrolabe shrugged. “By the time I became involved, he had wandered off in the forest. When I found him, he told me that his abbot had given him permission to become a hermit, but I can’t believe that.”

“And you say people believed his fantastic claim?” Margaret was finding this hard to credit.

“Oh, yes.” Astrolabe looked out the window again. “Out there people are starving, you know. Some have lost their land and been forced to sell their freedom in return for food. Others have gone into the forest to avoid tithes they can’t pay. They’re angry and despairing. Eon has a certain charisma, I’d say. He truly believes himself to be divine, you see. He treats these dispossessed with tenderness and respect. He makes them feel human again. He reminds them that they have souls.

“They say he raided villages and attacked hermits,” Astrolabe continued. “That’s nonsense! If you had seen that poor bedraggled troop of his…Margaret, a few peasants with hoes and pitchforks could have driven them off.”

“Then why did the archbishop of Tours send men to capture them?” Margaret wanted to know.

Astrolabe shook his head. “If I understood that, I wouldn’t be so worried.”

Margaret put her hand on his. “We’ll find out. Mother Heloise won’t let anything happen to you. Neither will my brother. We know you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“That gives me great comfort.” Astrolabe looked down into her trusting face. He wondered how a girl who had seen her mother killed and who had later been horribly beaten by a mob could still have such an air of innocence and faith. In many ways she shamed him.

He thought of Cecile. Despite the evil done to her, she had not given in to despair either. For a moment, her face floated before him. He had to blink to keep back tears.

At that moment, Margaret glanced out the window, gave a cry, leaped up and ran from the room.

“Margaret!” Astrolabe called. “Your cloak!”

He grabbed it and followed her.

The horsemen spotted her running toward them. One of them dismounted and strode toward her, holding out his arms to her.

“Oh, Solomon!” she cried, clinging to him. “We’ve been so worried!”

“There, there.” Solomon released her at once and set her down. “We were only delayed because of a problem with the arrangements for our journey south. You shouldn’t have let yourself get so agitated.”

“I don’t notice any concern about me,” Edgar said, coming up to hug her. “But I’m only your brother. I notice that my wife isn’t waiting at the gate for me either.”

“The last I saw, she was trying to get your children into a washtub,” Astrolabe said. “Welcome. I have much to tell you.”

Edgar nodded. “We have had some interesting experiences as well. I notice you haven’t been shaved yet.”

“I thought I’d ask your opinion first,” Astrolabe said. “It may be better that I remain a guard for a time.”

Edgar raised his eyebrows at that but, at that moment, Margaret remembered familial duty and with an effort switched her attention to her brother.

“Are you really going to Spain?” she asked after she had kissed him. “If so, I have a shopping list for you.”

“I thought you might,” Edgar grinned. “I’m glad to see you, too. Now, will you find someone to see to our horses so that I can go see what havoc my children have wrought on this peaceful convent?”

Canon Rolland and Brother Arnulf also participated in an Ash Wednesday procession. The faithful wound through the streets of Nogent. There were more penitents this year than usual, thinner, more ragged, apprehensive.

Rolland watched them with a speculative expression.

“These people are fearful now,” he told his friend. “They look at the world around them and see the hand of God raised in punishment. Today they believe their misery is their own fault. But tomorrow they’ll start wondering what they could have done to deserve to watch their children starve. Then they’ll realize that it’s their leaders who are to blame. God isn’t interested in the rabble, but in punishing the kings and bishops who are leading them into Hell.”

“And when they realize this, then what?” Arnulf asked.

“Then…well, that is the question, isn’t it?” Rolland said.

“Do you have an answer?”

“Not yet,” Rolland told him. “It depends a great deal on what is decided at the council in Reims next month. I seriously doubt that the bishops and abbots will be able to stop their endless squabbling over authority and tithes long enough to face the real threat.”

“Heresy,” the monk said decidedly.

“Exactly,” Rolland said. “It surrounds us. It has become a viper in the bosom of the very highest circles of the church. If we can’t bring the faithful back to the faith, if we can’t present a unified leadership, then we shall splinter into a thousand sects that Satan will easily conquer.”

“That sounds like the end of the world.” The monk shivered.

“It does indeed,” Rolland agreed. “And I, for one, am not prepared to face it.” Come, we have work to do. Back to Paris. Master Peter and Master Adam are preparing to catch a much larger fish than this Breton. You and I have been bringing in the wandering preachers and madmen of the forest. But they have discovered a heretic in bishop’s garb. Even so, our information may help the pope to realize the deadly gravity of the situation.”

“If he only saw these poor people, that would be enough,” Arnulf said sadly. “Their plight only convinces me that my desire to denounce all heretics is necessary, especially when the poison has filtered from one of the worst of them down to the next generation.”

“Abelard’s son?” Rolland said. “Are you quite certain about him? Perhaps we have let our judgment be clouded by old injuries.”

Arnulf stared at him. “How can you even think that? You can’t be weakening now. It’s Satan working in you. You must find him! Astrolabe is a heretic even the masters of Paris will not touch. It’s our responsibility to see that he is brought to trial along with all the others. The Christian world must know that we will protect it from evil, no matter where it is found.”

“Of course,” Rolland said. “I only wanted to be sure that my revenge would fall on one who deserved it. But it makes sense that the wickedness of Peter Abelard should reside in his son as well. The world thinks all us Bretons are fools or schismatics. I would have helped refute that, but Abelard made sure no one took me seriously. I was the first to know the evil hidden in his heart.”

Arnulf moved a step away as if to prevent Rolland from coming close enough to sense the wickedness that hid in his own heart. This one needed careful handling. The monk wondered if he had chosen his associate wisely. Restraint was needed if he was to accomplish his design.

“Papa! Papa!” James and Edana leapt from the tubs and ran across the cold floor to greet him.

“Come back here at once!” Catherine ordered as she and Emily grabbed for them.

“I’ll go see if their clothes are dry,” Emily suggested and slipped into the next room.

“Oh, Edgar!” Catherine said as she handed him a blanket to wrap around James while she captured Edana. “I’m so glad you’re finally here. I’m sorry that we took another route. I know it must have caused you trouble, but there was a problem. It seemed better at the time. Are you very upset?”

“Of course not. You made the best choice.” Edgar was surprised that she seemed to think he would be angry. “Who knows what would have happened if you’d gone to Nogent?
Carissima
, do you think I would have let you go with our children and much of our treasure if I didn’t believe you would know enough to deviate from the plan when necessary?”

Despite the fact that each of them was holding a slippery, clean and wriggly child, this conversation seemed to Catherine to be one of the most important they had ever had.

“I thought your only concern was to get the children out of the bad humors,” she said. “And you couldn’t leave immediately.”

“Yes, but if I didn’t trust you to make decisions and have the strength to carry them out, then I would have taken you all myself and trade be damned.”

“Oh.” Catherine smiled at him, eyes shining. “You never said that before.”

“I didn’t think I needed to,” Edgar answered.

Then another thought struck her.

“Does this mean you’re going to be gone on trading missions as much as my father was?” she asked. “Because if so, then I’d rather you thought I was irresponsible.”

“James,” Edgar said firmly, “I’m putting you down now. Take your sister and help her into her shift and you get dressed, too. If you behave I’ll take you on an elephant hunt before bed.”

Catherine waited while James took his sister’s hand and headed for the next room, where Sister Emily waited with their clothes.

“Now,” Edgar said, “I intend to explain to you why I don’t intend to stay away from home a moment longer than is necessary to keep us fed.”

“I hate to mention this,” Catherine said when she could catch her breath, “but I know Mother Heloise wants to see you. Also, I need to sit down. Your next child is kicking me dreadfully.”

That night they ate a stew made from dried fish soaked in water with herbs. It was poured into a trencher of bread. Solomon, Edgar, Catherine and Astrolabe shared it, scooping out the stew with their spoons and then tearing the bread into equal shares.

“At least during Lent I don’t need to worry so much about being offered pork,” Solomon commented as he finished his piece and washed it down with cold water. “But I’ll be glad to head south where the wine flows in all seasons.”

“Have you decided to come with us, Astrolabe?” Edgar asked.

Astrolabe leaned back against the wall behind his bench. It seemed to Catherine that he had aged in the past week or so. It wasn’t only the beard, which did show grey, but an air about him of sadness. It gave him a
gravitas
that he hadn’t had before. It made him seem more like his father in attitude, if not in appearance.

“It might be best if you left the country until after the council,” Catherine suggested.