The de Montfort Histories - The Dove and the Devil (20 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Occitania, South of France

1209 AD

Lavaur and Toulouse

The Boutarras were sitting at the long scrubbed board that for many
years had served as a table for the family of seven, the two oldest of
whom—two girls—were now married with children of their own.
Although the early morning air was crisp, the yellowy blue of the sky already
warned of the immense heat that would be theirs by noon. The new wooden
shutters on the two windows at the front of the cottage—which had been
all the talk of their neighbours when Pierre had first installed them—were
already closed against the heat of the sun. Even so, the sunlight managed to
form patterns on the flagstone floor as it poked through the cracks in the wood
and the door, which had been left open to let in some of the cool early morning
air.

Pons, the Boutarras’ oldest child and only son, had stopped all
conversation with his news. At twenty, he was a man full grown and taller than
his father.

Pierre looked serious. “Are you sure of your facts, my son?”

 
          
“Yes,
Papa, I am certain. I heard it in the marketplace this morning when I spoke
with Arnaud and Bertrand. There is no doubt. The Count has submitted himself to
the Church and has sought forgiveness by accepting a public scourging. He has
even joined the Crusade.”

“Joined the Crusade? You can’t be serious!”

“Yes, Papa, I am serious. But let me tell you the reasoning behind the
Count’s actions.”

“Go on, my boy.”

“It’s very clever, really. Bertrand explained to me the Count’s plan. If
he becomes a Crusader, under the terms of the laws of the church, his property
and his people become untouchable. The Crusaders will not be allowed to attack
his domains and all of us will be safer! Besides, when you reckon it up, there
are as many of us believers in and around Toulouse as there are Catholics. The
Count will not want to disturb his business dealings with half his population!
This is his attempt to secure a peace for us. Whether it will work or not is
another matter.”

“So the Count has pledged to follow the Crusade. I wonder how long he
will be able to keep up that pretence. I suppose it will serve to cloak his
nefarious dealings, but not for long I shouldn’t wonder. Still, it’s quite a
ruse.”

“Papa, the other thing I learned was that the leadership of the Crusade
has gone to Simon de Montfort. From what people are saying and what our bishops
report from Carcassonne and Beziers, he will stop at nothing to destroy us. He
was not in command when they took those two cities, but it is said that he
believes the end justifies the means, and since he is a fervent Catholic, he
will stop at nothing to wipe us out. I fear we have a wolf at our door!”

“Hush, now.” Saissa looked pointedly at the girls, who were observing
them with wide eyes.

Maurina was puzzled. “Why has the Count been punished? He’s a kind man.
He always gives us bonbons when he rides by.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Pons dismissed Maurina’s question, but she
was persistent.

“Why did he have to go to see the Pope? Why did he have to be scourged?”
Maurina hunched her shoulders at the thought of a whip cutting into them.

“A man was killed. Peter of Castelnau. Not a very popular man. A man of
the Church. Hated by many of his own people. He was puffed up with pride and
arrogance, and somebody killed him.”

“But who killed him? And why?”

“The killer got away in all the confusion. It was said that our Count
Raymond was responsible, although he still continues to deny it. The Pope had
excommunicated him, making it impossible for all Catholics in Toulouse to
attend mass and receive all their other sacraments. The people were upset. They
missed their mass and were afraid of eternal damnation, so they called on the
Count to make things right. He went to Rome himself to seek some form of
absolution, at least for the people. We believers know that being
excommunicated from the church is the best thing that could happen to anyone,
but, alas, there are still many Catholics by tradition and habit who have not
seen the light as we have!”

Pierre looked at his family, knowing, even if they didn’t, the import of
this news. Life had been getting progressively more difficult for the believers
since the Pope had first called the Crusade the previous year. Nothing much had
happened until the fall of Beziers and Carcassonne, but Pierre recognised that
the appointment of Simon de Montfort was a new and frightening development. De
Montfort’s reputation was well known.
 

“But the Count is a good Catholic. Why would he want the Legate killed?”
Maurina asked her foster father.

“That’s a good question, my dear. Last year, the Count in his wisdom
refused to join a group of knights who were to hunt and seek out our
perfecti
and other believers like us and
deliver us up to the Church. He said he would never hunt down his own people,
people who had been his tenants, his friends and friends of his father before
him. If the Legate was on his way to Rome to make life more difficult for
Raymond—and he probably was—it would be reason enough for this
tragedy. I believed the Count when he said he knew nothing of the murder. But
we all know he has some excitable friends who probably thought they were doing
him a good turn.”

“What does this mean for us?” Saissa asked. “Simon de Montfort and the
Count?”

“Who knows, exactly? One thing is certain—it can only mean more
trouble. The Pope was incensed by the insult and took the killing as a personal
affront. And we were blamed—if not directly, then indirectly.”

Sensing the solemnity of the conversation but failing to understand
exactly what was going on, Braida was doing her best not to cry. Although she
was two weeks older than Maurina, she had not Maurina’s stomach for excitement.
Nor had she the depth of insight and intelligence that the young foster child
had. “Papa,” she wailed. “Will the soldiers come for us?”

“Hush, child.” Saissa drew Braida towards her. “Of course the soldiers
are not coming for us. Our life will go on as usual. You and Maurina will
continue with your lessons and you can help me with the house. Everything will
be fine.” She kissed the child’s tearstained face. “Come now, I think it’s time
for you and Maurina to feed the chickens.”

Maurina began to protest. The conversation was just beginning to get
interesting. She had begun to notice that she and her foster sister were
invariably shuffled out of the room just as she judged there were more exciting
revelations to be made.

“Go now and do your mother’s bidding.” Pierre’s tone brooked no
argument. Although a kindly man, he was a firm believer in discipline for a
harmonious household. He had never beaten his wife or children because he never
had cause to do so, a fact often remarked upon amongst his friends.

After the two girls had gone outside to the small backyard, the
conversation became more serious. That morning, the young man, Pons, had had a
long conversation with Bertrand Arsen and Arnaud Maury, Maurina’s real father,
who had been in Lavaur to talk to one of the Catharist bishops staying there.
The news had not been pleasant. Bertrand had confirmed to the young man that
the rumours being extensively passed from person to person were, in fact, not
rumours at all. Simon de Montfort had indeed been elected leader of the
Crusade, and although Count Raymond would do his best to keep the army out of
his domains, life as they knew it was sure to change.

Pons had discussed seriously with both Bertrand and Arnaud an idea he
had had for leaving Lavaur to do what he could to help the Count. They had
agreed in principal with his ideas, with the warning that he must on no account
fight. Bertrand had then handed him a sealed parchment to give to the Count, in
person if possible. If for some reason this was not possible, Pons was to
destroy it.

The time for change in their lives came sooner than they expected, for
their son dropped his bombshell that evening. Although he had been brought up
as a believer and, as such, abhorred the idea of killing, Pons recognized that
the nobles of his region—who were not Cathars themselves but who
sympathised with them—would soon put out a call to which he would have to
respond. These noble leaders would not wish to see their own property and
people under the boot of northern foreigners and therefore would fight to
protect what they considered to be their own.

His decision to join the ranks of men loyal to the Count of Toulouse
caused an immense stir in the Boutarra household, for one of the cardinal
beliefs of his parents and all Cathars was that killing was immoral. His mother
was barely able to kill a chicken for the table, let alone contemplate the
killing of a human.

“Don’t you see? I must go,” Pons implored. “Perhaps I will not be called
upon to kill, but I must do all I can to protect you and others like us.
Perhaps I could be a cook and feed the army or look after the horses. Who knows
where I may help, but I cannot sit at home while our world is being destroyed.”

“Do
you
not see, my boy?”
Pierre asked, his tone serious. “Perhaps this is God’s will and he wishes the
world as we know it to be destroyed. Perhaps it is not such a great world after
all. Perhaps God has something other in store for us. We cannot know; we can only
accept what God sends. He does not require your help, my son.” He did not wish
to contemplate what might befall his son, who was still a callow youth.

Pons considered his father’s statement for a few moments. As a good
Cathar and a believer since birth, he knew the reasoning behind his father’s
words. He knew this world was only transitory and that after death his spirit
would assume different shapes and bodies until at last he had reached that
state of perfection when God would allow him into His kingdom.

“I am not afraid of what might befall me, and neither should you be.”
Pons looked at his mother whose tearstained face came close to breaking his
resolve. “All my life I have heard you give thanks for the protection Count
Raymond has offered our people. He has protected us from violence and helped us
to live happy and fruitful lives. Many of us have become rich under his
guardianship, and our elders have been able to preach in relative peace. We
have grown in numbers because of this peace. Would you have me throw all this
back in Raymond’s face?” His parents could only stand and stare at their son’s
new resolve.

“I will make you a promise that I will never kill a man and that I will
do only those things which my conscience allows me to do. You and maman have
brought me up in the truth, and now it is time to test my faith. I know it will
be strong enough to face whatever God sends. You must accept this, for I am a
man now and must behave as such!” He pulled from his sleeve the parchment that
Bertrand had given him to deliver to the Count. “This is the other reason I
must go. I have been entrusted with a letter from Bertrand to the Count, and it
is my duty to see that it is delivered.”

The sight of the parchment stilled the arguments of his parents, and it was
with obvious misgivings that they agreed to his departure.

The goodbyes were difficult. Saissa and Braida cried for days but they
knew that what Pons had decided to do was the only thing open to him as a
Cathar if he were to help the cause.
 
Pierre stoically accepted his son’s decision, for he knew the boy’s mind
would not be changed and he wasn’t sure, anyway, that he wanted to change his
son’s mind. Maurina was thrilled and insisted Pons take the wooden carving of
the dove that Arnaud had made for her when she was tiny. “It will make you
think of us at home,” she had said. Pons had been so touched by this gesture,
he had almost given up his idea of going away.

Ever since Pons had broached the idea of going, Maurina had dogged his
footsteps. This was just the sort of adventure
she
longed for. How she envied her older brother. She knew she
would never be able to follow where he went, being a girl and all, but that
didn’t prevent her imagining what it would be like to work on the Count of
Toulouse’s estates. For several days after Pons had departed, she went around
with her head so much in the clouds, imagining where he was and what he would
be doing, that her mother had cause to reprimand her for her dreaming ways!

Her imaginings were no wilder than the truth. After three days on the
road, Pons arrived at the ramparts of Toulouse just before the sun set. To the
youth who had never strayed far from his birthplace in the little town of
Lavaur, the city of Toulouse looked almost magical in the setting sun. His
breath was taken away by the sight of the walls, gilded as they were by tones
of orange and purple that deepened rapidly as sunset approached. Towering above
him he could feel, rather than see, the huge silhouette of the chateau that
stood like a sentinel, guarding the gates to the city where he hoped to join
the ranks of the Count’s men.

His heart began to beat rapidly when he thought of what he was about to
set in motion. Although he had begun his journey with a sense of bravura,
somehow along the way, some of it had dissipated and he now longed for nothing
more than the safety of his own home.