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Authors: Patricia Werner

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"We will never be free of the pope's tyrants," he said bitterly. His vision took on an ethereal look as if he were seeing into the distance. "Those who will not bend to the Church will be punished. There will be many penances for those who recant. For those who refuse to give up their faith ..." He shrugged as if he did not wish to contemplate the consequences.

"Yes," she said sadly. "To live with the French is one thing. To bend the knee to a corrupt church with hypocrites for priests, who deny the scriptures to any but the clergy." She shook her head slowly. "There are many who would rather throw themselves onto the flames than betray their beliefs."

She looked back at Jean, her jaw set, her personal struggles set aside. "We must help them, Jean. There must be a place where the believers can go. A last refuge where they can be left alone."

He frowned. "There might be such a place. Perhaps if Raymond must agree to search out heretics in his lands, those who wish to flee can take refuge at a monastery far out of the way where they will not be considered a danger to the intolerant Church."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Is there such a place?"

"There might be," he said slowly. "A refuge in the Pyrenees where French soldiers would never get to. A place isolated and harsh, all the better for the parfaits, who deny the world in any case and do not need to live in comfort."

"Where would such a place be?" she inquired.

"The chateau at Montsegur," he said. "I have seen it once

myself. It perches on a peak accessible only by a steep winding path, too narrow for any army. It can be well stocked with provisions. The winter there is very cold. In a word, the place is impregnable. I've had word that Lucius Hersend is there now." A chill suddenly made her tremble, and she hugged herself. "Then if Raymond arranges a peace treaty and the inquisition must come, at least there will be a refuge for the faithful."

Twenty-two

Allesandra accepted Raymond's invitation to accompany him as part of his entourage traveling to Paris to negotiate a treaty. Gaucelm was likely to be in Paris, serving in the same capacity to the king. Then what? Even if a treaty was negotiated, it would be an uneasy peace with much bitterness in Languedoc.

Gaucelm's words echoed in her mind; he wanted them to find a way to be together, but how? She could not abandon her lands. She was tied to them until her overlord decided who she should marry. He might agree to her marrying a Frenchman to help him with his political goals if he was really resigned to compromise. But even if Gaucelm accepted such a political alliance, he would not want to live in Languedoc, where he would be disliked, a symbol of their defeat.

Aside from the passion that existed between them, she did not know what was in his mind. If he married her, he might wish her to remain in He de France with his family, while he continued to fight wars for France. She wanted nothing better than to be with him, but given time for reflection, which she now had for many weeks, she knew in her heart that such a life would make her unhappy.

She'd been formed by the South. Her exposure to foreigners from other southern kingdoms and the Far East was too inbred.

She might be able to make concessions to outward appearances demanded by the Catholic Church. But in her heart she was a believer.

And so she entered He de France in a somber mood. She took in the impressive sight of Notre-Dame de Paris rising magnificently above the He de la Cite. Scaffolds supported skilled workmen putting their artistry on the soaring building, and she remembered how she had pretended to be the wife of one such mason. But Gaucelm had quickly seen through that guise.

Where was Gaucelm now? Would he be waiting in the royal palace that they now approached? The fortified palace sat not far from the quay along the great River Seine, and she could not help but look at its formal gardens and well-guarded towers with some resentment.

King Louis had a dire illness and was not expected to live. His son was just a child. Blanche of Castille would be regent, should the king die and her young son be crowned.

Count Raymond and his entourage were greeted with due respect and formality and shown to chambers where they would stay. French ladies and maids came to help Allesandra make herself presentable, and they seemed to understand her soft-accented French well enough. Perhaps it was her growing anxiety about meeting Gaucelm in such a formal surroundings. She was also very aware of her great responsibility to the people of Languedoc to help Raymond come to the wisest decision they could make.

The ladies in waiting led her to an antechamber where Raymond waited with other advisors who had traveled with them, the count of Foix and the count of LaMarche. Also, there were two other minor barons, accompanied by Jean de Batute and Christian Bernet, who had been brought along to entertain with their songs once the treaty was agreed upon.

Raymond was garbed in a rich green tunic with gold-threaded collar, girdle, and hem. A cloak of matching gold cloth was fastened with a ruby brooch at one shoulder and flung back to reveal one sleeve. His beard was freshly trimmed, his features noble.

She felt gratified that he was every inch the well-loved leader his father had been.

Her own raiments of deep burgundy silk with silver bands at cuffs and hems blended into the other rich colors that their assemblage wore. Her hair was coiled and held in place by the crespine of silk cords woven into a net and studded with jewels at the intersections of the mesh. The crespine was held in place by a fillet worn around her head over the stiffened band of silk that came beneath her chin. Buttressed by her fine dress, she was ready to face the royals. And Gaucelm.

She'd had no word that he would be present, but as soon as the doors opened, and Raymond's party was admitted into the great hall, she saw him at the end of the long, regal room. Her party had to walk down a great length of hall, past great arched openings that gave onto a gallery above on one side. Two stone fireplaces were carved into the thick walls on either side, and the oaken beams that supported the ceiling were far above them, giving the feeling that those who approached the throne were very small in the great space.

Upon a great chair placed on a platform with two steps leading up to it sat the regent, Blanche of Castille.

Raymond approached and made reverences, and Allesandra dropped a curtsy. She was thankful that she was not expected to say anything, for as Raymond and Blanche of Castille exchanged formalities, Allesandra's thoughts were all for the man who stood proudly to one side, gazing at her. She stole a quick glance, but kept her expression veiled. His, on the other hand, lit fires in her veins. For he was staring directly at her, as if not caring who watched.

After a moment he gave his attention to the conversation, and Allesandra heard her name as Raymond introduced her. She curtsied again, and tried to pay attention to what was being said but she knew that no real negotiations would take place yet. This was just the formal beginning of the conference.

"I speak for the dying king," said Blanche, whose face looked harsh with little beauty. "It is my instruction to negotiate the

peace in the manner Louis would have it. My son, who will inherit the throne, must be considered, but we will listen to what Count Raymond has to say."

"I thank you, madam," Raymond replied.

Blanche rose, and they all moved to two heavy, carved high-backed chairs arranged in front of the largest of the hearths. Blanche sat down and arranged that Raymond do so. A smaller, armless chair, little more than a stool with a shield-shaped back, was brought for Allesandra to sit behind and to the left of Raymond. The rest of the men stood as the conference began. One of the retainers handed Blanche a rolled parchment, which she held on her lap without opening it.

"The king has read your missive and taken it under consideration."

Raymond waited.

"You hold Toulouse and lands north of Toulouse. The king acknowledges that you can be driven out only at the cost of bloody fighting."

Finally, Raymond began to talk politely but proudly. But Allesandra still felt most keenly aware of Gaucelm, who stood back a little. When she glanced at him, she thought that he, too, was paying little heed to what Blanche was saying. Perhaps he had heard it all before. Allesandra's attention wandered between the negotiations and the warmth and tingling of her body under Gaucelm's stare. Her face warmed, and her back began to ache from straining to sit rigidly.

After some time, Allesandra again began to hear Blanche's words to Raymond.

"You realize, of course, that if we reach a reconciliation, there will be a public act of penitence. We must act in accordance with the Church on this, but it will not be too harsh."

"I agree," said Raymond.

Allesandra looked at the side of Raymond's face that she could see, and saw the wince he must be trying to hide from Blanche. Although he was prepared to make these concessions, nevertheless, Allesandra knew it cost him something.

"You will be recognized as count of Toulouse, but you will promise to hunt out and punish heretics. You will offer a reward to anyone who captures a heretic."

"Very well."

"The Church wishes to establish a center of orthodoxy in the heart of your lands. Therefore, the Church wishes you to pay the salaries of professors of theology, canon law, and the arts, who will come to Toulouse to form a university there."

Raymond nodded. Allesandra began to feel the grip of the church descend, and her attention was diverted from Gaucelm. The price of the peace was not going to be pretty. But they had all agreed to go forward with it. She listened as the rest of the agreement was discussed. Raymond promised his sister to the king's brother, Alphonse.

"Even if you should sire other offspring," Blanche said slowly and deliberately, "Jeanne of Toulouse will be your sole heir. On your death, the county of Toulouse will pass to Jeanne and Alphonse and their children."

"To this, I agree," said Raymond with some strain.

Blanche leaned forward slightly. "And if they are childless, Toulouse reverts to the Crown."

Raymond said nothing. Allesandra watched as his face drained of color. He had not considered this. Even she was surprised. Jeanne was to be sole heir, that they knew. But they had not considered that Jeanne herself, who was still very young, might be childless after her marriage.

Allesandra studied the woman who would soon be regent. She felt a bitter anger build within her as she contemplated the Capetian greed. They hoped Jeanne would not bear children. She suddenly wondered how far they would go to prevent her doing so. Allesandra stood up, trembling. The Capetians wished to see the extinction of the House of Toulouse.

She held her words, but all those in the gathering turned their eyes to her. Her pulse pounded in her ears and she opened her eyes wide, certain that her expression was one of agitation. Ray-

mond glanced up at her, but said nothing. Finally, Blanche lifted her chin.

"Does Lady Valtin have something to say?" she said, but in such a way as to suggest that it would be ill considered to disagree with the demands put forth.

Allesandra glanced down at Raymond, who sent her a look of caution. The fire in her eyes blazed forth and she held her chin just as high as that of Blanche.

"I do wish to speak, but perhaps it would be better to speak to Count Raymond in private. He has asked me to come in the capacity as advisor, as my husband served as his father's advisor before his death."

Blanche inhaled a long breath of air through her nostrils. "We are all thirsty. We shall break off our conference until tomorrow. You will want food and drink after your long journey. And we will hear the entertainments of the musicians who traveled with you." She stood up. "Tomorrow is soon enough for these agreements to be concluded."

And she turned her back on them and swept off toward a doorway at the side of the room. No doubt the egress led to where King Louis lay in his bed, waiting for Blanche to tell him how things progressed.

Servants appeared with goblets of wine. Perhaps Blanche thought fraternization would help Raymond accept her terms. Allesandra saw Gaucelm move into her line of vision, but she was too angry to speak to him. Instead, she seized Raymond's elbow.

"Sole heir," she said between clenched teeth. "But don't you see what she is trying to do? What if Jeanne should have no heirs? Then we have lost everything we've fought for."

Raymond glanced over his shoulder and then steered Allesandra away from the others. "You are right. I had not considered it. I might yet beget a son of my own."

"Someone who could claim Toulouse as his inheritance after Jeanne. But if you don't conceive an heir and Jeanne doesn't either..."

Raymond tried to calm her. "I cannot imagine that will happen. Allesandra, we have come this far. These terms are bitter to us all. But we already deliberated long and hard. It is the least of all the evils now."

"And let the inquisition loose among us. You yourself are being forced to offer a reward for heretics."

"A few will suffer, yes. I will have to cooperate. I thought you understood that there is no choice."

Her anger began to give way to hopeless resignation and she grasped his hand. "Oh, Raymond, it is so hard to deal with these French. We will never be able to like them."

Raymond glanced behind her and she felt Gaucelm's presence. She turned, but the expression she gave him was not welcoming. Gaucelm bowed to them both, and Raymond acknowledged the other man.

"My lady Valtin is unhappy with the terms," said Raymond since Gaucelm had witnessed the incident. "I value her advice, but after a night's rest, I am in hopes that we can proceed and reach agreement." He gave a vague gesture that included Gaucelm in the conversation.

But Gaucelm was already ignoring Raymond. "Perhaps my lady would like some wine," he suggested, and hailed a servant who brought a goblet. He handed it to Allesandra, who took it this time. Raymond was called away.

"How do you fare?" asked Gaucelm. In such a crowd, he behaved formally.

BOOK: The troubadour's song
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