The Furness Secret

by Mark Williams

  Raoul had taught many believers in his time, fathers, mothers, sons and daughters. The Cathar church was not particularly patriarchal, certainly not by the standards of medieval Europe. And Raoul had converted as many women as men to the cause. In the summer of 1204, though, one boy stood out from the others in his congregation.

  He was a tall youth, perhaps twelve or thirteen years of age. He always stood quietly on the outskirts of the group, close to his mother’s side. Raoul knew her as a lady of Raymond Roger’s court. He also knew that no father had ever recognised the young man as his son. If he was honest, the boy reminded Raoul of himself.

  The youth always came up to him after the lesson. He was always full of curiosity. Asking intelligent, searching questions that had Raoul forever thinking. Perhaps, thought Raoul this was a prospective Perfecti in the making.

  Raoul talked to the boy’s mother and arranged for private lessons. He felt a sense of responsibility to ensure that this boy was correctly schooled in the ways of the Cathar community. His mother had been a follower for many years. In the court at Carcassonne, she had no need to hide her religious beliefs. She was only too pleased for Raoul to give her beloved son instruction.

  The older priest looked forward to the regular discussions. He watched with interest as the young boy turned into a young man. Over the next five years, the youth developed a strong understanding of the true meaning of Christ’s words.

  However, after each lesson, the young student regaled Raoul with the exploits of his training at court. He was adept at riding, jousting and swordsmanship. It became clear to Raoul that the closeted life of a Perfecti, would not be for the young man. Talk around the court suggested he would become a famous knight of the future. His proficiency in combat was plain for all to see.

  Then, in the summer of 1209, Raoul heard that the word had been sent out from the Order of the Templars that a new recruit was required, for a special task. They needed a trained fighting man. But they had made clear they wanted someone who was a firm believer in the Cathar faith and tradition. Everything seemed to fit neatly into place. Raoul knew immediately what had to be done. He sent word to the warrior monks with the name of the young man, Allard.

  October 2009 – The Argument

  Chloe was pleased with the cute outfit she’d bought for the baby girl’s Halloween costume. It was a shiny, little, red cape and some small, curved black horns. She’d gone a bit mad and put a trace of makeup around her daughter’s eyes. Even her dad had smiled when he’d seen it. Eve was walking now. Well, still sort of staggering really. Chloe was looking forward to taking her round her mates’ houses, with her decorated orange Halloween bucket. She was having a tiny bit of trouble getting her daughter dressed though.

  Eve didn’t seem to want to cooperate. Chloe had the tip of her tongue out in concentration, trying to fit one little bent arm through the sleeve of the cape, when she was startled by a sudden loud rap. The top half of the front door was frosted glass and through it, Chloe could see the visitor’s outline. Fuck it, she thought to herself, not her again.

  She left the baby girl half in and out of the cape, and walked over to unlock the door.

  “Hiya.”

  Eve’s Nanna wasn’t looking at her best. During the past year Chloe had wondered if she was maybe missing her son a little bit. Whatever the reason she didn’t seem happy with her lot. The weight had fallen off her, and thirty odd years of smoking had left the skin of her face deeply creased and her teeth turning dark grey. Maybe it was the menopause, but her hair was thinning, exposing some scalp that was shining in the bright artificial light. She looked like an old crone. And she was getting on Chloe’s nerves.

  The woman wasn’t Eve’s mother however much she looked after the little girl. To try and keep her sanity, Chloe kept telling herself Tom’s mam had been helpful when Eve had first been born. And Chloe had welcomed the assistance, especially with Tom not around. And with her father not being of much practical use with babies. The older woman had looked after the baby three days a week, and it had allowed Chloe to go on to college. But lately the older woman, ‘Nanna’, had become ever more controlling. Nasty, barbed comments whenever Chloe wanted do something different with the little girl. She opened up tonight with a prime example.

  “What have you got her dressed up as there?”

  Chloe took a deep breath before her reply.

  “It’s a little devil’s costume. Do you like it? I thought it was a good idea. Coz you can be a little devil sometimes can’t you?”

  She gave Eve a gentle tickle, and was rewarded with an infectious chuckle and a wide smile. A grunting sound, which put her in mind of a rearing horse, gave Chloe the feeling that the older woman wasn’t in complete agreement.

  “No! It’s bloody awful! It’s not at all appropriate for our little baby. And what’s that crap you’ve got smeared all over her face? Look, this is the sort of thing she should be wearing.”

  A round orange ball with some matching dangling extensions was proffered. A closer glance revealed it to be a pumpkin outfit. Perfectly OK, but just not what Chloe wanted. Anyway Eve was already half dressed in her devil’s outfit, and that was the gear she was going to be wearing tonight.

  “Look, it’s very good of you, but…”

  Chloe didn’t get any further. It was as if she had opened the very gates of Hell itself. Nanna’s voice had gone up a few decibels in volume.

  “Never mind but! I’ve told you before you’ve no idea how to bring a baby up. You’re nothing but a girl yourself. You couldn’t even give birth to her properly!”

  Tom’s mam had lost her temper completely and was going to take it too far.

  “I may as well be her mother. She spends more time with me than she does with you anyway!”

  That did it for Chloe. What bothered her was the tiny grain of truth in the comment. In that the older woman had spent a lot of time with the baby. But Eve only had one mother. For once Chloe snapped back.

  “Will you just shut up! I’m her mother. I like the outfit and she’s keeping it on.”

  “No she isn’t!”

  The older woman strode purposely forward and reached her arm out to grab the cloak off Eve. She was stopped by a firm slap across her wrist. She stared at the young girl in astonishment. The next words were dripping with venom. Every one of them enunciated with menacing precision.

  “Don’t you fucking dare touch me again.”

  But Chloe was blazing mad by now. She walked up to Tom’s mother and squared up toe to toe. Then she spat some venom of her own.

  “Fuck off out of the house, out of MY life and out of Eve’s life!”

  For the best part of a minute the two women stood in silence. Facing each other, eye to eye. Their noses mere inches apart. Neither would drop eye contact. But then the older woman wilted. She picked up the pumpkin outfit that she had dropped on the floor, and stormed to the door. A parting shot drifted malevolently back across her shoulder.

  “I’ll have the police on you for this. You can’t be in charge of a baby and go round slapping and swearing at people.”

  As she made for the door it opened in front of her. It revealed the labourer, returning from his toils. Chloe’s dad watched in surprise as the older woman rushed past him, knocking him into the doorframe. He looked quizzically at his daughter. Chloe rushed over to him and collapsed into his arms. He held her tightly, giving the back of her hair a reassuring rub.

  “Tell me now. What the hell has that mad woman been up to this time?”

  Later that evening, there was a polite knock on the door. Two yellow fluorescent jackets were clearly visible through the glass. Chloe got up and opened the door. She didn’t like the look of this.

  When the police entered, they explained that they had been given information regarding an assault on a woman. They went on to describe how a concern had also been raised, about the standard of care being offered to a young infant. Chloe was desperately worr
ied in case she looked nervous. She was just about to launch into a babbling explanation, when she heard her dad’s voice floating from the doorway.

  “Well this is just the last straw.”

  “Pardon, Sir. Were you involved in the incident today?”

  “I certainly was. I was standing just outside the door and I saw the whole thing. It wasn’t my daughter that did the slapping. It was that mad woman, the baby’s Nanna. We’re sick and tired of her coming round here causing trouble. Now she’s resorting to vicious lies. Doesn’t surprise me. She’s obsessed with that little girl. Inside her crazy mind she probably thinks Eve is her own. She hasn’t been right in the head since her son walked out on her. He’s in the army you know. Training for Afghanistan.”

  The policeman exchanged a weary glance with his partner. Another domestic they’d never get to the bottom of.

  “Would you be prepared to come down to the station Sir? To make a statement to that effect.”

  “Anything to get rid of that woman.”

  “Right then. We’ll get back to you if we need you.”

  But they never did get back to him.

  After they’d left, Chloe looked at her father in astonishment. Lying! To the police as well! She had never seen him do anything to approach it. She started to blurt out her thanks. One gentle crease of his eyes was enough to silence her. Her dad reached down and picked up Eve, who was attempting to escape the room in a brisk crawl. He looked at his daughter over the little girl’s shoulder. He smiled benignly.

  “That’s what dads are for.”

  September 30th 1209 A.D. – France – Joining the Order

  Allard walked cautiously through the entrance to the cave. The rough rock of the inside was lit by flickering torch light. As his eyes became accustomed to the room, he saw that the illumination came from a series of torches. Each one held by a tall knight who displayed a stern impassive expression. They were arranged in a semi-circle backing on to the far wall of the cave. All of them were dressed alike. In full chain mail armour, covered by a white cloak decorated with a bright red cross. Each had a lighted torch raised high in their right hand. The flames together combined in a dull red glow that lit most of the rocky floor. Just leaving a few dark places scattered around the cave edges.

  In the centre of the room, lying flat on the floor was a wooden representation of the cross, about a yard long. A tall man was standing slightly apart from the others. Allard recognised him as the knight to whom he’d been introduced by his priest. The man moved his torch away from Allard in a beckoning motion.

  The young man moved forward and stood by the Templar Master. In front of the other knights, he could see the wooden cross a little more clearly. It was plain, devoid of any decorative carving. As he watched, the Templars turned to their right in unison and began a slow progression past the cross on the floor.

  Each of them took turns to spit on the Christian symbol. It had been explained to Allard that this ritual was a repudiation of the established Church’s symbols. That the Order of the Templars followed a pure faith, and that they viewed any symbol as idolatry. Of course to Allard that idea fitted completely with his belief structure. Personally, he found the spitting a little disrespectful, but he had no problem with what the act represented.

  The next day, Allard was informed that he had been fully received into the Order. He put on the white mantle with the red cross which he had been given and mounted his horse. Several other members of his Chapter were required to attend a gathering farther north, near to Paris and he was to accompany them.

  As the group rode off, they were watched from a distance by the head of the Chapter, and Allard’s priest. The Templar turned to the Cathar as the knights disappeared from view.

  “You are convinced that this man will be capable of the task we might set him?”

  “I have seen many of the faith in my time. But none that combines the skills of battle with such a secure grasp of our beliefs.”

  The Templar hoped that the priest was correct. He would send word back to the representative of the Templar Grand Master in the Holy Land. He had completed his task as requested. A knight of the Cathar faith had been identified and entered into the Order. The purpose for the induction had not been revealed, even to him.

  December 2009 – The Reconciliation

  Chloe had seen nothing of Eve’s Nanna after Halloween. It was a small town, and Chloe had heard through friends, that apparently she was the worst mother in the world. And what a shame it was for Eve being brought up by her. The older woman was going around saying the social services should be called. But Chloe knew she wouldn’t do that. It was way too much effort for Tom’s mam. Now that Eve wasn’t in her life she would soon revert to type. Descend back into a fog of cheap alcohol. She would soon forget about Eve. Just like she seemed to have managed without Tom in her life. No doubt the woman would be shacked up with some new boyfriend within weeks. Chloe thought if anyone was the worst mother in the world, then it would be Tom’s.

  But the fallout had got Chloe thinking more and more about Eve’s father. Far from being a bad mother, she recognised that a child grew up best having contact with both parents. Goodness knows, she had missed her own mother enough when growing up. Chloe found herself thinking back, about how it was that she had lost real contact with Tom.

  It was his mother who had confirmed to her that Tom had definitely joined up. Wound her up about how he’d left her holding the baby. Looking back it seemed a bit sick really. Taking some girl’s side against your own son. Chloe wondered what her motivations were. Did she want to clean her act up? Make amends for the crappy way she had brought up her own child? But more than that, it seemed like she actually wanted to hurt her son. Did she feel abandoned herself, maybe?

  There were constant barbed comments about Tom, whenever she came to pick baby Eve up. Going on about how useless the little girl’s father was. She never stopped slagging off her son, despite her protestations that she’d always “loved him to bits”. In her post birth isolation, Chloe had often found herself agreeing with the woman. But now that she was out of her life, she had a little more space to take a detached view of the situation.

  Chloe found herself reminiscing about all the times she had spent with Eve’s father as school friends. And from her own perspective, she started asking herself what her real opinions were, on his behaviour since their rift. After the chasm that had opened up between them, Chloe had found it difficult to think about the night that changed everything. But Tom going to the army hadn’t been a surprise to her. He’d talked of nothing else during their early days in year 11. And from what had happened recently, she could certainly understand his desperation to get away from home.

  But the young mother still had some resentment that Tom’s life had continued on track. Sending money for Eve wasn’t the same as looking after her all the time. But he had been trying to escape the shitty home life he’d endured with his mother. And he hadn’t returned, so he must have stuck in at his training. Maybe, thought Chloe, he might want to get to know his daughter a little. She knew that she would need to be careful about how she approached this with her dad. He remained furious that Tom hadn’t supported her through the pregnancy. He couldn’t care less about how much Tom had wanted to get away from home.

  Still, perhaps somewhere inside, Chloe wondered if she even might retain some feelings for Tom. She knew that he was away in Yorkshire somewhere, training. But he was still contactable in the UK. Deciding to take a risk, Chloe put fingers to keyboard and sent a Facebook message with some photos, and included her mobile number. She hoped for a text. Which duly arrived.

  December 21st 2009 – Christmas Visit

  It was a change for Tom. Apparently he was going to get a proper family Christmas. His mate Biscuit had invited him home for the holidays. Biscuit’s family came from a large detached house in Blackpool, near Stanley Park. Tom had his own en-suite bedroom promised. Luxury!

  En
route from their Catterick base, the two privates were dressed in combats. Trousers, black boots and jackets with the sleeves rolled over forearms. They’d got off the cross-country train at Preston. They had a forty-minute wait for their local connection to Blackpool, which meant heading straight for the bar. Both of them were ready with ID. They were the oldest members of their intake and had already had their eighteenth birthdays. But it never hurt to have proof of age ready.

  The room was packed and noisy. Roy Wood was wishing it could be Christmas every day. Crowds of travellers were heading home for the holidays. The soldiers’ uniforms earned a smile from the blonde girl serving behind the counter.

  They ordered two pints of lager and Biscuit proffered a tenner. But the girl shook her head. She pointed back over their heads. A group of businessmen, in smarts suits and ties, all briefcases, laptops and phones were shouting across to them. One got up and walked over to the bar. He was getting out his wallet.

  “Those are on me.”

  “Thanks.”

  The two soldiers raised their glasses in salute.

  “You’re welcome.”

  The businessman gave them a strange, semi embarrassed smile and returned to his group. The sight of the two young men, who were training to risk their lives, seemed to affect the group. In fact there was a noticeable reduction in the overall noise level in the room. Tom and Biscuit didn’t notice though. They were too busy talking amongst themselves about their week’s leave. The thought of their impending deployment didn’t come up.

  As Tom lay in his bed that night, he considered his life back in his home town. Two months ago his mother had called him up, arseholed. He’d been shocked. Since his daughter had been born, his mother had definitely sobered up a bit. But on this call she was completely out of it. Gone back to her old ways. From what he could decode from the slurred words it seemed as though his mam had been banned from seeing the little girl. Tom couldn’t say he was surprised. She always screwed things up. And apparently it was all Tom’s fault. If only he hadn’t joined up. If only if he’d tried harder with Chloe. Tom took ten minutes of shit from her and then abruptly hung up.