Crusade (21 page)

There was no meekness in Brother Thomas’s conversation after dinner. He was passionate and articulate.

‘When Father David and I were studying at the seminary together, we drew close to a teacher whom we greatly respected. He told us about the ideas of a man called Peter Waldes, a nobleman from the town of Lyons who gave away all his earthly possessions forty years before Brother Frances of Assisi did so more publicly.

‘People who follow his creed are called Waldensians by outsiders. We prefer the name the Poor of Christ
.
I left the seminary before I was ordained and joined that community. Father David was greatly drawn to these beliefs too, but he told me our Mother Church was the only mother he had ever had, and he owed it to her to obey her faithfully.’

Georgette thought of the look on Father David’s face when she left on the Crusade. For his loyalty to the Church he had paid a high price in pain and regret.

‘Why are those French translations of the Gospel so important to you that you follow them all the way to our home?’ Robert asked.

‘Some of us among the Poor of Christ do not stay in one place but travel the country, preaching discreetly to those who seem sympathetic. We need copies of the Gospels in the French spoken by the people so that everyone can understand what is written. The Gospels in Latin seem but magical incantations to illiterate peasants. Priests benefit from the role of magicians who are the intermediaries between God and the people.

‘We want to reveal the treasure of Christ to everyone, instead of hoarding its jewels for only a few.’

Georgette and Robert alighted on the same memory.

‘The twin cooks at the abbey,’ she murmured.

‘They were drawn to the stranger with the book about Jesus in French,’ he confirmed.

They talked far into the night, the glowing fire sending sparks flying up into the shadows. Brother Thomas drew a picture of the beliefs and practices of the Poor of Christ that closely mirrored the understanding Robert and Georgette had reached through their sufferings on the Crusade. Finally there was someone they could confide in.

Robert had never forgiven Abbot Benedict for being unwilling or unable to talk to him about his anguish and confusion. Slowly, then in a flood of words, he unburdened himself to a very different teacher.

‘On that journey,’ he ended finally, ‘I saw the appetite for violence disguised as duty to God, hatred of others disguised as love of God. But those people are as sure of their rightness as I am. How can I know for sure what is right?’

Brother Thomas took Robert by his shoulders and gently guided him to the floor, to his knees. He knelt beside him.

‘O God,’ he prayed aloud. ‘Heal the soul of this boy who has seen the evil of man falsely committed in Your name. Comfort him. And teach him to ask only one question when he is uncertain: “What would my son Jesus have done when He walked on Earth?” Amen.’

The old man put his arms around Robert just as Father David had comforted Georgette as a child, and Robert cried.

‘The Poor of Christ do not believe in violence,’ Brother Thomas elaborated as they settled before the fire again. ‘The Crusades by their very purpose are violent. When Sister Sabrina was preaching last week, she –’

‘You have women preachers?’ exclaimed Robert and Georgette simultaneously.

‘Indeed we do, for the Word may emerge as clearly from a woman’s mouth as from a man’s.’

Georgette lost the thread of the conversation for a while after that, her mind busy with thoughts she had never confessed, even to Robert. Why couldn’t she study at a great school? Why couldn’t she sit in the library at the university and have access to the riches of books there? She had a sudden image of herself preaching to a small group of men and women. Blushing at her own hubris, she returned her attention to her guest.

‘What about those who will not believe in Jesus Christ?’ Robert was asking the priest. ‘The Jews, the Muslims, the unbelievers of the world?’

‘They are not unbelievers; they have different beliefs,’ Brother Thomas said. ‘We pray that they will find their way to Jesus Christ, but such a path cannot be forced. As long as they believe in the kingship of God, they will pursue lives of good deeds. Jesus would wish us to love them for that alone.’

Eventually, Brother Thomas had to take his leave. He believed he would probably not return to Paris. ‘Unless I am summoned to the Council to be tried as a heretic,’ he added calmly.

‘So we will not talk to you again?’ Georgette cried.

Brother Thomas hesitated before replying. ‘The nobleman who conceived our beliefs, Waldes, lived in Lyons, and although the Archbishop of Lyons is a dangerous opponent, there are still more members of the Poor of Christ in Lyons than elsewhere. If you should wish to learn further about our beliefs, or if you should ever decide to join our community, go to that southern city, and speak discreetly to the man who owns the baker’s shop immediately to the left after you enter the town gates.’

Georgette couldn’t imagine leaving the city she had grown to love. But she was moved that Brother Thomas was entrusting them with this dangerous information.

‘Thank you for your offer,’ she said. ‘We have much to ponder on now that we have spoken with you.’

Brother Thomas bade them kneel and he put his hands on their heads gently and blessed them. Then he departed, carrying the two French copies of the Gospels.

‘Pride,’ Robert said thoughtfully after the door closed. ‘The self-pride that is my greatest fault. Of course, other people have thought what I think. But I assumed we were the only ones to come to such conclusions.’

Georgette was deep in her own thoughts. ‘Such purity, such simple worship of Christ. There is a light and a comfort in my soul that I have not had since I was with Father David.’

Robert flushed.
Still now
, he thought,
still, even as I acknowledge my pride, I am absorbed by self. Yet Georgette is not distracted. Like a bee, she travels straight to the sweet essence
.

In the darkness before they fell asleep that night, Robert said quietly, ‘I never had a true home. But when Brother Thomas was explaining, I had the strangest feeling that I saw my home ahead. I have asked our Lord to direct my steps in that path.’

Not many weeks later, Robert returned home from his classes with a heavy step. All the university was humming with reports of the Fourth Lateran Council in Rome, attended by the most powerful churchmen in Europe.

‘The Council has declared the Waldensians – and several other religious sects – heretics,’ he told Georgette. ‘Anyone who joins them or even listens to their words will be excommunicated and may even be sentenced to death.’

Georgette gave a little gasp. Robert sat in thought, his lunch untouched. He had only one weapon against these ignorant – or willful – distortions of God’s love for all men, and that was his brain. He must use it wisely, he must find a way to put it to effective and meaningful use. He did not doubt his brain, but he did doubt his courage. The Council’s decree had multiplied the danger of disagreeing with the Church. Robert shivered.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Robert was too obviously brilliant, too singleminded and unsociable, to attract friends at the university, but he did occasionally bring home for a drink of beer a few clever students for the pleasure of the philosophical arguments that followed. Georgette heard, not from her husband but from these colleagues, that Robert, despite his youth and the brief time he had studied at the university, was widely acknowledged as one of its most brilliant students.

Robert was secretly delighted by their compliments. It was a struggle for him not to boast of his successes to Georgette and he was gratified that she heard of them at these times. What he wanted most was to be accepted by the Guild of Masters as a Master of Theology so that he could teach at the university. He loved to teach and was surprisingly free of his habitual arrogance while he explained complex issues to fellow students with clarity and directness. Far sooner than he could have dreamed, an opportunity arrived.

The season for inception lectures was approaching. Final-year students who were hoping to be accepted as masters were required to deliver an inception lecture in their chosen subject before they were admitted to the Guild. They faced the daunting prospect of teaching in front of a number of esteemed masters, their fellow students, and a distinguished panel of guests.

Perhaps the most fear-inducing guests were the colourfully costumed bishops and other senior members of the clergy. The rector and the masters were frequently reminded that powerful churchmen were keeping a watchful eye on these young cloisters.

For the first time, the university had decided to offer a crowd-pleasing side show: a student from the first-year class would be selected to give a lecture too, providing a base line from which to measure the development of fully educated graduates.

Robert arrived home after his classes almost incoherent. He had been chosen as the first-year student. He was to address the collected assembly on a subject of his own choice.

Georgette flew into his arms. ‘I am so proud of you, dear Robert. Praise God. If only my father were alive to be in the audience. If only the abbot
 . . .
’ He stepped out of her embrace as she faltered, but put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her face. His eyes were serious.

‘Georgette, do you see how God has arranged a distance between the abbot and me so that I am not constrained by his influence on my topic? I knew the minute my name was announced that He was sending me a great opportunity. The abbot was an obstacle removed from my path. In front of a large audience, an influential audience, I have the chance to propose a more tolerant way to worship Christ.

‘I began practising some phrases on my way home. Listen, Georgette: “Bloody crusades distract from the internal battles of the soul.” How does that sound? And this one: “A joyous emulation of Christ’s kindness rather than harsh punishment for disagreement over the minutiae of faith.” What do you think?’

Georgette stared at him. He misunderstood her silence.

‘Are you afraid I might sacrifice my chance to become a professor at the university, Georgette? For you know, even though I will phrase my words carefully and build my evidence tightly, it may well come to that. Or worse: I might face reprimand by the Ecclesiastical Council. The very council on which my master, the abbot, serves.’ The thought of the anger of Abbot Benedict made him nauseous. ‘Are you as frightened as I am?’

‘Yes, I am frightened, but the reason I could not speak was because love of you overflowed my heart and deprived me of breath,’ Georgette replied, taking his hands from her shoulders and kissing them. ‘I know the danger as well as you. But this understanding of Christ’s message found us, rather than the other way around.’

Chapter Twenty-Five

The great hall hummed like a beehive, students busily greeting and signalling to one another, then peeling away to greet another group. It was startlingly crowded. Most graduating lectures attracted, in addition to dignitaries and venerable guests, only those students and teachers interested in the same particular area of scholarship. Sometimes a few members of the public – intellectuals too poor to attend the university, bookstore owners, writers – read the notices of lectures posted on the university gates and joined the audience. But today, for this particular lecture, there were hundreds of students from all disciplines, and a great crowd of onlookers.