He picked up the parchment again. "Several deacons were secreted nearby to overhear the following conversation between Baron Georges Valtin and his kinsman Castronovo of Muret. Castronovo showed the baron his hand and asked if the flesh will rise again; the baron said that the flesh will not rise again. Only a spirit. If it is to be saved, it will pass into another body to be born again and complete the penance."
"I never heard him say thus to me," she said to the bishop with conviction.
"Is that so? And did he not condemn the practices of the Roman Church, the unintelligible chanting, alms for the dead?"
Suddenly her husband's voice echoed in her head, telling her
how all the singing in Latin deceived the simple people. She could not help but shut her eyes for a moment, but she opened them again quickly. "No, my lord. I cannot recall him ever saying so."
"Do you swear it?"
"I swear it."
A hush fell over the court. A Cathar would not swear, for oath taking was prohibited in the Gospel. And if she swore to whatever the bishop wanted her to say, this above all else would convince him.
He studied her. Then with a flick of the wrist, he gestured that his clerk should carry forward a heavy, bound copy of the scriptures, which he placed on a lectern.
"Approach then," Fulk challenged her. "Place your hand on the scriptures and swear in the name of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, that these things are true."
A thin sheen of perspiration broke out over her skin, but she stepped forward and placed a hand on the leather book binding. Her voice was low, but firm. She swore. And then she turned and walked slowly to the back of the hall. Around her, voices conversed, whispered. Bishop Fulk exchanged words with the legates, and then just as Allesandra was drawing breath, he boomed out the name of the next person he wished to interrogate.
"Lucius Hersend, if you are present, as we believe you are, come forward to answer to the Apostolic See."
Her heart clenched as Lucius and Jean appeared together in the arched doorway. Jean came to assist her to a seat before she fainted, but Lucius strode purposely forward.
"Well done, my lady," whispered Jean.
"I lied," she whispered, her words covered by the buzz of conversation as Lucius made his way forward.
"It does not matter," Jean reassured her. "God will understand."
She placed her head in her hands as Jean stood to get a better view. But even seated behind onlookers, she could hear what the
bishop said to Lucius, who now stood to reply to the barbed questions.
"Lucius Hersend, you stand before us accused by those who know you as a follower of the Cathar belief. Is this true?"
"I am no Cathar, my lord, though I was raised among them."
"And when the count of Toulouse agreed to expel heretics, why did you not do anything about it on your lands?"
Allesandra peeked through an opening in the crowd and saw Lucius straighten his shoulders. "We cannot expel all those who deviate in the way they believe, my lord. Many do not care for dogma, but they speak out against clergy who wear gleaming rings and raiment. Such display can hardly be expected to persuade poor villagers back into the fold."
The crowd rumbled and gasped.
Allesandra stared as Lucius's voice rose. "It is hypocrisy that the people in my town decry."
What followed surprised her. The bishop posed a question in Latin, and Lucius answered. She had enough Latin to follow it herself, though she knew that many present did not. Fulk questioned Lucius on many points of Christian doctrine, and to her relief, his answers were orthodox.
Finally, one of the legates brought forth a reliquary containing bits of bones of the saints. "And will you swear to your orthodox faith on these relics?" asked Fulk.
Whereupon Lucius's face turned ashen. "I will not swear."
A gasp went up and many of the women covered their mouths with their hands.
"Aha," accused Fulk. "You are repelled by the relics."
"I did not say that," Lucius argued. "But you yourself know that we are forbidden from taking oath. The scripture itself prohibits it."
Fulk had come here to make an example, and he was going to make an example of Lucius. The bishop rose and extended his draped arm, pointing a long finger at the knight before him.
"You will not swear on the relics. You criticize the clergy. You preach that personal experience of God is enough and that you
reject ecclesiastical hierarchy. You are a heretic, Lucius Hersend. I have sworn statements saying that you have been heard to preach that Christ was not of the flesh."
"He was not of the flesh," thundered Lucius, beyond all caution. He was lost; his conscience would not let him continue the lie. But he would have his say. He took two steps forward.
"For nothing of this world is good. This world is evil. Good is pure spirit unbound by worldly existence, a being of pure and perfect love. An evil god created this world to imprison unfettered souls that they might serve his will. He is called Rex Mundi, and all of earthly existence is under his domain."
Fulk pounced on his victim, his eyes flashing his victory and his face ringed purple in his rage. "Dualist!" he shouted. "Dualist!" again and again.
Allesandra was on her feet now and pressed forward.
"Oh, Lucius," she breathed his name. But hadn't she known he would do this? For Lucius took the Cathar faith very seriously and he did preach. Many had heard him. There was not a chance that he could lie his way out of it, even if he so desired.
But Jean had followed her and tugged on her sleeve. "Caution, my lady," he whispered. "A display of emotion will only undo what you have done."
He checked her display of feeling and she clamped her mouth shut and stood to the side as the bishop pronounced excommunication in thundering tones.
"By the judgment of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, by virtue of the power granted the Apostles and their successors, we unanimously decree that Lucius Hersend, the sower of scandalous beliefs, false denouncer of priests and bishops, shall henceforth be excluded from all Christian communion, both in this life and in the life to come.
"Let no Christian give him greeting nor the kiss of peace. Let no priest celebrate mass for him, nor administer to him the Holy Communion. Let no man keep him company, nor receive him into his house, nor drink, nor eat, nor converse with him, unless it be to urge him to repent."
Fulk's voice rose to shake the rafters. "May he be accursed of God the Father, who created man; may he be accursed of God the Son who suffered for man's sake; may he be accursed of all the saints, who since the beginning of the world have found favor in the sight of God. May he be accursed wherever he may be, in the house or in the fields, on the highway or in the footpath. May he be accursed living and dying, waking and sleeping, at work and at rest. Depart from us. As fire is quenched with water, so may his light be extinguished forever, except he repent and make amends."
At the final words, the voices around Allesandra mumbled, "Amen, so be it, so be it. Let him be anathema. Amen, amen."
But her lips did not move, nor did Jean's beside her. She watched in horror as Lucius was outlawed from the kingdom. She trembled with emotion, but she could do nothing to help him.
He passed out of the hall, and she started to follow, but heard Jean's caution in her ear. "Wait. He will head for the stables. If you wish to speak to him there, we must make our way carefully."
She clenched her fists, and the moistness of perspiration clung to her, but she waited as the court reshuffled itself. She caught a glimpse of Gaucelm. He looked stern, displeasure across his brow, but for what cause, she could not ascertain.
A spurt of anger caused her to blame him for allowing this to happen in her household. His household now. In reality there was nothing he could do, but it brought back to her the dire circumstance she was in and the power he held over her by being who he was and on the side of the king and of the Almighty Church.
Then she slipped out of t
he hall with Jean, being careful they were not noticed unduly.
"The grooms will see us," said Jean. "But if we are questioned we can say we were urging Lucius to repent."
She was grateful for Jean's reasoning. Her own mind was too tormented to lay strategies just now.
They found Lucius saddling his mount. He'd had time to gather
his personal belongings and was in the final stages of loading his packhorse. Jean stood guard by the door while she flew to her dear friend.
"Lucius," she breathed as he turned and took her hands briefly.
"Do not trouble yourself, madam. I could not pretend."
After brushing away a tear of grief, she steeled herself again. "Do not let this hateful anathema ruin your life, Lucius. You know that your friends still love you."
He bent to kiss her brow. "I know it is true. And yet you will all be brought down unless you play their game. I leave now so as not to endanger you."
"We will fight back," she said with determination. "Toulouse stands firm. When Raymond has regathered his forces, we will mount another fight. If God wills it, we will repel the French and win back our lands and our way of life again."
He smiled sadly. "Whereas we were once left to think for ourselves, tolerance seems to be a thing of the past. Beware. The Roman Church is powerful. They need to persecute. It reinforces their claim to power."
"Oh, Lucius. I'm so sorry things have come to this pass."
He wasted no more time, but led his two horses to the door. There, he quickly embraced his comrade, Jean.
"Go in peace," said Jean.
"And you likewise." And then he mounted up, gave them both a final salute and rode out into the stable yard. Jean made Allesandra wait until the way was clear. Then they went forward.
"I will retire to my chambers," she said sadly. "I have no more wish to watch those the bishop chooses to intimidate."
"Then I will go and stand at the back of the hateful hearing and report to you what happens," he said.
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask how Jean perceived Gaucelm was managing the court that had landed in his lap. But then she thought better of it. Gaucelm appeared to have little choice in the matter. Though in her heart she wished that
he would stand and defend her, she knew bitterly that he would not draw sword against the very churchmen he had tried to warn her would come.
Eleven
For two more days, the bishop's court went on. On the third day, Enselm informed Gaucelm that a letter from Simon de Montfort had come. He went immediately to his chamber to read it. Simon was moving against Toulouse at last and needed Gaucelm if his newly acquired domain was secure. If he could not come in person, Simon needed as many of his men as he could spare and still leave the Valtin lands safely guarded.
"I must go myself," he told Enselm.
"As you wish, my lord. The garrison here is in complete control. If my lord wishes my services in Toulouse, have no fear that the sergeants here will have no trouble holding this place."
Gaucelm considered. "These southerners seem docile enough with no one to rouse them to rebel, but I do not trust them. My lady Valtin thinks I am blind to the conversations she holds with her friends the troubadours. Bishop Fulk has finished his hearings for now, but I've no doubt he will return. I am aware that the humility and acceptance of French rule lies only on the surface. I would prefer that you remain here to keep order. Should there be a conspiracy or a threat, I can trust you to handle it."
"Count Raymond has gathered an army and rides for Toulouse, my lady," said Marcia. "We just heard from Peire Bellot and Christian Bernet." Two more troubadours came in response to the invitation. They had prudently waited until Bishop Fulk
and his legates had moved on. Naturally, they would bring news of the movements of the French.
"They're here, then? I must see them at once."
"You'll no doubt find them with the others in the musicians' gallery," said Marcia.
As Allesandra hurried to greet two more of her friends, her mind was turning over plans. An army riding for Toulouse. The citizens there were strengthening the walls. No doubt Simon de Montfort was planning an attack. She must do what she could to help Raymond fend off the wily Simon, who had outgeneraled the southern allies at Muret. If Toulouse fell, Raymond would be completely usurped. All of the counties of Toulouse would fall to the French. An outcome that frightened Allesandra greatly.
The sound of instruments playing bits of music greeted her ears as she entered the hall. Gaucelm had instructed that the fete should continue in spite of being interrupted by the bishop's hearing.
Jongleurs with their instruments were gathered in small knots in every corner of the hall. But from the subdued tone of the gathering, she could tell their minds were more on the events of the crusade than on the music they'd been summoned to perform. She turned and ascended the staircase leading to the musicians' .gallery. There the two new arrivals were exchanging hurried words with Jean. They broke off as she approached.
"My lady," said Peire Bellot. "We have news."
A large, stocky man, ten years older than the others, with short, straight light-brown hair, graying at the temples, he took her hand and kissed it, but wasted no time with frivolities.
"My friend," said Allesandra. "I am very glad to see you. Welcome."
Christian Bernet joined them and also bowed over her hand. But his young, angular face was fraught with worry. "We've just learned about Lucius."
"It was unfortunate, but I trust he'll make his way for now," she said. "You both had a safe journey?"
Peire spoke for them both. "Yes, my lady, though we thought
twice about venturing here with the French soldiers." He exchanged glances with Christian.
The younger man spoke up. "It might well have been a trap. But we knew your handwriting and came, thinking you might have need of us. For this festival could have been a disguise. Then we heard that the Apostolic See had sent its hounds. Glad we are to see you safe."
"Safe, yes, but at the mercy of our captor, Gaucelm Deluc and his men."
Peire lowered his voice even further. "He is Simon de Mont-fort's man, I've heard of him. We must be very careful."
"He rules here for the moment," she answered warily. "He speaks often of heretics, using the church as justification for seizing these lands. I've persuaded him that we are all cooperative with the bishop's wishes. That we shelter no heretics here."
"Hmmm, and you say he believes that?"
"For the moment, at least. But tell me of Raymond and his son. I am anxious for their news."
"Both well," reported Peire. "They escaped from the debacle at Muret when they could do no more. Their vassals knew they'd be more good alive to inspire the people than dead on the field. And so they were spirited away to refuge in Marseilles where they raised an army. Now they have regrouped and return to Toulouse."
Christian and Jean listened intently to Peire's exchange with Allesandra.
"And what of enemy forces?" she asked.
"Simon de Montfort moved from Muret yesterday. He no doubt plans to surround Toulouse, for they'll never let him in."
"We cannot let Toulouse fall."
"No, madam, we cannot."
The three troubadours looked at her with solemn faces. Christian spoke. "What do you wish us to do?"
"To behave as if you know nothing, for the moment. We must carry out the competition as planned. But I must think of a way to help Raymond."
"Surely that is too dangerous," said Jean. "You must stay here."
"Why?" she asked bitterly. She thought of the joy she had experienced with Gaucelm, but she knew she must push that aside in the light of responsibility.
"I am not in control of this demesne now. I have nothing to defend. As long as Raymond and his son are free, there is a chance that he will oust Simon and I will be able to reclaim my lands. I cannot sit on my hands and do nothing. I cannot sit by and watch Toulouse fall. I must help them defen
d it."
"Gaucelm Deluc will not like to discover you missing, should you go to Raymond," said Jean.
"No, but there will be no one to blame. If I do not tell you my plans, he cannot accuse any of you of being conspirators."
"But you'll need one of us to escort you," said Christian. He glanced about to make sure no one else was listening to their hushed conversation.
"That's right," added Jean.
"Or all of us," said the crafty and more mature Peire. "For if one of us goes with you, Sir Gaucelm will not believe that those who waited behind did not know. I say we all go when you go."
She could see the wisdom in that and would not wish to risk having her friends punished for her own escape. She looked at the grim faces standing around her.
"Very well. I'll lay the plans and we'll leave together for the good of Toulouse. But until I tell you, go on as if you know nothing. Distract these French with your witty songs."
"As you wish, madam," said Christian.
She took each of their hands again and accepted chaste kisses on cheek and wrist, binding them in purpose and friendship.
At dinner, Allesandra again took her place beside Gaucelm, who greeted her civilly but with no hint of the intimacy they had shared. She allowed her eyes to glance across his face as seldom as possible, for when she did, she suffered double pain.
Three nights ago she had given way to passion, had recklessly cast aside all thought except for the pleasure he gave her. Her heart still pounded with a yearning that she could not master, weak as she was. And yet she knew her duty. If her feelings were torn from her grasp, so be it. Even Gaucelm had the good sense to know that they could not betray to others what they had done. For both of them would be seen as traitors.
Passion aside, Allesandra was still loyal to her cause. And now she plotted to leave and go to Raymond's side. They must defend Toulouse at all costs. The disaster at Muret must not be repeated. The survival of Languedoc was at stake. If she must live with a maddening desire for a man who was an enemy, so be it.
The troubadour's song Page 14
