“Oh, yes.” Astrolabe looked out the window again. “Out there people are starving, you know. Some have lost their land and been forced to sell their freedom in return for food. Others have gone into the forest to avoid tithes they can’t pay. They’re angry and despairing. Eon has a certain charisma, I’d say. He truly believes himself to be divine, you see. He treats these dispossessed with tenderness and respect. He makes them feel human again. He reminds them that they have souls.
“They say he raided villages and attacked hermits,” Astrolabe continued. “That’s nonsense! If you had seen that poor bedraggled troop of his… Margaret, a few peasants with hoes and pitchforks could have driven them off.”
“Then why did the archbishop of Tours send men to capture them?” Margaret wanted to know.
Astrolabe shook his head. “If I understood that, I wouldn’t be so worried.”
Margaret put her hand on his. “We’ll find out. Mother Heloise won’t let anything happen to you. Neither will my brother. We know you’ve done nothing wrong.”
“That gives me great comfort.” Astrolabe looked down into her trusting face. He wondered how a girl who had seen her mother killed and who had later been horribly beaten by a mob could still have such an air of innocence and faith. In many ways she shamed him.
He thought of Cecile. Despite the evil done to her, she had not given in to despair either. For a moment, her face floated before him. He had to blink to keep back tears.
At that moment, Margaret glanced out the window, gave a cry, leaped up and ran from the room.
“Margaret!” Astrolabe called. “Your cloak!”
He grabbed it and followed her.
The horsemen spotted her running toward them. One of them dismounted and strode toward her, holding out his arms to her.
“Oh, Solomon!” she cried, clinging to him. “We’ve been so worried!”
“There, there.” Solomon released her at once and set her down. “We were only delayed because of a problem with the arrangements for our journey south. You shouldn’t have let yourself get so agitated.”
“I don’t notice any concern about me,” Edgar said, coming up to hug her. “But I’m only your brother. I notice that my wife isn’t waiting at the gate for me either.”
“The last I saw, she was trying to get your children into a washtub,” Astrolabe said. “Welcome. I have much to tell you.”
Edgar nodded. “We have had some interesting experiences as well. I notice you haven’t been shaved yet.”
“I thought I’d ask your opinion first,” Astrolabe said. “It may be better that I remain a guard for a time.”
Edgar raised his eyebrows at that but, at that moment, Margaret remembered familial duty and with an effort switched her attention to her brother.
“Are you really going to Spain?” she asked after she had kissed him. “If so, I have a shopping list for you.”
“I thought you might,” Edgar grinned. “I’m glad to see you, too. Now, will you find someone to see to our horses so that I can go see what havoc my children have wrought on this peaceful convent?”
Canon Rolland and Brother Arnulf also participated in an Ash Wednesday procession. The faithful wound through the streets of Nogent. There were more penitents this year than usual, thinner, more ragged, apprehensive.
Rolland watched them with a speculative expression.
“These people are fearful now,” he told his friend. “They look at the world around them and see the hand of God raised in punishment. Today they believe their misery is their own fault. But tomorrow they’ll start wondering what they could have done to deserve to watch their children starve. Then they’ll realize that it’s their leaders who are to blame. God isn’t interested in the rabble, but in punishing the kings and bishops who are leading them into Hell.”
“And when they realize this, then what?” Arnulf asked.
“Then… well, that is the question, isn’t it?” Rolland said.
“Do you have an answer?”
“Not yet,” Rolland told him. “It depends a great deal on what is decided at the council in Reims next month. I seriously doubt that the bishops and abbots will be able to stop their endless squabbling over authority and tithes long enough to face the real threat.”
“Heresy,” the monk said decidedly.
“Exactly,” Rolland said. “It surrounds us. It has become a viper in the bosom of the very highest circles of the church. If we can’t bring the faithful back to the faith, if we can’t present a unified leadership, then we shall splinter into a thousand sects that Satan will easily conquer.”
“That sounds like the end of the world.” The monk shivered.
“It does indeed,” Rolland agreed. “And I, for one, am not prepared to face it.” Come, we have work to do. Back to Paris. Master Peter and Master Adam are preparing to catch a much larger fish than this Breton. You and I have been bringing in the wandering preachers and madmen of the forest. But they have discovered a heretic in bishop’s garb. Even so, our information may help the pope to realize the deadly gravity of the situation.“
“If he only saw these poor people, that would be enough,” Arnulf said sadly. “Their plight only convinces me that my desire to denounce all heretics is necessary, especially when the poison has filtered from one of die worst of them down to the next generation.”
“Abelard’s son?” Rolland said. “Are you quite certain about him? Perhaps we have let our judgment be clouded by old injuries.”
Arnulf stared at him. “How can you even think that? You can’t be weakening now. It’s Satan working in you. You must find him! Astrolabe is a heretic even the masters of Paris will not touch. It’s our responsibility to see that he is brought to trial along with all the others. The Christian world must know that we will protect it from evil, no matter where it is found.”
“Of course,” Rolland said. “I only wanted to be sure that my revenge would fall on one who deserved it. But it makes sense that the wickedness of Peter Abelard should reside in his son as well. The world thinks all us Bretons are fools or schismatics. I would have helped refute that, but Abelard made sure no one took me seriously. I was the first to know the evil hidden in his heart.”
Arnulf moved a step away as if to prevent Rolland from coming close enough to sense the wickedness that hid in his own heart. This one needed careful handling. The monk wondered if he had chosen his associate wisely. Restraint was needed if he was to accomplish his design.
“Papa! Papa!” James and Edana leapt from the tubs and ran across the cold floor to greet him.
“Come back here at once!” Catherine ordered as she and Emily grabbed for them.
“I’ll go see if their clothes are dry,” Emily suggested and slipped into the next room.
“Oh, Edgar!” Catherine said as she handed him a blanket to wrap around James while she captured Edana. “I’m so glad you’re finally here.
I’m sorry that we took another route. I know it must have caused you trouble, but there was a problem. It seemed better at the time. Are you very upset?“
“Of course not. You made the best choice.” Edgar was surprised that she seemed to think he would be angry. “Who knows what would have happened if you’d gone to Nogent? Carissima, do you think I would have let you go with our children and much of our treasure if I didn’t believe you would know enough to deviate from the plan when necessary?”
Despite the fact that each of them was holding a slippery, clean and wriggly child, this conversation seemed to Catherine to be one of the most important they had ever had.
“I thought your only concern was to get the children out of the bad humors,” she said. “And you couldn’t leave immediately.”
“Yes, but if I didn’t trust you to make decisions and have the strength to carry them out, then I would have taken you all myself and trade be damned.”
“Oh.” Catherine smiled at him, eyes shining. “You never said that before.”
“I didn’t think I n
eeded to,” Edgar answered.
Then another thought struck her.
“Does this mean you’re going to be gone on trading missions as much as my father was?” she asked. “Because if so, then I’d rather you thought I was irresponsible.”
“James,” Edgar said firmly, “I’m putting you down now. Take your sister and help her into her shift and you get dressed, too. If you behave I’ll take you on an elephant hunt before bed.”
Catherine waited while James took his sister’s hand and headed for the next room, where Sister Emily waited with their clothes.
“Now,” Edgar said, “I intend to explain to you why I don’t intend to stay away from home a moment longer than is necessary to keep us fed.”
“I hate to mention this,” Catherine said when she could catch her breath, “but I know Mother Heloise wants to see you. Also, I need to sit down. Your next child is kicking me dreadfully.”
That night they ate a stew made from dried fish soaked in water with herbs. It was poured into a trencher of bread. Solomon, Edgar, Catherine and Astrolabe shared it, scooping out the stew with their spoons and then tearing the bread into equal shares.
“At least during Lent I don’t need to worry so much about being offered pork,” Solomon commented as he finished his piece and washed it own with cold water. “But I’ll be glad to head south where the wine flows in all seasons.”
“Have you decided to come with us, Astrolabe?” Edgar asked.
Astrolabe leaned back against the wall behind his bench. It seemed 5 Catherine that he had aged in the past week or so. It wasn’t only the beard, which did show grey, but an air about him of sadness. It gave him gravitas that he hadn’t had before. It made him seem more like his father l attitude, if not in appearance.
“It might be best if you left the country until after the council,” Catherine suggested.
“Yes,” Astrolabe answered, “it might. I know Mother would prefer that not subject myself to a public accusation. I thought so too at first. But we spent the past few days in serious prayer. Now I believe that it is important for me to face these men.”
“But not in chains, like your poor Breton madman,” Catherine insisted.
“No,” Astrolabe said. “Also, I want to be able to know the names ofmy enemies before we meet again. I owe it to Cecile to find the man who killed her.”
“That’s all very noble of you,” Solomon commented. “Just how do you intend to do that?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Astrolabe admitted. “But I think it will mean that won’t be shaving for a while.”
“I have an idea,” Catherine said. “The countess of Flanders will arrive soon. She’s coming here before she goes to Reims. Perhaps Astrolabe can arrange to travel with her. You seemed to enjoy being a guard.”
She grinned at him.
“It did make the conversations in taverns more interesting,” he laughed. “And as we discovered, no one really looks at a guard. They only see the weapons.”
“Do you think your mother will approve of this plan?” Edgar asked.
Astrolabe sighed and stood. “I won’t know until I tell her of it. I should go now, before Compline rings, and find out if she can see me tonight.”
When he had left, Catherine found she was too tired to wait for him to return. James and Edana had been put in a trundle bed in their room. Samonie was sleeping in the infirmary where Sister Melisande could tend to the headache she still had from her fall. While she was feeling much too gravid to be appealing, Catherine did long to spend as much time alone with Edgar as possible before he set out for Spain. If it were in bed, that would be even better. She got up.
“Solomon, would you excuse us for the night?” she asked. “You must be weary as well from your journey.”
“Of course,” Solomon told them. “Edgar, go warm your wife. I’ll sit and watch the fire awhile.”
He wasn’t sorry to see them go. Solomon needed some time to himself. No one had mentioned that Margaret hadn’t joined them for the evening meal. He hadn’t asked. He didn’t like the aversion in Edgar’s eyes when he showed concern for the girl. He picked up a poker and jabbed at the fire. That was all it was, of course. Margaret’s mother, Adalisa, had begged him with her last breath to watch over her child. It was his duty to see that she was happy. Poor Adalisa hadn’t been. He was determined to make sure that Margaret wasn’t married off to some brutish lordling who would be cruel to her, as Margaret’s father had been to her mother.
That was all. She was a child for whom he felt an avuncular responsibility. Nothing more. How could there be anything more?
Solomon smashed the glowing coals to ash. Then cursing the lack of beer, he went to bed.
Astrolabe followed Sister Thecla to the outer door of his mother’s room. She scratched at the door, and when Heloise answered, opened it and then retired discreetly to her own chamber.
Heloise held out her arms. “My dear boy! I’ve had so little time to see you! Forgive me. This whole episode has worried me more than I care to admit.”
“I know, Mother.” Astrolabe kissed her. “I never meant you to become part of it.”
“If someone is trying to harm you, then I’m part of it,” Heloise said. “For you are part of me.”
“I’m so sorry,” Astrolabe began.
Heloise put her hand on his mouth. “No, you mustn’t be. You were trying to help a friend. You’ve done nothing to be ashamed of.”
She motioned to him to sit on the stool by her chair, where she could have her arm around his shoulder and look into his face. She smiled and then sighed.
“When your father was tried, both times, I was already in the convent,” she said. “I could do nothing to defend him. I couldn’t even be here to offer my comfort. He came to see me after they had forced him to burn his work at Soissons. I never saw him so discouraged. Not even the attack on his body was as devastating as having his writing condemned.”
“I remember how he was after the second trial,” Astrolabe said. “I link the despair hastened his death. I find it hard to forgive Abbot Bernard for hounding him so.”
Heloise laid her head on his. “There are days when my charity is also drained. But the abbot is a good man, if not always well counseled. Remember that, my dearest.”
Astrolabe turned his face to hers. “You know what I’ve decided, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she said. “I wish in my heart that you would run from this trouble, go somewhere safe. But we can’t let the death of this poor woman go unavenged. From what you’ve said, her murderer is also guilty of sacrilege and the brutal rape of consecrated virgins. Men like that can’t be allowed to roam free. What would we do if he and his friends came here?”
“I hadn’t thought of that!” Now that he did, the idea froze his blood. The Paraclete has always been a refuge. I meant to bring Cecile to you for safety. Then, for her sake, you’ll risk the scandal of my being accused?“
Heloise smiled at him, shaking her head. “I’m not afraid of scandal,” one said. “Our cause is just. I’m also proud of my son who is willing to ice those who would slander him—just as his father did.”
“Thank you, Mother.” Astrolabe kissed her. “It may be difficult to explain why I was with the Eonites when poor Cecile was killed, but I’m are I can prove that I’m no heretic. My theology is contained in the Creed. I leave the subtleties to men like Father and Bishop Gilbert. But even if I can clear myself of everything, I feel I owe poor Eon a defense’s well.”
“If he truly is mad, then he can’t be held responsible for his ravings,” Heloise assured him. “But those who follow him may not be so innocent.”
“From what I saw, they are only poor, ignorant people,” Astrolabe said. “Their parish priest has failed to teach them, if they even have a priest.”
“Then it is the bishop of the area who is to blame, for not providing them with one,” Heloise said. “I shall write to the abbess of Saint-Sulpice in Brittany for more information. She is Count Th
ibault’s niece. There should be time for a response before the council begins. This time I will not wait patiently while the fate of those I love is decided.”
Six
The Paraclete. Friday 3 nones March (March 5), 1148.
Feast of Saint Gerasimus, a fifth-century Christian who became a hermit to escape the lure of heresy. Eventually he attracted seventy followers to live on dates, bread and water while they listened to his orthodox preaching.
Helwidi abbatissae uenerabili Paraded, Hugo Metellus, humilis
homuncio: in cythara et psalterio psallere Domino. Fama sonans per
inane uolans apud nos sonuit, quae digna sonitu de uobis, nobis
Heresy Page 10
