Hoodsman: Popes and Emperors

by Smith, Skye

  He thought about these words. This woman had a way with words, a tricky way, a cunning way. "And could you, could you punish them?"

  "No, but don't tell them that." She laughed, her soft, gentle, pleasing to the ear laugh. "It is such respect that allows me to travel freely on this highway, even as a helpless woman."

  "And what is this stone they spoke of. A jewel perhaps?"

  "Not a jewel. Something much more valuable," she replied. "A monolith stone erected before time began, with the power to heal. We call it the stone of visions and it is on Mount Corneille in Le Puy. Pilgrims come to touch it to be healed or to ask the advice of the oracles. Neither are practices that endear us to the Bishop. Sadly the Papists have broken pieces off the stone to bury beneath their new basilica. Soon what is left of it will be small enough to carry to the basilica."

  "So you are an Oracle," he whistled a low note. "and therefore a virgin."

  "A virgin, not really. I took care of that myself years ago. As for men, yes. An Oracle loses her sight once she lies with a man. I have never risked it."

  "Aye, they have that same myth in Wales. That is a kingdom near where I live. Their King's oracle often used to tell me the same thing, as she seduced me."

  She turned in her saddle to face him. "And did she lose her sight?"

  "She doesn't know. She has never been with a man since she gained the sight, only with me."

  "You are a man. You had an erection while I healed your wound. My healing touch always has that effect on a man. Boing... hard."

  "My Welsh Oracle insisted," he replied slowly, "that I was a woman in a man's skin. I must be in order to have the healing touch."

  "Ahhh."

  "She lied," he said, "to justify seducing me. I am a man with a healer's touch. Rare in men, but not unknown."

  "And she did not lose her visions?"

  "It strengthened them, like eating the blue mushrooms."

  "In the next town, not a mile from here," she said, smiling, "there is a good inn. You have worried your wound enough for the day. You will pay for their best room, and pay extra for a good fire in the hearth, and good wine for the bedside."

  "But it is still early."

  "You must stop early to get the best room," she said, still smiling.

  "Oh no. I don't do virgins. It is far too complicated. You can never fulfill their romantic fantasies, and they hate you for that, forever more."

  "I told you, I took my own virginity years ago. This will not be sex, but a joining of two healing powers."

  "You're beginning to sound just like Gwyn."

  "Who?"

  "My Welsh friend."

  "Ahhh, good."

  * * * * *

  He needn't have worried about taking her virginity. They had no sooner entered the next village than she was recognized and they never did see the inside of the Inn. They were ushered into the longhouse and while he rested and slept, she read minds and predicted futures, and then she was bedded down in the women's quarters in an actual bed.

  This day began by climbing out of the river valley to a higher valley between plateaus and mountains. In the bowl at the top of the climb there was snow and the town of Mende. She stuck out her tongue and allowed the snow flakes to melt on it. "We must almost be at Mende. Mende has a few good inns. I think we should stop and get a warm room before they are all gone."

  He sighed and took her suggestion seriously, that is, until he checked his map. "No. I think it better we press on a few more villages. That will put Le Puy within easy reach tomorrow."

  "But what if they don't have warm rooms?" she asked him in a mocking voice. Was she playing with him?

  "I will keep you warm, love, even if we must sleep under a pine," he said. It wouldn't be the first time he had turned a pine tree into a tent for the night. They worked quite well, so long as you didn't light a fire under them. He watched how her pony took care of her on this steep and slippery slope. The pony was purposefully keeping her safe.

  They rode around Mende's earthwork defenses, and did not stop to rest until they were beyond the last house. In a small meadow with a rushing stream where they rested, he was of two minds whether to ask her to use her powers on his mind again. Without his asking, she came close to him and she hovered her hands under neck and asked him to hover his hands under her neck.

  It was a magic time, and everything else around them disappeared, or at least so it seamed to him. He heard her asking him questions and him answering them, but he could not understand the words. It was very strange, as if they were not speaking using their mouths, but using other senses. Suddenly he lost his balance and fell against her and the feeling stopped.

  "Oh," she said softly, "So you have decided to help Odo to become the Pope. You feel it is within your power to decide the next Pope, and you have chosen Odo just to get him to leave England. How could you?"

  "It was you that decided me," he replied softly as he regained his balance and then held her to him to keep her warm. "You pointed out that killing Odo and William was a solution to old problems, and not necessarily the solutions to the current problems. This wisdom has cleared my own vision of the future. My goal for the future is to weaken the Normans in England, without costing more English lives."

  They were too cold to rest longer, so they mounted and kept riding to stay warm. In the village where they stayed the night, again Giselle was recognized and ushered into the village longhouse. Raynar traded news of the road with some other travelers, while Giselle answered the pleas of some women to divine and calm their old mother who had gone quite mad. It took her most of the evening, but she did bring the old woman back into the real world. The daughters called out to everyone about the miracle that the Oracle of the Stone had just performed.

  That night Giselle did not sleep with the women, but crawled under his cloak with him. It was his worst fears come true. She was falling in love with him. He knew the signs. He tried to explain them to her. "Little one, what you feel is not the love between a man and a woman. It is because you and I are both healers. You know better than I that the healing touch often feels warm and caring like a mother's love for her baby. I feel it too, and cherish it for what it really is. Don't be sad."

  She pushed herself up from him. "Who is sad. I feel what I feel, and I cherish it for the moment. The future does not yet exist, so shush and let me sleep so I may dream about loving you." And she wept softly into his chest and he pulled her closer to him to keep her warm. Eventually his chest was very damp from her welling tears. It was as if a lifetime of grief at not being able to see and have a normal life, was bubbling out of her eyes.

  * * * * *

  * * * * *

  The Hoodsman - Popes and Emperors by Skye Smith

  Chapter 30 - Gregos of Cordoba in Le Puy in December 1081

  The next day, just after noon, as they came ever closer to Le Puy, they found themselves sharing the road with pilgrims. Pilgrims even in the winter, with snow on the ground at this altitude. They were trudging both north and south.

  "This is the Via Podensis," Giselle told him. "the pilgrim route south across the Pyrenees to Leon. Many come from the south to be healed here in Le Puy."

  "And you heal them? You and the stone of visions."

  "Not just me. There are other healers. Besides, the act of pilgrimage heals most of them. They start out fat from eating rich food, and weak from lack of physical work, but then they walk for months, while eating thin gruel. By the time they reach here, they are light on their legs, and fitter than when they were young. Usually all we healers must do is to wave our hands over them and declare them cured. They feel so much better that they accept our words as the truth, and then they go home and tell everyone on the way about the miraculous stone that healed them."

  "But you are more than a healer, you are a seer, and an oracle."

  "It is the same," she said. "They bring questions to ask of the oracle. They live the different and simple life of a pilgrim for a month, while ponder
ing the question every step of the way. I divine them to find the answer that they have already decided on. They accept my words as brilliance, and go home and tell of the miraculous stone."

  She had just finished telling him this when she stopped her pony and told him to listen. "Some men are using birdcalls as a signal.” Raynar unstrapped his crook-bow and took off the wooden foot to expose the blade it hid.

  "Peace oh holy one," said the man who had suddenly appeared without warning from behind a bush directly next to Raynar. He was dark of face and eyes, and had more than a farmers tan on his skin, and wore a long white scarf wrapped endlessly around his forehead, and a cloak that was striped with many colors.

  Raynar had not heard or seen a thing, but Giselle seemed to be expecting him. She spoke calmly to the stranger , "You are a pilgrim from Al-Andalus, no? How may I help you?"

  The strange man saw Raynar's uneasiness and the blade fixed to the end of his staff, and he stepped forward so that the blade was touching his throat before he asked, "Are you the Oracle Giselle?"

  "I am she. Who are you?"

  "I am the servant of his Eminence Gregos, Emissary of the great Emir Al-Mu'tamid of Seville and Cordoba. His eminence sends a warning that there is danger for you in Le Puy, but that he will welcome you as his guest at his villa. A place not three hundred paces from here."

  "How do we know she will be safe with this Gregos?" asked Raynar.

  "Did I not say that she would be his guest. With our people that is a sacred trust."

  "Calm yourself, Raynar," Giselle said softly. "I have met his Eminence before. He means me no harm. If he warns of danger in Le Puy, then we should speak with him."

  The strange man stepped back from the blade and bowed his head to give thanks for still having a throat. "And how?" Raynar asked him, "did you know that we were coming."

  "We came here from Paris two weeks ago, and being told that the oracle was away, we rented a villa and waited. We have been watching the road in shifts. Now follow me. It is not far."

  The villa was up a slight rise from the Via, and though it was ringed in a stone wall, the upper floor had a grand balcony where someone was sitting, watching them approach. The gate through the wall was closed behind them and the stranger helped Raynar down from his horse, but would not approach, never mind help Giselle down from her pony. Raynar did that.

  They walked across the threshold and there was much tutting from the stranger behind them. "Boots" he warned with a shake of his head. They removed their boot and their hose and walked bare foot over the threshold, where again they were tutted at, this time by another strange man inside the villa. He motioned them to a basin of water set into the floor beside the door, and to another basin above it on a table.

  They took turns standing in the warm water of the floor basin, while they washed their hands and face. Meanwhile the stranger washed Raynar's feet. Giselle had to wash her own feet, and while she was washing, he looked around the hall they had entered. It had a tiled floor, like some of the Palacio's of Venice and Rome, only this floor was shining and spotless.

  Once they had washed they were ushered upstairs and onto the grand balcony. The view from there was spectacular. It faced south west and the long line of the pilgrim road stretched away for miles. All around there were plateaus and hills and snow covered peaks.

  An exquisitely dressed man, with a much lighter skin coloring than their escort, stood and stepped forward and bowed to Giselle. "Welcome to my poor house, Giselle. Anything that is mine is yours."

  Giselle told him to rise, and then shamelessly pushed forwards her two hands to hover under his neck and divine him. He did not pull back, and a wide smile crossed his face. When she had finished he told her. "I thank you for your blessing. And this man with you? Is he yours, or the church's? Though he is dressed as a monk, I doubt that he is one."

  "May I present Raynar the Porter," she said formally, "the man who will chose the next Pope.” Raynar blushed, but then was fearful at such incautious words. "Raynar, this is his Eminence Gregos of Cordoba, the man who will chose the next Emir."

  "Ah, Giselle, I have missed your Oracle mind puzzles." said Gregos. "Come, both of you, sit and have wine and watch the pilgrim traffic with me."

  "You have a warning for us?" asked Raynar eagerly.

  There was a tut tut from the man carrying a tray of goblets and two flasks.

  "He is scolding you," Gregos explained, "for being so rude as to speak of business before my welcome has been completed by our sharing bread. Don't worry, I am not offended. I am an Andalusian Greek, not a Moor.” He pulled out a chair for Giselle and when she sat, he pushed it closer to the small table and the tray.

  After they had shared some very good wine and cheese, only then did Giselle ask, "Is the Bishop du Puy misbehaving again?"

  "I fear so, my child," Gregos said. "My informants tell me that the grand Basilica of Notre Dame du Puy is finally complete, and with the completion the Bishop's plans include moving the last piece of the 'stone of visions' to it's vault. The keepers of the stone, such as yourself, shall be exiled, and those that refuse exile will likely be burned as witches. I suspect that he plans to imprison you all so that you cannot choose exile."

  A tear rolled down from under the scarf over Giselle’s eyes and wetted her cheek. "Have any of the healers been imprisoned yet?"

  "That will not happen until you arrive. You are the prize for the bonfire, and he does not wish you warned away before he can capture you."

  "How do you know all of this?" Raynar asked.

  "I have a very deep purse," Gregos replied. "No, that is unfair of me. The pilgrims from Al-Andalus bring good business to Le Puy. The bishop warned me, so that I could explain any violence to those pilgrims, so that they and their coin would not be frightened away."

  "What do you suggest?" she asked.

  "My offer from last summer is still open. Come south with me and become the Oracle to the Emir. Bring any of your healers with you. We do not burn healers in Cordoba. We revere them and encourage them to teach in our universities."

  "What is a university?" Raynar asked.

  "Think of a huge library with thousands of books where teachers and pupils can meet and trade ideas."

  Raynar sniffed in disbelief. The man was delusional to say that so many books could be in one library. "There is another solution, Giselle. Why don't I try out the hunter's vials on the good Bishop."

  "I don't understand your meaning," said Gregos.

  "He means that he will choose a new Bishop," replied Giselle.

  "He has that power, this man who will choose the new Pope?" Gregos gave him a closer look, and then reached forward and felt his hand and the calluses on his fingers. "Ahhh. A poisoned arrow. Now I understand. No, that will never do. The King of France and the Pope in Rome have been looking for an excuse to destroy the communes of the cities and towns of the south. Kill this Bishop, and they will release the hounds of war on innocent communes."

  Raynar was beginning to like this man, this wise Greek from Cordoba. He looked at him carefully. He was well dressed in costly fabrics and yet he wore no gold. In years, he was about forty, but he looked fitter and younger than that. They locked eyes. His eyes had a brightness to them, no, a keenness.

  "I will go with you to Cordoba," Giselle decided. "How can I get word to my sister healers in Le Puy without the Bishop finding me?"

  "You, child, must leave immediately," Gregos stated, "with a dozen of my Moors to protect you. I will stay on in Le Puy until you are safely beyond Toulouse, and during that time I will have your healers brought here, and kept safe here, and those that wish it may travel south with me when I leave. Do you have a token that I can show to them? One that will assure them that I speak for you."

  "Oh Gregos, silly one. They are in the business of detecting truth. But here," she reached to an inside pocket and pulled out one of the ringed crosses of the Good People, one of silver with a red stone in the center. "you may show them this. Th
ey will recognize it so long as you also tell them that a dangerous truth is best hidden by other truths."

  Gregos called out a command in a strange tongue that almost sounded like Hebrew, and suddenly the courtyard below became noisy with mean rushing about. "Giselle, dear, you must leave this day for the south. Pilgrims that saw you on the road may have mentioned a blind woman approaching Le Puy, and that will cause the Bishop's guards to be watchful. And this man, does he go with you?"

  "No," she replied, "for he must go and choose the next Pope."

  "Then you sir, may stay with me as my guest until you choose to leave. Giselle," he rose and pulled the woman to her feet and led her into the Villa. "It will take my men over an hour to prepare to leave. You should put your head down and rest until they are ready."

  * * * * *

  Gregos and Raynar stood together by the balustrade of the balcony watching until Giselle was out of sight. She waved once, above her head, without turning. Why would she turn. There was nothing for her to see. Raynar stood there longer, but it was getting too cold for Gregos outside, and he went in to work on a puzzle.

  When Raynar came inside to warm up by the brazier, Gregos asked politely, "So who are you really Raynar the Porter, who is an archer and the trusted companion of the Oracle of the Stone? Even in Cordoba we do not have porters who are so well educated. You are not a simple monk, but why the disguise? Are you actually a knight. A knight of an abbey, perhaps? A warrior monk?"

  In answer to his question a medallion was placed down in front of him. He read it out the letters pressed into the coin. "Raynar cittadin capitan do Bruges. And it is a Venetian medallion so you are well connected in both of those trading cities. Well Captain Raynar, do you mind if I take a rubbing of your identity medal?" At the nod, he pulled a very thin piece of paper towards him and placed it over the coin and then rubbed it with a small piece of lead.

  "Now I have your coin as reference. Would you like mine? You should take a rubbing just in case you are ever in Cordoba. Show it to any public official and you will be taken to me.” He lifted a ribbon over his head and placed a large medallion on the table and made a rubbing. He then slid the small square of paper across the table to the Captain, who was studying the Okaki puzzle.