Heresy: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery

by Newman, Sharan

  “I’ve sometimes wondered how I could stop you if you decided to betray us.” She spoke without considering Samonie’s reaction.

  It was immediate.

  “How can you even think such a thing!” she exclaimed. “After all we’ve endured together. All this trouble with Master Astrolabe has unhinged you. I can’t think of another reason for you to wound me so!”

  “Samonie, I’m so sorry!” Catherine got up at once to embrace and reassure her. “I didn’t mean it. I know you’d die for us; you’ve proved that.”

  They both turned quickly at the sound of the front door shutting.

  Edgar and Solomon entered.

  “We left Astrolabe with the monks at Sainte-Geneviève,” Edgar said. “They won’t betray him. Many of them were students of his father. Solomon will bring him back here once we’ve thought of a way to help him.”

  But he seemed preoccupied with something other than Astrolabe’s problems. He looked around the room. “Where are the children?” he said with a touch of panic. “You didn’t let them go out, did you?”

  “They’re with Martin, playing in the storeroom,” Catherine said, puzzled. “It’s too cold for them to be out.”

  “Thank God.” Edgar pulled with his teeth at the fingers of his glove.

  “Edgar, what is it?” Catherine was becoming concerned. “Solomon, what’s happening? Are we being invaded?”

  “In a way,” Solomon said. “We were at the parleoir des bourjoies on our way back from the monastery. For once no one was talking about trade. Archer’s oldest child just died from the spotted sickness; two more are sick. They aren’t the only ones.”

  “No!” Catherine said. “It can’t be! It’s too early in the year. We never worry about the spotted sickness before spring.”

  She felt suddenly breathless. Gasping, she clung to Samonie.

  “Saint Fustian’s iron nose ring!” Edgar burst out as he rushed to her.

  Everyone stared at him.

  “Damn it, Solomon,” Edgar continued. “Why did you have to tell her like that? Catherine, sit down. Samonie, fetch her some wine.”

  Solomon knelt by the chair. “I’m sorry, Catherine. I didn’t think. I’m sure James and Edana are safe from contagion.”

  “No,” Catherine was shaking. “They were at Archer’s last week, playing with his children. They all seemed healthy then. It’s horrible how quickly it strikes. Oh, dear! James won’t understand when I tell him Ermon won’t be able to see him anymore. Poor little boy. Poor Archer! Edgar, we have to protect our children. Where’s my thread?”

  She started to search through her sewing basket. Edgar gently stopped her.

  “I don’t think we have to do that yet,” he said. “I’ll go to Saint-Julian tonight and give a candle for their safety. Only very ill children are measured. We shouldn’t do it unless it’s necessary.”

  Catherine forced herself to appear calm, knowing that Edgar was more concerned about her than the children at the moment. He was right, of course. It was only when there was nothing else to be done that one measured a sick child with string and vowed to use it for a candlewick, for a candle the height of the child, to be given to the saint who would intercede for its life. They hadn’t done it for baby Heloisa. Catherine had been ill, too, and the baby died before anyone knew how bad it was. Both Edgar and Catherine had felt guilt along with grief. They had promised themselves never to neglect the saints again.

  “If the sickness is in the air of Paris, how can we keep James and Edana from breathing it in?” Catherine asked the world. “They already wear bags of herbs and charms at their necks, but so did Archer’s children.”

  “Solomon had an idea,” Edgar said. “It was Astrolabe who made him think of it, he says. It’s only a short trip to the Paraclete. You’d be safer there. Heloise would take you in for an emergency like this, and you could come home when the danger is past.”

  “At this time of year?”

  “Hear us out, Catherine,” Solomon said. “We could send you by mule cart, and Astrolabe could go with you among the guards. No one would notice him then. He may feel that he should keep his troubles from his mother, but we know that she is the logical person to solve them.”

  “Even if the roads are clear, a cart would take at least five days,” Catherine argued, but they could see she was prepared to be won over. She trusted Sister Melisande, the infirmarian of the convent, to care for the sick far better than any doctor in Paris. Of course, she hoped the nun’s skills wouldn’t be needed.

  “Even a week on the road would be fine,” Edgar said. “There are enough monastic houses along the way where you could find hospitality. I’d give you something to donate to each in return for shelter.”

  “It would be good to see Margaret,” Catherine admitted, “and Mother Heloise as well. But you and Solomon will come too, won’t you? You have to stop at Troyes before you leave for Spain, and the convent is on the way.”

  “We discussed that,” Edgar said. “We have matters to finish here, but if we leave a few days after you do, we should overtake you before you arrive.”

  “It would be easy to fix a cart to be warm enough for all of you,” Solomon added.

  “It’s not the cold,” Catherine said. “It’s the bumps in the road. Riding in a cart is almost as bad as being in a boat.”

  “I know.” Solomon patted her back. “But you can at least get out and walk a bit. I didn’t mean to frighten you, but we think it would be better if you all were out of the thick humors in the city. It will only be worse when the cold ends and the rains begin.”

  Catherine nodded. She didn’t need to be told that. She had spent most of her life in Paris and loved it, but disease always came with the spring rains and then again at the height of summer. To have such an illness hit during the winter was terrifying. How much worse would it be later? A few days of discomfort was little enough to endure for the lives of her children. And it would be a good way to get Astrolabe out of the city unnoticed. Catherine didn’t like what Solomon had told her about his sense of being watched. She trusted him not to imagine such a thing.

  “Very well,” she said. “How soon can we leave?”

  They sent a messenger to the Paraclete that morning, warning Heloise of the impending visit. With panic nipping at their heels, they managed the arrangements and packing in only three days.

  The morning before the departure, Samonie’s son, Martin, came to Edgar who was working in the storage room.

  “Wool, pelts, amber,” Edgar checked the stock. “But the silk and spices are not sufficient. We must do more trade with the south. Well, we’ll do the best we can for now. What is it, Martin?”

  “I was wondering,” Martin said nervously. “You’ve not told me what I’m to do yet.”

  “I thought you would go with your mother and Catherine,” Edgar said in surprise. “They’ll need your help.”

  “No they won’t,” Martin said. “They have the guards to carry things and the nuns and lay brothers to help once they reach the convent. I thought that you would want me to go with you.”

  “With us?” Edgar considered. “I must admit that it hadn’t occurred to me. You would be useful and I promise to take you some other time, but not now. Actually, if Catherine agrees that you don’t need to go to the Paraclete, I’d prefer that you stayed here. Keep the house open. If messengers come for us, send them on, that sort of thing.”

  Martin’s face fell. “I’m being left behind?”

  “You’re almost sixteen now,” Edgar said. “I think you’re old enough for this responsibility. If you handle it well, then Solomon and I might well think of having you come with us on the next journey. But if the prospect of staying alone unsettles you….”

  “No, no, not at all,” Martin assured him. “I’ll be fine. And I’ll take good care of your property. I promise.”

  “It won’t be for long,” Edgar said. “It should be safe in a few weeks for everyone to return, and then, of course, you’l
l be indispensable.”

  Martin submitted, but Edgar could see that he was still disappointed. Staying in Paris while everyone else went traveling must gall the boy, but that didn’t matter. It would be useful to have someone to make sure no messages went astray. More important, Martin would be safer in Paris than on a trip to Spain. He had already had the spotted sickness and survived, so he was safe from the disease. But Samonie still grieved for the death of Martin’s sister. Edgar didn’t want to risk her losing another child. He knew the pain too well himself.

  The cart was balanced on two wheels and drawn by a stout mule. It was covered by a canopy on a frame that protected Catherine and the children from the worst of the wind and snow. Edgar had seen to it that the interior was lined with furs, cushions, featherbeds and blankets. Catherine privately wondered what all these would look like after a few days of two active children and a dog, but her concern made her hold her tongue. Ripped bedclothes were a small price to pay for the well-being of James and Edana.

  Another cart had been loaded with their baggage, including folding chairs and dishes. One couldn’t expect Heloise to provide everything for them.

  The guards were the best to be found. Edgar and Solomon had promised them their usual pay twice over to deliver the family safely to Heloise. Astrolabe rode among them, complaining that his chain mail chafed but otherwise indistinguishable from the other men.

  Despite the urgency, Catherine was reluctant to set out.

  “Samonie, did we leave milk souring in the pantry?” Catherine almost turned at the door. “Martin may not think to check it.”

  “No, Mistress. I scoured the kitchen well and checked the larder.” Samonie nudged her toward the cart. “There’s nothing that will draw vermin. In this cold, it’s not likely that anything will spoil, in any case. And Martin will certainly take care of things. I trained him myself. Let’s hurry. We want to be out of the gates when they open at dawn, don’t we?”

  “Yes, it’s a long way and the days are still so short.” Reluctantly, Catherine allowed Samonie to lead her to the cart where Edgar and Solomon waited.

  Edgar held her a moment before helping her into the cart, where the children were already settled.

  “Rest as often as you need to,” he told her. “You mustn’t let yourself get overtired in your eagerness to arrive.”

  “I promise,” she said. “You and Solomon will be right behind us, won’t you?”

  “No more than three or four days,” he said. “I’m sure we can overtake you. But don’t dawdle in this weather just for us, either.”

  Catherine smiled. “You should decide, carissime, if you want our travel to be fast or slow.”

  “Safe and uneventful, that’s all,” he said. “May the Virgin and all the saints watch over you.”

  He kissed her for rather a long time, Solomon thought, in view of the cold and the many years they’d been married. At last Edgar released Catherine, who wiped her eyes and let the men lift her into the cart.

  “Good journey!” Solomon called as they started off.

  “See you soon, Papa!” Edana’s voice came from the depths of the cushions.

  James’s voice rose above hers. “But, Mama, why can’t I ride a horse, too?”

  The dog began to bark.

  Solomon turned to Edgar.

  “I think that, for the sanity of your wife, we should try to follow as soon as possible.”

  Margaret was in the chapter house sitting near the fire while she worked on embroidering an alpha and omega on a wall hanging for the dormitory. Her stitches were not the quality of a well-brought-up young woman, and she had already pricked her finger with the needle. Her face was almost as red as her hair with the effort of doing the job properly.

  She was concentrating so hard that she didn’t hear Sister Emily enter. The gentle hand on her shoulder caused her to start and poke the needle into her finger again. She jerked her hand away from the embroidery frame to avoid getting blood on the cloth.

  Emily laughed. “I used to find Catherine in here poring over a book instead of sewing,” she said. “At least you make the attempt.”

  “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten all that my mother taught me,” Margaret confessed. “Since she died, I’ve not done more than help with the mending. Perhaps there is some other task I could do to honor Our Lord.”

  “Any service done in His name is to His honor.” Emily smiled again. “The work is judged according to the heart of the worker. But I bring you a respite. Mother Heloise wishes to see you.”

  Catherine would have asked why, but Edgar’s sister only smoothed her skirts and followed Emily across the cloister, shivering in the thin winter sunshine.

  They went to the guest house, not the abbess’s room. Margaret noticed the tired horse being led to the stable and wondered who had arrived. Her first thought was that Solomon had come, but she knew his horse and she also knew that he had been discouraged from coming to see her while she was a student at the convent. Her second thought was that something terrible had happened to someone she loved.

  Margaret had reason to expect bad news. She had received enough of it in her life.

  So she was relieved to see the smile the abbess gave her when she entered. Sister Emily left quietly, leaving Margaret with Heloise and the messenger.

  “Come in, my dear,” Heloise said. “This man brings us word of an army on the way to invade us.”

  Margaret looked at the messenger in alarm. Then she recognized him as someone Edgar had hired before to carry missives and her heart leapt. She had to restrain herself from hugging him.

  “Catherine is coming!” she shouted with joy.

  “And the children,” Heloise said. “And, I believe, a dog.”

  “Dragon,” Margaret nodded. “James won’t be parted from him.”

  “Your sister-in-law seems to see my convent as a refuge in all matters,” Heloise commented. “I suppose it’s a compliment to my influence that she turns to me in times of trouble.”

  “My brother, is he all right?” Margaret asked at once.

  “So I understand.” Heloise indicated that the man should repeat his message.

  “My master sends his greetings to the Abbess Heloise and begs you to keep his family for a few weeks until the danger of spotted sickness has ebbed in Paris.” He bowed to Margaret. “They left the morning of the feast of Saint Sebastian. They should arrive by Saturday.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful!” Margaret clapped her hands like a child. “Isn’t it, Mother? We have space for them, don’t we? The children can sleep in my bed, if necessary. I don’t mind the floor.”

  “I don’t believe it will come to that,” Heloise said dryly. “The guest house is fairly empty this time of year, although I expect a visit from Countess Sybil in a week or two. But I think we can accommodate all of you, especially since Catherine is bringing her own beds.”

  She turned back to the messenger. “You said there was something else?”

  He bowed again. “Yes, my lady abbess. Lord Edgar told me to tell you that Lady Catherine was bringing you a gift that he hoped would make up for any inconvenience you might suffer.”

  “What sort of gift?” she asked.

  “I wasn’t told, my lady,” he answered.

  Heloise shook her head. “I can’t imagine what they think I might need,” she muttered. “Thank you, sir. Please go to Sister Thecla, the portress. She’ll see that you have food and a bed.”

  When he had left, she looked at Margaret. “Perhaps you’d like to turn the embroidery over to Ida and help Thecla prepare the room for your family?”

  “Yes, Mother.” Margaret could barely contain her excitement. “Thank you, Mother. I’ve missed them so much! Oh,” she paused. “I didn’t mean that I’ve been unhappy…”

  “Of course not,” Heloise sighed as she sat back down to work. “Even the hermit saints must sometimes have longed for those dear to them, despite the tranquility of their caves.”

  Margaret ran
out. Heloise went back to her room and her letters. Sitting at the desk, she sharpened her stylus and pressed it into the wax, softening it first with the warmth of her hand. She swallowed hard as she forced herself to concentrate on the work. But at the back of her mind there was the constant yearning.

  My son, my dear Astrolabe, where are you?

  At that moment, Astrolabe was sitting quite comfortably in a tavern just outside the town of Provins, about halfway between Paris and the Paraclete. He and Edgar had agreed that the guards shouldn’t think he was anything but another man hired to protect the family. Therefore his first few days had been spent in establishing himself with them. He blessed his uncle and cousins for having given him rudimentary training in arms and, more important, the proper vocabulary to hold his own in their banter, which was often only a thinly veiled challenge.

  Solomon had also tried to prepare him.

  “First of all, you can’t call yourself Astrolabe,” he had said. “Even if they’ve never heard of you, they’ll laugh themselves off their horses when they hear it.”

  “You think I don’t know that,” Astrolabe had responded. “I’ve had that name all my life, remember?”

  “And I’m surprised you haven’t changed it before now,” Solomon had replied.

  “I have been known to call myself Peter,” Astrolabe admitted. “I hope it doesn’t dishonor my father. I was given the name Peter Astrolabe, but no one ever called me by it.”

  “I’m sure he’d be proud,” Solomon said. “Especially if it keeps you alive. Very well, can you act menacing?”

  Once Astrolabe had stopped laughing at that, he had assured Solomon that he thought he could grimace and scowl with the best of them.

  Solomon had had his doubts, but so far on the trip the other guards seemed not to have guessed that Astrolabe was really a clerk in minor orders and an escaped prisoner wanted for heresy and murder. What surprised him was how comfortable it was to be Peter again. Perhaps Solomon was right. It was wonderful to be able to say his name and not wait for the stare, either of recognition or confusion. What had his parents been thinking of?