by Bell, Gradyn
Upon hearing this, Arnaud realised why it had been so important for his wife that he fetch Bertrand when she was dying. The young man had never been so glad in all his life that he had done what his wife had requested. He knew now that she had died happy, and he thanked God that he had been allowed to facilitate this.
“Are you telling me that we’re all evil—even small babies and tiny children?” Arnaud looked troubled at the thought.
“Inherently, yes,” Bertrand said quietly. “I know that is difficult to accept, but we believe it to be the truth. We believe evil stalks the world around us all and it is not until the soul, which is the good within us, is released that we are truly able to see God and enter His kingdom. If you will, evil has managed to ‘imprison’ man’s soul and his salvation can only come through the consolamentum of the dying. That’s when the soul is set free and begins the rite of purification, either by reincarnation into another body or, if pure enough, to see God instantly. All Cathars, even those of us who have been deemed perfect on this earth, may have to pass through several lives before we are good enough for the Lord God. That’s why I had to get to your wife before she died.”
“This seems very difficult to me,” Arnaud declared. The idea of reincarnation was virtually unknown to him. Certainly no priest had ever mentioned it. “What does Holy Mother Church think of these things? It all seems very farfetched!”
“Arnaud,” Bertrand continued, “we do not speak of reincarnation, even to our simple believers. The notion is too difficult for most of our people to understand, but in view of your great loss and your obvious love for your wife, I wanted to give you some measure of comfort and let you know that while her bodily remains are dead, she, herself, is not. Her spirit flies as free as a dove, and who knows where it will settle?”
It was a comforting thought, Arnaud had to agree, but he wouldn’t like to hazard a guess what his village priest would have to say about the idea.
They walked several miles more in companionable silence, each man occupied with his own thoughts. Arnaud had begun to like the idea of his wife’s soul flying as free as a dove. It was certainly was more comforting than the thought of her soul trapped in a dank coffin somewhere in the ground. This notion lifted his spirits higher than they had been since the terrible day of her death.
“Are there many of you believers about?” Arnaud inquired. “Could I learn more?” He was clearly interested.
Not wishing to discourage him, Bertrand told him there were many believers in Lavaur and if he were truly interested in discovering the real truth of God, many would be willing to talk to him. There would be a great deal to learn, however, and it should not be entered into lightly. “I must warn you that we are not well received by everybody,” Bertrand said. “In fact, some of our knowledge is downright dangerous to talk about.”
“You have nothing to fear from my loose tongue,” Arnaud assured him.
Bertrand gave him a wide smile. “No, I did not think there would be. That is why I have spoken freely with you, and one of the reasons I asked you to accompany us. I wanted you to see the fellowship we have and perhaps have a small taste of the way we live.”
Their arrival in Taulat caused quite a stir. Usually only a pair of preachers arrived at one time. Three was a novelty in this small hamlet, which boasted fewer than a hundred souls. Of the hundred, twenty considered themselves believers. Unfortunately, the village priest was dead set against anyone who as much as breathed any of the wicked heresy, which is what the Catholic Church judged the Cathar religion to be.
Therefore, in order to not disturb the even tenor of the villagers who lived closely-intertwined lives, the meeting was held out of doors in the late afternoon sun in a forest clearing. The preaching was always done in the local tongue called Oc, which was quite different from the language spoken by the King of France and all his court. It was a language popularised by the troubadours who went from castle to castle singing songs of love and composing poetry.
On their way back to Lavaur, Arnaud was eager to question Bertrand further, but the older man parried his questions skilfully without giving him any real answers. “Be patient, my boy. All will be revealed to you in God’s own time. First we must obtain lodgings for you in one of the houses of the believers. You can rely on them to find answers to your questions. In the meantime, I must ask you if you are still quite certain you do not wish to return to Ambres?”
“Perhaps in time I may,” said Arnaud, “but the wound is still too sore. I should be grateful to obtain lodgings in Lavaur where I can see Maurina growing up, even if I am not sharing a house with her. Perhaps I can find some work to do. I am a leather tanner by trade and would be happy to find something to occupy my time and pay for both my lodgings and those of the baby.”
Bertrand was pleased that Arnaud had finally mentioned the baby. He had feared he might be blaming Maurina for her mother’s death and would wish nothing more to do with her. He was glad his judgement had been mistaken and was beginning to have high hopes for this young man, who might one day join his flock of believers.
“I believe I know of a glove maker who may be able to use your skills. It would not be in a tannery, but I am sure you would not mind that,” he said with a glance at Arnaud’s still stained yellow hands.
Arnaud agreed wholeheartedly with him. He had never liked the smell of the tannery or the dye that coloured his hands and clothes.
The trip home took a little less time than the journey there. Arnaud had begun to loosen up and his muscles had stopped complaining about their unaccustomed work. In fact he had begun to feel better than he had for months. The worry of his wife’s pregnancy and her subsequent death had taken a greater toll on him than he had realised. Truth to tell his spirits had been immensely lifted by the idea of her reincarnation!
When they reached the gates of Lavaur, Arnaud took leave of the other two men with a note of caution left in his ear by Bertrand. “You would be wise not to speak of our trip to anyone other than those you know to be believers. We are not exactly popular with the Church, and because of this, some of us find it politic to attend mass as normal. I suggest you do this as well so as to arouse no suspicion of your interest in us. The Catholic Church is beginning to stir itself up against our people, and although our neighbours who are not part of our church live happily amongst us, the priests have warned them they could become tainted with the heresy we preach. You do not want to fall foul of them at this time.” He did not add that falling foul of the Catholic Church was an inevitable consequence of being a Cathar at any time.
Later that evening, when Arnaud knocked at the door of the Boutarras’ cottage, he could hear the sound of children playing. Looking through the roughly curtained window, he could see Saissa sitting next to the fire with a baby across her knee. He could not tell whether it was Maurina or Braida, but whichever child it was, it was clearly happy because its eyes were beginning to droop in that satisfied way that told of perfect contentment. The rosy glow of the fire was reflected in the cheeks of the older children who were quarrelling good-naturedly about some game they were playing. It looked a picture of domestic bliss, uncommon enough in these times, and Arnaud felt a pang of sorrow at what he would be missing now that his wife was dead.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door being unbarred. Pierre opened the door and welcomed him warmly. “We were expecting you. Bertrand called by earlier and told us you might be looking for lodgings nearby.”
By this time Saissa had put the baby down in its cradle and she bustled forward to greet Arnaud. “Stop talking on the doorstep,” she said. “Let the man come in first.” Arnaud smiled at her as she pointed to a place on the bench near the fire. “Sit down and warm yourself. The weather is not getting any more pleasant, is it?”
Arnaud nodded and sat down as he had been told. The warmth of the fire soon seeped through his bones and lifted the chill that the walk to the cottage on this December evening had given him. “I need somewhere t
o live, and I must also seek some kind of employment. Bertrand spoke of someone who might help me, a glove maker, I believe,”
“That’s my brother-in-law,” Saissa said. “Guillaume Lagarde. He’s married to my younger sister Perella. Nice couple. No children yet, though.”
“If Bertrand says he thinks Guillaume can find you some work, he probably will be able to.” Pierre and Saissa exchanged a glance that did not go unnoticed by Arnaud.
“Everyone has been very kind to me. More than kind, really. I am wondering what interest Bertrand has in me. Surely it is not just for the sake of my wife or my baby.”
“Never fear, friend,” Pierre said. “God has His plans for you, which will be revealed in good time. Doubtless, Bertrand will be the instrument for the revelation.”
“What revelation?” Arnaud was instantly intrigued, but neither Pierre nor Saissa would be drawn in any further.
“You can stay here the night till you get lodgings tomorrow. I’m sorry we can’t put you up permanently where you could be close to Maurina, but as you can see, we are pretty crowded and will likely be more so when the animals come indoors for winter.”
While speaking, Saissa had pulled out another straw-filled palliasse for Arnaud. There were no refinements such as bed linen, to which he had been accustomed at home, but nevertheless, the mattress was comfortable enough and it wasn’t long before the whole household was asleep.
They were awakened abruptly by a loud banging at the cottage door. The dogs jumped up in alarm, making more noise, and both babies started to wail in unison. Pierre struggled into his leggings and threw open the door. Standing on the doorstep was a very dishevelled Elder. Immediately, Pierre was alarmed. The Elders never looked dishevelled! While they generally had an aura of calm about them, this man was far from calm. He pushed Pierre aside and bade him close the door quickly, looking over his shoulder as he spoke.
“What is it?” Pierre asked. He forgot to bow, the act of veneration being the last thing on his mind at that moment. “What has happened? Has someone died?” He could have bitten his tongue as he said that, since Arnaud had awoken and was listening intently to the conversation.
“No one we know, but news has been received from the Perfecta who leads our house in Troyes.” He paused dramatically. “There have been eight burnings in the town centre there. Five of our brothers and three of our sisters have gone to greater glory, burned by the order of the Archbishop. I am afraid it has begun, my friend!”
“What has begun?” Arnaud looked puzzled.
“It is a long story and perhaps Pierre here will tell you about it. I must go and spread the news and warn our people of what is happening.” With that, the Elder left as quickly as he had arrived.
“We have always lived our lives according to what we believe to be right. The corruption and decay in the Catholic Church is easy to see. They don’t even try to hide it! Many priests do not even bother to obey church laws. They sell justice. If you can’t afford to buy a pardon from the priest, then you are dammed. All poor people are dammed! Not so the rich! They can afford to buy their salvation. When was the last time you ever saw an archbishop in this diocese? They never even bother to visit, to see what is happening. They believe, or perhaps they don’t even care, that illiterate priests pass on God’s word. Many monks have taken mistresses; in principle I do not care if a man has a mistress but I do if that man has sworn a vow of chastity! Some, even more unworthy, have become money lenders. Their church forbids this but what do they care? They live very well on the profit which they have bled from their poorest parishioners.” Pierre’s eyes were alight as he spoke. He clearly had little time for the Catholic clergy.
“But why burn your people, the believers? What harm do you do?”
“They fear us, my friend. We are a growing group. Already there are many thousands who are believers and more come every day!”
“I still do not understand why they should burn you.” Arnaud was clearly very troubled. “I have received nothing but kindness at your hands. My wife was one of you. She was a good person who never harmed a fly. What is it that Holy Mother Church fears?”
“They fear the lies they teach may become apparent and then their power would be dissipated. Where would the church be without all the poor souls who regularly pay for the upkeep of the bishops’ fine palaces? We are beginning to find that even the most devout amongst Catholics doubt the sanctity of the church! And this is the fault not of the Pope, perhaps, but certainly of some of his priests. We are happy to live side-by-side with everyone, but it appears we are a great threat.”
Arnaud looked from Pierre to Saissa, who had been listening all the while her husband was speaking. No one could look less threatening than this couple! “Are there many believers in Lavaur? I know there are some because my wife’s parents live here in the town.”
“There are several hundreds of us, I think,” she replied. “We meet regularly, not as a whole group but separately, sometimes outside, sometimes in each other’s houses. You would be surprised by the names of some of the believers. Many are very rich and some have become perfecti.” Saissa smiled. “Would you like to come to one of our meetings? You would be made welcome and you could learn more, perhaps, to interest you. We must be careful, though. It seems as though we are in for a period of trouble. We have not had much of that for the past twenty-five years, even though the Pope declared our beliefs anathema then. We were cursed for all time and shortly after that, one of his bishops besieged our town and they tried to make our families recant their beliefs. We never did, of course, but our lord, Raymond-Roger, did so on our behalf. Poor man, he tried very hard to persuade us to return to the Catholic Church.” She looked sombre. “It was before my time but my mother has told me the story many times. Not one of us gave in to the persuasion of Raymond-Roger and he was stuck with as many of us as he had before the siege. It was a good thing he was as tolerant as he was. I don’t think the bishop who led the siege ever came back.”
“I should certainly like to come to one of your meetings and learn more of what you are about. I had no idea that burnings were permitted and do not think any God would forgive such a thing. How the poor people must have suffered!” Arnaud shuddered at the thought.
“I am not so sure of that,” Pierre said. “It is a fact that even though they are given the chance to recant their beliefs before they burn, I have never heard of anyone who did!”
Chapter Five
Northern France
November, 1199 AD
The de Montforts
Amaury stretched and opened his eyes. Had last night been a dream he wondered, as he looked around him. All seemed as usual. Guy was there in bed beside him and the younger pages were curled up on their palliasses in the corner of the room. Pushing off the coverlet, he clambered past the heavy bedhangings. Although he could hardly see in the dim grey light that filtered through the arrow slits, there was just enough light to see that he had not been dreaming.
While the boys had slept, someone had delivered the oak chest with his armour to their room. It was there, at the end of the bed, begging to be opened once more. Remembering his struggle to lift the heavy lid in the great hall the previous night, he ran and shook one of the young pages awake and asked him to help him. Only too pleased to oblige, the youngster ran to help the young master, and between the two of them the contents of the chest soon lay revealed. Amaury ran his hands lovingly over the polished metal. How proud he was to be the owner of such a set of armour! And how proud he was of his papa who had obtained it for him!
Thinking of his papa reminded him that today was the day Simon would fight in the lists. He wished he was old enough to take part, but that was a long way in the future. He must go to his uncle of Leicester first and begin the training that would culminate in his becoming a knight.
“Wake up, Guy! Wake up!” Amaury shook his little brother more roughly than was necessary. “I’ve got something to tell you.”
“What’s
wrong, Amaury? What’s happened?”
“Look in the chest here. See what Papa has given me,” Amaury said excitedly. As he lifted up the hauberk, the links clinked gratifyingly against each other.
Guy’s eyes opened wide. “Is it really yours?” he breathed.
“While you were sleeping last night in the hall, he gave it to me in front of all the guests. And not only that,” he went on, “I am to leave for my uncle of Leicester’s estate next week!”
Guy was aghast. In all his four years, the family unit had been secure. Even at his tender age, he realised that things were about to change in a major way and he was not sure he liked the idea. His lower lip began to quiver.
For once, Amaury did not become impatient with his little brother. “Guy, you know we all have to go away. Look at Francois here, and look at Raymond. They have left their families, but they visit them from time to time. One day soon, your turn will come.”
“I’ll never want to leave Montfort and maman and papa,” Guy said emphatically.
“Wait until you’re old enough before you decide.” Gone were the uncertainties of last night. In Amaury’s imagination, he was already in Leicester practising the quintain and wielding a large lance!
If yesterday had been an almost perfect day for the jousts, today was just the opposite. The rain pattered down in that resistant drizzle that was so typical of this part of France. One would not be aware of getting wet, so light was the shower. It was its persistence that did the damage. Ten minutes out of doors would see a costume soaked, shoes ruined and the previously hardened ground turned into a quagmire. The gloriously brave and colourful pennants of the day before now hung limply from their masts, and all the storekeepers huddled for warmth under cover of their makeshift booths. There would be fewer people in the crowds today than yesterday, but perhaps the sun would come out later and brighten everyone’s spirits. The knights who were to compete in the lists would not be too unhappy at the change in the weather, however. It gave them a chance to practise in a variety of weather conditions, which was not a bad thing.
