“We are too late,” said Cabaret. “They sappers will tunnel into the Castellar now that they have managed to get to safety in their hole in the wall.”
Cabaret turned to walk back to the city.
“We have not lost this suburb yet,” said Trencavel. “We will stay and fight them. They will break through only to find that my men will have them trapped and can slaughter them like ducks in a pond.”
“You really believe that we can defeat this army?” asked Cabaret. “You have been reading too many romances, my young Lord and my friend.”
Trencavel stiffened.
“Don't call me your friend if you are not going to stand beside me,” said Trencavel. “Would you rather just march out of here now and join the side you think will win? Or do you plan to open the gates for them and thus win this city for them?”
Cabaret's face turned white.
“I am sorry, my Lord, if I overstepped my bounds. I often think of you as the headstrong boy you once were, and forget my place,” said Cabaret. “I stand with you as loyally as I ever did with your father. I want these foreign invaders off our lands. But, you must know that I would not honor the memory of your father if I did not dare to tell you the truth as I see it. I would never open those gates of the city for you, but you might be better off doing it yourself. Far better to live another day to fight these bastards when their army disappears in the autumn than to die here for a principle.”
Bernard
Friday, August 7, night
The Lord smiled favorably on our Crusaders this day, for the brave men inside the cat made it to the walls. Though these fool heretics threw all their foulest weapons at them, they marched forward as if pushed by the powerful hand of the Almighty himself. I could hear them even now, for we were so close to them, yet so far, for they were still on the other side of the wall, yea inside its very bowels, gnawing at the innards as a worm destroys the intestines of a dog. The night had fallen while the sounds of their hammers and picks continued unabated.
And, I, myself, was the instrument of the Lord’s wondrous will. For the Crusaders had sent their cat directly to the spot I had specified. I was the reason that their hammers and picks knocked at the outer wall just at the worst possible place for these heretic defenders! I knew that I was living to fulfill my glorious destiny.
The mason and his crew had spent the whole day trying desperately to build up the inner wall using the small stones and rubble they were able to salvage from the building destroyed by catapult in the Castellar. I worked harder than ever to supply them with mortar, for they needed much more than normal in their attempt to plug the holes in the small, uneven stones.
We all watched from the top of the wall as the cat made its advance from the Crusader camp. I saw the mason and the other men watch with nervous anticipation as the cat started to move in the general direction of our part of the wall. The mason swore loudly, but then the men started to quietly cheer as the cat veered off towards a place closer to the junction where the walls of the suburb met the city walls themselves.
I began to worry that my message had not reached the Abbot. So much could have happened. The strange messenger in the market could have been taken by the guards or simply killed by cutthroats. Or maybe he was no priest after all and I was soon to be taken into custody myself!
Then I heard the mason swear yet again and I looked up and saw the cat change direction yet again, heading straight for our weak place, following my orders explicitly. I rejoiced inwardly, but knew that I must not betray my true feelings for I was in greater danger now than I had ever been yet.
After I spoke to the Abbot’s messenger yesterday, I thought for a fleeting moment that I should escape into the masses of refugees clogging the city. Or try to find a way out of the city itself. After all, if the Abbot’s messenger had found a way in and out, so could I. But, I resisted giving into my fears. If the Abbot had wanted me to come out of the city, he would have said so. There must still be work for me to do here.
And, also, I could not abandon Guillaume. For if I were to suddenly disappear and then the cat were to make directly for our section of the wall, suspicion would have naturally fallen on me. In my absence, Guillaume would have born the brunt of the anger of the mason and his men. I could not find my brother at the spring and so I quickly headed back to the wall, to play my role and to pray that one more miracle would be done and that I would not fall under suspicion for my actions.
We worked all through the night, stopping only for short breaks to eat or take a quick rest at the mason’s house in the Castellar. Now that the cat had arrived, I knew that we would work again through this night but without any breaks. Guillaume came to work on the wall as well yesterday, but I did not tell him that I had managed to communicate the location of the weak wall to the Abbot. I wanted to share this miracle with him, but I did not trust him to be able to convincingly hide our secret. Yet again, it was left to me to bear the burdens.
“Is the mortar ready?” yelled the mason.
I looked up. A man stood next to the mason, inspecting the walls inside the area where the sappers from the cat worked, trying to break through the outer wall. I recognized him from the blazon on his tunic. It was the dreaded man himself, the Viscount Trencavel, protector of vile heretics and source of murdering mercenaries who scarred the countryside with their evil ways.
Our eyes locked. I wanted to spit in his face, but I controlled myself.
“The mortar is almost ready,” I answered the mason.
The mason turned back to the Viscount, talking to him while he pointed at various spots in the weak inner wall. The faces of both men were grim.
DAY 8 OF THE SIEGE OF CARCASSONNE
Saturday, August 8, 1209
Constance
Saturday, August 8, dawn
Constance woke early, her throat dry and cracked. She wanted more than anything to swig jugs of water, cool and fresh, but there were to be no more trips to the spring unless the soldiers could repel this latest attack on the Castellar. She went to the cistern in the mason's house and slid the cover. Constance allowed herself one small cup of water, but it did no more than excite her thirst for more. She forced herself to replace the cover and turned to go back into the workroom, where she had slept under a large table with the mason's children and his wife. No one wanted to stay in the upper portions of the house as the bombardments worsened. Beatritz woke as Constance returned.
“Have they returned?” Beatritz asked.
“No,” said Constance. “They were still not finished when I left a few hours ago.”
Constance's body ached from dragging stones into position near the catapults all night long.
The baby Jean awoke and began crying. Beatritz opened her tunic and placed the child at her breast and it quieted down. Constance remembered her mother and felt a small pang. The other two children woke screaming when a stone missile crashed somewhere nearby with a splintering of wood and a cracking of tiles. Constance sat down under the table and tried to comfort them. They sobbed and sucked their thumbs as Constance rubbed their little backs.
“So they have begun again,” said Beatritz. “They must mean to attack soon, for I can hear the monks' chanting again.”
Constance heard the low chanting faintly in the distance. The sound alone began to make her sweat with fear.
“We must go now,” said Beatritz.
“But, where?” said Constance. “What about the men?”
“The mason and I agreed last night that I would take the children and go to my mother's in the city,” said Beatritz. “I have no one else. Please help me take the children.”
Constance did not want to leave Bernard and Guillaume. She was afraid to go back to the city and afraid she would never see them again. But, Beatritz had been so good to her the last few days. And after the one night in the market place with the other refugees, Constance never wanted to go back again. And she had not had to because the mason and his wife were so kind and g
enerous. They had taken her in like a daughter and she owed this woman a debt she could never repay. Constance just hoped that Beatritz would never learn how Constance had deceived her.
“I will help you, Na Beatritz,” said Constance.
The two women stood up. Constance dressed the small children in all their clothes and Beatritz wrapped her small treasures in a sack that she placed on her back. Beatritz looked around at her home, its carefully cleaned walls and floor, containing all her worldly possessions and Constance knew that Beatritz must be wondering whether she would ever see this place again. Constance took the little 2 year-old Jacques in her arms. Beatritz picked up the baby Jean and held her little daughter Aude’s hand. They headed out the door and both turned to look towards the wall. They could just pick out the figures of the mason and Guillaume and Bernard, but there was no time to say goodbye. Already, crowds of women and children were pushing through the streets, heading up the hill towards the city gates. The streets were clogged as families tried to escape with all their worldly goods. An old man sat weeping in front of his house, lost and alone. Constance went to go to him, but Beatritz pulled her back.
“We have three small children to care for already,” said Beatritz. “He must have family who will find him. But, if not, you will not throw away the lives of my children on a hopeless act.”
The noise grew deafening. The monks chanting was louder now, as more and more joined in with their deep voices. The catapults and trebuchets on both sides of the wall unleashed their missiles, which crashed and destroyed. The children were screaming and little Aude suddenly sat down and refused to go any further. Beatritz tried to pull her, but she only screamed louder, her little face red and screwed up, tears coursing down her plump cheeks. Constance handed little Jacques to Beatritz, already weighed down with little baby Jean. Constance then picked up the little five year old girl. Her dead weight pressed down on Constance’s aching shoulders and back.
They arrived at the city gates, but were forced into a long line. The crowd pressed to get in the narrow opening, and Constance worried the children would be crushed. She held tight to little Aude and prayed her strength would hold out. People were starting to abandon their carts and belongings. Panicky rumors spread through the crowd that the gate would be ordered shut in a few moments. Young men pushed through the crowd only to be repulsed at the gate by soldiers who ordered them back to man the walls. Constance and Beatritz looked at each other in grim determination and continued to move forward with the surge of humanity. Constance prayed the gate would remain open long enough. Her head rang from the screams of the small children. She did not know what was worse - to stay and fight or to have to fight to flee.
Bernard
Saturday, August 8, morning
It was shortly after dawn that I heard the blessed voices of my brother monks chanting and I ached again to lift my voice and join them. But, instead I continued my work of weakening the devil from within his fortress, my body sore and tired. I wished I could have slept as did the soldiers, who had passed the night sleeping on the ground behind the inner wall. They began to stir now, one by one, as they heard the chanting of the monks and the renewed activity of the Crusader catapults. I wondered how long we would have to wait for the men of God to break through and take this unholy place.
But, suddenly, with a great joy, I heard the crash of stones on the other side of the barrier wall and the shouts of the men. The sappers had finally broken through!
I looked up and saw the heretic dog Viscount Trencavel call to his soldiers to stand behind the inner wall, weapons in hand. There was silence for a few moments as the men waited and then confusion as the Crusaders began to stream through the hole in the outer wall and over the inner wall into the Castellar itself.
The fell as arrows of Trencavel’s soldiers knocked them down from off the top of the inner wall. I feared that this attack would be repulsed despite everything I had done to make it a success!
But then I heard a tremendous noise that shook the very ground under my feet. And again, a deep boom and the inner wall began to crumble in one or two places. Still the rhythmic booms continued and small stones from the top of the inner wall began to shake themselves loose and fall on the Viscount’s men below the wall. I prayed that God had seen fit to take my small action and use it as only He knew how.
And it was a miracle! For it was as at Jericho and the walls they came tumbling down. A final loud boom and a huge log burst through the inner wall, rammed in by a team of Crusaders. The weakened wall fell of its own weight, crushing soldiers.
I felt as Joshua must have felt at Jericho watching the priests blowing the trumpets of rams' horns and all the people giving a loud shout. And all the walls of the city collapsed and all the people will go up, every man straight in.
I watched from behind a pile of rocks as the mason stared in rage as he watched his work destroyed.
The Viscount lost no time and quickly ordered the rest of his soldiers to the breach, but the Crusaders were pouring through the gap. The clanging of swords filled the air. I watched as the mason, Guillaume, and the apprentices ran behind the line of armed soldiers. For a second, I thought I should not follow them. For surely they headed to the gate of the city of Carcassonne and I did not relish the thought of being cooped up with those 30,000 heretic souls inside the city walls with no water. I had done my duty and paved the way for this military success. In fact, I had made it possible. Surely, I deserved accolades and a well-deserved rest. What further use could I be as a spy now? There was a good chance I would fall under suspicion for betraying the weak spot in the wall.
I started to head towards the breach, but as I got closer I saw a wall of men advancing rapidly, pikes drawn and axes at the ready. They trod over the bodies of the dead and wounded and blood seeped through the ground. I realized the madness of my plan, for I was as the enemy to them, even though I was their hero. They would know nothing of my efforts. I was doomed to contribute in secrecy to success of this great cause. I turned to run.
I sprinted up the street and towards the city gates. Already I was behind, for few people were left in the Castellar, other than the Viscount's soldiers and even they were retreating under the onslaught of Crusaders rushing through the break in the wall. As I watched the main gates of the city began to close, lowering down to only the height of a horse. I knew my time was running out. My sides ached as I pumped my tired legs up the hill. I began to feel as if I would vomit from the exertion, and my breath wheezed out of me. I saw the main group of heretic fighters, led by the Viscount, ride through the gate and I knew it would be closed shortly. I continued running with the heretic foot soldiers just beside me and the Crusaders gaining on us quickly. What madness, if I were to be killed by the very Crusaders to whom I had given entry to the Castellar. I did not want to die without performing the sacrament of penance, for I had sinned much, though all in a worthy cause and it would be unfair were I to suffer in purgatory when I should be elevated on high to Paradise. We reached the gate, but it was closed. The foot soldiers and I pushed our way through the small door in the gate, still open, but not for long. We heard the Crusader knights behind us, their heavy horses and clanking armor seemed to thud the very earth to pieces. I managed to push my way into the door, but only a few others after me were in before the soldiers at the gate slammed the small door shut and laid across a heavy beam to lock it. I heard the screams of the few left behind, heard the sick sound of metal slicing into skin and sat trembling on the ground. I had to find Guillaume. I needed to confess and be forgiven of my sins by a priest, even a flawed priest such as my brother. I breathed deeply and prayed for joy that our righteous cause had advanced, even though I knew my own time within these walls was now numbered.
Trencavel
Saturday, August 8, noon
“What happened out there?” asked Bertrand. He limped to the side of Trencavel and stood next to him in the gallery atop the City gate leading to the Castellar.
&nb
sp; “I don't know,” said Trencavel. “They knew to come to the one spot where the wall was weakest. I cannot think this was accidental. The mason will be questioned, if he can even be found alive.”
Trencavel stood, still panting, his heavy armor drenched in blood. He pulled off his chain mail gloves and took his helmet off his head. Sweat poured down his face and he pulled his wet hair off his face. His squire quickly took his helmet and gloves and began to unfasten the sword hanging at his side.
“Leave it,” said Trencavel to the squire.
The young lad bowed his head and stepped backwards.
Trencavel and Bertrand watched as the Crusaders swept into the Castellar, searching vainly for an enemy to fight. Some seemed rather perplexed, but others were too hideously joyful, especially when they found some poor soul who had not gotten out in time, hiding in a feed cellar or in an attic. They dragged him out to the streets and a mob of soldiers would fall on the man, screaming heretic, fiend, demon as they destroyed the life in the person with the very spirits of demons themselves.
“So they've cut us off from fresh water,” said Bertrand.
“We could not win this battle, not after that wall fell,” Trencavel said. “The Castellar is not nearly as well defended as the city. We would have had to fight them in the streets. We could have lost all our men and killed an equal number of them, but still they would have kept coming. We do much better to hole up here in the city. We can hold out as long as our water lasts or until it rains again. The odds are better than we would have faced below.”
The Song of the Troubadour Page 15