by Rachel Bard
They were at the door to the dining hall, which would serve as council chamber today.
She had a dozen questions but she had time for only one.
“Are you sure these four members of your council share your tolerance for the Cathars?”
“No, not at all. But I’m absolutely sure that they share my aversion to being ordered about by King Philip.”
They went in and found the four councilors seated around the table, at ease with each other and chatting. An attendant stood by, watchful for wine goblets in need of refills. The men rose when Raymond and Joanna entered.
At this hour the dining hall was bleak and cheerless. Joanna shivered and pulled her shawl up to her chin. Why wasn’t the fire lit? Just because it was nearly August didn’t mean the interior of the thick-walled old castle became appreciably warmer. Raymond saw her discomfort and instructed the attendant to tend to the fire immediately.
He gestured to his vassals to be seated and saw to it that Joanna was settled in the chair beside his at the head of the table. He himself remained standing.
“Good morning, gentlemen. We all know each other well and I think you all know the countess. I expect you have a good idea of why I’ve asked you here.”
“I hope you’re finally going to do something about those accursed heretics.” That was Henri de Jarnac, truculent as usual. Joanna noticed an unsightly wine stain on his wrinkled linen tunic.
“Yes, in a way I am, as I’ll explain. But first, you may have heard that the pope has sent several new representatives to help in discovering and interrogating the leaders of the Cathar heresy. King Philip has ordered me to cooperate with them. Much as I resent his imperious ways—and I know you do as well--I suggest we make a show of obeying. I propose that each of you give one name to the inquisitor in your region, implying that more will be provided as you discover them. Ideally, you would name a person already known for criminal activity and also suspected of heresy, but not necessarily a leader in the sect. I’ll do the same in Toulouse. After this initial demonstration of our obedience we’ll sit back and see what happens.”
In silence they took this in. Raymond continued.
“This approach should sound reasonable to the papal delegates and to the king. You’re the logical ones to identify a likely suspect. Who has better knowledge of your own fellow-citizens? Certainly it will be more efficient than if the churchmen went about trying to dig up information from strangers.”
“Right,” boomed Arnaud Cabot, tossing a shock of black hair out of his eyes. “I can think of half a dozen likely miscreants right now.” He held up his thumb. “There’s Richard Goncourt, the farmer on the road to Saint-Denis. Everybody knows he’s stolen cattle from his neighbors. He held up his forefinger. “And the butcher in …”
“That’s all very well,” Raymond interrupted, “but for now all I want from you is one name each. That should give the inquisitors something to chew on for quite a while. They tend to be extremely thorough and deliberative in their interrogations.”
“Even so,” said François Compagne, “this is at best a delaying tactic.” Younger than the others, he had a fine head of red-gold hair that reminded Joanna of her brother Richard. But François was shorter and a good deal slimmer than Richard. “What next, when they want new names?”
“That concerns me as well. I hope by the time that happens the whole thing will have blown over. Maybe the pope will find some other target. Maybe he’ll urge another Crusade to Jerusalem.”
“But if not, we’ll have to provide new names, won’t we?” François was persistent.
“We will.” Raymond said shortly. He didn’t need to be reminded that sooner or later he was going to have show more support for the inquisitors.
“Meantime,” said Henri, “it’s a fine short-term plan. Anything to keep Philip and those black-robed Roman vultures from meddling in our affairs. Besides, it’s a chance to get rid of a few troublemakers at the same time.”
Joanna had been listening with growing uneasiness. Somebody should ask this question and it seemed to be up to her.
“I wonder…” she began tentatively, but stopped when she saw the surprise on the councilors’ faces. It angered her. Why did they think she was there, if not to take part in the deliberations? She went on, more firmly. “What would happen if one of you made a mistake and named an innocent person, one who perhaps isn’t even sympathetic to the heresy? And what if they imprisoned or even executed him? Wouldn’t you be sorry, if it came to that?” She looked at each of the four men in turn, finally at Raymond. His face was in the shadows but she thought she detected the slight pressing together of his lips that showed his annoyance.
“I agree there is that risk,” he said. “But I’ve concluded that it’s better to sacrifice one who may be guiltless than to let the inquisitor pull in a dozen suspects, equally likely to be innocent.”
“It’s a fine point,” said Jacques de Fauchet, hitherto silent. “But I’m inclined to agree with Count Raymond.”
“Nevertheless,” said Joanna, “I can’t believe a just God would condone it.”
“Dear countess, the ways of a just God are sometimes difficult for us mortals to comprehend,” Jacques said, twirling between his fingers his small unimpressive mustache. Joanna felt an instant distaste for his condescension but knew better than to start an argument.
“Indeed, I’m sure you’re right,” she said, smiling as sweetly as she could.
Raymond sent her a quick look of approval. She thought perhaps she was acquiring some skill at guile.
The others went on to discuss more mundane matters—the difficulty of collecting taxes from some of the more wealthy landowners and whether the bridge across the Rhone, in need of repair to its buttresses, was the responsibility of Beaucaire or Tarascon. Joanna was hardly listening. So this is a council meeting, she thought. I remember being present at William’s meetings sometimes, but they were nothing like this. William didn’t have to be so cautious and on his guard with his council. He knew them and trusted them. Then she remembered Matthew of Ajello and Archbishop Walter. Wily, loyal only to themselves, totally untrustworthy. Would any of these four men prove equally despicable? She considered them. The only one she’d remotely trust was François Compagne, who had openly and without bombast questioned Raymond’s plan. He seemed honest and without self-interest.
She was beginning to feel a strange physical uneasiness as though something were churning about in her stomach. With no warning she was struck by an agonizing pain. She kept herself from crying out but when it had passed she rose to her feet.
“I’m sorry, but I’m feeling unwell. I think I had better get some rest.”
Raymond saw how stricken she looked.
“Just sit a moment and I’ll call Jeanette to see you to your room. I’ll send for the physician and we’ll come up in a few minutes.”
She looked at him in tremulous gratitude. They both knew what was happening. Though it was three weeks too soon, the child was ready to be born.
Chapter 64
All during her pregnancy Joanna had never doubted that this birth would go well. In spite of previous miscarriages and the untimely death of the infant Bohemund, she was serenely confident. One night she had a vivid dream. The Virgin Mary appeared and told her, “Your prayers will be answered, my daughter. You will bear a healthy child who will live long.” Joanna tried to ask her if it would be a boy or a girl, but the apparition vanished into a golden haze.
Mary spoke truth. After a short labor a perfect, healthy baby boy came into the world. When, washed and well swaddled, he was brought for the parents’ inspection. Joanna wept tears of joy. Raymond beamed with pride and consented to hold the child gingerly for a minute.
“What a very red face he has. He looks angry.”
“Newborns usually look like that,” said Nurse Marie. “Everything’s so strange to them and they have so much to take in all at once, poor babes.”
When in ten days the bishop
of Toulouse came for the christening, there was no question of the name: Raymond, future Count Raymond VII of Toulouse.
Joanna was a nervous mother. She resisted turning the baby’s care over to others, but she was just as hesitant in trusting herself to tend to him properly. To her dismay, she didn’t have enough milk so she had to depend on a wet nurse. She worried and fussed about the baby constantly. Raymond offered sympathy but very little practical help. Once the child was christened, his duties beckoned and he became abstracted, receiving and dispatching messengers and writing instructions for the governing council in Toulouse. Often he was gone for days at a time with little or no explanation to Joanna. But she was too taken up with motherhood to notice. She forgot to eat properly and became alarmingly thin.
Finally Berengaria decided she had to speak. She and Joanna had finished breakfast and Joanna rose, saying she’d go up to see if the baby had been nursed and put back in his cradle.
Berengaria put a hand on her arm. “Do sit down a minute, my dear. There’s no hurry. The nurses know what they’re doing and they’re devoted to your son. And goodness knows they’ve had experience in caring for babies—Marie’s the mother of five and Jeanne even more, seven I think she told me.”
“Six,” said Joanna. She felt like putting her hands over her ears. She didn’t want a lecture.
“Very well, six. But the point is that you’re wearing yourself out needlessly. And it’s affecting your health, to say nothing of your looks. Excuse me for saying so, but you’ve taken to putting on any old garment instead of paying attention to your clothes as you used to. Look at that brown shapeless bag you’re wearing. You’re getting thin and you always have a worried frown. You hide your beautiful hair under a cap. Do you want Raymond to see his wife grow careless and unattractive?”
Joanna’s cheeks flamed with anger. If it had been anyone but Berengaria she would have jumped up and flounced out of the room. But this was her best friend, the one she always listened to. She bent her head and, shoulders hunched, waited for calm to return. At last she straightened and looked up.
“You may be right. It’s just that now, after so many losses, I have a healthy, gloriously alive child and I’m terrified something will go wrong.”
Berengaria got up and put her arms around Joanna. “I understand, truly I do. And I’m sorry if I was too blunt.”
“No, no. Thank you for speaking so frankly. Of course the nurses are competent. I must try to let them handle things and not feel I have to do it all myself. So I’m always too tired to spend more time with Raymond. I’ll try to mend my ways.” She looked with distaste at her brown sack of a gown. “I’ll go up and look in at the nursery, and then I’ll have my maid transform me into a new person.”
“Not too new. All we want is the Joanna we’ve always known.”
In another week Berengaria left for Beaufort, encouraged by Joanna’s improved attitude as well as her appearance. Shortly Raymond told Joanna he too would have to leave, though they’d planned to make the journey back to Toulouse together when the baby was a few weeks older.
“I wish I could stay,” he told her, “but I must see to matters in Albi. There’s a sizeable colony of Cathars there, and Jacques de Fauchet and some of his vassals have practically declared war on them. I must try to douse the fire before it gets out of control. To tell you the truth, Joanna, I’m getting just a little tired of those bothersome heretics and how hard it is to keep matters from getting explosive.”
Another parting, thought Joanna. If this keeps up I might get tired of the heretics too. But I must get used to it.
On Raymond’s last morning at Beaucaire she walked with him to the courtyard where his groom was holding his horse’s bridle. They stood side by side near the palace steps. Nurse Jeanne had brought the baby out, but he slept soundly in her arms, oblivious of the activity. Half a dozen knights, already mounted, waited while their steeds whinnied and snorted and stamped their hooves on the hard ground. Henri de Jarnac had just eased himself into his saddle, looking grumpy at having to be up and about so early in the morning. His wife, Elaine, would go later with Joanna. She didn’t come out to tell Henri goodbye.
Joanna looked up to the sky, clear except for a long bank of clouds hugging the western horizon. If she hadn’t known better she’d have thought it was a snowclad mountain range. There was definitely a cool autumnal tang to the air. She saw with surprise that the leaves of the poplars beyond the rose garden were beginning to turn.
“It feels like the end of summer,” she said. “Perhaps you’ll be spared from a hot journey.”
“I believe I shall. And it should be quite comfortable by the time you set out.” He tickled the baby under his chin. “Take care of your mother, my son.” The nurse looked disapproving of the tickle, but the infant only made a few suckling movements with his rosebud of a mouth and slept on.
Raymond turned to Joanna and held her close for a moment, resting his cheek on hers. “Goodbye, my love. You’ll be in good hands. Captain Floret and the knights are still here and they’ll see you safely back to Toulouse. If something comes up once you’re there that you need advice on, you can call the council together. I’ll surely be home by the end of September. And I’ll expect to find you even more blooming and beautiful when I join you.”
As Raymond led his knights out of the courtyard, Joanna smiled to herself. So he’d noticed how she’d regained her good disposition and paid proper attention to her looks. She was glad she’d put on the green velvet gown and that her figure now filled it nicely, as it used to.
In three weeks Joanna was on the road as well. The party took the journey in short stages, and Captain Floret kept watch to make sure the horses maintained a slow, steady gait. Joanna, Elaine and the two nurses took turns carrying the baby. Adelaide demurred, on the grounds that she might hold him the wrong way or drop him. She’d never had a child.
Back in Toulouse Joanna settled into the familiar surroundings. How different from the cold, cramped quarters at Beaucaire! As always, she felt grateful to the counts of Toulouse who had over the years made improvements to the venerable palace. Raymond’s father, the fifth count, perhaps at the prodding of his several wives and mistresses, had ordered major interior remodeling. He’d created large rooms by combining several small ones, added glazing to all the windows, installed wood paneling here and there and thick carpets imported from the East. Now the count and countess could spread out in their commodious apartments, which included a reception room, an audience chamber, two bedchambers and a private sitting room with a fine view of the River Garonne. They even had an enclosed latrine instead of having to resort to a hole-in-the-wall along a cold stone corridor. Baby Raymond and his nurses had their own quarters next to Joanna’s bedroom.
Joanna had been home only a week, with Raymond still away, when François Compagne, the red-haired councilor, sent word that he had something of import to tell her. She received him in the reception room, which was smaller and less intimidating than the austere audience chamber downstairs.
He came quickly to the point. She recalled how she’d liked his directness and good sense when she met him in Beaucaire.
“I’ve just learned that two of the capitouls have declared their adherence to the Cathar heresy. It’s the first public admission by anybody of such prominence. I believe we should inform Count Raymond, but in the meantime you might want to call the council together and get their advice.”
For a moment she felt at a loss. Capitouls? Then she remembered that Raymond had once explained to her, in a rather offhand way, that these were the twelve men who governed the city of Toulouse, while he and his council were concerned with the entire Languedoc region. Though their interests converged or differed sometimes, the two bodies generally maintained their independence, each with its own jurisdiction.
“But isn’t this a matter for the capitouls themselves to deal with?” she asked, perplexed. “If it’s a threat to their ability to govern, shouldn’t they decide wh
at to do? Why should it affect Raymond and his council?”
“You’re right, it shouldn’t. But it might. We should always be looking ahead, calculating the effects of events like this. To my view, this is a sign that the Cathars are growing even more influential. Up to now they’ve been mostly laborers and farmers and merchants. But they seem to be popping up in the higher ranks. It puts the whole movement in a different light.”
He paused and looked at her to make sure she understood. She noticed for the first time how blue his eyes were, an intense blue with no hint of gray or green.
“I see. And I suppose you suspect that if it’s true in Toulouse, it’s likely to be true elsewhere in the Languedoc.”
“Exactly.” He was silent, as though waiting for her to make another comment. She was silent as well, trying to remember something Raymond had once said.
“I remember now that Raymond said that if, God forbid, the heresy should spread beyond the common, ignorant folk, he’d be suspicious of motivation. He said if someone in the nobility declared himself a Cathar it could be for one of two reasons: true belief, or as a gesture of defiance to King Philip and his ally the pope.”
“And did he say which he thought would be more likely?”
“Yes, the latter. And it worried him. He said anyone who made such a rebellious gesture could also be delivering a threat to his own authority if he continues to appear as a supporter of the king and the pope’s inquisitors.” She sighed. “It’s complicated, isn’t it? Such uncertainty, so many ways to go.”
His smile was kind, understanding. She felt reassured. “Yes, it’s complicated indeed. You’re getting a useful introduction to the art of governing the county of Toulouse. And I compliment you on how quickly you grasp the situation.”
“I’m not sure about that, but thank you. Now, I must send word to Raymond and urge him to hurry back. And you’re right, we should convene the council. How soon do you think we can meet?”
“I’d suggest in two days’ time. If you like, I can inform them. We won’t find all of them here and available, but I know Henri de Jarnac and Arnaud Cabot are in the city, and several others whom you may not know.”