Heresy: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery (12 page)

“I see that you are with child,” the countess said. “How far along are you?”

“Almost five months, by my reckoning,” Catherine answered.

Sybil nodded, appearing to be thinking something else. But she wasn’t finished with Catherine.

“Then you’re past the dangerous time,” she said. “The quickening has occurred?”

“Oh, yes.” This was the most active of her children so far.

“Excellent.” Sybil said no more but signaled for the servants to pour the wine.

Heloise motioned to have the trenchers brought in.

It was another Lenten meal of fish stew in bread trenchers, and the wine was heavily mixed with water, but it was still much more than Heloise and her nuns would normally eat at this time of year. Catherine wondered if she could save some for Margaret. How much could she tuck in her sleeve before anyone noticed?

Come to think of it, she wondered why Margaret wasn’t dining with them. Edgar’s sister was much better born than Catherine. She wasn’t cloistered and, at fifteen, was older than many married noblewomen. It would have been natural for her to be included.

There was something happening here.

Catherine bent over her meal, trying to look modest and uninterested in the conversation. From time to time she glanced at the countess’s ward.

Annora was young but older than Margaret, probably in her early twenties. She was quite attractive: pale, blond, with light eyes that seemed to change from grey to green in the candlelight. She tended to keep them half closed through the meal. Catherine wondered if she thought this made her look mysterious or if she were just half asleep with boredom.

Astrolabe had received the impression from Cecile that the family had a fairly large holding in Normandy. Since Sybil’s nephew, Henry, now controlled Normandy, it was natural that she would concern herself with the girl. It was odd that Annora wasn’t married by now. No doubt it was another thing that had been delayed by the departure of so many eligible men on the expedition to the Holy Land. It was terrible that she would have to bear the loss of her sister alone.

At the moment the others were discussing the expedition. Sybil was explaining her problems with Baldwin of Hainaut, and the chamberlain, Eustace, was extolling the bravery and skill that Sybil had shown in keeping Baldwin from taking over Flanders.

“I am blessed in the strength and loyalty of my people,” Sybil said. “But we should not have had to endure these attacks. Baldwin broke his oath and should have been excommunicated immediately. Yet nothing has been done. I need your help, Heloise.”

Heloise did not appear to be surprised.

“Of course,” she said. “I shall be happy to do whatever is in my power, but my influence is small.”

Sybil gave a refined snort.

“You are much too modest,” she said. “You have contacts at most of the monastic houses in the area. I need you to write asking that the abbots and abbesses lend their voices to my request for a condemnation of Baldwin.”

“Honestly, I don’t know if that will help,” Heloise answered. “Even if you get the pope to put Baldwin and all of Hainaut under interdict, it won’t matter unless the bishops of Baldwin’s own land respect the decree.”

“We know that,” Eustace intervened. “But we are hoping that an interdict will encourage the count of Champagne to support us as well.”

Catherine looked up. Now it was even odder that Margaret had not been included. And certainly Count Thibault wasn’t the one Sybil would normally have asked. There were other lords closer to Flanders who had no love for Baldwin. She opened her mouth to say so but shut it at a glance from Heloise.

The abbess looked puzzled. “But Count Thibault sent most of his best men with his son in King Louis’s army. He could hardly commit many soldiers to help you.”

“It’s true that we sent the best of our soldiers and knights to liberate the Holy Land,” Sybil agreed. “Including my own husband. That’s only proper. I had in mind another sort of support from Count Thibault. Are you acquainted with Raoul of Vermandois?”

“Not personally,” Heloise said frostily. “He’s been living in adultery with the queen’s sister for years now. They aren’t likely to visit me.”

“There are those who feel that the union has been legitimized,” Eustace said. “Raoul’s first marriage was annulled by the requisite number of bishops. But he would like his marriage to Petronilla of Aquitaine to be countenanced by the pope. We understand that Thibault, Countess Mahaut, and Raoul’s former wife, Elenora, will all be at Reims for the council. I understand that they plan to stop here on their way.”

Heloise dipped her fingers in the bowl of water the page was offering. She dried them thoroughly on her napkin before answering.

“Are you suggesting that I counsel them to withdraw their objections to the annulment?” she asked.

Her voice sounded shocked, but Catherine knew Heloise too well. The abbess had been expecting this.

Sybil gestured for the page to offer Heloise the fruit plate, oranges brought at great expense from Spain. Heloise took one and peeled it in a spiral. Catherine exhaled. So did Sybil.

“Elenora has let it be known that she has no feeling left for Raoul and no interest in returning to him,” the countess said. “She is provided for with her dower lands, and they were childless. The only obstacle is the affront to the honor of Champagne. Count Thibault was furious that his cousin was cast off so blatantly. Surely you can make him see that he gains nothing by continuing in his opposition.”

Heloise finished her orange and wiped her hands and mouth again. She smiled at Sybil.

“You’re planning an alliance with Vermandois, aren’t you?” she asked. “Is this part of the bargain?”

Sybil gave a look like a child caught with her thumb in the honey pot.

“We have discussed a marriage between my son, Phillip, and Raoul’s daughter, Elizabeth,” she admitted. “We were also talking about my Margaret marrying young Raoul.”

Young was right. None of the children were more than twelve. Young Raoul wasn’t walking, yet.

“Two marriages?” Heloise said. “Is Vermandois that important?”

“Of course,” Sybil exclaimed. “It’s right on our border. And we need the connection to the French crown if we’re to survive. Raoul is coregent now, as well as being the king’s cousin.”

Catherine understood that. She had always been glad that she could watch from outside as the children of the nobility were traded back and forth among families until they needed charts to work out who their cousins were and how many times over. But in order for the matches to be of any use for dynastic purposes, legitimacy was important. For some reason the Flemish were more particular about this than most. They traced both the maternal and paternal lines and demanded that the nobility marry only other noble families. After a few generations, this became almost impossible without resorting to incest. If Sybil’s children were to marry those of Raoul and Petronilla, then their legitimacy would have to be beyond question, no matter how exalted their birth.

The candles were burning low. Even though the discussion fascinated Catherine, she found it hard not to stifle a yawn. The baby woke her up each night with more regularity than the bells calling the nuns to prayer. Across the table from her, Annora was also trying to keep her eyes open. The woman had said nothing the entire evening. Catherine wondered why she was even there.

Heloise must have noted their attempts to stay awake. She rose from the table.

“You are a wise woman, my lady,” she said. “You can see beyond the immediate. Yes, I shall discuss the matter with the count and countess of Champagne. They may have already come to the same conclusion on their own. And I will give you my support in placing ecclesiastical censure on Baldwin, although I fear it won’t substitute for your army.”

Sybil rose too, and Catherine gratefully stood up. Her feet felt swollen and numb after sitting so long. It was all she could do to hobble back to her room. While the food had been excellent and the politics interesting, she still had no idea why Heloise had insisted that she be there.

She said as much to Samonie as the maid ripped her sleeves off and unlaced the
bliaut
over her
chainse
.

“The talk was all about the situation in Flanders. Not a word concerning Astrolabe,” she complained. “Oh, yes! It’s so good to be able to lie down. I had nothing to contribute to the conversation at all.”

“Perhaps,” Samonie said mildly as she massaged arnica and lavender oil on Catherine’s feet, “you were supposed to be listening.”

She left Catherine next to the sleeping children while she went to shake out the good robes and fold them into the clothes chest. When she returned, Catherine greeted her with a sheepish smile.

“Samonie,” she said, “the king should have counselors as accurate and honest as you. Now I’ll spend all night wondering what point I was meant to take note of.”

The maid climbed into the bed and over the children to her place next to the wall.

“Don’t wake me if you discover it,” she said as she burrowed into the blankets.

But both she and Catherine were sound asleep before the bells rang for Compline.

Astrolabe had not slept so well.

“Now that I’ve seen Cecile’s sister I feel less happy about keeping the truth from her,” he told Heloise the next morning as they met outside the convent chapel. “As I’ve thought about it, I’ve begun to feel that my best chance is to speak out first. I should go to Pope Eugenius and tell him why I was with Eon and what Cecile told me about the situation at the abbey of Sainte-Croix. Abbot Moses will confirm that the count of Tréguier has taken over the abbey. Moreover, the abbess of Saint-Georges should know at once what has happened to the nuns who were taken from her.”

He looked down into his mother’s eyes and saw her fear for him struggling with the knowledge that he was right.

She put her hands over his.

“Let me pray first,” she begged him. “I need guidance before deciding.”

Astrolabe nodded. He didn’t want to hurt her and he most assuredly didn’t want to find himself branded as a murderer and heretic. But he had already made his decision. His mother wanted him to be cautious and safe. His father would have wanted him to be honest and unafraid.

Perhaps he had inherited more from Abelard than just his face.

Countess Sybil was also heading for the chapel. Her face didn’t reflect her usual piety. Heloise had agreed far too easily to something that must have gone against her beliefs. There must be a reason. And why was that pregnant woman at the table? She had no title. Her position at the convent had not been explained. Was Heloise sheltering a woman who had been wronged by some nobleman? Not her husband, Thierry, of course. He was devoted to her, more so than she to him, she feared. And, of course, he had been gone more than nine months already. Sybil was sure that she was about to be asked to bring one of her men to task. She shook her head. If the woman wasn’t wellborn, there was little chance that the man would acknowledge the child.

If only Heloise would ask something else of her.

It was a relief to everyone when, after Tierce, Heloise summoned them to meet her in the guest house. Catherine was pleased that this time Margaret was included.

As the day was chill, the abbess seated them all grouped around the charcoal brazier. As they moved closer to the warmth, Heloise chose to stand. For once, everyone was looking up at her, even her tall son.

She spent a long moment before she spoke, as if searching for inspiration to find the right words. Finally, she smiled at them all.

“Countess Sybil, I know you’ve been wondering why I agreed to support a marriage that I believe to be based in sin,” she began.

Sybil nodded. “I know that political concerns would not be enough to persuade you,” she said warily.

“This is so,” Heloise agreed. “I must confess that I need to ask for your help on a matter I consider much more serious. After consulting with my friends and my conscience I have decided to trust you with all the information.”

She went over to Annora and took her hands.

“I am so very sorry, my child, to have to inform you that your sister, Cecile, has been killed in Brittany.”

Annora gasped and drew her hands away. “No! That’s impossible!” She cried. “Cecile is safe in the convent of Saint-Georges.”

Catherine started. What had made the abbess change her mind?

“Astrolabe”—Heloise turned to her son—“please explain what happened.”

“Thank you, Mother,” he said. “She has the right to know.”

He knelt by Annora’s stool. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I should have protected her.”

She stared at him without comprehension.

“It began last autumn…” Astrolabe told the story as gently as he could, leaving out Cecile’s torment at the hands of the count’s knights; but by the end, Annora was sobbing uncontrollably. Sybil took the girl in her arms.

“Why didn’t you tell us at once?” she asked. “This murder is a crime not only against poor Cecile but against the Church as well.”

“I confess that I feared for my son,” Heloise said. “It is possible that Astrolabe may be accused of this horrible deed. Cecile recognized someone among those who raided the camp of the Eonists. This was no doubt the reason she was killed. But someone also recognized Astrolabe and seems to wish to see him take the blame. I don’t know if these people are the same. I do believe that, if he is accused, it will happen at Reims before the pope and all the prelates of Christendom. We must discover the truth before that can happen.”