The Moneylender of Toulouse (34 page)

“Where is it?”

“I have it,” said Count Raimon, emerging from the shadow of a mill. Beside him was my wife, her bow in her hands, a second arrow nocked. “Senhor Fool, your talent for entertainment has surpassed anything I have ever seen.”

“Thank you, Dominus,” I said bowing.

“Brother Vitalis,” said the Count. “I am curious as to one aspect of your tale, though I find that it was honestly said. Why did you change your vote for Raimon de Rabastens?”

“A certain person—urged me to,” answered Vitalis. “As penance for my sins.”

“Father Mascaron?” asked the Count.

“Yes,” said Vitalis.

“Why did he want Raimon to be his master?”

“The other candidate, the Bishop of Comminges, is a strong man,” said Vitalis. “Father Mascaron is ambitious. He couldn't control a strong man. But he thought he could control Raimon de Rabastens. Your Bishop was a deacon from a suspect family, and you've seen what a pathetic man he is.”

“Your confessor put you in a perilous position,” said the Count. “I do not hold your actions against you. Nevertheless, I am going to ask you to enjoy the hospitality of the Château Narbonnais until we straighten all of this out.”

“The prison?” asked Brother Vitalis.

“Oh, no,” said the Count. “A guest room, with all the luxuries that grateful nobility can provide. You can go back to your monastic existence and repent when you're done. Will you walk with me, Brother Vitalis?”

“With all my heart,” said the monk.

“Lady Fool, your performance was equal to your husband's,” said the Count as Claudia bowed. “That was a superb shot.”

“It wasn't so difficult,” said Claudia. “Big men make big targets.”

“You will come to the Château in the morning,” said the Count. “It will be my turn to entertain you.”

We bowed one last time, and the two men strolled across the stone bridge to the shore, where the Count's men waited for them.

“It really was a good shot,” I said.

“Thank you, husband,” she replied, unstringing her bow. “Will you walk with me?”

“With all my heart,” I said, offering my arm.

Soldiers had quietly taken up positions around the Château Bazacle, awaiting orders. As we passed through the bourg, we heard shouts and the sounds of mailed fists pounding on doors.

“It's going to be a bloodbath,” said Claudia as we walked along the river road.

“Maybe, maybe not,” I said. “But if it is, it will be nothing compared to the war that might have been. Let's get home. Helga must be dying from the suspense.”

A low whistle greeted us as we reached the house of Honoret. I whistled the counter, and Pelardit stepped from the shadows.

“All is well?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Thank you. All is well with us. Stay the night, and we'll catch you up on what happened.”

We went in. I climbed the steps and whistled. I heard the counter from above, then the sound of the bar sliding from the trapdoor. A moment later, Helga opened it and smiled down upon us.

*   *   *

The day of the Feast of Saint John the Evangelist was cold but sunny. We were meticulous with our makeup and motley. Helga scrubbed the two boys until they were practically pink, then presented them to us for inspection.

“Ever been to the Château Narbonnais?” I asked them.

They shook their heads solemnly.

“You're only going as far as the courtyard,” I said. “But wait there, and I promise you there will be someone you will want to see.”

Pelardit and I each carried one of the boys down the steps, while Claudia carefully held Portia, who was asleep. Helga came last, making sure the padlock was secure. Then we were off to the Château.

No less a personage than Peire Roger, the viguier, came to greet us upon our arrival.

“I'm afraid it's just the two of you he wants,” he said apologetically. “But the rest may come to the kitchen for now.”

Helga pouted, but Pelardit brightened at the prospect of free food, or possibly the prospect of kitchen wenches. He took the boys by the hands and led them away. Claudia handed Portia to Helga.

“Mind that she doesn't become soup, Apprentice,” she instructed the girl.

“Yes, Domina,” said Helga. She followed Pelardit and the boys.

“This way, Fools,” said Peire.

He led us into the Grande Chambre, then pointed to the balcony.

“I believe that you will find the view from there to be quite good,” he said. “The Count wishes that you be unobserved.”

We bowed and climbed the steps to the balcony.

Count Raimon entered a few minutes later, accompanied by the Count of Comminges and the viguier. He carried the book in his right hand. They took their seats, then the Count looked up at the balcony.

“Good morning, Fools,” he said.

We stepped into view and bowed.

“As you can see, no crossbows from on high, no guards around me,” he said.

“Are we your protectors then?” I asked.

“You already have been,” said the Count. “But now, I must be the protector of my realm. This will be a play in four acts.”

“May I interpolate a scene of my own devising before one of them?” I asked.

“Of course,” he said. “Some comic relief only enhances the tragedy. Now, stand back and listen.” He turned to his viguier. “The soldiers first.”

The guards brought in seven men, their hands and feet chained.

“Leave us,” commanded the Count.

The guards exited the room. He stood and walked down the line of men, inspecting them.

“I am not certain if a mercenary can ever be called a traitor,” he said. “But you took an oath upon entering my service, you have taken my coin ever since joining, you have accepted my hospitality in the form of food, shelter, even women on some memorable occasions. And now I find that you have thrown that aside.” He held up the book and waved it at them. “If this was purely a matter of violating a contract, then I suppose that I would simply take you to the court next door and demand my money back. But this is a matter of military discipline. This is a question of sworn loyalty to my person. I will give each of you one chance to save yourselves. You are the commanders of disloyalty in my armies. Give me the names of the men who have committed to your wretched cause, and I will spare your lives and theirs. Well?”

None of the soldiers uttered a word.

“At least you are loyal to someone,” sighed the Count. “Admirable behavior at the end. Guards!”

The guards reentered.

“Hang them in front of the troops,” he directed.

The condemned men were led away.

“End of Act One,” said the Count. “They were most eloquent in their silence, were they not, Fools?”

“It speaks well of them, Dominus,” I called.

“The consuls next,” he said.

The chains of office looked puny compared with the chains of captivity. Fifteen fatigued men, including Bonet Borsella, stood in a frightened bunch before the Count, who was drumming his fingers loudly on the book. Among the men guarding them was Calvet, the baile.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” he said. “Thank you for responding so promptly to my invitation. I trust your accommodations were acceptable? And that the food was adequate?”

There was silence.

“I have just sentenced seven officers to death,” continued the Count in a conversational tone. “Men who have in fact done me good service over the past several years. You, on the other hand, have been a constant thorn in my boot, a greedy annoyance.”

He slapped his palm on the book, and the men as a group jumped, their chains rattling together. The Count smiled, and the Count of Comminges smirked at his side.

“But that isn't why I asked you here today,” Raimon said. “I have come up with the most ingenious idea, and it being the Christmas season, I wanted to share it with you immediately. It occurred to me that we need to bring more of the notables of Toulouse into the court. Young people to be educated in the ways of gentility and chivalry, so that their blood, if you will, may brighten and enliven our days. Therefore, I propose that we shall select from each of your families one fortunate child to be the beneficiary of this gift of ours. People will say to you, how lucky you are to have such a generous and caring count! And as long as I am alive and safe, so will your children be, for I am a caring and loving man.”

“Hostages?” blurted one of the prisoners.

“Why should I need hostages?” asked the Count, amused. “You are released. Go spend the holidays with your families. We will begin this new arrangement after Twelfth Night. Oh, Bonet, if you would be so good as to remain for a moment.”

The rest of the prisoners were unchained and escorted out. Bonet stood flanked by Calvet and a guard. He could not take his eyes off the book.

“You paid that poor drunk Armand to testify at the inquest for your brother's death,” said the Count. “Why did you seek to implicate the Cathars?”

Bonet threw himself prostrate before the Count. The guard started forward but was restrained by a curt order from the baile.

“Forgive me, Dominus,” he said, weeping. “I was doing what I was told to do. You've seen my name in Guilabert's book. I had borrowed from him to the point of disaster for the sawmill. I had no choice.”

The Count held the book up.

“Your name isn't in here,” he said.

“What?” exclaimed Bonet, looking up at him.

“Honorable of you to volunteer that your name had been in here,” said the Count. “Your brother tore a page out and destroyed it. I supposed he loved you enough to protect you, even though you were a traitor. Too bad you didn't love him more than you loved money. His blood is on your hands, along with everyone else in this book. You have to live with yourself. I don't. Get out of my sight.”

The guard led him away.

“I was wrong,” said Calvet, kneeling before the Count.

“You were too eager to be fooled,” said the Count. “I know you despise the Cathars, but they harm no one. And there are too many of them for you to kill.”

“Forgive me,” said the baile.

“Of course,” said the Count. “Stay with us for the rest.”

The baile took a seat by the viguier.

“How do you like the play so far, Fools?” called the Count.

“Well-crafted and politic,” I said. “Your mercy is noteworthy.”

“More pragmatism than mercy,” said the Count. “Were I to hang so many Toulousans, then it would be known throughout Christendom, and I will be seen as a weak man. This way, I maintain control over my own city. Is it time for your interpolation now?”

“Depends on what's coming in Act Three,” I said.

“Arnaut Guilabert,” he said.

“Then I will wait until you are done with him,” I said.

“Bring him in,” commanded the Count.

Guilabert walked in unescorted and unchained. He bowed slightly to the Count.

“I have your book,” said the Count, holding it up.

“Never seen it before in my life,” said Guilabert.

“Your initials appear in it,” said the Count.

“Common enough in this town,” said Guilabert. “I could name you a dozen men with the same.”

“Your mistress, Audrica, has made a statement implicating you,” continued the Count. “As has Bonet Borsella.”

“A drunken slut and a man who owes me money,” retorted Guilabert. “Who would believe them?”

“Perhaps no one other than me,” said the Count. “Then there is your brother.”

“I have no brother,” said Guilabert.

“Half-brother,” the Count corrected himself. “He spoke of your plot against me. He's very proud of you, you know.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” said Guilabert. “I have no half-brothers, either.”

“Bring him in,” directed the Count.

It took several guards to move the big monk, despite his being chained and gagged. His robes were in tatters, and his leg was wrapped in bandages.

“I can certainly see the resemblance despite the tonsure,” observed the Count. “Do you care to repeat your denial, Guilabert?”

“He's just a monk,” said Guilabert. “Nothing to do with me.”

“Then if you have no use for him, neither do I,” said the Count. “Bernard, would you mind strangling him for me?”

“It would be my pleasure,” said the Count of Comminges, producing a length of cord from his sleeve. He stood behind the monk, looped the cord around his neck, then pulled it tight. Donatus's eyes turned desperately toward Guilabert. Then they began to bulge.

“He's a man of Christ,” commented Raimon. “Want to deny him a third time?”

“Stop it!” shouted Guilabert.

Raimon held up his hand, and the Count of Comminges released the cord.

“I am glad to see that you care about someone,” said Raimon. “It makes it easier to apply pressure. We are going to handle this quietly. You will forfeit your holdings to me. The Château Bazacle will be conveyed to the city of Toulouse for its defenses. You will discharge your soldiers immediately, and mine will occupy their barracks. When all of this has been completed, you, along with your family and your children's families will be banished from the Toulousain. On that day, I will release your brother to you. That is all. You know the way out.”

Guilabert looked at his brother, then turned and walked out. The guards took Donatus away.

“Your turn, Fool,” said the Count.

We came down to join them.

“By your leave, Dominus, I will take you to your dungeons,” I said. “But please hang back. I wish the prisoner to believe I am alone.”

“I am intrigued already,” said the Count. “Lead on, Fool.”

Out into the courtyard, into the Palace of Justice, and down to the dungeons. The guards on duty started to hail the Count, but he silenced them with a gesture. I walked ahead to a cell and looked inside at its occupant.