Heresy: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery (9 page)

“Like Queen Eleanor?” Annora asked with a smile.

Sybil’s sniff expressed completely her opinion of the piety of the French queen.

“Went to buy silk, she did,” Sybil continued. “What sort of woman takes her jewelry casket with her on a pilgrimage? She’ll return more laden than she left, I’ve no doubt.”

“I know it’s sinful of me, but I wish I had someone to bring me trinkets from the East,” Annora said. “Apart from Cecile, all I have is a cousin who is a monk and another whom we haven’t spoken to in years. Our family has sadly diminished.”

Sybil looked at her kindly. “Well, I shall do my best to assure that you are not the last. Even with these other worries, I do not forget that you need a good husband.”

They were interrupted by the arrival of Sybil’s chamberlain, Eustace of Gramene.

“My lady,” he bowed. “We’ve made arrangements for your stay in Reims. I’ve told them to expect you just before
Laetare
Sunday, when the council is set to begin.”

“Excellent,” Sybil told him. “That will give us time to consuit with Abbess Heloise and, perhaps, Countess Mahaut as well. Annora, how many servants will accompany you?”

Annora looked up, startled. How many should she take? What would be expected of her?

“My maid, of course,” she said slowly. “And my groom. Father Gundrum is my usual confessor here, but I would imagine that we’ll have no shortages of priests.”

“That I am sure of,” Sybil answered. “That number seems quite reasonable. Very well, Lord Eustace, can we be ready to leave in time to arrive at the Paraclete by the kalends of March?”

“There will be no difficulty at all,” Eustace answered. “The weather has kept Baldwin from anything more than occasional sorties. Lord Anselm and Count Ingram can contain him until your return.”

“I suppose I should be grateful that the baby came in the winter, or I might not have managed to arrange the truce,” Sybil commented. “Odd that a man who would violate a sworn oath would also agree to keep his troops at home so that I could give birth.”

“His unpredictability is all the more reason why we need whatever sanctions we can get to demonstrate to him the consequences of his actions,” the chamberlain said. “My only concern is that you are too soon out of childbed to undertake this journey.”

Sybil lifted her chin. “It is my duty to protect Flanders,” she said. “I have placed myself in the hands of Our Lord and His Mother. They will take care of me as long as I trust in their mercy.”

Eustace smiled. “Of course, Lady Sybil. But I shall accompany you in case they need an earthly instrument for their work.”

As the countess turned away, Eustace gave Annora a wink.

Catherine walked alongside the cart. Her stomach couldn’t take the jolting any longer. Edana hopped happily beside her, and James was riding in front of the guard, Godfrey, asking him question after question about his military exploits. Godfrey was making up fabulous tales about the dragons he had slaughtered and the Saracen giant he had toppled in single combat. When James seemed doubtful, the other guards insisted to him that they had been there and that all the stories were true.

“Godfrey is the greatest warrior since Roland,” one of them said without a smile. “Except for me, of course.”

James tried to stand up in the saddle so that he could study this new hero.

Catherine wondered if the nuns would be able to endure the energy of her vivacious son.

The road was wider now, and they were going through more villages. Astrolabe and Godfrey assured her that they would be at Nogent before nightfall. Tomorrow they would cross the Seine and from there follow the River Ardusson all the way to the Paraclete.

Samonie poked her head through the curtains on the cart.

“I’m coming out to join you, Mistress,” she said. “I’m feeling much better, but the stench in there is making my head ache again.”

Catherine laughed. “I wondered how long you would last with only the dog to keep you company.”

“That dog has slept more of the journey than I have,” Samonie complained, climbing over the rail and dropping to the ground. “And he snores.”

“Dragon does not snore,” James shouted. “He roars!”

James commenced to demonstrate, raising himself up again in the saddle and pawing the air.

“Be careful, James!” Catherine cried.

“I have him, lady,” Godfrey laughed. “You seem to be more a lion than a dragon, young man!”

His laugh faded as he turned and saw what was behind them.

James looked over his shoulder.

“Is it Papa?” he asked.

“No,” Godfrey answered. “My lady, get back in the cart. All of you. I don’t like the look of them.”

Catherine, too, had hoped that the rapidly approaching horsemen were Edgar and Solomon, but she knew the way they sat their horses, and these men, even at a distance, were nothing like. The question was, were they rushing somewhere important or were they coming to catch up with and attack them?

Astrolabe got down to help first Catherine, then Samonie, into the cart. He handed them the children.

“I’m sure there’s no danger,” he told them, “but we must be cautious.”

“Of course,” Catherine answered. “So must you. Tell Godfrey to have the other guards pull their hoods down to shadow their faces. You mustn’t chance being recognized, especially dressed like that.”

The driver stopped the cart as the riders drew near. Astrolabe and the other two guards positioned themselves around it, prepared to draw their swords. Godfrey held up his hand in greeting.

The two men slowed and then stopped.

“
Dex te saut!
” Godfrey called. “And good journey on this grey day.”

“God save you, as well,” the larger man answered. “A strange time of year to travel with your family.”

He nodded to where Edana’s face peered over the edge of the cart. It vanished at once.

“My master’s family is fleeing illness in Paris,” Godfrey answered.

“They may be going into greater danger,” the man told him. “We are chasing heresy in Champagne. One heretic, especially, who escaped from my lord the archbishop of Tours.”

“You’ve followed him a long way if you’ve come from Brittany. But why here? Would he not have headed to Gascony or Italy, to the refuge of his fellows?” Godfrey asked.

The man shook his head. His hood fell back, revealing a strong, lined face with protruding blue eyes. His short, tonsured hair was dark blond. Godfrey knew him from the tavern in Provins. “Not this one,” he said. “He seeks refuge closer to hand. Don’t fool yourself, good man. There are heretics even in Champagne. Those who follow the false preacher Henry, and those who deny the efficacy of the sacraments and the humanity of Our Lord.”

“Is the man you seek one of these Henricians?” Godfrey asked.

“No,” the smaller man spoke. He was also tonsured with a fringe of dark hair that was already thinning, despite his youth. His long nose twitched as he spoke. “He follows a mad cutthroat named Eon. Just as bad. Another Breton. The place breeds troublemakers. This bunch has been roaming the forests despoiling churches and robbing priests and hermits.”

He spat in the road.

“They sound as lawless as they are misguided. We wish you speed and luck in your search,” Godfrey said.

He signaled the driver to start off again. Astrolabe kept his head down. He didn’t recognize the big blond man, although he seemed familiar, but the other man’s voice was that of the one who had led him to the peasant’s hut the night before. How had they managed to follow him so far without knowing how he was traveling? He wondered if they were playing with him. All he could do was keep his face shadowed and pray that they would be on their way.

But the men didn’t move.

“You must see that we are men of the church and unarmed,” the first cleric said. “So we can only ask your permission to look inside the cart.”

He moved toward it.

Godfrey and his men moved to block him, but their intervention wasn’t needed.

“That will be quite enough!” Catherine rose from the cart like Venus from the sea. Her veil was askew and her
bliaut
stained by paw prints, but her wrath was divine.

“How dare you keep my children sitting here on the road like common peasants?” She leaned over the edge of the cart, gripping the rail. The round of her stomach was clearly visible. “How do we know you’re clerics? Searching for heretics! A fine excuse to rob us!”

The clerics backed away.

Godfrey stared at her. “My lady…” he began.

“You are not to be blamed, Godfrey,” Catherine said. “It is these
stulti
who should apologize at once. Heretics! Why should heretics travel on the open road? We are respectable people from Paris, not Breton
indocti
. Perhaps you should return to Tours and continue your work there.”

Astrolabe coughed. Catherine stopped.

“My lady,” Godfrey spoke again. “I don’t know what you’re telling them and I don’t think they do, either.”

“Oh dear!” Catherine said, realizing. “I was very angry. I didn’t think.”

“I understood you quite well, my lady,” the blond cleric said. “And, as a canon of Notre-Dame, I ask myself how a respectable woman from Paris learned such fluent Latin.”

Catherine flushed, still angry. “Paris is a center of learning, as you may have noticed.” Her tone implied that the cleric hadn’t benefited from it. “Many women attend the lectures of the Masters. The queen herself speaks Latin with ease. I’ve heard her. I have often listened to the scholars debate. Therefore, I assure you that I know what orthodox teaching is. Now, you will go on your way and allow us to continue on ours. My children are cold and tired and we wish to make Nogent by nightfall.”

The blond man opened his mouth to argue again, then shrugged, bowed and slapped his reins to make his horse move on. The second cleric followed him, looking back over his shoulder in puzzlement.

“They were at the tavern last night,” Godfrey said. “I knew them at once. Do you think they didn’t remember us?”

“They certainly will remember us now,” Astrolabe said from behind Catherine.

“No,” she answered. “They’ll remember me. You were just a blurred face in chain mail.”

“They couldn’t have thought that we would turn Astrolabe over to them, if he had been in the cart,” Godfrey said after thinking. “They could see we were armed. If we had really been heretics, we could have killed them and left their bodies by the road. I believe that they meant to warn us not to harbor him. Perhaps we should not stop at Nogent tonight.”

“But where?” Catherine asked. “Samonie is still weak and the children…”

“…will be fine,” Samonie finished. “So will I. If we ride with the guards, the mule will have less to pull. We may be able to go around Nogent and arrive at the Paraclete before compline.”

“You mustn’t risk yourselves for me,” Astrolabe insisted.

Catherine bit her lip. They would have to make the river before sundown. If they did, then the rest of the trip would be short. If not, they might be forced to spend the night in the forest. Should she risk all their lives, including the one within her? But what was the risk that they would reach Nogent to find soldiers ready to take Astrolabe into custody? How could she face Mother Heloise if she let that happen?

“We shall go on,” she decided.

They turned south on a trail that would take them to a ferry across the Seine.

And so, when Edgar and Solomon arrived at Nogent that afternoon, they found no one who could tell them what had happened to their family.

“We can’t have missed them on the road from Provins,” Edgar said for the tenth time. “Godfrey wouldn’t have let anything happen to them. He’s completely dependable.”

“You’ve convinced me of it,” Solomon said, although he was equally worried. “There must be someplace that we haven’t asked yet.”

“But where?” Edgar looked around as if a new monastery might pop up in the landscape.

Solomon didn’t want to suggest it but he did anyway. “If one of the children fell ill, they might have been stopped outside of the town. They wouldn’t be allowed to bring sickness in.”

He knew that Edgar had been thinking this as well.

“Yes, if we can find no one in town who has seen them then we’ll have to retrace our route.”

Edgar fell silent and didn’t respond to any more comments from Solomon. He was impatient to be on their way. Where could Catherine have gone?

They came to an inn on the far side of town. Solomon dismounted and questioned the innkeeper, who was trying to chip the ice off the path to his door. Edgar stayed on his horse.

“We haven’t time for beer,” he reminded Solomon.

Solomon grunted a noncommital reply. He approached the innkeeper, who looked up hopefully. He was disappointed to find that all the stranger wanted was information.

“No, I haven’t seen them,” he answered, puffing as he worked. “What’s so special about these people, anyway, that so many are looking for them?”

“Edgar,” Solomon said, “I think that, after all, we need to stop long enough to talk with this man. And in that case, a warm spiced beer wouldn’t come amiss.”

Heloise had just come from Vespers. The sisters were all in the refectory, eating their evening bread. Only one meal a day was served in the winter, but they were allowed a bit more in the evening to see them through the Night Office. Heloise usually ate hers alone in her room. As she crossed the cloister, she noticed some commotion at the gates. She hurried over, ready to call on the lay brothers if there should be any trouble.

Sister Thecla met her halfway.

“It’s only Catherine,” she assured Heloise. “The poor thing was so eager to be home with us that she pushed them all to travel after dark. Most foolish, even with the guards.”

“Are they all right?” Heloise asked as she continued to the guesthouse.

“The serving woman has a cut on her head from some accident,” Thecla answered. “I’ve sent for Melisande to tend to her. She should look at Catherine as well. I’d say she’s about four or five months with child.”

“Again?” Heloise shook her head. “That one was certainly not meant for a life of celibacy. I’m sure it’s just as well she never made her profession with us. And her children?”

Thecla smiled. “You won’t believe how they’ve grown. Both look healthy and very lively.”

“We should send someone to tell Margaret they’ve arrived,” Heloise said.

“I’ll go myself, in a moment,” Thecla assured her. “Don’t you want me to send Catherine to you later to greet you?”

“No, I’ll meet them at the guesthouse. Catherine must be exhausted from the journey.”

“That she is.” Thecla grinned to herself. “Where shall I put the guards?”

“Where you always do,” Heloise answered. “Is there a problem with them?”

“No, not at all,” Thecla answered, her face alive with suppressed delight. “I just wanted to be sure.”

Heloise followed her, wondering what could have made the usually reserved woman so elated.

They entered the guesthouse. Catherine stood to greet the abbess. Heloise started to go to her, arms outstretched, when she noticed the guard standing to one side.

She stopped, all the blood draining from her face.

“My Lord!” she cried. Then she looked again.

“Oh, Astrolabe, my dear son!” she exclaimed, throwing herself into his arms. “Whatever are you doing with a beard? You look so different! Oh, I’ve been so worried about you. My very dear Astrolabe!”

She released him at last and held him at arm’s length, gazing at him hungrily.

“Oh, my precious,” she breathed. “What has happened to you and when did your beard start to go grey?”

By the next day the ice had melted at last, leaving grey drizzly weather that chilled the bones worse than the cold. The Paraclete, built near the river, was enveloped in morning fog through which the bells rang the hours of the Office, guiding travelers to the convent by their sound.

James and Edana regarded the place as a second home, where the nuns spoiled them dreadfully. No one complained when they came in covered with the thick green mud of the area. They were slipped honey cakes in the kitchen by the cooks and sugared walnuts in the scriptorium by Sister Emily, who received a box from her mother every winter.

But Catherine drew the line at their attempts to join the nuns and students as they processed around the cloister and into the oratory for Ash Wednesday services. She stood them next to her in the little church and made sure they followed the Mass as far as they could, repeating the responses even though they didn’t understand them. They lined up with the townspeople to receive the ash cross on their foreheads, a reminder of the reason for the forty days of fasting to come.

Afterward Catherine discovered that the two children had decided that the one cross wasn’t enough. They had gotten a piece of charcoal from the brazier in their room and happily drawn x’s all over their bodies.