The de Montfort Histories - The Dove and the Devil

by Bell, Gradyn

  Accordingly, he and his retinue were rowed out to the camp where the soldiers were billeted and it was finally agreed that the Crusaders should pay the balance of what they owed out of the first conquests they would make in the Holy Land. The soldiers were beside themselves with joy now that they could see an end to their dilemma. Some of then even went as far as to fall at the feet of the Doge to thank him.

  What most of the army did not know (because it was kept secret) was that the Doge had forced an agreement with the leaders of the Crusade to first conquer the city of Zara. The fact that it was a Catholic city with a leader who had taken the cross himself counted for nothing. The Doge’s supporters had told the leaders it was a wicked city that had done much commercial damage to the Venetians. The wily old man pointed out that it was already the month of November and the Crusaders wouldn’t wish to cross the sea to the Holy Land at that time of the year. Zara, just up the coast, was a rich prize that could be taken easily. They would be able to winter in the city, provision themselves very well and make themselves ready for the real Crusade that could begin the following year.

  This entire proposition made a great deal of sense to most of the leaders, except Simon and his closest friends, who were horrified at the thought of attacking a Christian city.

  “It’s that damned Fulques de Neuilly again!” Simon fumed. “He has persuaded Monferat and the Count of Flanders to attack Zara. He is supposed to be on the side of the Christians. Even though he is the Pope’s Legate, he has gone against us! We can’t in good conscience follow their lead. These people are Christian. We came to fight the infidel, not Christians. Don’t they see that they are being gulled by the Venetians? This is a political matter, not a religious one! How can our leaders be so blind?”

  Simon raged on. “The Abbot of Vaux has forbidden this attack in the name of the Pope. I shudder to imagine what the Holy Father will say when he hears of Fulques’ calumny. We are all bound to be excommunicated if we do as the Doge wishes, and I cannot countenance that!”

  Guy de Montfort, Simon’s younger brother, spoke up. “The Doge has promised no one in Zara will be hurt if the city surrenders to us. I, for one, would support this action. We are short of supplies and we cannot stay here on this island over the winter. We must get provisions somehow, and this seems to be an ideal opportunity. Surely this is a sensible course to follow!”

  Simon glared at him. “I had not thought to hear a brother of mine speak thus. You disgrace your name and our lineage, sir!” He turned to the others. “I shall return to France as soon as is possible with any of you who wish to accompany me. If we ride hard, we could be back by early next year. I will not attack fellow Christians, nor will I take from them what is theirs, especially at the request of someone like the vile Enrico Dandolo. He may be the Doge, but that does not excuse him from behaving like a Christian!” With that Simon turned his back on the company and stalked out into the night.

  “Papa, what are you doing here?”

  The voice of his elder son broke into his thoughts. Simon had not realised that he had walked as far as the quarters of the younger squires and pages, so deep had he been in contemplation. He was severely troubled by the events that had taken place. The more he thought about them, the more he could feel another rising tide of anger against the machinations of the Venetians. The Crusaders and their leaders had been led like lambs to the slaughter in agreeing to do something as abhorrent as attacking fellow Christians. He would not, could not, be a party to such things. The Holy Crusade, which he had lived and dreamed about for nearly three years, was about to disappear into thin air. The wrench he felt that all his plans had come to nought, was almost more than he could bear.

  “We are for home, Amaury. What do you think of that?”

  Amaury looked puzzled. “But, Papa, you haven’t been to the Holy Land yet. When are you going?”

  “We are not going. It is a difficult matter to explain, but you may rest assured we will be back in France, at home, and you will see your maman by the spring of next year!” “But I thought we were to remain here while you went off to fight.” Amaury’s voice rose to a squeak. At nearly twelve, his tone could range from a deep bass to a surprising soprano.

  “There has been a change in our plans and some of us have found it necessary to return home. Besides, I am sure your maman will be longing to see you again. She won’t recognize you; you have grown so much and become almost a man!” He gave Amaury a friendly slap on the back, resisting the impulse to hug his son. Any outward show of affection might cause Amaury to become the butt of ridicule to the other pages. His son would clearly be a tall man; even now his strength was gaining some notoriety amongst the other boys and young men.

  Amaury found it hard to contain his dismay. He had secretly hoped to be taken on the journey to the Holy Land. He knew his mother had expected him to stay in Venice, but he had worked hard on his fighting skills, nursing the hope that his father would be so impressed he would allow him to go. But, alas, it was not to be. It seemed that fate had conspired against him to ensure his mother’s wishes were carried out.

  It was a tired and dispirited group that set out from Venice and began to wind its way overland along the southern coast of France en route to the Ile de France where the de Montfort estate lay. The bulk of those returning to their own estates had gone their own ways, but Simon had decided he would return by a more southerly route, enabling him to stay on the estate of one of his friends, the Count de Comminges. They had been brothers-in-arms on previous occasions. Simon was looking forward to seeing one of his jousting partners once more, and relating the story of the perfidious Doge and those French nobles who had done the old man’s bidding and were preparing to attack a Christian city.

  His heart gladdened at the thought of seeing Alicia again. He had sent messengers to his own estates, and it had been arranged that Alicia would join him in the south with the other children. He had not yet told Amaury that he was soon to see his mother and younger sister and brother. He wondered what his wife would say when she saw her almost grown-up son for the first time in many months.

  As the journey progressed, everyone’s spirits began to rise. Who could fail to feel happy in the glorious sun of Occitania? Amaury himself was becoming absolutely charmed by the colour and vitality of the area where the language of Oc was spoken. He found the language difficult to understand since it bore not a great deal of relation to his own language. But he still loved to listen to the songs of the troubadours, plaintiff with their airs of unrequited love. The language in which the songs were sung lent itself charmingly to the practice of courtly love which was so popular in the south of the country.

  Simon himself had had some experience with troubadours. Marie, Countess of Champagne, the mother of his late friend Thibaut, was the daughter of Eleanor of Aquitaine, Queen of England. Brought up in the South of France in the court of her grandfather, a noted troubadour himself, Eleanor had imported many of her musicians to her court in the north. While staying at Ecry, where the last tournament in which he had taken part had been held, Simon, and indeed all the company present, had listened to the music of some of the most famous musicians in the whole of France. Although many of the clever performers were of noble rank, others travelled from castle to castle, usually in pairs, often carrying news as well as bringing entertainment. Their songs extolled the virtue of chastity and a pure life. While singing about a refined love, they praised the virtues of women, something of which the Church did not approve. Passion in love was absolutely forbidden and women were strictly enjoined to know their place in society.

  Riding along on his palfrey, Amaury cared not a whit about what the Church thought about troubadours. He loved their music, and although he found the language difficult, he was beginning to pick up words in Occitan. He made a point of talking to locals along the way and each night hung around whatever musicians had joined the company. He would have loved to join in and sing some of the music but had to be content to listen.
The language barrier was difficult enough to overcome, but even worse was the continual change in his voice from soprano to bass.

  Nevertheless, while riding along he attempted to sing to himself some of the songs he had picked up. He thought the life of a troubadour would suit him very well. Those he had spoken to had told him tales of their journeys and adventures, and although he was something of a seasoned traveller himself, he thought that moving about in this part of France, with its equitable climate, clear skies, beautiful wildflowers and a population that seemed to welcome them wherever they went, would be very agreeable indeed. He thought he would just mention this to his papa when a suitable occasion arose. Guy, his younger brother, could take care of the estate while he, Amaury, was away singing!

  Amaury had never seen his father so relaxed. Gone was the thunderous face of the would-be Crusader. He guessed the thought of seeing his old friend had raised Simon’s spirits. His father could be charming when he wished—and when things were going his way. Amaury wondered if this would be the right moment to tell him about his dream of becoming a troubadour. After all, many troubadours were noblemen and it was a respected thing to do. Even though he couldn’t see why there would be any objections to his wishes, something pricked in the back of his mind and he had distinct reservations about broaching the subject.

  Knowing that Simon would not wish to be bothered with him the next day, after they had arrived at Foix where the Count de Comminges was staying, Amaury gathered up his courage and approached his father. Unfortunately his instincts had been correct. Simon was not pleased by his older son’s revelation. It was not that Simon considered the troubadours to be somewhat effeminate, nor was it the fact that no one in Simon’s family had ever thought to sing for a living. They were all soldiers—had been for centuries—and Simon had no wish to see his heir change that state of affairs. What upset Simon the most was the fact that his son should even entertain a notion as ridiculous as becoming a musician! He had ensured that Amaury begin his training as a knight as early as possible, and had arranged matters so that the boy could see things that many twelve-year-old boys would never experience.

  Truth to tell, Simon was disappointed in the boy. His hopes for enlarging his estates lay with his sons as well as with himself. The abortive Crusade had just lost him, and many like him, the chance to add to his coffers. Although the thought of the money to be made had never entered Simon’s head at the outset of the venture, it was a known fact that few Crusaders ever returned home out-of-pocket. Therefore, sadly, Simon would never countenance his son’s whim, which was how he regarded Amaury’s idea.

  That evening, poor Amaury went to bed feeling crushed and more wretched than he had ever felt in his life. All his brilliant plans for an exiting future had been wiped out by his father’s few scathing remarks. He adored his father and certainly wished to do nothing to displease him. As he mulled over their conversation in his mind, he began to see the sense in what Simon had said. He was, after all, the heir to a large estate, one which would inevitably become larger with other conquests and marriages. In order to make those conquests, one had to fight, and in order to fight, a boy of his rank must earn his knighthood. Besides, he told himself, he liked fighting. There was no doubt about that. He could see that there was nothing for him to do but forget what was merely a fanciful dream and get on with the business at hand, which was to earn the right to become a squire.

  Just before falling asleep, he made up his mind to go to his papa the next day and tell him what he had decided. With that thought comforting him, he knew he would soon be back in Simon’s good graces.

  Chapter Nine

  Occitania, South of France

  1201 AD - 1204 AD

  Arnaud

  Arnaud’s new life began with a trip to Fanjeaux where there was a large Cathar seminary. It was a part of the country he would come to know well. Some distance from Lavaur, it lay within the domain of Count Raymond-Roger Trencavel. Although he was not a Cathar himself, Raymond-Roger was known to be very tolerant towards those who were, and counted many elders, including Bertrand, amongst his friends. It was common knowledge that he had aided the Cathars in the past by concealing them or, when necessary, negotiating on their behalf with the Catholic Church.

  At first, Arnaud found the rigors of his new life hard to sustain. Although he had expected this to be the case, it didn’t make the changes any easier to bear. In the beginning, he frequently asked himself why he was there at all. And then the memories would come flooding back to him and he would know with certainty that he was pursuing the right path. He first had to learn to live entirely without meat and depend wholly on raw vegetables or fruit to sustain him in his daily work. To a young man in the prime of his life, unused as he was to the type of labouring work he was now called upon to do, each day was a trial.

  All the newcomers—postulants they were called—had to divide their time between meditation and doing good works, and earning a living with their hands. Seeing how hard these young men and women worked was an education to the rest of the population labouring in the fields, for whatever their former rank in society, the Cathars worked alongside the peasants with cheerful determination. Any money they earned was turned over to their religious community. Women postulants stayed in the communal houses and cooked and looked after the children of penniless nobles who had left their offspring there to be taught the ways of the believers. In fact, the seminary where Arnaud lived had been set up by a woman named Esclarmonde, sister of the Count of Foix. It was here that Arnaud hoped one day to bring Maurina.

  If life was exhausting, it was also satisfying to Arnaud, who had not realized before how much being able to ask and answer questions about God and Jesus Christ had meant to him. As a Catholic he had relied on his priest for interpretation of the Holy Scriptures, since everything was written in Latin and the texts themselves were few and far between. It was a fact, he learned, that many priests had never even seen a written copy of the Bible except in the seminaries where they had studied, and few could remember with any certainty what they had been taught as young men.

  His evenings passed rapidly enough as he listened to the preaching of those already ordained by the Cathar church as perfecti, or perfectae. These men and women had already received the consolamentum and were considered to be perfect beings, ready to be accepted at once into God’s realm at their deaths. They would not need to undergo reincarnation as ordinary beings would. For the perfecti, the road to salvation was a very narrow and difficult path to tread.

  Eventually, if he were thought worthy, Arnaud would receive not the “consolamentum of the dying,” which his wife had received, but the “consolamentum of the living,” the entry of the Holy Spirit into his living body. He would then become a perfectus. But first he would have to satisfy the perfecti that his sense of vocation was pure and that his powers of endurance were strong. In order to do this, he would follow a strict regime of fasting and self-denial. Every day he would go out into the community to share the daily labours of the people. He would join other perfecti in the fields, helping with the reaping, or gleaning. Many of the elders had taken up the trade of weaving so were often in someone’s house working with a loom. Their lives were seen by everyone to be harder than the lives of even the poorest of the peasants. Arnaud, whose former life had not been particularly easy, found in himself new strengths, and it wasn’t long before all the fat of his former life dropped away to reveal a man tempered to a fine steel by abstinence and a complete disregard for his own wellbeing.

  For all its difficulty, Arnaud felt an abiding peace in the life he had chosen, or, as he had now come to believe, the life that had chosen him. He did not mind the days devoted to prayer. In fact, he avidly welcomed them and studied the Church’s teachings far into the night. His energy was inexhaustible and the perfecti from whom he learned often left the room exhausted themselves after a bout of Arnaud’s questions.

  As well as teaching from the gospels, the elders promoted t
he equality of women and serfs. They did not believe in the feudal hierarchy, nor would they swear an oath or obey the laws of the land. This was where Arnaud had the most difficulty. He was expected to ignore laws that he had understood and obeyed the whole of his life. To him, the world seemed to be turning on its head, and it took him several months of praying and meditation before he could understand the need to dispose of man’s law in favour of the law of God.

  If at first Arnaud found the way hard going and wondered if he were truly called, the elders of the church were delighted with his spiritual progress. It was only a little more than a year later when he was presented to the community of perfecti who would be responsible for electing him to their numbers. Then began a period of extreme fasting and self-denigration, vigils and prayer until the day he was received into the true Church.

  Arnaud’s acceptance into the Cathar Church took place just after dawn on a perfect summer’s day. He had spent the weeks immediately before the event in constant prayer and self-questioning. Time and again he had agonised over his decision, praying for guidance and for the courage to accept what he now believed was God’s holy will. The ceremony that would see his life change forever took place in a small grotto where a table had been set up and covered with a spotless white cloth upon which rested an equally spotless pile of white napkins. White candles symbolizing the descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost upon the Apostles were lit and a basin and ewer containing water for the washing of the minister’s hands stood ready.

  Arnaud had invited his parents-in-law and the Boutarras and one or two other friends to witness his baptism and elevation to the status of perfectus. But by far the largest contingent present were other perfecti and perfectae. The ceremony lasted the best part of the day and at its close, Arnaud was invested with a long black robe and a cord that symbolised his withdrawal from the world and its pleasures. He was given the kiss of peace by the bishop who had officiated at the ceremony, and Arnaud himself turned to kiss a member of the congregation who was nearest him. That it was Pierre Boutarra who received his kiss was a happy coincidence. With misty eyes that he tried hard to conceal, Pierre turned to pass on the kiss to his neighbour.