The de Montfort Histories - The Dove and the Devil (22 page)

Guy’s face lifted a little at his father’s words. Although he was not
sure the best way to gain converts was by killing, he was even less sure he
wanted to be party to attacking people with whom he had spent many a pleasant
day during his time on de Comminges’ estate in the company of the beautiful
Petronille whose husband, Gaston, had recently died. Alas, she was already
remarried, a pawn in a system that viewed any female only in the light of
political gain! If Amaury had been smitten when he had first laid eyes on
Petronille, Guy had grown to adore her with the fervour of adolescent love,
made all the more poignant by the several marriages Petronille was forced to
make for political reasons. She would become—and, in fact, already was
through her mother—a rich heiress to many large estates. She was indeed a
valuable commodity! The assignment that his father had given Guy would take him
away from the immediate carnage that was sure to follow, and that was not
altogether a bad thing in view of his somewhat disloyal thoughts.

The next day was spent planning the army’s next move. It seemed to Guy
that his father planned to be everywhere at once. Now that Simon had the bit
between his teeth and had had complete control, his natural abilities as a
commander soon became apparent. He understood that speed was of the essence and
he used it as one of his chief weapons. Simon proposed to attack towns quickly
and move on just as quickly, leaving behind a small garrison of men to keep the
Occitanians under control. This would leave little time for the enemy to see
how stretched his small army was.

Guy, who was allowed to sit in on the making of the plans of attack,
could not help but admire his father’s handling of his military commanders. No
decision was taken without the counsel of his trusted friends, and he listened
patiently to their ideas before finalizing his own.

“You have my permission to use whatever force may be necessary to bring
these rebels to heel,” he told them, pacing up and down the room. “We must not
only swallow the prey but be able to digest it. We must not allow these rebels
to raise their heads up again after we have made them bow to us. Do not allow them
any quarter. If they escape, you all know they will again rise up against us.”

Simon’s words struck a chill into Guy’s very bones. He knew that his
father was right. This was war; it was “kill or be killed.” But try as he
might, he could not push the picture of Petronille de Comminges and her father
from his mind. They had always been kind to him and, if truth were told, he had
even begun to think of them as his own family.

Simon looked at his younger son. It was as if he could read the boy’s
mind. “I know what you are feeling, my boy. Don’t forget that Bernard is my
friend, too. We have fought many a battle together and he was ever stalwart by
my side. He will have a choice. He will fight alongside his cousin of Foix,
that damned protector of heretics, or he will choose God’s side, the right
side, and fight with me.”

“But, Papa, his wife is one of the damned heretics, and also his sister.
I think he has no real choice in the matter.”

“So be it, my son. Sadly, families will be torn apart and brother will fight
brother. That is the true meaning of war!”

Simon had hardly finished speaking when a messenger ran into the
chamber. Babbling almost incoherently, he had brought news that two of Simon’s
knights had killed the aged and greatly respected uncle of Giraud de Pepieux.
Giraud, himself an Occitanian, had joined his cause to Simon, who was in dire
need of any support he could get. What had begun as a brawl fired by too much
drink had escalated into something far more sinister. Giraud’s uncle owned a
considerable amount of land in the area around Beziers. Simon had had high
hopes of winning the old man away from the Cathar cause to fight on behalf of
the Crusaders, just as he had won over Giraud.

Seeing his plan evaporating with this news, Simon flew into one of his
rages. His family—particularly Guy, who had not had a recent chance to
see his father thus—stood horrified as Simon ordered the immediate arrest
and death of two of his own knights. The appalling punishment would be meted
out as soon as the men were captured; they were to be buried alive with no
trial, and their lands and possessions forfeited.

It took Alicia the best part of an hour to calm Simon down so that he
could continue with his plans. As ever, she was the voice of reason when his
temper got the better of him. It was she who calmed the children, unused as
they were to seeing their father react in this manner. They knew of his temper
and had occasionally borne the brunt of it, but they had never seen such a
violent and rapid explosion. Guy was particularly upset, although he was at
pains to hide his feelings. Where was his father’s fabled reputation for
fairness now?

Simon drew the meeting to a close at about four that afternoon. All his
men knew what their orders were. Alicia would make herself ready to ride north
the next day, taking with her the younger children and Guy. Her aim was to
persuade as many nobles as possible to join or rejoin the holy war that her
husband would be fighting in the south. She would beseech as many bishops and
legates as she could to help the cause by offering indulgences to those who
took up the cross. She and the children would be accompanied by only a few men
at arms, all that Simon could spare from his vastly diminished army. He was
only too aware that as soon as Giraud de Pepieux heard of his uncle’s murder,
he, too, would vanish from his cause and return to that of the Cathars and the
other Occitan nobles. It was a bitter blow to the leader whose only real hope
for help lay in the success of his wife as she travelled from estate to estate
in the north of the country.

In their bedchamber later that evening, Simon drew his wife to him for
what was likely to be the last time in the foreseeable future. As always,
Alicia was as ardent as he was in her lovemaking, perhaps more so this night
because the future was so uncertain. As she clung to him, she could not halt
the fears that threatened to overwhelm her. As they drew apart, Simon was
pensive.

“I hesitate to send you, my darling, but you are the only one I trust. I
cannot afford men to accompany you; therefore, you must use your wits to
protect yourself and the children. Guy wealds a fair sword, and wearing the
cross of the Crusades, you will not likely be hindered in your task. The nearer
you get to home, the safer you will be.”

“Do not fear for my safety, my love. It is you who must guard yourself
well. I do not know what we should do without you were we to return and find
some ill had befallen you.”

“Have no worries on my account. See only to your own safety and that of
our children. I know that your judgement is good. You know that I am depending
on you to carry out what we both know to be the will of God. Now, there is the
other matter we must speak of.” Alicia looked mystified. “While you are away in
the north, you must try to get information about the linen Arnold-Almeric told
me about. I am not convinced it is what he claims, although the Holy Father
seems to be sure. Whilst you are there, you must make time to visit Marie de
Joinville. I know Geoffrey is not there, but Marie was recently brought to bed
of another child and would be glad to see you. I am sure she must be tired of
being alone in the country whilst Geoffrey is away. See what you can find out
from her and if she knows anything about the piece of linen. I’m sure
Geoffrey’s uncle must have mentioned it to him. Knowing Geoffrey, I think he
would have been certain to speak to Marie about it.”

“I will do as you bid, my husband, although it doesn’t seem fair to take
advantage of Marie. She may have been sworn to secrecy, as you have sworn me.”

“I have no doubt that you will find a way to help me, and not at the
expense of your friendship with Marie. You will not let me down.” He smiled
fondly at her. He hated Alicia to be away from him. She was his strength and
support through difficult times, but knew he must accept it. It was ever that
way with wars; men must always be parted from their loved ones.

Alicia blessed herself and drew Simon down to the prie-dieu, the small
praying stool that Simon insisted on carrying in his baggage train wherever he
went. They spent the next five minutes in silence, both of them occupied by
their own prayers. By now it was nearing dawn, but sleep did not come easily to
either of them. They slept fitfully, both pursued by devils in their dreams.
Alicia, who finally fell into a deep sleep, was awakened by Simon, who was
shaking her shoulders urgently.

“Come, my darling, it is time I was away. And you must be up and ready
to leave as soon as we go.” He wearily climbed out of the great bed, calling
for his squire. As he shouted, there was a knock at the chamber door that was
pushed open somewhat unceremoniously by Amaury and Guy.

“Papa, Maman, we are ready to go. It is already two hours past dawn. The
horses are waiting in the courtyard below.”

Guy’s words were borne out by the sounds of jingling harnesses and the
rough voices of the soldiers who had been mustered just after daybreak.

Alicia drew her bedgown about her as she stepped from behind the heavy
drapes surrounding the bed. “Are the younger children ready? Guy, go and see if
you can help Nurse with the girls.”

Guy looked put out by this instruction, but he remembered his father’s
words from the previous day and left the room to do as he was bid.

“Now, Amaury,” his mother said. “I wanted a chance to speak to you
without Guy’s presence. I know you are brave, but I also recognise that you
still haven’t lost your reckless streak. Remember the boar?” Amaury looked a
little shamefaced while protesting his mother’s words. “No! Do not deny what I
am saying,” she continued. “I only beg you, from the bottom of my heart, to
think before you act in the coming months. I know you will be of enormous help
to your papa, but only as long as you survive. This is no game. Mark my words.
You will see many of your friends depart this world. I do not wish to alarm
you, only to caution you.” She took hold of his shoulders. “Kiss me now, my
son, and leave me.” She pushed him away before he could see the tears filling
her eyes.
 

Chapter Sixteen

Occitania, South of France

Summer 1209 AD - Spring 1210 AD

Pons

It took the Count of Toulouse only three days after his return to summon
Pons to his living quarters in the Tour du Midi. It was here that he found out
why Raymond’s son had told him to guard his counsel and not become too friendly
with anyone.

After receiving the command to attend the Count, Pons had had given
himself a cursory wash to rid himself of the smell of horse dung and with
trepidation he had mounted the worn spiral staircase leading to the tower. The
quarters of the Count and his family on the first floor of the tower were
surprisingly pleasant and cool in the heat of the Midi sun, so cool that a huge
fire blazed on the wall opposite the door. The first thing he saw was an immense
table with a high chair at both ends and benches flanking the length of both
sides. Although it was full daylight outside, ten candles were alight in
sconces above iron-bound chests positioned against the walls. (Pons found out
later that these chests contained valuables such as swords and maps, and
journals dealing with the history of the Count’s family, wills and property
titles. One chest was reserved for sacred writings, for the Count was a man of
some education who loved to read.)

He had knocked on the door with hesitation. Receiving no response, he
had pushed it inwards. The room appeared to be empty, but as his eyes became
accustomed to the darkness in the room he saw the Count outside on the pathway
built around the tower for the purpose of taking the air. Not knowing what he
should do, Pons stood still, noting the posture of the man who had sent for
him. If ever a man could be described as fatigued, it was Raymond, Count of
Toulouse. He had travelled miles to Rome and back in a very short time; he had
been insulted in a very polite, political way; he had had to carry out public
repentance for an act he had not committed; and he was now expected to give up
to the Crusaders who were practically at his door—many good and brave men
he had known all his life and whose religious belief happened not to coincide
with the beliefs of Holy Mother Church. Small wonder he was tired!

Turning around, Raymond caught sight of Pons. “Come here, my boy. I
believe you have something to give me from my friend Bertrand.”

Pons drew out from his sleeve the parchment—very much creased and
the worse for wear—and handed it to Raymond. It took the Count only a few
seconds to read its contents before consigning it to the flames of the fire.

“Do you know what was in the letter?” the Count asked Pons.

“No, my Lord. I was instructed only to carry it to you.”

“Good. I like your reticence. You have not even told me who gave it to
you.”

“You did not ask, my Lord.”

“I like you more and more, Pons. The letter you brought told me I could
have confidence in him who brought it to me. You were not mentioned by name,
which is much the safest way to proceed in these dangerous times. In fact, it
was unsigned except for a small picture of a dove in the corner. Does a dove
have any significance for you?”