Heresy

by Sharan Newman

  “Now, Astrolabe,” he continued, “I’ve spoken to Samson and Engebaud. Neither of them wishes to consider you a murder suspect any longer.”

  “I am relieved to hear that,” Astrolabe said. “Thank you, my lord. But someone killed Cecile and Rolland, and is still free. I thought it was Arnulf, but now I’m not sure.”

  “I must agree,” Thibault said. “He doesn’t have enough pendon.”

  Countess Mahaut interrupted at this point.

  “It’s been a long day,” she said. “Margaret’s sister-in-law looks dead on her feet, if you’ll excuse my saying so, my dear. Perhaps all of you could come to our chambers after dinner this evening. There are a number of questions that need answering. You, too, young man,” she added to John, who had just arrived.

  “Of course my lady,” he bowed.

  “Now, all of you go get some rest,” she said, waving them off. “I want a complete explanation of this by tonight. Margaret, you may stay. I want to introduce you to a few friends.”

  Margaret shot Catherine a look of panic but smiled at the countess and stayed.

  Catherine shook her head. She had to do something to make Margaret take a stand against this marriage.

  “I feel as if I’d been turned inside out, washed and laid out to shrivel in the sun,” Catherine said as they left the cathedral.

  “You need to sit someplace with your feet up and have someone bring you herbed wine and honey,” Annora said.

  “I’d be happy with water,” Catherine said. “But both you and the countess are right. I must get off my feet before they explode. Astrolabe! What are you doing?”

  “Getting you off your feet,” he laughed as he lifted her into his arms. “Now, it’s not an elegant way to travel, but it’s not that far to Saint-Pierre. Catherine, you haven’t been eating enough.”

  “Just be glad I’m no heavier,” Catherine teased. “Thank you, old friend. The distance to the convent seems a hundred miles to me just now.”

  Astrolabe carried her to the gate of Saint-Pierre. She kissed him good day and went in immediately. “We will solve this,” she told him before climbing the stairs. “No more rumors.”

  “Lady Annora.” Astrolabe stopped her before she followed Catherine. “I know this has been a difficult time for you, too. But please make sure that someone sees to her. Catherine is not as strong as she pretends.”

  “No one could be,” Annora said. “Except perhaps my lady Sybil.”

  “That was an interesting display,” John told Astrolabe as they went back across the square. “I promised to write my friend Peter about the events at the council. I wouldn’t know how to begin to tell this tale.”

  “John, you won’t tell about what happened to me, will you?” Astrolabe said in alarm.

  “Why not?” he asked. “You’ve been exonerated.”

  “But why have it known that I was ever under suspicion?” he said. “The fewer who know this, the better, to my mind.”

  “It will be difficult,” he said. “But I don’t suppose future readers will care about some stultus from Brittany too mad even to convert.”

  “Is that what you think of me?”

  “Of course not,” he answered. “I meant Eon, you dolt!”

  Then he saw Astrolabe’s face.

  “Well, I’m glad you can still joke about it,” he said. “Very well. I promise never to write a word of this episode. I’m more interested in the debate on the teachings of master Gilbert, anyway.”

  “Oh, yes,” Astrolabe yawned. “I must confess I find Eon’s beliefs more comprehensible than his. If the bishop’s so important, why are they waiting until most of the council has left before they discuss him?”

  “I don’t know,” John admitted. “Perhaps his opponents are hoping he’ll die of old age before they have to face him.”

  “That old man may outlive all of his detractors,” Astrolabe said. “I wish my father could have. Perhaps I should attend his trial, although I own I’ve had enough of heresy for a lifetime.”

  “Don’t worry,” John said. “I’ll be there for all of it. When I write my report to Peter, I’ll have a copy sent to you.”

  “Fair enough,” Astrolabe said. “Shall we go meet Godfrey, or do you also need a nap?”

  “You know what I need, vieux compang,” John grinned, “and I’m sure your friend Godfrey will be happy to share.” ‘

  They found Godfrey waiting impatiently. John’s eyes lit when he saw the pitcher at his elbow.

  “I found where Gui was staying,” he told them even before they started to pour.

  “Was?” Astrolabe asked. “Does that mean he’s gone?”

  “I don’t know.” Godfrey was clearly puzzled. “It seems he came back from the Temple, not much worse for wear but greatly changed in character.”

  “What about the people who were supposed to have fetched him?” John asked.

  “No one has seen them,” Godfrey said. “But the first thing he did when he got back to his room was give away his horse.”

  “What!” both men said together.

  “Are you sure, Godfrey?” Astrolabe asked. “You must mean his pack-horse or a mule.”

  “No.” Godfrey shook his head slowly. “His best warhorse, the one that he won at a tourney in Bordeaux two years ago.”

  “But it must be worth more than all his land,” John said.

  “At least three hundred silver marcs of Troyes,” Godfrey said. “I was told so several times. His friends can’t believe it, either.”

  “But if he has nothing to ride, then he must still be in Reims,” Astrolabe said.

  “If so, none of his companions have seen him. He also gave away most of his clothes, all his gear and his weapons.”

  “He must have undergone some kind of conversion,” John said. “It’s the only explanation. ”Or he’s atoning for some great sin.“

  “Like murder?” Astrolabe conjectured.

  “I don’t know,” Godfrey told them. “His friends were completely stupefied by the change. Anyway, he gave everything away, went out the day before yesterday and hasn’t been seen since.”

  “This is getting irritating,” John said. “I’m not accustomed to people vanishing suddenly.”

  “It does sound as though he were going on a pilgrimage of expiation,” Astrolabe said. “But I’d rather have a solid confession or certain proof of his guilt.”

  “You don’t think he did it?” Godfrey asked. “Why not?”

  “Because Margaret doesn’t think he did,” Astrolabe answered.

  “But she was wrong about the brooch and the attack on Gui,” John reminded him.

  “I don’t know that she was,” Astrolabe said. “She’s a remarkable person. She understands things without knowing them.”

  “I believe that is what Abbot Bernard says all of us should do,” John said. “But in this case, Margaret must be wrong. It has to be Gui. Who else is left?”

  “Me, I suppose,” Astrolabe answered.

  Catherine couldn’t get to sleep. Her legs were throbbing, the baby was restless, and she had the uneasy feeling that she had overlooked something obvious.

  She should have realized that Annora had poor vision. There had been any number of signs. But Annora had learned to cover them well. That sleepy, bored look that was really a practiced squint. The way she opened her eyes wide when addressed directly. The fact that she had been sitting directly across the room from Gui and not known he was there. How could she have missed all those clues? Catherine was beginning to doubt her own reasoning skills.

  Annora wasn’t the problem, though. Catherine was determined to find the answer, but she felt Annora wasn’t the key to solving the murders.

  No, it was something else, something she had heard and not paid attention to.

  Now her head was aching as well as her feet. Catherine tried to relax, to think about nothing. She recited Ave Marias in her head, but other scenes kept disrupting the prayers: Arnulf in the cathedral, the saintly face o
f Eon, Gui’s feckless grin.

  Margaret believed that Gui had faked the attack on himself. It didn’t make sense, but Catherine trusted her intuitions. Logically, all blame could be placed on Arnulf, or Arnold, as Annora had called him. He must have been in the raiding party, killed Cecile and stolen the brooch, then dropped it in the garden while trying to overpower his brother, Gui. He killed Rolland when the canon became suspicious of his motives.

  It all fit together. But she knew it was wrong.

  Catherine tried to view the problem objectively. The problem was Arnulf himself. The man didn’t even have enough imagination to think up a proper false name. His lies very likely made sense in his own mind. It would have been so tidy if he were guilty.

  Life was never tidy.

  And yet, if Peter Abelard had taught her anything, it was that God didn’t intend existence to be incomprehensible. If her intellect wasn’t up to the challenge, then the fault lay in her.

  She knew the answer was in her memory somewhere.

  “Dear Saint Catherine,” she prayed to her name saint. “You are wise as well as holy. Please help me to find the truth so that Astrolabe won’t live forever with this shadow over him.”

  There was no blinding light of revelation, but Catherine was content. When logic failed, there was always faith. Perhaps with both a solution would appear.

  Margaret came for her just before Vespers.

  “Did you get a good rest?” she asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Catherine said. “But I can tell that you had none at all. Whom did the countess want you to meet?”

  “German bishops,” Margaret sighed. “There seem to be a lot of them here. These were related somehow to the man I’m supposed to marry.”

  “Margaret!” Catherine got up and started to put on her shoes. “You must end this marriage nonsense. Even if the countess is offended, you can’t go off to Carinthia.”

  “I’m beginning to think I must,” Margaret said.

  Catherine dropped the shoe.

  “You can’t be serious. What would Edgar say?”

  “He’s not here, Catherine,” Margaret told her. “And he has said nothing about arranging a marriage for me. I don’t wish to take the veil, so a husband is inevitable. My grandfather has offered a noble dowry. If I disobey him, then that burden will be on Edgar. You know I have nothing of my own.”

  “You should,” Catherine said, an old grievance surfacing. “Your brother, Duncan, has taken your father’s title and land. He owes you a dowry, too.”

  “Only if I go back to Scotland and marry according to his wishes.” Margaret shuddered. “At least Countess Mahaut is concerned with my happiness.”

  “Margaret, you’re only fifteen,” Catherine protested. “There’s time yet to find you someone closer to home. I was nearly twenty when Edgar and I married.”

  “Catherine, the countess has worked very hard for my benefit,” Margaret explained. “I don’t feel I can betray her now.”

  Catherine had retrieved the shoe and was lacing it up. Now she stopped.

  “Betray,” she said.

  “Yes, betray,” Margaret repeated. “That’s what it would be after she’s been so kind.”

  “No. Wait.” Catherine held up her hand to shush Margaret. “Betrayal. That’s what she said. Margaret, we must find Astrolabe at once. If I’m right, he’s in terrible danger. And then remind me to buy a candle for Saint Catherine.”

  They brushed past Annora on their way out.

  “Catherine!” she called.

  “So sorry,” Catherine said over her shoulder. “We’re in a great hurry.”

  “But I have to talk to you!” Annora followed them. “It’s very important.”

  “Not now!” Catherine said.

  “It’s about Cecile.” Annora trotted behind them. “I’ve spoken with Gui. He confessed everything.”

  Catherine stopped so quickly that Annora ran into her. Then a woman carrying a huge bundle of fresh wool on her back nearly bumped into both of them.

  They were in the middle of the road. Catherine took Annora to one side. Margaret followed after helping the shepherdess to rebalance her load.

  “He confessed?” Catherine said. “When? Where did you see him?”

  Annora took a deep breath. “I was with him last night,” she admitted. “He’s going away. He says he needs to clean his soul.”

  “He killed Cecile and Rolland?” Margaret asked. “I don’t believe it.”

  Annora stared at her. “Of course not. He loved Cecile.”

  “What?”

  “I didn’t know for certain until now,” Annora said. “They seemed very fond of each other, but our fathers were always at dagger’s point. Then she entered the convent and I thought that was the end of it.”

  Catherine was shocked. “But Annora, they are first cousins. That’s not even consanguinity; it’s plain incest.”

  “I know that,” Annora said. “So did they. That’s why Cecile went to Saint-Georges. But Gui told me last night that he couldn’t accept her decision. He followed her. She refused to see him. When he heard that she had been taken to Sainte-Croix, he went to rescue her, only she had already escaped. He says that he hunted for her all winter. He joined the men hunting the heretics just to get a meal and a bed. He couldn’t believe it when he saw her with them.”

  “Why didn’t he tell someone who she was and have her freed?” Catherine asked. This story seemed stranger than Arnulf’s.

  “He wasn’t very clear on this,” Annora said. “I think he may have been afraid. He thought there would be time. She was unconscious so he had her put in the cart and wrapped her in his cloak. He came to check on her late in the night and found she was awake.”

  Annora paused, biting her lips to keep back the tears.

  “She told him that this was her punishment for loving him, that he must take her back to Saint-Georges and never try to see her again. Then she gave him this.”

  She opened her hand. In it was a gold and topaz brooch.

  “He promised to honor her request,” she continued. “But when he came for her in the morning, she was dead and the other man in the cart missing.”

  “Why didn’t he say then who she was?” Catherine asked.

  Annora sighed. “There was a great hue and cry for the man who had escaped. Gui felt sure he’d be caught and hanged immediately and Cecile would be avenged. He was numb with grief. He still is.”

  “But he wasn’t the one who killed her,” Catherine said.

  “Of course not,” Annora said. “I’ve just told you.”

  “But he did pretend to be attacked?” Margaret asked.

  “He did,” Annora said. “He wanted to attract my attention while keeping up the myth that we were enemies. He always overdid things. He should have been born a jongleur. Idiot!”

  “And you kept all of this to yourself?” Catherine wanted to shake her.

  “I didn’t know most of it until last night,” Annora insisted. “And then Arnold appeared when he should have been behind thick walls. I was terribly confused. But Gui said he didn’t even know his brother was here.”

  “And Arnulf wasn’t with the raiding party?” Catherine asked.

  “No, he was in Tours, running from the monks he thought were trying to kill him,” Annora explained. “Just as he said. He stumbled on the heretics and Cecile. Her death only convinced him that all his fears were true.”

  Catherine rubbed her forehead. “And I thought my family was strange.”

  “Please don’t tell any of this to Countess Sybil,” Annora begged.

  “I wouldn’t know where to start,” Catherine said. “Margaret, please, will you run and see if Astrolabe is still at the beer stand? I’ll follow as quickly as I can. We’ve wasted too much time already.”

  “What is it?” Annora asked.

  “I’ve been stupid,” Catherine said, hurrying after Margaret. “It was never about your family. It was about a test of faith, betrayal and atonement. Pleas
e let Astrolabe still be drinking beer.”

  When they reached the stand, they found only Godfrey.

  “Did Margaret find you?” Catherine asked.

  “Yes,” Godfrey told her. “I sent her on with John and waited here for you.

  “On where?”

  “Saint-Hilarius,” Godfrey said. “Astrolabe wanted to light a candle for the soul of his father. He told us he’d never appreciated Abelard’s travails until now.”