Heresy: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery (35 page)

After preliminaries and prayers, Archbishop Engebaud stood again before the council.

“Have the prisoner brought in!” he ordered.

There was a shuffle at the door to the vestry and Eon appeared, a guard on either side.

Catherine took one look and understood how, despite his insane claim, Eon could inspire such devotion. She had expected a ragged, dirty preacher like Henry of Lausanne or Robert of Arbrissel, wild-eyed and unkempt. Eon could have been a king. He was tall, with a finely chiseled face and strong chin. His eyes were large and penetrating. Despite his weeks in captivity he held his head high, moving smoothly as if his chains did not exist. Samson must have been a tolerant custodian indeed, for Eon’s beard and hair had been trimmed and his robe was clean. He had even been allowed to keep his staff. That surprised her most of all. It wasn’t as if he needed it for support.

Eon surveyed the assembly without fear. He even seemed amused by all the attention he was receiving. Astrolabe was right. There was something about him that radiated authority and kindness. There was nothing in his stance to suggest madness.

“Catherine, he’s beautiful!” Margaret whispered in astonishment.

Catherine agreed. From the murmurs around them, others did, too.

Pope Eugenius did not appear impressed.

“You are here to answer serious charges,” he told Eon. “First, state your name and your family.”

Eon smiled. He seemed completely at ease.

“I am Eum,” he said. “Come to judge the living and the dead and the world by fire, as my father has commanded.”

There was a ripple through the room. The pope held up his hand for silence.

“And that staff you carry,” he asked. “What is its significance?”

Eon stepped closer, as if confiding a secret. The guards yanked him back. He wasn’t fazed. He held up the staff for all to see, a simple piece of wood, forked at one end like the tools used to load hay.

“There is a great and holy secret to this staff,” he explained in a conversational tone. “My divine Father and I have an arrangement. When I hold my staff like this, with the two tines looking to Heaven, then God has control over two-thirds of the earth. But when I reverse it, like this”—he turned the staff upside down—“then two-thirds of the earth are mine to govern and only one-third is his.”

He smiled as if everything were now settled.

There was a moment of silence, and then the whole assembly burst out laughing.

“This is your dangerous heretic?” Eugenius asked Archbishop Engebaud. “Would that all heresies were so foolish!”

“He has many followers,” Engebaud said. “They have terrorized simple hermits and robbed the villages throughout the area.”

“And no doubt outlaws and other villains have used him as a subterfuge for their own activities.” Eugenius considered Eon. The Breton smiled again. He seemed completely unaware of the gravity of the charges against him.

“I should speak now,” Astrolabe said.

“No,” Catherine told him. “I don’t think the pope means to have Eon executed, or even insist on a profession of faith from him. Everyone can see that he’s simple, just as you have always said. Wait!” She pointed. “That’s Arnulf, over there, by the pillar. He’s the one we need to be ready for.”

The monk was trying to push his way to the front.

Eugenius consulted a moment with the cardinals. They all seemed to be in agreement. The pope stood to announce the decision.

“It is our opinion that this man is not in his right mind.” He spoke loudly so that all could hear. “His heresy is not diabolical but the result of madness. However, since he has led others from orthodoxy to the peril of their eternal souls, we ask Samson, archbishop of Reims, to see that he continues to be held in custody for his own protection and the wellbeing of those whom he had led astray. He is not to be ill treated,” the pope added. “It may be that one day Our Lord may remove the scales from his eyes and restore his senses.”

“No!” a voice called out. “My lords, I beg you!”

Arnulf shoved aside all in his path without regard for rank.

“This man is dangerous, far more than you know.” He panted as he approached the front. “He has led others to commit terrible sins! They kidnapped and murdered a noblewoman. He must be punished along with his most wicked disciple…Will you get out of my way, woman!”

Annora had been trying to see where the noise was coming from. She didn’t realize that Arnulf was heading her way until he ran into her.

“How dare you!” she cried, grabbing at his robe to keep from falling. “Who do you think you are?”

She peered at him more closely as he frantically tried to release her grip.

“Arnold?” she said. “Is that you?”

Annora pulled his face closer to hers.

“Arnold of Valfonciere, what are you doing here?” she demanded.

“My name is Arnulf, lady!” he snapped at her, struggling to break free. “Someone help me!”

“Arnold, the monastery promised they wouldn’t let you go wandering off.” Annora shook him. “We gave them tithes to make sure of it. Now, how did you get out and what have you been up to?”

“Anno…ra!” Arnulf whined. “I’m doing God’s work here. Your behavior is most improper.”

Annora suddenly remembered where she was. She let go of Arnulf’s robe. He skittered back a few steps as people moved quickly to get out of his way.

Pope Eugenius leaned over to where his clerk was scribbling the events for the edification of posterity.

“This will not go into the records,” he said. “Understand?”

The clerk smoothed over the previous two paragraphs in the soft wax. The pope rose in his chair.

“Who is this man?” he asked the world in general.

Archbishop Engebaud tried to retrieve command of the situation.

“Brother Arnulf is a monk of Brittany who has been aiding us in gathering information concerning the heretic Eon,” he explained. “He was not authorized to speak today. I very humbly beg your pardon for his unseemly outburst.”

He waved at his deacons.

“Remove him,” he commanded.

“Just a moment,” Eugenius stopped them. “What was he saying about a murder?”

Eon, momentarily forgotten, took a few steps toward Arnulf.

“You are not one of my flock,” he said. Then he spied Astrolabe.

“Peter!” he cried, grinning broadly. “I’m so glad you were unhurt by the devils who invaded our home. They martyred our beautiful Cecile, you know. But I can see her watching us all from Heaven. I shall join her soon.”

Samson Mauvoisin covered his face with his hands. So much for taking care of matters in private. He approached the pope.

“If I may explain, your Ineffable Patience,” he said.

The pope nodded with a sigh.

Samson related as much as he knew about the death of Cecile. Catherine had to admit that he did so fairly. She did note that he neglected to mention Rolland’s death.

“It was Peter Abelard’s son who killed her!” Arnulf screamed from where the deacons were trying to control him. “He told me so! He cut her throat and ran, but he can’t escape judgment. There were witnesses!”

“Can you present them?” Eugenius asked sharply.

“The men sent by the archbishop of Tours!” Arnulf was pleading now. “The soldiers. They know. They told me who he was and then I followed him in Paris. He’s friends with Jews! He’s evil!”

Astrolabe felt it was time to speak. He came to stand next to Engebaud.

Eugenius stared at him, mouth open in amazement.

“No need to ask your name,” he said. “You are my old master to the life. Amazing. Perhaps you would care to explain the accusations made by this monk? If it is true, as the archbishop of Reims has just said, that you were taken with the Eonites, then even my respect for your father won’t be enough to keep you from censure.”

“It is true that I was with them, my lord,” Astrolabe admitted. “But I was not one of them. Eon’s cousins asked me to convince him to return home. I was attempting to do so when the encampment was invaded.”

“I see, and the woman, the one who was killed, was she one of them?”

“No, she was taken in by Eon after escaping from the horror of Sainte-Croix as Abbot Moses and Abbess Marie related,” Astrolabe explained. “She was murdered after we were captured, I believe by one of the men in the raiding party whom she recognized.”

“No!” Arnulf wept, pointing at Astrolabe. “He did it. The son of a cruel heretic, you can’t let him go, my lord. He killed Cecile, my beautiful cousin. I saw her body. That’s what happens when dissenters are allowed to run free. Please, my lord. He killed her. He has to burn!”

Samson had a whispered conversation with Engebaud. He then bowed to the pope.

“My lord, with your permission,” he said. “This matter does not concern the church at large. Perhaps Archbishop Engebaud and I can interview the persons involved in this matter and report our conclusions to you at a later time.”

“With pleasure,” he said. “Abbot Bernard, Abbot Suger, this seems to involve monastic irregularities. Does either of you wish to be present for these interviews?”

Catherine hadn’t noticed the tiny abbot of Saint-Denis before. Suger sat near the pope, as regent of France in Louis’s absence, but he had said nothing during the proceedings. Nor did he now. He simply shook his head. Abbot Bernard did the same, adding that he trusted the sagacity of the two archbishops.

“I’m sure they will uncover the truth,” he told the pope.

“Then I declare the session ended.” Eugenius stood. “We shall convene tomorrow, at which time the canons of the council will be read.”

Again there was a long wait while the dignitaries made their exit.

Catherine felt limp after the excitement. But there was one thing she had to know.

Annora was still standing next to Arnulf, now flanked by a pair of solid deacons who didn’t seem inclined to let him leave. She was glaring at him in fury, but mindful of the place, she held her tongue. Catherine wasn’t about to wait until they had left the cathedral. She took the woman’s shoulder and spun her around.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you couldn’t see past the end of your nose?” she demanded. “Do you realize the trouble you’ve caused? You were there when Arnulf was giving his evidence Tuesday night. You should have recognized him then.”

“I thought the voice was familiar,” she admitted, looking ashamed. “But I hadn’t seen him in years. I thought he was safe in the Norman monastery where his parents had placed him.”

“And why was he placed there?” Catherine asked. “Is he insane?”

“Oh, no!” Annora said. “At least,” she added, looking at him, still babbling to the deacons, “he wasn’t when he entered. He did hear voices sometimes, warning him of enemies plotting against him. He was in constant fear and would accuse totally harmless people of trying to kill him, even me once. The story I heard was that the family thought he’d feel less frightened in the company of the monks.”

“He must have thought they were against him, too.” Catherine almost felt pity for Arnulf. “So he ran away. I wonder how he wound up in Tours.”

Astrolabe had joined them in time to hear the last of this.

“What I want to know is who told him about me,” he said.

Arnulf saw him and began screaming again.

“I don’t think you’re going to get it from him now,” Catherine said sadly as the deacons dragged the monk off. “But I feel confident that you’re not under suspicion anymore in Cecile’s death.”

Astrolabe gave a sad smile. “Perhaps not, but unless we find who really did it, there will be people who will always think that I was guilty but bought my exoneration from the bishop. And, there is still the murder of Canon Rolland. So far I seem to be the only one with a reason for wanting him dead.”

“That’s true. Arnulf was our best hope as an alternate suspect,” Catherine sighed. “How did he see Cecile’s body? At Tours? He might have taken her brooch then. But I don’t think he was present at the dinner where I found it. And there’s no use asking you if he was, Annora.”

“Don’t be so resentful, Catherine,” she answered. “Why should I tell anyone that the world beyond the end of my arm is nothing but a blur? A man doesn’t want a wife who can’t see clearly.”

“I don’t know,” Catherine said. “I’d say most men would prefer it. I should have guessed it anyway, when you mistook Raoul of Vermandois for the pope.”

The crowd was clearing. Catherine looked around for Margaret and John. She didn’t see him, but Margaret was with her grandfather, waving for them to join her.

“Well, that was a fine show,” Count Thibault greeted them. “I’m sure Sybil of Anjou will have a few things to say to you, young woman, about disrupting official synods.”

“I am most mortified by my behavior, my lord,” Annora told him.

“That’s her affair, not mine,” he waved off her apologies. “And you may have saved me another evening of listening to tedious narratives of crime.

“Now, Astrolabe,” he continued, “I’ve spoken to Samson and Engebaud. Neither of them wishes to consider you a murder suspect any longer.”

“I am relieved to hear that,” Astrolabe said. “Thank you, my lord. But someone killed Cecile and Rolland, and is still free. I thought it was Arnulf, but now I’m not sure.”

“I must agree,” Thibault said. “He doesn’t have enough
pendon
.”

Countess Mahaut interrupted at this point.

“It’s been a long day,” she said. “Margaret’s sister-in-law looks dead on her feet, if you’ll excuse my saying so, my dear. Perhaps all of you could come to our chambers after dinner this evening. There are a number of questions that need answering. You, too, young man,” she added to John, who had just arrived.

“Of course my lady,” he bowed.

“Now, all of you go get some rest,” she said, waving them off. “I want a complete explanation of this by tonight. Margaret, you may stay. I want to introduce you to a few friends.”

Margaret shot Catherine a look of panic but smiled at the countess and stayed.

Catherine shook her head. She had to do something to make Margaret take a stand against this marriage.

“I feel as if I’d been turned inside out, washed and laid out to shrivel in the sun,” Catherine said as they left the cathedral.

“You need to sit someplace with your feet up and have someone bring you herbed wine and honey,” Annora said.

“I’d be happy with water,” Catherine said. “But both you and the countess are right. I must get off my feet before they explode. Astrolabe! What are you doing?”

“Getting you off your feet,” he laughed as he lifted her into his arms. “Now, it’s not an elegant way to travel, but it’s not that far to Saint-Pierre. Catherine, you haven’t been eating enough.”

“Just be glad I’m no heavier,” Catherine teased. “Thank you, old friend. The distance to the convent seems a hundred miles to me just now.”

Astrolabe carried her to the gate of Saint-Pierre. She kissed him good day and went in immediately. “We will solve this,” she told him before climbing the stairs. “No more rumors.”

“Lady Annora.” Astrolabe stopped her before she followed Catherine. “I know this has been a difficult time for you, too. But please make sure that someone sees to her. Catherine is not as strong as she pretends.”

“No one could be,” Annora said. “Except perhaps my lady Sybil.”

“That was an interesting display,” John told Astrolabe as they went back across the square. “I promised to write my friend Peter about the events at the council. I wouldn’t know how to begin to tell this tale.”

“John, you won’t tell about what happened to me, will you?” Astrolabe said in alarm.

“Why not?” he asked. “You’ve been exonerated.”

“But why have it known that I was ever under suspicion?” he said. “The fewer who know this, the better, to my mind.”

“It will be difficult,” he said. “But I don’t suppose future readers will care about some
stultus
from Brittany too mad even to convert.”

“Is that what you think of me?”

“Of course not,” he answered. “I meant Eon, you dolt!”

Then he saw Astrolabe’s face.

“Well, I’m glad you can still joke about it,” he said. “Very well. I promise never to write a word of this episode. I’m more interested in the debate on the teachings of master Gilbert, anyway.”

“Oh, yes,” Astrolabe yawned. “I must confess I find Eon’s beliefs more comprehensible than his. If the bishop’s so important, why are they waiting until most of the council has left before they discuss him?”

“I don’t know,” John admitted. “Perhaps his opponents are hoping he’ll die of old age before they have to face him.”

“That old man may outlive all of his detractors,” Astrolabe said. “I wish my father could have. Perhaps I should attend his trial, although I own I’ve had enough of heresy for a lifetime.”

“Don’t worry,” John said. “I’ll be there for all of it. When I write my report to Peter, I’ll have a copy sent to you.”

“Fair enough,” Astrolabe said. “Shall we go meet Godfrey, or do you also need a nap?”

“You know what I need,
vieux compang
,” John grinned, “and I’m sure your friend Godfrey will be happy to share.”

They found Godfrey waiting impatiently. John’s eyes lit when he saw the pitcher at his elbow.

“I found where Gui was staying,” he told them even before they started to pour.

“Was?” Astrolabe asked. “Does that mean he’s gone?”

“I don’t know.” Godfrey was clearly puzzled. “It seems he came back from the Temple, not much worse for wear but greatly changed in character.”

“What about the people who were supposed to have fetched him?” John asked.

“No one has seen them,” Godfrey said. “But the first thing he did when he got back to his room was give away his horse.”

“What!” both men said together.

“Are you sure, Godfrey?” Astrolabe asked. “You must mean his packhorse or a mule.”

“No.” Godfrey shook his head slowly. “His best warhorse, the one that he won at a tourney in Bordeaux two years ago.”

“But it must be worth more than all his land,” John said.

“At least three hundred silver marcs of Troyes,” Godfrey said. “I was told so several times. His friends can’t believe it, either.”

“But if he has nothing to ride, then he must still be in Reims,” Astrolabe said.

“If so, none of his companions have seen him. He also gave away most of his clothes, all his gear and his weapons.”

“He must have undergone some kind of conversion,” John said. “It’s the only explanation. Or he’s atoning for some great sin.”

“Like murder?” Astrolabe conjectured.

“I don’t know,” Godfrey told them. “His friends were completely stupefied by the change. Anyway, he gave everything away, went out the day before yesterday and hasn’t been seen since.”

“This is getting irritating,” John said. “I’m not accustomed to people vanishing suddenly.”