The de Montfort Histories - The Dove and the Devil (19 page)

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.”
 

 
“If it is indeed the shroud
of our blessed Lord then you must not flinch from the task that has been set
you. The Holy Father has done you a great honour, taking you into his
confidence like this. We must not fail him. If it is in the hands of these
heretics, think what damage they could do with it.” She looked fierce as she
spoke. No one could doubt where
her
loyalties lay.
 

Noticing the tired lines on his face, Alicia drew him towards her.
“Come. Forget your worries, for a while at least. You will have me to help, and
Amaury. He is nearly eighteen and it is time he won his spurs. And don’t
forget, God is on our side.” She crossed herself. “He will defend that which is
right. But let us not waste our last night together talking; we can talk
tomorrow before you leave.”

Simon looked at her with a rueful smile. This woman could charm the
birds from the trees. He was putty in her hands. He pulled her towards him.
Thank God for women like Alicia
, he
thought. Although she could not fight on the battlefield, she fought other and
sometimes more difficult battles with her own demons. He knew very well she had
not wanted him to accept leadership of the Crusade. She had wanted to return to
their estates as the other nobles were doing. She wanted to be at home, secure
with her family, and no one could blame her for that. He was approaching the
fifth decade of his life. Time to settle down, one might think, but here he
was, about to start a new and far more dangerous campaign than he had ever
undertaken before.