Stories from Heaven's Library - Vol. 20
The Perfect Ones - BOOK 5
As told by Sir Walter Scott
"Above all these things, put on love, which is the bond of perfectness" (Col. 3:14).
Copyright 1997 by Aurora Productions, Inc. -- DFO
XIII -- HAMISH AND DOUGAL
"Oh, by the way," said Guillaume, as if suddenly having an afterthought, "I came across two strange fellows in town today, who claimed they were looking for their lost brother. When I stopped to talk to them " Guillaume's voice trailed off, as Malcolm looked quizzically at him.
Guillaume raised his voice: "Let them in!"
An attendant who was standing outside swung open the door. There stood two big, brawny red-haired fellows, dressed in the rough attire of northern Scotsmen.
Malcolm let out a yell. "Hamish! Dougal!"
The two fellows hurried into the room and stood at the end of the bed where Malcolm lay. "Well, would ya' look at this?" said the burlier one. "It's our wee brother, lyin' in bed!"
"Aye," said the other. "He always was a sleepyhead--always the lazy one!"
"You big brutes!" shouted Malcolm. "Not a second after you walk in the door, you're already picking on me!"
The three brothers stared at each other for a minute. Malcolm sat up and threw his arms wide as the two brothers charged at him, knocking him flat on his back. "Ouch!" cried Malcolm, wincing in pain from the wound that was still far from healed.
"Oh, my God! The wee lad is hurt!" said Hamish.
"Always was a scrappy little bairn1 !" said Dougal to Hamish. "But he ne'er could look after himself. We had to pull him out o' trouble so many times, don't ya' remember?"
"Aye, look at him, wincing and groaning like a girl!" chided Hamish.
Esme rushed over to Malcolm. "Get back, you big brutes!" she said. "Can't you see he's hurt? Who are these people, Malcolm?"
"These men," explained Malcolm, managing to smile through his pain, "are Hamish and Dougal, two of my older brothers." Malcolm then turned to the two redheaded giants, "And what in God's name brings you here?"
"We'd be lookin' for ya'," said Hamish, the older of the two.
"Aye, older brother Kenneth sent us--we're to come lookin' for ya' to bring ya' home."
"Bring me home?" said Malcolm. "We have no home!"
"We do now, laddie! Kenneth has reclaimed the title of Laird MacAlpin. He made a small fortune for himself--just how I dinna could ken2 --and he went back and paid off the creditors. The land is ours again! The MacAlpins are comin' home!"
"We have our land again?" asked Malcolm, looking at them even more incredulously than he had so far.
"Aye, and we're all to come home and once again be the merry clan o' MacAlpin," added Dougal. "Why, Kenneth is quite the laird, he is. And he's got servants now, too, an' cattle! He's got some fang-dangled farmin' business going.--Plow'n the land all in neat little rows, he is, and planting stuff. Never seen the likes of it before in that part of Scotland. Well, brother, when will we be a goin'?"
"Going?" said Malcolm, looking around the room at the others.
Guillaume had stood there silently, looking on in amusement at the show that was being put on up till this point, but things had just taken a serious turn. He looked earnestly at Malcolm.
"Brothers," said Malcolm, "I have a duty here. These here are my friends, and I am sworn to help and protect them."
"Well," mused Hamish, looking around. "These people look like they can protect themselves! Just look at this fine castle and that handsome fella over here with the sword by his side, who brung us here. And another able man over there, in bed as well! My goodness, these French are lazy, aren't they? It's rubbin' off on ya, boy! An' ya're goin' to protect them? It looks like they're protectin' you!"
"You don't understand," said Malcolm. "There's enough afoot to send your head a spinnin'."
"Well, you'd better tell us," said Hamish. "We've come a long way for ya! We've been lookin' for ya' high and low--you wouldn't believe the things we've been through. So you'd better have a damn good excuse for not comin' home with us."
"I've got a damn good reason, all right," said Malcolm, a note of determination rising in his voice as he sat up to face his two brothers.
"Well, you'd better start a tellin' us!"
Malcolm slumped back down in the bed. "It's a long story, brothers. Are you ready to hear it?"
"Well, we didn't come all this way to leave empty-handed! By golly, we'd better be a hearin'," said Dougal, looking at Hamish as they sat on the bed.
"Aye, by all the blessed saints, we'd better hear yer story. Come on! Get it out!"
"Well!" began Malcolm, taking a deep breath. "You knew that I headed for France and I wandered the country for a while, until I took up service with the king "
Malcolm told the rest of the story, including all that had happened over these last few days--the accusations and the trial by combat, the intrigue of the bishop and the legate and the count, of the Cathars, Giles--he even told them of his love for Heloise.
"An' would this be the fair lass?" asked Hamish, pointing his finger at Esme.
"No," said Malcolm, "this angel of mercy is Esme."
"Ah, ya've got two girls, then!" said Dougal. "What are ya' tryin' to do? Have you become a womanizer now? Ya've got this beautiful girl here, and then ya' say ya've got another one of 'em? These Cathars ha'e some mighty strange ways about 'em!"
Esme blushed.
"No, brothers," said Malcolm. "Esme has nursed me back to health from this nasty wound. I love her dearly, but as a sister."
"Hmm," grunted Hamish, a glint sparkling in his eye. "So, do ya' think she might be handy for another Scotsman of considerably grander proportions than me baby brother?"
Esme blushed a deeper red, and Guillaume got his hackles up3 at that suggestion. Then he looked over at Hamish, and, catching the mischievous twinkle in his eye, realized that the Scotsman was in jest.
Malcolm smiled, but then returned to a serious mood. "Brothers, I have something to say. I have thrown my lot in with the Cathars. I came searching for answers and I found them. I found truth and love and simplicity with these people--things that I had never known before; true and honest love; true faith in God, without hypocrisy and without partiality. I saw these people loving their enemies and caring for those who spitefully used them. I know that I am called to fight for them--and not just for them, but as one of them. And now, brothers, things have gotten serious. There will be war, most likely. The pope's legate was murdered, and undoubtedly the blame will be placed here, on the count or on the Cathars. Either way, I am obligated to help these people. I will not leave them in their time of trouble. I am trained as a warrior; and aside from things I learnt as a boy, a warrior's skills are all that I know."
Dougal and Hamish exchanged glances, then Hamish turned to Malcolm. "Well, younger brother, I see a sincerity in you. A true MacAlpin ya' are, swearin' oaths to help people, even to ya' own hurt. By golly, it seems we found ya' just a few days too late! We could ha'e been away from here, but I know ya're a man o' yer word, and if a man's word's na' good, he's nuthin'. I won't demand ya' break yer word. But know, if ya' ever need a place to go, ya' ha'e a place back in bonny Scotland wi' yer fam'ly. But if ya' dinna mind, I'd like to stay here awhile with ya', and see what kind o' mess ya' got ya'self into."
Dougal nodded. "Aye, let's stay here awhile. We can watch over ya' a wee bit till ya're recovered. We dinna want na harm to come to ya'; it sounds like ya've got a nest of vipers here with some of these rapscallions. Ya're gonna need a couple of strong brothers to stand by ya' side, to help ya'."
Malcolm laughed. "You two! Always lookin' out for me, even now!"
"Aye, we're lookin' out for ya'! Ya're our wee brother--our wee baby brother. We always ha'e to look out for ya'!"
"Do ya' think we can find lodging around here?" asked Hamish, turning to Guillaume.
Guillaume looked the two up and down again, still not quite getting over how big, brawny and rugged they looked with their long red hair and scraggly, unkempt beards. "Well, we'd better not take you around town too much, or you'll scare the wits out of our noble citizens," he said jokingly.
"Oh, I like this fella!" said Hamish. "He's got a fine sense o' humor! Ya' ha'n't got any Scot in ya', have ya', lad?"
Guillaume laughed. "More's the pity! I'm afraid I'm a true Frenchman! There's nary a drop of foreign blood in me."
"Oh well, we'll just make do with ya' as ye are," said Hamish.
"I don't know if we can put you up in the castle here," said Guillaume "but I know a fine inn in the city where there are people most disposed to taking care of relatives of Malcolm MacAlpin."
"Oooh, then we'd better be gettin' off to it, then."
"Oh, stay a whiles, brothers, and tell me all that's happened back home," said Malcolm.
"Aye," said Hamish to Dougal. "We'd best stay for awhile, dinna ya' think? We can always git to the inn later!"
"Very well," said Guillaume. "By that time, perhaps Guy will be here, and he can take you there."
"Who's Guy?" said Hamish.
"He's the brother of Heloise," said Malcolm.
"Aaah, he's just about family then, ain't he?" All in the room broke into laughter, with the two older McAlpins bellowing away with such unrestrained merriment that Guillaume was afraid they would be heard all the way to the great hall itself.
Malcolm felt good to be laughing like this. He hadn't heard such hearty laughter for years.
"Ya' still remember the oath, don't ya'?" asked Dougal.
"Aye, I remember," said Malcolm.
At the mention of the word "oath," Esme's ears perked up, remembering how Malcolm had been muttering about an oath.
"What oath, sirs?" said Esme.
"'Tis a secret, lass, just between us brothers."
"And how are Kenneth and David?" asked Malcolm.
"As we said, Kenneth is now Laird MacAlpin, and he rules our area like a little king. But the people love him and we love him too. He's a bonnie man."
"And David?"
Hamish and Dougal looked down, and the older one wiped a tear that was forming in his eyes.
"David died of the coughing sickness."
Tears rose in Malcolm's eyes at the news. David had always been the weaker one of the five, the more frail, more predisposed to books and learning. He had helped tutor Malcolm when he was younger, and it was thanks to David's persistence that Malcolm learned Latin and the other subjects that had constituted his schooling.
"Aye, David died about two years ago. After hearing the news that Kenneth was reclaiming the lairdship, David was the first to hea' home. He traveled many days in a terrible storm, and become deathly ill. He arrived sick; pale and burnin' with fever. He dinna last but a couple a days. But he got to get home. He got to breathe the free air of our beloved home. His body was laid to rest with our honorable father, may he rest in peace. So there's only four of us now, and that's why Kenneth sent us to look for ya'.--And by God, ya've been a hard man to find! We followed the leads to Paris and then we a'heared that ya'd headed off south, and that ya' mighta come here.
"As we got near Toulouse we started to hear stories about a donnybrook4 between some champion of France and a Scotsman. An' we ken'd that that Scotsman could be our scrappy young brother. And lo and behold, it was!--Getting into fights again! Goodness gracious! Do ya' alway' have ta get ya'self into such trouble?"
"I had no choice," said Malcolm.
"Ah, that's what ya' alway' say. Not changed a bit. Well, we're here now, until ya're recovered and on yer feet. And if anyone's thinkin' to do ya' harm, they'll have to contend with us!"
"What a daunting thought," said Guillaume, a little mockingly.
Hamish looked at Guillaume and, with a notable hint of irritability in his voice exclaimed, "Aye, it is a daunting thought!"
"Easy, brother," said Malcolm. "This man is my good friend. He saved my life, and I owe him a lot."
"Okay. Well, if you saved my wee brother's life, I'll forgive ya' this time--but ya' sense o' humor's gonna get ya' killed one day."
"You are a most gracious man," said Guillaume, a twinkle in his eye.
"Does he always tease like this, brother?" asked Dougal.
"Only those he likes," answered Malcolm.
"Well, I guess we'll put up with him then."
"Please do, brother," said Malcolm. "His uncle happens to be the count."
"Ooooh, we ha'e nobility here! A thousand pardons! Well, the blood of nobility runs in our veins as well."
"Aye, brother," said Malcolm. "There's no disputin' that."
"Good!"
"And so, is he really a friend?" queried Hamish.
"Aye, brothers," Malcolm said. "He is my friend."
"Very well. Then he's our friend, too. Shall we give 'im one of those good ol' friendly Scottish 'ugs?"
"Friendly Scottish hugs?" Guillaume repeated nervously.
"Aye!" said Hamish, getting up from the bed where he had been sitting. And with that he threw his arms around Guillaume and gave the young Frenchman such a squeeze that the poor fellow began gasping for air. When the Scotsman finally put him down, Guillaume was panting.
"An' now it's my turn," said Dougal.
"That's all right," said Guillaume. "I-I-I believe that you're my friend." Then Guillaume turned again to Malcolm, aghast. "How did you ever survive growing up with these two?"
* * *
Pope Innocent III looked gravely down at the piece of paper that he had just signed. The secretary poured molten wax from a small crucible onto the bottom of the letter. The pope stared at the little molten pool, and glanced at the ring upon his hand. He paused.
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The Holy Roman Empire: During the time of this story, the Holy Roman Empire consisted mostly of the area now comprising Germany, Austria, Switzerland and Northern Italy. This area was broken up into many smaller duchies, kingdoms, and free cities. The leaders of these, including several archbishops, were known as electors. They elected the emperor from their numbers. Otto IV, of Brunswick, Germany, became Holy Roman emperor after repeated battles with Philip, the duke of Swabia and king of Germany. Their factions warred continually for the title until Philip was murdered in 1208, and Otto was crowned Holy Roman Emperor in 1209.
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This was a momentous decision and he knew what devastation and slaughter it would unleash, but the die had been cast. The church and all that it stood for had been challenged. Innocent was convinced of the righteousness of his cause. He pushed his ring into the wax. The fate of southern France had been sealed, just as surely as his papal ring had left its imprint in the sealing wax.
The document was a formal declaration, and called on the king of France, the barons, and on the faithful of the church to unite in a crusade against the heretics of the region of Languedoc.
The secretary poured another pool of wax on a second document. Again the pope sealed it with his signet ring. This second document enjoined the Holy Roman Emperor, Otto, to also take up the cause of the cross and lift his sword against the heretics. Finally, a third document was signed and sealed. This was a formal bull5 excommunicating Raymond, Count of Toulouse, on charges of harboring and fostering heretics within his realm. This was to be the climactic event, the culmination of Innocent's many years of fruitlessly trying to combat the heresy of the Cathars.
The secretary picked up the three documents and delivered them to the official papal messengers--one heading to Paris, one to Harzburg Castle where the German Emperor, Otto IV, was currently resident, and one to Toulouse.
As the pope stood up, all the others in the room bowed low. He made a cursory sign of the cross over them, and left the room without saying a word.
The three messengers were dispatched immediately. It took many days of hard riding before they each reached their destination.
The German Emperor, who was busy with other affairs in his own realm and at variance with the pope, received the message with due protocol, but then set it aside for a more convenient time.
The French King took more decisive action. He had often looked with envy upon his rich vassal6 and cousin. The whole thrust of Philip's policy had been to strengthen and enlarge his royal authority upon all of France. The county of Toulouse was the strongest and most independent county, so this turn of events played neatly into his hand.
After summoning the northern barons, the papal decree was read aloud to them. Many of the barons reacted with glee. Here was a chance for glory, loot and new land--all close to home, and all the while earning papal blessings and indulgences. An army was soon raised that consisted not only of Frenchmen, but also many foreign mercenaries. The leadership of the crusading army would eventually fall to Simon de Montfort.
Simon de Montfort was an austere man, pious and fanatically Catholic. He had previously joined the Fourth Crusade, which had been intended to liberate the Holy Land. Although the bulk of that crusade had been diverted to the sacking of Constantinople, Simon de Montfort and several like-minded knights had held steadfastly to their mission, and traveled directly to the Earldom of Tripolis, one of the Crusader Kingdoms in the Holy Land. After his several years of futilely trying to change the status quo in that part of the world, Simon had come back to France. Frustrated with his failure to vanquish the "infidel" Muslims, he now seized the opportunity to raise his sword against these heretics. He would crush them all in the name of the church and the cross, he vowed. Believing he was doing God service, he was about to become a cruel and heartless instrument of destruction and terror. Indeed, he was the dark lord that Giles had seen in his ominous vision, and he would descend upon the south like a fiend from hell.
* * *
Meanwhile, the messenger dispatched to Toulouse had arrived. The count had anticipated this course of events. While the court was assembled, the messenger marched into the great hall. At the far end, the count sat sullenly, surrounded by a small group of advisers and courtiers. The messenger diplomatically fell to one knee and passed the rolled document to the count, who in turn passed it to Robert of Avignon.
The messenger then arose, quickly turned, and marched out.
"Read it to me, Robert," said Raymond quietly.
Robert unrolled the scroll and slowly repeated the Latin words. Raymond was hereby officially excommunicated. He was to be shunned by all good Catholics, refused the sacraments, and refused any Christian charity. He was pronounced an anathema, an heretic, and anyone who consorted with him was to also be so treated.
Raymond sighed. "Prepare to go to Rome, Robert. I want you to plead my case before the pope. Ask him what I must do to have this bull of excommunication revoked. Prepare letters from me, affirming my devoutness to the church and citing my attendance at masses, my devotion to the saints' relics and pilgrimages, my piety and almsgiving, and all of the other things that I do. Whatever the cost, I must get this bull revoked!"
Guillaume, who had watched this scene from the side, turned and left the room, disgusted at how quickly his uncle had caved in.
His exit did not go unnoticed. The count quickly dismissed those assembled, rose from his chair and marched off after Guillaume. After a few quick strides, Raymond caught up with him.
"Guillaume, stop!" he ordered.
The young man turned around and stared resentfully at his uncle.
"You are disappointed in me, aren't you?" Raymond asked.
"How could you give in so easily?" said Guillaume. "I've always looked up to you as a fighter, a warrior willing to stand up for what you believe. But you gave up so quickly, so easily!"
"Guillaume, you do not yet understand politics and diplomacy! If you did, you would know that I have no other choice. But listen, all is not yet lost."
Guillaume raised an eyebrow. "But you are sending Robert to the pope, asking him to revoke the bull. Yet you know that the only way this bull can be revoked is for you to turn on your own people!"
"Guillaume," said Raymond, looking around, and lowering his voice to a whisper, "Robert is the traitor. This was all just a performance. Have faith, boy! Have faith!"
XIV -- THE DECISION
Robert of Avignon found himself dispatched in great haste to Rome to bring the count's petition before the pope. Several days after arriving he was granted a formal audience. There, before the papal court, he halfheartedly pled the count's case and failed to persuade the pope to lift either the interdict or the excommunication.
News of his mission's failure preceded his return to Toulouse. On his arrival, the count vented his displeasure on Robert and accused him of not giving the maximum effort expected of one on such an important assignment.
And so Robert was exiled from the county of Toulouse. It was an ignominious ending for Robert. He had been gifted with a keen intellect, which, since early on in life, he had learned to exploit. Thus he had risen from the lowly station in which he had been born to a position of power and influence. But he had overreached. He had thought that he could play off the great men in this affair one against the other, and thereby gain greater prominence. His desire for power was stronger than his loyalty to his liege7 and, as is so often the case for those who betray the confidence and trust placed in them, he all too soon had to pay the penalty.
Robert was lucky though. He could have suffered with his life, but the count did not have enough evidence to openly accuse him of treachery. Now this failed mission gave Raymond an excuse to rid himself of this one whom he could no longer trust.
He now turned to Guillaume's father, Lord Godfrey, to fill Robert's shoes.
News soon reached the region of Languedoc that a large crusading army had assembled and was headed south. The nobility and citizens of that region prepared to meet the coming onslaught. The resolute leadership expected from Count Raymond, however, was not forthcoming. For reasons known only to himself, he continued to vacillate8 as to what his intentions were to be--whether he would head the forces of the south to resist this invasion, or whether he, too, would join the crusade against the Cathar population.
And so it was left to the lesser nobility, who were more militant and vigorous in the defense of their citizens and territories, to rally the local population to resist. Foremost among them was Raymond-Roger Trencavel, the nephew of Count Raymond, and Viscount9 of Beziers. The Trencavels had held this viscounty for many generations, but they had often proved to be bothersome vassals to the Counts of Toulouse. Raymond-Roger proved no exception, even though he had at times been close to the count.
It was believed that Count Raymond was giving him surreptitious10 support, but this could not be confirmed. Many thought that the count was betting on both sides. If the crusaders won, then Raymond was rid of a difficult but powerful vassal, and he would be able to exercise his authority over the Trencavel domains. If Raymond-Roger won, then his worries about the crusade would be over. Either way, Count Raymond would come out on top.
Malcolm and his two brothers attached themselves to Guillaume, who had himself raised a small force of seasoned soldiers from among the local population--many of them Cathars--who pledged themselves to defend their homeland.
The southerners, whether Catholic or Cathar, knew that even though the ostensible11 reason for the crusade was to force the so-called heretics, the Cathari, to renounce their beliefs, they also knew that the rapacious12 , land-hungry northern aristocracy were most interested in carving up the region of Languedoc into their own personal fiefdoms.
Alarming news had also reached them: a large portion of the army were mercenaries, those who were intent on pillaging and raping, and prepared to kill anyone, as long as they were paid. Anyone "taking up the cross" in joining this "holy crusade" had been granted a 40-day indulgence by the church. Beginning from the first day of the war, none of the crimes they might commit against the citizens of the south would be imputed to them in this life, or the next. With time already ticking, these cutthroats were anxious to get on with their sport.
* * *
Guillaume and his band of three hundred or so knights and soldiers had made their camp to the west of Toulouse. While appearing to operate independently, they were secretly taking their orders from Lord Godfrey. Their instructions were not to engage in pitched battles with the crusaders, but to attack and harass contingents not yet attached to the main body of the crusading army. This they had done quite successfully. The biggest engagement had been against a band of two or three hundred German mercenaries under the command of Simon de Montfort's son, Guy. Guillaume and his troops had surprised them as they came out of a narrow pass. The mercenary band was virtually wiped out. The few survivors, which included Guy de Montfort, fled west.
The three Scotsmen had formed a small personal bodyguard for Guillaume. Their brash young commander would charge into the thick of the battle, and so they often found themselves in precarious and dangerous situations. Yet oftener than not, the sight of the two red-headed giants, Hamish and Dougal, swinging their great claymores13 , was enough to cause the valor of many of the enemy to melt away. This is not in any way to denigrate14 the martial skills of Malcolm and Guillaume, but the awesome spectacle of the other two brothers, yelling and cursing in their native Gaelic all the time and carving a deadly swath of mayhem through the enemy's ranks, was a fearsome sight. So far the four of them had managed to come out of these encounters without any serious wounds.
Still, they knew that these encounters were only minor skirmishes compared to the battles that surely still lay ahead. Raymond was still uncommitted.
Finally, a secret dispatch arrived at Guillaume's camp. This time it bore his uncle's seal, not his father's, so Guillaume knew that it would contain the long-awaited news of Raymond's decision. Inside his tent, the young knight stared pensively at the sealed letter. Malcolm and his two brothers sat silently across from him. Then, with uncharacteristic trepidation15 , Guillaume broke the seal and unfolded the document. As the others watched his eyes traverse the paper, his anxious countenance turned to one of disappointment, then despair. The news was not good!
Count Raymond had decided to join the crusaders. All of his attempts to defuse the situation had failed to produce a satisfactory result, and the size of the invading army was too great to be successfully challenged. And so the count had settled on this course of action. His only hope of retaining his territory, it seemed, was to be received back into the church, and the only way he could achieve that was to do penance for his "sins" by submitting to a humiliating public flogging, and then join the Crusade. All of Guillaume's men were to take an oath of loyalty to the church. Any who refused were to be summarily16 dismissed immediately and branded as outlaws. Guillaume was mortified at the news.
Passing the dispatch to Malcolm, Guillaume staggered out of the tent and sat down heavily on the ground before a campfire a few feet away. Malcolm read the document to his brothers, and then the three of them joined the despondent Guillaume.
A teary-eyed Guillaume broke a silence that seemed to span four lifetimes.
"What am I to do, Malcolm? Do I join this murderous mob, descending like locusts upon our country, and fight our own good citizens? Or do I disregard my uncle's orders? If I were to do that, and my men knew that my uncle now fought on the other side, I don't know how many of them would stay with me. I cannot, in all good conscience, fight my own people, but I cannot fight without an army. I am much perplexed, my friend.
"Am I to obey orders and have a part in this evil, or am I to disobey my liege, to whom I have sworn fealty17 ? Which is greater, my oath which I solemnly swore, or my conscience and my heart, which tell me that I must defend the weak and the oppressed, and those wrongly persecuted? These are grave matters, Malcolm, and I know not what to do!"
Malcolm shook his head and remained silent. He had no quick answer to give.
Hamish, noting his brother's silence, turned to Guillaume and tried to offer his advice. "If a man is not as good as his word, he is nuthin'! And ya' ha'e sworn the great oath to yer uncle and ya' be bound by that. Ya' canna go against yer word. Ya' swore it to yer own hurt, and by the saints, ya' have to keep it. That's why my brother's here, because he sware that he would help ya'. Now he too 'as got a dreadful decision to make. For his heart is with these people, but ya're his commander, and he has taken an oath to serve ya'. So if ya' decide that ya're gonna follow yer uncle in this war, then he too has ta' decide. And his heart--his heart is lost to that lass, an' it be her kind that he'd ha'e to be a fightin'! Oh, war is a horrible thing!--Especially a one like this. When you ha'e to fight strangers, them 'ho mean nuthin' to ya', thata be one thing, but when those ya've been asked to fight are un's that ya've got regard fa' and ha'e grown up wi' some a them, then this is a dreadful thing! Ah, this is a melancholy night to be sure!"
"Aye, it is a melancholy night," said Malcolm. "I will not be sleepin' tonight, I reckon. But I know what Heloise would expect of me, and that I must be a doin'. I'm gonna go over theres away for a little while, under those yonder trees, and I'm gonna pray and ask God to get through this thick Scottish skull of mine, and show me what to do. My heart feels torn in a hundred ways. I think we all could do some praying tonight!"
Malcolm picked up a pebble and threw it into the fire. For a moment he gazed at it and thought himself very much like that little stone, with the flames of torment licking at him from every side.
"May God help us, and make our paths clear!" he said to the others as he rose. And with that, he turned and headed off to the copse18 a short distance away. He sat down, leaned hard against a tree and looking up at the starry sky, began to pray. Things had been so clear-cut before: He was fighting on the side of the right, and against tyranny, defending the weak against the strong, siding with those who were sworn to the noble purpose of protecting people he loved--people such as Heloise. Now everything seemed hopelessly muddled.
His mind drifted back and forth between thoughts and prayers. He reminisced19 about the preceding months, his engagement to Heloise, and their plans to marry at the end of the war; he thought of Esme, who had lovingly nursed him back to health; he thought of the love she had for Guillaume, and of Guillaume's love for her. Yet, it seemed that, under the current circumstances, the two would never be able to enjoy the bliss that he and Heloise enjoyed. Guillaume had put duty first. How clearly Malcolm remembered the tears he had seen in the young man's eyes the last time he parted from Esme.
Esme and her family knew that they would receive no mercy from the crusaders, who regarded them as heathens. She and her family, as well as many others, had left to cross the Pyrenees through some of the coastal passes, and planned to resettle in the kingdom of Count Raymond's brother-in-law, Peter of Aragon.
Malcolm thought of Guy, who had wrestled with his faith for many weeks. In the end, he had decided that he would rather die defending what he believed than to take the pacifistic approach that many of the Cathars had taken. Those who had renounced physical violence as a matter of principle were not even contemplating offering any resistance to the crusaders. They had resigned themselves to die as martyrs rather than renounce their faith. Guy had sought to join Guillaume's band, but needing to stay nearby his family's business, he had instead joined the militia that was being raised inside Toulouse. In due course, that militia would have become part of the defending army. But now that the count had changed sides, Guy and Heloise would be in great danger.
Malcolm struggled to clear his mind and to form some sort of a coherent prayer to God. After many hours of this anguish, a strange peace fell upon Malcolm--one that he had never known before. Suddenly, his troubled mind and heart were quiet. Within him was a renewed purpose, his objectives were now clear. With a sigh of relief, and a thankful heart to his God, Who had cut through all his confusion, he rolled over and fell into a deep sleep.
* * *
Guillaume had watched as the young Scotsman had walked away, and then he, too, found a private place and searched his soul. But Guillaume was even more confused. His faith in God was not as deep as Malcolm's. In fact, he now found his mind clouded with uncertainty. Was there truly a God? If so, all this fighting over religion certainly didn't do Him any credit. And if so, why did He seem to take so little interest in what was going on?
As he mulled over these and a hundred other thoughts that crowded his mind, he determined that he would put God to the test to find out if He was truly there. Guillaume had always skirted20 the issue when it came to making any sort of commitment to God in his own life, but at this point he decided to strike a bargain. It was now or never. This crisis was too big for him to sort out--even with the help of those he trusted and loved the most: his uncle and his father. He knew that there was no simple answer, no unequivocal21 right and wrong.
And so that night Guillaume prayed with a sincerity and desperation that he had never felt before. He, too, found peace as the turmoil that had raged inside of him melted away. His purpose was now clear, and his direction fixed.
XV -- CAPTURED
The small group huddled in the back room of Francis the baker's shop looked anxiously towards their leader. Giles' face was grim.
"This is indeed a bad turn of events, but it is not altogether unexpected. We knew the pressures on the count would be more than he could bear. Now it seems as though our enemies will triumph. All of our lives are in danger. As long as the count stood strong, those who sought to do us harm were restrained, but now you can be sure the bishop's men--and the mobs they will incite--will come looking for us. Even the count's personal army must now be counted among those who will seek to do us harm. Now is the time to pray, brethren. Our times and seasons are in the hands of God. Although all others fail us, He will never. His paths may lead us into perilous places, but we know that He walks with us and will keep us in every way. He shall not fail in all His pledges to us.
"We were vigilant before; now we must be doubly so. Our meetings will have to be less frequent, and held at irregular times in varied locations. Francis here will take care of notifying you where and when meetings are to be held. Up until now, we have been safe here in this little sanctuary that God has provided us, but we cannot be sure if this location is known. We cannot trust handwritten messages, so all the locations of our future meetings must be passed on via word of mouth. If you do not hear the appointed time and location directly from one of the people in this room, then do not believe it.
"But fear not, dear friends! For He that is for us is greater than those that are against us. And if we suffer and die for our beliefs, know that all our persecutors do is propel us into Paradise, where nothing shall hurt nor harm, and nothing shall separate us one from another."
At that moment, Giles' admonition was interrupted by the sound of knocking on the front door. Everyone hushed and listened. The knocking came again. Anxious looks turned to ones of relief as everyone recognized the number and rhythm of the knocks. That sequence was known only to those numbered with them.
Still, the group remained silent as Francis opened the peephole and looked out. Agnes the vegetable seller, who was one of them, peered back at him. Francis opened the door quickly and let her in.
"You weren't followed, were you?" Francis asked anxiously.
"I did all that I was supposed to," said Agnes. "I took a most circuitous22 route, and I saw nothing to make me suspect that I was being followed."
"Very well," said Francis. "Come. Giles has been here for a while." &&&"I have news from the castle," said Agnes, as she walked into the back room. "It is official. Count Raymond will do his public penance tomorrow at high noon. He is to go to the Abbey of Saint Gilles, where Odo, the other bishops, and the new legates will administer the punishments. Then he will receive absolution23 , and be received back into the church."
Looks ranging from bewilderment to disgust and despair crossed the faces of those gathered. As Guy and Heloise looked at each other, tears rose in Heloise's eyes. Guy reached out and embraced her.
Giles walked around the table and put his hand on the lovely girl's head. "Fear not, child," he said.
"Oh, I just feel so helpless!" said Heloise. "He that we looked to for protection has now joined forces with our enemies. What will Malcolm and Guillaume do? Must they too turn against us? Oh, I feel so weak in faith, Brother Giles! I wish I had the confidence and strength that you have!"
"Child," said Giles, "you have the strength that I have. You just need to accept and believe that. Do not doubt the power of God, my girl. For He that is in you is greater than the world. As our Lord said, if you were of the world, the world would love you. But you and Guy, myself and all these others, are not of this world. Therefore the world hates us.
"Count Raymond, for all his grand intentions, is first and foremost a noble--a man of the world. He is interested in preserving his domain and the rights and privileges that come with it. He will flow with the tide, and be carried with the wind. Furthermore, we, the poor and powerless in this world, are the expendable24 chattels25 of the mighty. We are the currency wherewith they buy and sell their positions, and even a relatively benevolent26 noble such as the count will not hesitate to sacrifice at least a few of us if that is what it takes to keep what he regards as his. But in God's kingdom it shall not be so, for the greater shall serve the lesser in humility and love. In that world lies our hope--not in this one. We cannot place our confidence in man, my dear. Men always have feet of clay. We must trust in God, and fight in prayer."
As the last words of his sentence trailed off, there came another knocking at the front door. This time it did not beat out the secret code, but it was loud and rapid--and authoritative.
"Open this door!" a rough voice shouted.
A pall of terrified silence fell on the room.
"Open this door!" the voice shouted again. The banging became louder.
"Quickly! Out the back!" whispered Francis frantically.
There was a small stampede in the room as the people hurried towards the back entrance of the shop.
The knocking came again, this time even louder and more insistent. The voices of several men could be heard, shouting and cursing.
Guy, who had reached the back door first, cautiously opened it and looked both ways into the narrow alleyway behind. Motioning to the others to follow, he headed up the lane.
To his consternation27 , he hadn't gone but a few steps when two soldiers rounded a corner about twenty paces away. Guy turned around quickly and almost bowled over Heloise. He caught her and regained his balance, and started running the other way.
"Stop!" the soldiers shouted, as they ran after him. Guy grabbed Heloise by the arm and ran as fast as he could. The rest of the small congregation followed close behind him.
By now the soldiers had drawn their swords. One of the last women to get out of the baker's shop let out a shriek as a sword pierced her back.
Guy paused and looked back. Then, as he turned again, he ran right into two other soldiers who came out a side alley just in front of him. He knocked one of them down in the collision, and tried in vain to hurdle him, but the soldier reached out and grabbed him by the ankle. Guy hit the ground hard. Heloise collapsed on top of him. The second soldier viciously kicked Guy in the groin, and he doubled up in pain.
By this time, the soldiers had also broken down the front door of Francis' shop. Giles was there waiting for them.
"I believe you have come for me," said Giles, looking serenely at the sergeant who headed the armed contingent.
"Are you Giles the tailor?" the sergeant inquired.
"I am," replied Giles calmly.
"You and all your followers here are under arrest, by order of the count, on charges of heresy, blasphemy and sedition."
"I am the one you are looking for," said Giles. "Let these others go. They are simple folks. They have nothing to do with these charges."
"They are your followers, are they not?"
Giles looked the man in the eyes. "They are humble people who mean no harm to anyone. Let them go."
"I cannot," said the sergeant gruffly. "I have my orders to arrest you and anyone associating with you. Men, take them away!"
By this time Guy, Heloise, Francis, Agnes and the rest of the small gathering had been herded back into the room by the back door. Guy was still bent over from the pain, but he was valiantly trying to help the woman who had been stabbed. Blood from her wound, which seemed quite severe, soaked much of her clothes and the front of Guys rough spun tunic.
"Bring them all," commanded the sergeant.
"This woman needs help," said Guy. "She has been grievously wounded."
"She'll die anyway," answered the sergeant. "You!" he said, pointing to Guy, "You look like a strong man, heretic! You carry her!"
With that, the soldiers led the group out into the street, which was now crowded with curious onlookers.
"What are you arresting them for?" cried a bystander as the group was herded down the street.
"These are heretics," snarled the sergeant. "They're under arrest. Stand back! Out of our way, or I shall arrest you along with them!"
The crowd moved back to let them pass. Two soldiers stood on either side of Giles, their hands gripping him around the arms. The old man looked serenely forward, and smiled at the onlookers as he was marched down the street towards the castle.
Guy followed next, carrying the wounded woman who lay limp in his arms. Heloise, Agnes, Francis and the rest of them were pushed along by the remaining guards, some of whom seemed to find a sort of perverse pleasure in prodding them with their sharp spearheads.
Up the main road they walked, into the castle courtyard and across to the dungeon door in one of the towers. The jailer met them at the door and, grabbing a torch, led them down the inner stairwell. Unbeknownst to the prisoners, they were led to the same dungeon that Malcolm had been in before. They were all pushed inside, including the wounded woman, who had now fainted from the pain and loss of blood.
The jailer held high the torch and, looking around at his group of prisoners, let out a cackle. "Welcome!" he said mockingly. "Enjoy the hospitality of our gracious count!" Then, with another cackle, he marched out the door and slammed it shut.
Through the small grated opening at the top of the door, a small flicker of light could still be seen by the terrified captives. They heard the key turn in the lock, then watched the light grow dimmer as the jailer marched up the steps.
Then they were in pitch darkness. No one could see the person next to them. Heloise began to cry.
"Brother Giles!" wailed Agnes. "What is to become of us?"
"It's because of you that we're in this," Francis snapped back at her. "You were followed!"
"I don't see how I was followed," cried Agnes.
"Well, how else did they find us then?" said Francis.
"Hush," said Giles. "There's no need for these accusations! This is God's doing."
"God had us thrown in prison?" asked Francis.
"Truly you must believe, Francis," answered Giles, "that nothing happens by mistake, or without God knowing it. I don't yet know why He has allowed this to happen, but I know that it must be for a good reason. We just need to be patient."
"Well," said Francis, "we've got a lot of time to be patient. Oh, this place stinks terribly!"
For a few minutes they sat in silence, except for Heloise's soft crying. Guy found her in the dark and sat down beside her. With one strong arm around her, he stroked her face gently with his other hand.
Then Giles started singing, in his deep, sonorous28 voice, a song that they all knew well. The beautiful words of the beloved twenty-third Psalm now took on even greater meaning to them than ever before. "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil." A magical peace fell on that wretched prison cell as they all joined in with the singing.
* * *
The next day, at noon, Count Raymond, wearing the garb of a penitent29 , rode up to the abbey steps and dismounted. Loosing his cloak, he passed it to one of his attendants.
Bare-chested, he mounted the steps and knelt at the top. There stood the new legate, Milo, Bishop Odo, and all the bishops from the surrounding area. All wore the regalia30 of their offices. Odo looked down in smug triumph at the mighty potentate who was now on his knees before him.
Raymond looked the bishop square in the eye.
A sneer crossed Odo's face, who triumphantly confessed, "How I am savoring this sweet moment."
"Do not savor it too long or too loud," growled Raymond, "or my patience and my humility will be short-lived."
"Are you ready to do public penance?" cried Milo to Count Raymond, in a voice that carried across the square in front of the abbey church.
Raymond nodded.
"Are you ready to abjure31 your heretical beliefs?"
Count Raymond grimaced32 and nodded again.
Milo then wrapped his stole33 around Raymond's neck, and pulled him into the church, flogging him as they went. To those who watched, it seemed that with every stroke of the whip, the smile on Odo's face grew. He gloated as the count's face contorted from the pain. Finally they reached the altar, where the flogging stopped, and the count fell to his knees.
Odo held before the count a huge crucifix. Count Raymond, shaking from the ordeal, leaned forward and kissed it. Odo piously made the sign of the cross over Raymond's head and declared him absolved of his heresy. Raymond was once again declared a communicant34 .
Raymond staggered to his feet. Two of his attendants came to steady him, but he shooed them away. A third one gingerly placed the count's cloak back around his shoulders. Count Raymond winced as it touched the open wounds that crisscrossed his back.
For the crowd who had watched, it had been an awesome sight. Here the mightiest man among them, the great Count of Toulouse, had been brought to his knees by the power of the church. Many shook their heads in disbelief, but few said a word as the crowd filed away from the square.
Raymond eventually made it back to his temporary quarters in the town that surrounded the abbey. Godfrey looked at his proud brother-in-law and liege, and wondered to himself how it had ever come to this. Raymond read his thoughts.
"Well, brother," gasped Raymond, his teeth clenched together in an effort to alleviate the pain. "I wonder if my countship was worth the whipping! We shall see! But I charge thee, brother. See to it that Odo does not live long to revel in his victory."
* * *
In 1209, the city of Beziers was attacked. After a short battle, the city was taken and all its citizens, over 15,000 in total, were massacred in an orgy of looting, rape and terror. This wanton barbarity was soon to become the norm for the crusading army. In the midst of the slaughter, when asked how to tell who was a Cathar and who was Catholic, the fanatical abbot and papal representative Arnald-Amaury, answered: "Kill them all. God will recognize His Own."
Carcassonne was next to be attacked. Viscount Raymond-Roger, with a much smaller but well-disciplined and motivated force, managed to hold off the crusading army that besieged their walls. After a few weeks, the supplies of the city began to dry up and the young viscount took advantage of the crusaders' offer of a truce to discuss terms.
Raymond-Roger and a small delegation rode out under a white flag to negotiate. There they were shocked to find that the terms the crusaders were offering were complete and unconditional capitulation35 , in exchange for which the lives of the inhabitants would be spared. Even after agreeing to the onerous36 terms, the young viscount, under the sanctuary of the white flag of truce, was treacherously set upon. Against all chivalry and diplomatic protocol, he was put in chains and thrown into a dungeon, where he languished for many months and finally died--some say by poisoning. He was only 24.
Carcassonne surrendered and was mercifully and uncharacteristically spared from the terror that befell Beziers--the terror that was, in later years, to befall many other towns and cities of the Languedoc.
Soon the forty-day period was up, and many of the crusaders returned home to await the next call to arms. Simon de Montfort was granted the viscountship of Bezier and Carcassonne. He and the soldiers that remained with him settled in for a long war with the local nobility, who had allowed the Cathars to flourish on their lands. Although the southerners were not all Cathars, they were united by their hatred of these invaders from the north. And so the citizens fortified their towns and castles, and many took up arms to fight on the side of their nobles, and the Cathars.
To be continued
Definitions*:
1 bairn: Scottish -- a child
2 dinna could ken: "wouldn't know"
3 get [one's] hackles up: to be irritated or insulted (from 'hackles," short hairs on the back of an animal's neck)
4 donnybrook: a brawl, a fight
5 bull: an official document issued by the pope, and sealed with a 'bulla', a round papal seal
6 vassal: an underlord
7 liege: a lord to whom one owes allegiance and service
8 vacillate: to sway from one side to another; undecided
9 viscount: a nobleman ranking below a count
10 surreptitious: secret
11 ostensible: supposedly real
12 rapacious: greedy, ravenous
13 claymore: a large, double-edged sword used by Scottish highlanders
14 denigrate: belittle
15 trepidation: apprehension
16 summarily: performed speedily and without ceremony
17 fealty: loyalty, allegiance
18 copse: a thicket of small trees or shrubs
19 reminisce: to think back on past events
20 skirt: to avoid
21 unequivocal: clear, definite
22 circuitous: roundabout or lengthy
23 absolution: a formal forgiveness of sin by a priest
24 expendable: something that can be thrown away
25 chattel: a slave, someone's personal property
26 benevolent: doing good deeds
27 consternation: utter dismay
28 sonorous: producing a full, deep, or rich sound
29 penitent: one who is to perform penance, or punishment, for their sins
30 regalia: magnificent attire and finery, often of royalty or high clergy
31 abjure: renounce under oath
32 grimace: to make a look of pain or disdain
33 stole: a long scarf worn by bishops or deacons while in office
34 communicant: a person who is entitled to receive communion
35 capitulation: surrender
36 onerous: burdensome, oppressive
*These words are only defined generally and according to their use in this story.
Copyright (c) 1998 by Aurora Productions