by Bell, Gradyn
The Catholic Church called them heretici, or heretics, those who had fallen away from the teachings of the True Church. They were damned, the Church leaders claimed. The power of the Roman Catholic Church lay in the fact that its dogma must be accepted unquestioningly by all the people. The power of the Church of the believers lay in the fact that they were able to question everything. The Catholic mass was preached in Latin, a language that few people understood, while the believers preached in Oc, the ordinary language of the people. The Catholic clergy in the cities lived in fine buildings, ate fine food and drank the finest of wines. The perfecti went about on foot, their only possessions being the clothes they wore on their backs. It was not difficult for the population to draw conclusions from what they could see with their own eyes.
As he was putting the finishing touches to the toy he was making for Maurina, Arnaud was surprised to hear a loud knocking on his door. Opening it, he saw that his visitor was his former parish priest who had trudged all the way from Ambres to speak to him. Arnaud had known him all his life and, indeed, it had been this priest who had baptised him as a baby.
“Can it be true, Arnaud, the things I’ve heard?”
“What have you heard, Father?’
“That you are thinking of joining the heretics. That you are thinking of becoming a member of the Cathar Church. Do you know why these people are called Cathars? It is because they are said to do unspeakable acts with cats. They are called witches by many. Do you really want to become one of them?” The priest looked stricken. “Look around you, boy!”
“I have looked around me, Father. Until last year, I had looked with my eyes closed. I didn’t see what was plain for everyone to see. I had never met any believers—at least, none that I knew about—except my wife and her family. Since her death, my life has changed completely. I can see the lives of indulgence that some of your clergy lead. I know now that for a man to truly know God, he must understand and question the Bible. I have realised that by shutting out the female population, Holy Mother Church shuts out half of God’s human creation. Some of the things your brother priests teach are lies and misinformation; even the Holy Father in Rome admits this. Yet it doesn’t change—people are still leading miserable, poverty-stricken lives. And the very people who should lead by example do not do so!”
The priest looked a little shamefaced. Honest man that he was, he had to agree with Arnaud’s arguments. “We are not all like that,” he said. “There are many amongst us who would see things change, but change takes a great deal of time.”
“I don’t have a great deal of time,” Arnaud said. “You cannot say there will be any changes made in my lifetime. What I do now is, in part, for my daughter, so that she may live a happier life than her mother who had to worship in secrecy.”
“You have not even brought Maurina to be baptised. You know she is in danger of losing her immortal soul.”
“One year ago I might have agreed with you, Father, but now I am not so sure. We must wait to see what happens. I thank you for coming to see me, though. I know it is only your care for my daughter and me that brought you here.”
The priest took Arnaud’s hand in his and said, “I trust you have chosen the right path, my boy. I know that whatever you do, you do with a sincere heart. May God go with you, whichever path you choose.”
“Thank you, Father,” said Arnaud, opening the door. “You may not know it, but you have helped to clear my mind.”
Later on that same day, Arnaud went to visit the Boutarras again and say goodbye to Maurina. The baby was bundled up against the cold weather, even inside the cottage.
“Look how much she has grown,” Saissa said with a self-satisfied air. “She’s much bigger than Braida, even though Braida is older.”
Arnaud looked at the Boutarras’ youngest child. She was smaller and slighter than her foster sister but nevertheless looked healthy and strong. All their children looked healthy and rosy, sharing the olive skin of their parents but it was apparent to anyone that the fair-haired Maurina had not come from the same stock. As he kissed the baby goodbye, he handed the little carved dove to Saissa.
“Give this to her when she is old enough to play with it. Perhaps you could thread a ribbon or a short leather lace through it so she doesn’t lose it. Don’t forget to tell her it was her papa who made it for her.” He couldn’t stop the tears that were threatening to fill his eyes, so he hastily took his leave.
“He’ll get over it soon enough.” Pierre spoke gruffly to hide his own emotions. “He’ll have to. He’ll meet far sadder things in the life he has chosen, and he’ll have far more difficult obstacles to overcome. We have been protected here in Lavaur, but there are terrible things going on in the wider world. Our brethren suffer daily for their faith. We must prepare ourselves for when our turn comes.”
“He’ll overcome any difficulties he meets,” Saissa replied. “I am convinced of that. His dedication is clear to see. It was God’s plan to bring him to the fold of the perfecti. If Bertrand had not gone to deliver the consolamentum of the dying to Arnaud’s wife, if she hadn’t died, Arnaud might never have discovered the truth.”
“As usual, my dear, you are probably right. You do sometimes speak a deal of sense…for a woman, that is!” There was a touch of humour in the way he spoke. He pulled her towards him. “Don’t you go dying on me, will you? I couldn’t bear it. I know I would not be man enough to do what Arnaud is doing.”
“Just like Arnaud, you would do what needed to be done in the circumstances,” Saissa said, poking the fire to stir up the cooling embers. “For the moment, it is enough to live as we believe is right and to bring up our children in the truth. That is a most important job, make no mistake.”
Pierre picked up the little dove that Arnaud had left for Maurina. “It’s beautiful,” he said. “What exquisite workmanship. I didn’t know he was a man of such talent. It’s fitting. The dove is a symbol of peace, and that’s all anyone wants…to live in peace.”
Chapter Seven
Northern France
1200 AD - Spring 1201 AD
The de Montforts
It was already several months into the new century. Preparations for the forthcoming Crusade had been gathering momentum on the domains of the de Montfort family and, indeed, on the estates of all those who had vowed to relieve the city of Jerusalem. Mounting a Crusade was a huge task!
Once the religious fervour of the gathering at Thibaut’s chateau had waned a little, there remained the pedestrian matters of provisioning and arming several thousand men. Simon could expect to take with him several of his nobles who held their land in fief to him, several Crusader knights who might or might not belong to a religious order, foot sergeants and sergeants of military orders, together with hundreds, if not thousands, of Crusader crossbowmen. Some of those in his train would belong to the religious military orders whose members had taken vows of poverty, chastity and obedience in one or other of the religious rules. The largest groups of these would be members of the ferocious fighting order known as the Knights Templar. They followed a religious rule and were answerable only to the Grand Prior of their order. As well as knights mounted on huge war horses, armed with swords, lances and shields, there would be foot soldiers armed with swords and shields, and men armed only with religious zeal, convinced they were unassailable because they were fighting a Christian cause!
The cost of provisioning an army raised on the de Montfort estates was largely born by Simon, although other knights and barons were expected to provide their own men and armour. Many people—both men and women—unable or unwilling to go on the Crusade themselves made large donations in order to buy themselves certain advantages in the church and other freedoms from local taxes. They had learned the hard way, from other Crusades, that travelling to the Holy Land, even for the purpose of a pilgrimage with no fighting involved, could easily lead to disaster; on other Crusades many people had succumbed to disease and attacks by bandits en route.
The organizers had decided that, if possible, this army would go by land to Venice and from there take ship to accomplish their great mission. To this end, a party of six men, including Villehardouin, Thibaut’s marshall, would set off for Venice to organize transport by sea to retake the Holy Land from the infidels, as the Turks were called. The thirty thousand soldiers, whom the leaders of the Crusade confidently expected would turn up, would embark from that Venetian port and attack to the north from Egypt.
There was much travel back and forth between Montfort and Champagne, the location of Thibaut’s main estates. Since Thibaut was the leader of the Crusade, Simon would travel under his banners, along with all the men from his own estates. Geoffrey de Joinville, Simon’s friend, and Gauthier of Brienne, who Geoffrey had beaten at the tournament, would also travel under Thibaut’s banner. It would be a large and brave army that would finally set out.
Amaury had spent the last few months in a daze of excitement. He had practised for hours with his short sword and a small lance. He could now wear his armour without feeling tired, and his riding had improved immeasurably. His father’s squire had spent many hours with the boy, who was already strides ahead of several of the older pages in fighting skills. Not that there would be any real opportunity for him to use what he had learned, the boy realised. He had been given a larger palfrey to ride, and his own palfrey had been given to Guy, largely to assuage the little boy’s tears each time he thought of the imminent departure of his father and older brother. The little boy had been comforted by his father, who explained that by the time they returned, he would have become a good horseman if he practised enough, and would be old enough to become a page himself.
The sun was hot and the sky a brassy blue peculiar to the northern part of France, not far from the French capital of Paris. The two young brothers were in the castle yard practising with their small swords against a stout wooden stake. The object was to make lunges against the post to improve their stamina and Amaury’s muscles, which, as he was wont to point out frequently to anyone who would listen, were beginning to develop. He spent hours every day with the other pages and squires—so much so, in fact, that his mother had begun to complain that she never saw him anymore. She and Guy had become much more attached since the decision had been taken for Amaury to go with his father, and the two of them, mother and son, could often be found in the castle mews where the falcons and hawks were kept. Even at his tender age, Guy possessed a certain gentleness about him, to which the hunting birds responded well, and he seemed to have no fear of the vicious-looking talons of the birds of prey.
“Ouch!” Amaury exclaimed, holding his stomach. “You didn’t need to hit me that hard.” He glared at his opponent, who stood laughing at him.
“You must move faster, master Amaury, if you are not to be injured in a real battle.”
His opponent was one of the older squires who had joined the two youngsters. He came from a family less noble than the de Montforts and he had inveigled himself into the service of Simon, whose reputation as a fighter was well known throughout France. He was one of many whose only way of making a living for himself would be as a valued soldier in Simon’s retinue. He was glad to be here in Montfort and did not mind passing the time by helping to train Amaury.
Amaury fought back tears. His stomach really hurt and he wished he had put on his hauberk, as his mother had suggested. “I will go inside now,” he growled, largely to cover up his discomfort. “I will join you later,” he said in the grand manner he had adopted since the time he had been told he could go on the Crusade. “You can stay here,” he said to Guy, who had been watching his brother and the squire exchanging blows, and scurrying into the castle he went to find his mother.
“What have you done?” Alicia’s voice was all concern. “Let me see.” She pulled the boy towards her where she could see the bruise, which was already beginning to turn purple.
“It’s nothing really, Maman.” Amaury’s lip trembled slightly as he spoke.
“You’re probably right, but I think you should let me put some Leopard’s Bane on it, just to make sure.”
Alicia could have wept—not at the hurt her child had sustained, for he would sustain more hurt than this in his life, but at his valiant effort to pretend it hadn’t hurt him. She was grateful for this small chance to mother him again, and went to the chest in which she kept all her herbs for treating day-to-day illnesses and wounds.
“Here, let me dab a little of this on you. It won’t hurt.”
Amaury winced nevertheless when the cool liquid touched the now enlarged bruise. She put her arms around him and was surprised to feel his answering hug. He was still really only a baby, and she seriously questioned the sense of her husband who had promised to take him on the long ride to Venice. She could only hope and pray that he would not fall victim to one of the dreaded diseases en route or fall by the wayside in a bandit attack. She knew in her heart that with Simon alongside there was little danger of his becoming a victim of such an attack, but disease was always rife and even the great Simon could not combat that!
“Go along now. That will soon ease the ache. You don’t want your papa to find you in here with me on such a good day for practice.” She pushed him gently away from her and stood up to put away her precious medicines.
Once outside, Amaury resumed his bravado and took up his sword with renewed gusto. He was determined to hit the older squire where it hurt, and before his opponent knew what was happening, he found himself on the ground with Amaury’s triumphant face staring down at him.
“Well done, my boy!” Amaury hadn’t heard his father approaching. “It would have been fairer to give warning before you struck, but nevertheless it was a mighty blow and one well placed.” As he spoke, Simon bent down to help the discomfited young squire to his feet.
Amaury fairly glowed at the praise, his bruise all but forgotten. “Did you see, Papa? He is much bigger than I am, too!” His tone was self-congratulatory.
Simon looked down at him gravely. “Yes, I saw. It was fortunate you caught him off guard, but if he had been expecting your blow, things might have turned out differently. It never does to rush into things without a bit of thought. Planning—that’s the essence of success in any battle. That, and courage, although I don’t doubt you’ve plenty of that, my boy!”
Simon and Alicia retired to their private apartment early that evening, for there was still much to discuss. It seemed they had been discussing for months and now the fact was almost upon them. They only awaited the message that would come from Thibaut as soon as the envoys returned from Venice. Knowing his wife as well as he did, Simon had few qualms about the day-to-day running of his estates. Their major topic of conversation that evening was Amaury and how he would manage the journey that would be several hundred miles long. It would be arduous for the most seasoned campaigner, but as usual Simon was optimistic. Defeat was not in his nature, and if he thought Amaury would successfully make the journey, then Amaury would!
“Come, my dear. Enough of this worrying,” He drew her close and patted her gently rounded belly, for she was just entering her fourth month of pregnancy. “It seems strange that I shall not be here for the birth of this one,” he said. “You must send messengers post haste as soon as you are delivered. I hope for a girl this time, one who looks just like you.” He kissed her gently.
They were both aware of the dangers that beset a woman in childbirth, and although the emphasis had been on the dangers the Crusaders would face, they knew she would have her own demons to overcome. All that Simon could do to protect her had been done. If he should die in battle, arrangements had been made to get Amaury home safely. Alicia herself would take control of the estates until Amaury was old enough to do so.
It was now nearly eight months since Simon had taken the cross that day at Ecry on the Count of Champagne’s estate. He was not the most patient of men, and his own preparations had been well in hand for several weeks. He was only awaiting the message
from Thibaut to say that the sea transport for the army had been arranged and what the final cost would be. He reckoned that his men were at the peak of their training, their morale was high, their equipment in good order and nothing could be gained by waiting around. Daily he scanned the horizon for some sign of messengers, and daily he was disappointed.
At last, almost demented with inaction, he decided that he himself would ride to Thibaut to find out what progress had been made. He called for volunteers, of whom there was no shortage and a group consisting of some twenty men and one young boy, Amaury, who was glad of some diversion, set off.
The journey through the French countryside at this time of year was most pleasant. The well-trodden tracks were firm, as there had been no rain for weeks. All around them the harvest was being gathered and it looked set to be a good one. As they passed through the villages on Simon’s estates, the peasants acknowledged them cheerfully, for Simon was a fair man—hard in his dealings but generally just, if he believed a cause to be worthy.
Amaury sat his palfrey proudly. He tried to emulate some of the riding styles of the knights who were along with them, while attempting manfully, but with little success, to ignore the saddle sores that were beginning to develop on his upper legs. Already he could feel the blood from them trickling down his inner thighs. He had never before spent this much time on the back of a horse, and he hoped his legs would not take long to toughen up.
They took some time on the trip to hunt the wild boars that were so plentiful in this part of Northern France. They were dangerous creatures, especially the sows with their young. Amaury, to his chagrin, was kept very much at the back of the hunt. His father cautioned him to stay still, keep quiet and, particularly, to stay downwind of the creatures. The boy was sullen. Some of the young squires only a few years older than he was were allowed to participate in the hunt. He could see no real reason why he shouldn’t be allowed, too, so very cautiously and hoping he would not be noticed, he edged his palfrey around the side of the main hunt and spurred her a little way into the forest. Off the beaten track, the branches whipped against his face, momentarily blinding him. For a moment he panicked as he reined in his horse to wipe away the blood from the scratches.
