The de Montfort Histories - The Dove and the Devil (15 page)

Saissa looked apologetically at Arnaud.

“I understand,” he said. “She hardly knows me and three years is a long
time in the life of a little girl. When she is older, perhaps you will tell her
about me. For now, I must go and prepare myself further for our trip to
Carcassonne where there will be an important debate organized by the King of
Aragon. He thinks to reconcile some of our differences with the Catholic
Church, but I fear it is already a lost cause. The Church has too long abused
her powers and her excesses are well known to our people. Even the Pope
complains of the evil examples set by some of his clergy.”

Both Pierre and Saissa nodded silently. They had had dealings with a
rapacious and greedy church in their younger days and needed no encouragement
to support the elders of the Cathar Church. They liked the idea that women
could have a say in matters of belief and were not kept in the background where
preaching was concerned. Although becoming a female elder of the church was not
for everyone, as Saissa had often said, it suited some and it was pleasant to
be able to hear a woman’s point of view!

The trip to Carcassonne was an important milestone, both in the life of
Arnaud and in that of the Cathar Church. It would be the first time that the
young man had ever preached in front of a group of Catholics and almost the
last time that the two religions would come together in a spirit of friendship
to try to iron out their differences with regard to their beliefs. Making their
way towards the ancient walled city, Bertrand informed the young man that he
would be part of a jury, a group of thirteen Catholics and thirteen Cathars,
who would judge the merits of the debate that would be held the next day.

Arnaud confessed his amazement at his selection for such an honour,
wondering aloud if his youth would appear a weakness in the eyes of the other
jurors. He was encouraged when Bertrand told him that all
perfecti
were equal in God’s sight and that his opinion and
preaching were as valued as any. He would be expected to listen to arguments
put forth by both sides and make a judgement as to which side had preached most
effectively. He, along with all the others, would say which group had best
convinced the audience of the worth of its doctrine.

Bertrand would be one of the Cathars to preach the doctrine of the
Cathar Church, as would the Cathar Bishop of Carcassonne. This preaching would
be done openly, a fact which amazed Arnaud, drilled as he had been in the need
for secrecy in the seminary. On the Catholic side, the Pope’s Legates would
preach. Peter of Castelnau and the Abbot of Citeaux, Arnold-Almeric, would
present the case for the doctrine of Holy Mother Church.

When the Catholic Legates showed up, they were surrounded by an escort
worthy of the Pope himself. Their horses were superb, their baggage train
well-equipped and carrying many luxuries far beyond the ken of the simple
people who had come to listen to the arguments. In contrast, the Cathar
perfecti
arrived on foot and stayed not
in a bishop’s palace but in the modest homes of some of the believers.

It was unfortunate that the contrast between the humble Cathars and the
Pope’s envoys was so marked. How was it, some of the audience were heard to
ask, that Christ went on foot, preached poverty and was meek, yet the Pope’s
men came loaded with honours? If the oratory had convinced few, the examples
convinced many. Although they did not come forward openly at that time, many
souls were gained for the believers.

It was only after this theological debate had been judged a failure by
the Catholic Church that the envoys were advised to get off their horses,
cancel their gaudy escorts and stop expecting to be received as princes of the
church. They were advised to carry nothing with them except their Books of
Hours and whatever else was necessary for religious debate. This good advice
came from one Dominic de Guzman, a Spanish preacher who had spent some time in
the area trying to convert the heretics—a man who would later make his
mark in a very unpleasant way and with whom many Cathars would ultimately spend
some intimate and painful hours!

For the
perfecti
, the trip
home was as joyful as a long trudge through the February weather could be. They
were pleased with the outcome of the debate. Although on the surface it
appeared they had not made many converts, many disgruntled Catholics had begged
to talk to them afterwards. The inhabitants of the region of Occitania were the
most tolerant of people. Even the most devout Catholics amongst them could not
be aroused to any great passion with regard to the protection of their own
beliefs. They could see as well as any that, for the most part, the Church hierarchy
did not practise what it preached. Why, therefore, should ordinary people take
issue with friends who were believers, many of whom they had lived and worked
with for generations?

It was not until they reached the small Catholic stronghold of St. Hilaire
that Arnaud realised they were not heading back directly to Fanjeaux.

“We wondered when you were going to ask why we came this way,” Bertrand
remarked.

Arnaud’s only excuse was that his head was still in the debate at
Carcassonne and he had been paying no attention whatsoever to the road he was
travelling. “Where are we going?”

“We have been invited by the Count of Foix to stay for two nights at the
Chateau de Castela. His sister, Esclarmonde, is one of us and she will be
there—although I understand he won’t. He’s at Foix where he is
entertaining guests on behalf of his friend who has just remarried. His
messengers said only that she wished to talk to us and that there will be other
brethren there. She is not yet a
perfecta
but she is such a staunch believer and doer of good works that I think the time
is not far off when she will seek the consolamentum herself. Her husband has
recently died and her children are largely grown. Her brother the Count, as you
know, tolerates us and his wife is one of us also, so his discretion is assured
while we are his guests.”

           
“I
believe I have heard talk of her good works. I know it was her money that was
used to found our seminary at Fanjeaux. Isn’t the fortress of Montsegur part of
her inheritance?”

“I see you are well briefed, as always,” Bertrand said. “Yes, indeed it
is. You know that we have been allowed to use the fortress as our official
headquarters, but I understand it has begun to fall into ruin. I think this is
probably the business that Esclarmonde wishes to discuss. It is a valuable
centre for us, a place of pilgrimage where many women driven from our convents
have sought refuge in the past, and there are many believers there who only
desire its peace and solitude for prayerful reasons. No one wishes to see it
deteriorate any further. It is one of the few places where we can worship
openly in this area and is well used by believers and elders. It would be a
great loss if it disappeared.”

“Then with God’s help we must do our best to see that doesn’t happen,”
Arnaud said.

Their arrival at the chateau was greeted without fanfare—the
perfecti
would not have wished
otherwise. Although the Count of Foix was not a persecutor of believers on his
domain, he felt it politic not to advertise the fact that his sister was using
one of his chateaux as a meeting place for the heretics. They were greeted by
some of the other
perfecti
who had
arrived earlier, and then spirited away to the apartments belonging to the Lady
Esclarmonde.

As they entered her solarium, they found it simply furnished with just a
few benches and a table. A blazing fire kept the chill out of the air in the
otherwise draughty chamber. In the summer, it caught the sun’s rays, but now in
the depth of February—even in this temperate part of France—the
stone walls seemed to capture and cling to the dampness. The lady Esclarmonde
stood in the middle of the room, a tall, elegant woman whose slim body and
unlined face bore no witness to the large family she had already borne. Coming
towards them in greeting, she made the formal bow of respect to them and
receiving their blessing, invited them to be seated.

She had come from a noble and rich background. Sister to the Count of
Foix and widowed, she was the mother of six grown children. She was
suzeraine
over vast lands and managed
their running with meticulous efficiency. Well-educated and able to hold her
own in conversations and discussions on theological matters, she could be a
formidable opponent in any debate. That she would eventually become a
perfecta
was never in doubt. Her
reputation for good works was well known throughout Occitania, and her
provision of places of refuge for Cathars who were being persecuted for their
beliefs in the Northern provinces of France
was
renowned. She was deemed a holy and righteous woman far beyond her brother’s
domains. She was said to have had mystical experiences in her earlier life,
which had compelled her to help others by establishing her foundations of
schools, hospitals and houses where young men and women could study the Cathar
faith.

It did not take Arnaud long to discover what a formidable woman they
were conversing with. Her mind was as sharp and clear as crystal. Her ability
to sum up situations speedily and succinctly could put many men who fancied
themselves great speakers to shame. It was not long before the real reason for
their visit became clear. Just as Bertrand had suspected, the matter of the
rebuilding of Montsegur was the main topic of discussion.

“As you all know, Montsegur is becoming the headquarters of our faith
here in Occitania,” she began. “Many knights and pilgrims go there to renew
their beliefs and to strengthen their ties with others of our brethren. It is
in a sad state of disrepair and, as I am sure you are already aware, several
perfecti
live in the village below,
giving advice to those persecuted on how best to overcome the struggle with our
enemy. It must not be allowed to deteriorate further. It is a greatly valued
site, a place of pilgrimage that we must conserve at all costs, but because the
land on which Montsegur stands is held in fief to my brother by Raymond of
Perella, we must ask Raymond’s permission to attend to the rebuilding of the
place.”

Arnaud felt compelled to speak up. “My lady, will it not attract
attention if it becomes known that work is afoot there?”

“A good question, but no, I think not. The fortress stands too high to
be attacked. It is not on any particular route to anywhere and therefore is of
little strategic value to anyone but those of us who wish to be left alone to
worship in peace. No, I think that no one will bother us. We have plenty of
labour to help with the rebuilding; many believers live in huts just below the
fortress and will willingly offer their time and skill in such a holy
endeavour.”

“You are right, my lady,” Bertrand said. “And there are hundreds of
brethren who live in the villages around Montsegur who would count it a
privilege and a delight to come and work for our cause.”

“You and Arnaud can carry my letter to Raymond.” She stopped talking and
looked around her, aware that she had just given orders to one of the most
respected of
perfecti
. “Please
forgive me if I sound demanding of your time, but the sooner work is started,
the better it will be for everyone concerned. I would go myself but I must go
to Fanjeaux with Guilhabert de Castres.” She looked away modestly. “I am to
receive the consolamentum and must spend more time in preparation.”

The delight on Bertrand’s face was plain to see. “Thanks be to God! We
have long wondered when this blessed event would take place. God bless you in
your undertaking, my lady. Perhaps we shall be back in time to join in your
celebration, but if we are not, may God be with you in your new life!”

So saying, Bertrand administered the blessing of peace to all who were
assembled there, and the
perfecti
left the solarium with Esclarmonde’s promise to seek permission from Raymond of
Perella to start work on the little fortress atop the mountain of Montsegur.

Chapter Ten

Occitania, South of France

1204 AD

Simon

It was a festive sight that greeted the saddle-weary travellers as they
clattered across the drawbridge of the chateau at Foix where they would meet
Simon’s friend Count Bernard de Comminges and his wife Comptors. The chateau
was
en fête
because Bernard had just
remarried a wife he had previously divorced. His cousin Raymond-Roger, the
Count de Foix, had invited him to celebrate the occasion at his castle, which
was bedecked with garlands and ribbons, pennants and colourful pavilions. That
this was Bernard’s fourth foray into the state of matrimony mattered not at
all; everyone enjoyed a celebration!

Simon had still not told Amaury that Alicia, Guy and his little sister
would be there, so the surprise was complete when Amaury spotted his mother
amongst the throng of people who had gathered to welcome the tired
ex-Crusaders.

“Maman!” Although he was nearly fully grown, Amaury flung himself from
his horse and into his mother’s arms. They had not seen each other for such a
long time that on occasions while he had been in Venice, Amaury had tested
himself to see if he could remember his mother’s face and that of his little
brother. To his shame, he had found that he could only remember them with
difficulty, so much had happened in his life. It had been filled with so many
new sights and sounds, people and places, it was little wonder that the memory
of his mother’s exact expressions and her mannerisms had faded!

Everything came flooding back now in a flash—all the remembrances
of his early childhood. It was as if he had not been away at all! He could see
her, tall and beautiful as she greeted her lord. Then she turned once more to
her oldest son.

“Let me look at you.” Alicia held him at arms length and looked
searchingly at his face. Gone were the babyish planes of childhood. His face
had thinned and a hint of downy fuzz was beginning to show around his chin. He
was almost as tall as she was and not far off his father’s height. She pulled
him towards her again. Only now would she admit that she had often thought she
might never see him again. She had prayed every day for his safety. Hugging him
tightly, she turned and beckoned to the young boy who was lurking behind her,
dressed in the uniform of a page with the arms of Comminges embroidered on the
back. Surely this could not be his little brother Guy!

 
          
“Come,
speak to your brother.” His mother pushed the bashful child forward. Guy was
tongue-tied at the sight of this tall stranger who now bent over to kiss his
cheek.

“Come, little brother. Have you nothing to say to me? I see you have
entered the service of Milord de Comminges. How like you that?”

“I like it well enough, but it is a long way from home,” Guy answered
haltingly. “I will not see maman for several years once you have all departed
this place to return to Montfort.” His lips trembled as he spoke.

“You will find it difficult at first,” Amaury said. “Everyone does. But
soon your time will be taken up with your duties. And before long you will
become a squire. Look at me. Papa has promised that I may be his squire soon.”

“That’s all very well for you. You’ve never been away by yourself.
You’ve always been with papa.”

“Never mind. Cheer up. I have a present for you.”

Guy’s face brightened at the thought of a present. “What is it?”

“Do you remember the first suit of armour that our father gave me when
we were at Ecry at the tournament? Well, I saved it for you. It has been to
Venice and back and is still in good condition. Papa made me see to that! He
always said that armour not well taken care of is a gift to the enemy.”

“Can I see it now?” Guy’s face lit up at the thought of his own hauberk,
and with his spirits clearly lifted, he went off hand-in-hand with Amaury to
help him unpack.

Alicia watched as the two of them left, one so tall and dark and the
other shorter, stubbier and blond. Putting her arms around Simon, she led him
into their bedchamber. They had been apart for many months and their coming
together was a joyful reunion, not only of the body but of the soul. Their
marriage was not only one of convenience and the acquisition of estates; it was
one of those rare cases of true love. Simon had been smitten with Alicia from
the moment he had first seen her as a child. The fact that she was a de
Montmorency, granddaughter of a queen, had interested him little. Had she been
the daughter of a weaver he would have felt the same.

As they lay together, Simon marvelled at his wife’s beauty. She had
borne him three children already, yet she was as slim as the day he had married
her. Her long blond hair was still lustrous and her face bore no trace of the
worry she had felt for both her husband and her son whilst they had been away.
She had managed Simon’s estates in such a way that they had prospered, and she
had had no doubts about leaving the running of them to a steward in her
absence. Everyone on the estates at Montfort knew that their lord was a fair
but hard taskmaster, and there was not one man or woman who would wish to run
afoul of him upon his return. Simon garnered respect, but it was Alicia upon
whom the devotion of all of the workers at Montfort was bestowed.

“While you were away, you had great troubles, milord.” Her fingers
traced the new lines etched in his face.

“It was a total disaster and a complete waste of time. Not only that, it
was a disgrace.” Simon sat up. “Alicia, you cannot comprehend the duplicity of
the Doge. He forced what remains of our army—all but a few of us who
left—to capture Zara, a Christian city, a city whose leader was one of
us, one who had taken the cross! Instead of fighting the infidel, they fought
and slew Christians. I tell you, Alicia, never was anything so infamously done!
The Holy Father has excommunicated them all, yet I hear they are going to
attack Constantinople next, another Christian city!” His face grew grave.

“There is talk that booty is not all the knights are interested in. The
Orthodox Church holds some interesting relics and you know how the Holy Father
would like to get his hands on those! He would pay a great premium if any of
the knights brought him back parts of the true cross or anything else so
singularly blessed. It is well known that he has no real feeling for the
Eastern Church, even though they are our Christian brethren. There is a fabled
cloth held by the Byzantine Emperor which is said to have great powers of
protection. How the Holy Father would like to own that!”

“What sort of cloth is it? How can a piece of cloth have powers of
protection?” Alicia asked with a puzzled expression on her face.

“It is a piece of linen that it is brought out any time the city is in
danger. They say it protects the inhabitants and gives them the courage to
fight. It serves as a rallying point and has several times protected the city
of Edessa. It would be a great boon to our soldiers should we get our hands on
something like that!”

Alicia looked at her husband’s face. She knew very well what turning
down this opportunity to go on a Crusade had cost him. He was a soldier through
and through, but he was also a man of religious principal who could not and
would not attack a Christian city.

 
“They have even persuaded
de Joinville to go,” he continued with bitterness in his voice. “His uncle is a
Grand Prior of the Templar Knights. Not that
he
would have persuaded Geoffrey to go. The Templars have taken a
vow to never attack a Christian city, so what Geoffrey is thinking of, I don’t
know! It’s certainly not the monetary gain. The de Joinvilles are not poor! I
tell you, never was I more disappointed in a friend!” By this time Simon, had
worked himself into a rage.

“Calm yourself, my darling. It does no good. Geoffrey must have his
reasons, and you cannot change what has happened or even what is going to
happen. You are here now, in this beautiful countryside with your family all
around you and your good friends, too. Surely that is something to be thankful
for!”

“You are right, my dear. There is nothing to be gained by fretting over
things I cannot change.” He lay back again amongst the rich furs and silk
coverlet. “Now tell me, how is Guy settling in here?”

“He is a shy boy, very quiet, one who thinks a great deal and says
little. Not at all like Amaury.” She laughed. “He loves animals and spends most
of his time in the mews with the falconers. He is not so keen on the tilt yard,
though.”

“We must try to change that. Falconry’s all very well for leisure time,
but he must start to learn to protect himself in the battlefield.”

She looked at him. “He’s only eight. He’s not like Amaury. Amaury is
like you and loves nothing more than a battle. Guy is a dreamer. He’s very
sensitive. He’ll feel our departure very keenly when we leave him here.” She
began to look worried at the thought of losing another son.

“Speaking of dreamers, did I tell you that Amaury thought he might like
to be a troubadour?” Simon said, grinning. “Fortunately, the notion lasted only
a few days. He fell in love with the idea on the journey here, and fancied
himself quite the performer. But after I spoke to him—quite sternly, as a
matter of fact—he soon saw how impractical it was!”

Alicia laughed out loud. “I cannot imagine Amaury as a troubadour. He
would not have the patience to learn the songs, let alone the voice to sing
them. You did well, my husband, to turn him from that cause! Perhaps he’ll
offer to sing for us tonight, along with all the other singers.”

“Have you heard him sing lately? His voice is up one minute and down the
next! He’s fast becoming a man and we should soon be looking about for a wife
for him.”

The idea of a wife for Amaury did not sit well with Alicia, who still
considered him her baby. “He’s still a child in many ways. Oh, I know he is
tall and strong for his age but he still has a great deal to learn about the
ways of the world. Perhaps he should have gone on the Crusade. He would surely
have grown up then.”

As soon as she had mentioned the word ‘Crusade’, Alicia knew she had
made a mistake. Simon’s face darkened and she could see another storm brewing.
Hurriedly changing the subject she said, “I have discovered something, my
husband, since my arrival here that has worried me somewhat. Did you know that
our host’s sister Esclarmonde is one of those believers? They call themselves
Cathars.”

“I had heard rumours but did not know that it was common knowledge.”

“It is also whispered that since she has been widowed she will become a
perfecta
—I think that’s what they
call the elders of their church. Isn’t it odd that they allow women the right
to speak in church matters, as they do the men? They say she has visions and is
a mystic and goes about spreading heresy against Holy Mother Church.” Alicia
paused to cross herself devoutly. “There are thousands of Cathars in this area.
I think Raymond-Roger tolerates these people, although I understand he is not
one of them. He does a great deal of business with the Cathars. You may even
find yourself sitting down to dinner with some of them.”

“Not if I can help it.” Simon declared fiercely. “I do not wish my boys
to be contaminated by these teachings. Do you think it safe to leave Guy in
Bernard’s service?”

“I have not heard anything untoward about Bernard and his wife. I’m sure
they are as devout as we are. Esclarmonde will not be at table tonight. She has
gone to Castela, so you need fear no contamination from her.”

Simon looked relieved. Their sons, especially Amaury, were vulnerable to
ideas and easily persuaded. He wished them to have no contact whatsoever with
anything that would lead them away from the Holy Catholic Church and the paths
of righteousness as he saw them.
 

Dinner that evening was an interesting affair. The company was very
mixed and Simon and Alicia renewed many friendships. Because Simon had been
away and Alicia had been busy on their estates, their social life and their
visits to other castles and their friends had been curtailed. Many of Simon’s
friends had been away on the Crusade with him, so their wives had been in the
same position as Alicia. As they took their places in the hall where all the
long boards and benches had been set up, Alicia looked about her, somewhat
fearfully, seeking to identify anyone who might be contaminated with the heresy.

Simon laughed at her openly. “Do you think they wear signs about their
necks, proclaiming themselves?”

“No, I don’t think that at all, but it is best to be on our guard, isn’t
it?”

“It’s not something you can catch, like a disease. The best way to find
them out is to watch their behaviour. Bernard tells me that we would be
surprised by the people who have become convinced their way of believing is the
only true way. They are even willing to die for what they believe to be the
truth. He says a great many nobles have been attracted by what these
perfecti
teach, and that Esclarmonde de
Foix will not be the only
perfecta
who is high born!”

Alicia could not conceal a shudder and looked around, as if to reassure
herself.