by Bell, Gradyn
“Are you forgetting the reason we are here, my dear? It is not to gain lands or treasure, although they are welcome rewards. We are here to do Holy Mother Church’s will and cleanse the country of these people who it is known treat with the devil and carry out such abominations that I could not mention them in your presence. They are a cancer that must be routed out before they destroy our church completely!”
Simon’s voice had taken on a tone that Alicia recognised. She knew that whatever she said would have little bearing on his decision to take on the captaincy-general of the army—that force, which even as they spoke, was sweeping through the countryside south of them, leaving few people alive and setting up pyres to burn the heretics.
“Then we must send riders to bring Guy to us. We should be together. I will be happier when I can see my boys under your wing. If they must fight with you, it should be under your direct command.” She sighed. “You must do the bidding of the Council and see what it is they desire of you. Go, prepare. Time is short if you are to do this. Already many knights have returned to their own estates, their forty-day commitment to the Crusade served.”
“I will return as soon as I can. In the meantime, I will send some men- at- arms to bring back Guy.” He smiled and catching her in a strong embrace, kissed her hard on the mouth. She could feel the strength of his ardour growing through the thin silk of her gown, but she pushed him away.
“Go,” she said. “The sooner you leave, the quicker you will return.”
Arnold-Almeric, at once the Pope’s Legate and the religious leader of the Crusade had fought the council long and hard to ensure the election of his choice of military leader. He was not a man to give up easily in his pursuit of any cause. The leadership had been offered to several other great barons of France but no one had wanted the titles of Beziers, Albi and Carcassonne—perhaps because they had not liked the political machinations of the church leaders and thought it best not to become involved in what was clearly an unsavoury matter to say the least!. It was a well-known fact that whilst being kept in his own dungeons, the legitimate viscount had died suddenly, supposedly of dysentery. But no one had believed that for a moment! He had been a young man of twenty-three, full of vitality and the energy of youth. He could eat prodigious amounts of food and drink copious amounts of wine with little or no effect. Why should he have been attacked by dysentery? One could only conclude that he had been murdered. Had the Legate been involved in Murder? Surely not!
Simon de Montfort was exactly the sort of man the Pope was seeking to replace the young Viscount Raymond-Roger, who had been a thorn in the side of His Holiness since the Crusade had first been called. When the Legate had been last in Rome, Innocent had told him that a commander must be appointed forthwith. Their meeting had been somewhat rancorous, Arnold-Almeric having to confess to the Pope that he was having difficulty appointing someone to lead the army because no one wanted the job.
“What about that de Montfort fellow, the one who refused to fight the Christians in Zara?”
The Pope still recalled how impressed he had been with Simon’s stand against the other leaders, his inflexibility against the Venetians and how he had held out against the Doge in the abortive Crusade of 1204. Innocent remembered him from those days as one of only a very few principled knights who had refused to attack the city on religious grounds. Coming from an important family that could boast bishops and close ties with royalty, the de Montforts had long held sway in the Ile de France. Simon de Montfort was a man of ideals, strong and fervent in his beliefs; he had the ability to lead gangs of tough soldiers to whom he could relate quite easily; and he was that rarest of beings, a man faithful to his wife. He seemed exactly right for the job- in the Pope’s eyes- and Arnold-Almeric had to agree with him.
The Legate also knew that Simon had been dispossessed of his rightful properties in England and that a natural greed would encourage him to take up his offer. At the age of forty- five, de Montfort would be aware that he owed his elevation to the Viscountcy of Carcassonne and Beziers to the Pope and would therefore be in his debt, very grateful to God and even more fervent in his religious beliefs. As they said, Simon prayed, took communion and killed as easily as drawing breath. He was perfect for the job at hand!
De Montfort was immensely flattered by his meeting with the Church Council and gladly accepted his mission as God’s will. He was happy to sign a proclamation in which he stated that because God had delivered into his hands the territories of those wicked heretics, he accepted with humility and devotion this charge and this government, trusting in the help of God and the aid of the army leaders and the assistances of the Legate. His only proviso was that he would have a free hand to dispose of the rebels as he saw fit and that any of the knights present in the council would come to his aid when called upon by him. There would be no quarter given either to the heretics or to anyone who sheltered them.
The Church readily agreed to this and Simon prepared to leave the hall where he had been given virtual carte blanche to rid the area of a people whom he considered to be of less importance than vermin. He made his exit, calling to his groom to bring his horse, for he was in a great hurry to return to Alicia bearing the good news.
“Hold on, my boy.”
Simon turned at the sound of the voice, wondering who was addressing the new leader of the Crusade in such familiar terms. His face cleared as he saw it was Arnold-Almeric, the man responsible for Simon’s sudden elevation to the dizzy height of leader of the only Crusade ever fought on European soil.
“You know what you have to do, my boy. You know the Holy Father will be ever grateful to you if you succeed. You and yours will henceforth want for nothing. You will be looked upon with the greatest favour by His Holiness. You only have to stamp out this cancer which grows by the hour.”
Simon looked gratified as Arnold-Almeric spoke and opened his mouth to reply.
“No, do not interrupt me. There is another matter I wish to discuss with you, one which must remain a secret. What I am about to tell you must not go beyond these four walls.” The Legate looked around him as if to see if the walls had ears. “You recall the attack on the city of Zara and the fall of Constantinople? Of course you do, my boy. It was there you took your stand against attacking a Christian population. That was when you first came to the notice of His Holiness. Well, I am sure you were unaware at the time, but His Holiness had sent soldiers to Constantinople, not to fight—they were Templar Knights he sent—but to rescue some of the very valuable relics that the Eastern Church in Constantinople had managed to collect. This included several fragments of the true cross and other icons that the Pope wished to take into safekeeping. Unfortunately, they were lost to pirates as they were being brought back to Rome. The one thing His Holiness valued the most, however, the one thing he desired above everything else, was a simple piece of linen.”
Simon looked puzzled. “But why the great secrecy?”
“Because we know it to be the Holy Shroud of our Lord Jesus Christ,” the Legate said, crossing himself fervently. “It seems the Templars betrayed the Holy Father’s trust and stole the shroud and fled with it into France.”
“I think I know of the piece of linen of which you speak. I heard tell of it even before the Fall of Constantinople. It came originally from Edessa, I believe. It is said to have miraculous powers, but no one has claimed before that it was our Lord’s Shroud.” Simon looked sceptical. “Why, your Grace, do you think it is in France, and what has it to do with me?”
“It was brought to France on the instructions of the Grand Prior of the Templars. As you no doubt already know, he is the uncle of your friend Geoffrey de Joinville. We know the Grand Prior was in Constantinople at its fall and in France the following year. We are nearly certain that it was brought into the country at the Grand Prior’s request. It will be part of your task to seek news of its whereabouts.”
Simon could not help being impressed by the Legate’s intimate knowledge of the movements of
the Grand Prior, and said as much.
“Ha! We have eyes and ears everywhere. We must because our duty is to protect Holy Mother Church.”
“Forgive me, your Grace, but what has all this to do with the heretics?”
“That’s where you come in, my boy. It isn’t exactly clear, but we have long suspected the linen is hidden somewhere in the mountains of Occitania. It has disappeared completely from sight but we are sure these damned heretics know something of its whereabouts. You will be in an ideal position to make inquiries as you move about the countryside. Somewhere, someone knows something about it. I can tell you we are not squeamish about the methods you use to obtain the results you want, either!”
Simon could have sworn he saw the Legate wink, but quickly dismissed the thought. Legates were too holy to wink.
“I need hardly say how happy the Holy Father would be should this relic surface due to your efforts. Your rewards would be enormous.”
“Indeed, your Grace, you may rest assured that I will make every effort to recover the linen, not for any reward that might be granted here on earth. My reward is in serving God’s purpose.”
“Bless you, my son. I knew we had chosen the right man for the job. God go with you.”
Arnold-Almeric raised his hands in blessing and slipped away as silently as he had come.
Simon’s head reeled with thoughts as he made his way back to Lyons after his meeting with the Church Council. Of course he would share the information about the linen with Alicia. He recalled mentioning the linen to her after he had first heard of it at the wedding of their friend Bernard. Besides, he always sought her cool-headed advice on major matters, and this was certainly a major matter. He had already begun to scheme about how he could use his friendship with Geoffrey de Joinville to find out more precisely the movements of his uncle, the Grand Prior, in the years previous.
Pushing aside all thoughts of the linen, interesting as the quest seemed, he turned his full attention to the battle campaign he would begin planning. He was glad that Alicia did not know the entire truth about the fall of Beziers and Carcassonne. He knew that she would never agree to his taking command of such a situation, not at any cost. His own stomach churned at the butchery that had taken place in the unfortunate cities. Beziers, above all, would remain in his memory; it was said that fifteen thousand souls had departed this world in that battle alone. Still, he reasoned to himself, the inhabitants had deserved what they had got.
In the scorching heat of the July sun, some inhabitants of Beziers had foolishly left the safety of the city to pour scorn on the besiegers stationed outside the city walls. They had even hurled some rocks at them. What they had not bargained for was the immense strength and endurance of the so-called “king” of the routiers, who was camped just beside one of the gates to the city with his men.
The routiers—mercenary soldiers—were devils incarnate, known everywhere for their brutality. They hired themselves out to anyone who would pay them the most, which at this particular time happened to be the Crusaders. They were a motley group of men, often fleeing from the law in their own countries, and their viciousness was legendary. The very word “routier” struck fear in the hearts of all citizens. They were far more feared than regular soldiers.
When the ill-advised and altogether overbold and unfortunate inhabitants of Beziers who had foolishly ventured outside the safety of the city gates had seen the enormous red-headed giant of a man who had been “elected” king of the routiers hauling himself to his feet, they all drew back from their headlong rush towards the Crusaders. Calling out orders to his men in several northern languages, the “king” had leapt to his feet with an agility that belied his size. Having seized his billhook, the only weapon carried by the routiers, he had then begun the massacre of the city. The carnage that followed was more than even Simon wanted to contemplate.
The citizens of Beziers had been invited to give up to the Crusaders anyone they knew or suspected was a heretic, but the principally Catholic population refused. They had believed too long in the freedom of belief and in their civil liberties to give them up to a conquering army. What they did not know was that they had written their own death warrants. The Crusader armies still outside the city walls could hear the screams of the dying; the routiers were already earning their pay.
The religious leaders had gathered in the tent to consider the citizens’ refusal to surrender. Since it would be impossible to tell a Catholic from a Cathar, they decided that everyone must be killed. In their wisdom, they viewed this as a lesson to all the other cities that they intended to attack. If immediate surrender was not forthcoming, everyone would be put to death. This was the message they wished sent out to others who might resist.
As night fell, Simon had gone into the town. What he saw had horrified him. By the light of the smouldering wooden beams still burning in and around the Cathedral of St. Nazaire (it had exploded like a grenade at the beginning of the attack) and the bonfires that had been set all around it, he had seen the piles of bodies: tonsured priests with their heads broken open; women raped and cut to pieces; babies and children with their skulls crushed. Many of the male inhabitants of the city had been completely disembowelled. They had sought sanctuary here in the church, but to no avail. The church itself had been immediately despoiled by the dreaded routiers, who had literally torn it apart before setting it alight.
Further on in the town he had stepped across rivers of blood and come upon the burning pyres, replete with hundreds of bodies to keep them fed. The fire had consumed not only bodies, but as an afterthought whole streets of houses, gardens, and even wine cellars. Many properties of rich and noble citizens had shared the same fate as their owners, wiped off the face of the earth at a stroke!
Simon had felt his gorge rise at the desecration of the churches, the wanton destruction of church treasures and the gold, the silver and the priestly vestments that the mercenaries had hurled into the fires. The killing of the priests and other clergy made him wonder if the world had taken leave of its senses. While he felt sympathy for the women and children who had been murdered, he could not but feel they had brought it upon themselves by their own intransigence. The sack of Beziers had been a good lesson for others who would defy the might of Rome and deny the righteousness of the cause!
When Simon had returned from the fighting in Carcassonne and Beziers to Lyons, where Alicia was quartered with other army wives, he had thought it prudent to say little of the horrors he had encountered. He was glad now that he had kept his own counsel, for if she had known the full story of Beziers it would have been a struggle to get her to agree to the leadership he had been offered.
As it was, his arrival back at the chateau where they were living during the campaign caused a stir, for his appointment as Captain General of the army of the Crusade was already common knowledge. It would not be long before the Pope conferred the lands and titles of the unfortunate Raymond-Roger de Trencavel, Viscount of Beziers, Carcassonne and Albi, upon the willing person of Simon, Lord of Montfort.
In bed later that evening after his triumphant return and after being feted like a returning hero, he turned to Alicia as the true situation he was now in began to dawn upon him. “I have been given this command, as you know, because several of the principal knights who joined the Crusade have done their forty days and now wish to return to their own estates. They didn’t want or need the command of the army, the additional titles or the land. I have secured their promises to aid me if I ever call on them for help, but the reality of the situation is that I have only a few of our northern knights left here to fight, perhaps only four thousand men in total.”
He looked solemn as he spoke, expecting Alicia to remonstrate with him at his foolhardy acceptance of the challenge before him, and was surprised by her response.
“Come, my love. Is this the man they say is endowed with wisdom, firm in his decisions, fair in his judgements and above all a brilliant soldier? Am I talking to the man who
is adored by his soldiers and admired by his enemies? I have heard you saved several knights in Carcassonne at great risk to yourself, and for that there are many in your debt already. Although I am stuck here while you are away fighting, I have my own means of receiving news. I know in what esteem you are held amongst even the ordinary soldiers.”
“Alicia, my darling, I thank you for your kind words and am grateful for them, but you must realize that controlling our vast new territories with a handful of men will be a task of immense proportion. You know I have never been faint of heart, but even Burgundy, under whose flag I joined the Crusade after Thibaut died, is already en route for home. He has had enough of the fighting already! The people of my new domains will resist me. There are innumerable impregnable strongholds where they will hold out against our army. And that fox, the Count of Toulouse, so called Crusader and ally, will turn on us when it suits him. He is on his way home from Rome where he has begged forgiveness from the Pope and promised to do penance in the church at St. Gilles. He still denies all knowledge of Castelnau’s murder, the lying traitor! He will sit in his chateau in Toulouse waiting for an opportunity to turn on us! There is something else I must tell you, but first of all I must bind you to secrecy.”
Discerning the serious look on her husband’s face, Alicia felt ripples of disquiet run through her. “What is it, my love, that so concerns you?”
“I don’t suppose you remember that time at Bernard’s chateau where we first encountered Brother Dominic. It was there that you came across your first heretics.”
Alicia crossed herself at the mention of the word. “I do remember it. We were deciding whether or not to leave Guy with Bernard.”
“Do you remember the mention of a piece of linen said to have fabulous powers?”
“I think I do, but I passed it off as just another rumour. They are always about.”
“Well, it appears this is no rumour. Holy Mother Church is convinced it is the shroud of our Lord. I have been instructed by Arnold-Almeric to search for it and spare nothing or no one in my efforts.”