The troubadour's song (15 page)

He kissed her again as he held her damp body to his, and then they lay entangled, his face against her flowing hair, her limbs clasping his.

She did not want to let him go, until finally they moved to lie next to each other in more ease. Still, he caressed her hair, and she lay a hand against his hip. She wanted him to be forever thus with her, their bed a safe haven in a time of war, the enemy subdued.

It was the dawn breaking that awoke her. A great serenity washed over her, and she snuggled deeper into the bedclothes, her hair spread across the pillows.

Then she sat up, pulling the covers with her, embarrassment flooding her. She remembered the pleasures of the night before, but now feared the consequences. Gaucelm was not in the room, but her garments had been thoughtfully laid across the foot of

the bed. No maid came to help her, but surely her women would know she did not spend the night in the women's quarters. She would have to make some excuse.

She rose and dressed quickly, but took time to braid her hair and cool her flushed cheeks. When she made her morning appearance, she must not look as if she'd just risen from her master's bed.

Then she borrowed a mantle, hanging on a peg. Her thought was to make it look as if she'd just come in from the forest. Why not go outside first, make her way to the house where she'd been a few nights ago? She could have a few words with her friends and then return, no harm done, and tell Isabelle and Marcia that she'd been away all night.

It was the hour when most of the household would be breaking their fast, so she made her way to the tunnel entrance without difficulty. When she came to the end, and pushed aside the hawthorn branches that hid it, she paused to make sure there were no Frenchmen about. Then she hurried along to the holding. To her surprise a great many people gathered in the yard, including Jean de Batute and Lucius Hersend. She was through the gate and into the yard before anyone noticed her.

"My lady," said Jean, breaking off. "There's news."

"What's happened?" she asked as faces turned toward her.

"Count Raymond and his son have landed at Marseilles. The southern provinces are rising up to join his army. Lucius and I are planning to go join the uprising."

"Do we still hold Toulouse?" she asked urgently.

"We do, and the walls are being strengthened every day."

The fear that she had kept at bay while distracting Gaucelm with a court of courtesy returned. She regarded her friends, the people for whom she was responsible, or had been as chatelaine of the castle.

"It is dangerous. Our captor, Gaucelm Deluc, speaks every day of the threat of an inquisition. I've told you all to disperse. Any gathering such as this will be suspect."

One of the women spoke up. "Our parfait is within. There is

a consolamentum. Do not worry, my lady. We have guards posted to let us know of anyone coming."

Allesandra drew in breath. The parfait conducting the Cathar sacrament so close to the castle? She broke away from the group and went up the steps to the house.

There the lady Cecelia Fontanta, dressed in a pure white gown with white veil, was kneeling before the parfait Bertram de Gide, who was just ending his sermon with a prayer.

Then Cecelia lifted her head and promised to devote herself to God alone. Allesandra was deeply surprised to see her friend take this drastic step. Whereas the believers were allowed to marry and to go on living in a world which the pure eschewed, one accepting the consolamentum renounced the world entirely.

Cecelia spoke in a firm, joyful voice. "I promise never to lie, never to take an oath, never to kill or to eat of an animal, and to abstain from all contact with a husband."

Bertram imposed his hands on her head and then bent to give the chaste kiss of peace on her forehead. She arose and exchanged the kiss of peace with those in the circle around her. Thereupon the rest of the believers dropped to their knees, for one who had taken the consolamentum was an object of veneration for ordinary believers who had not yet been consoled.

When Cecelia saw Allesandra, she beamed upon her friend and came to take her hands and then exchanged the kiss of peace with her.

"My dear Allesandra, I am blessed that you could share this moment with me."

"Cecelia, are you sure you are ready to do this?"

The other woman's eyes shone as with inner peace. "Why not? My husband is dead, my lands are confiscated. If I am to suffer at the hands of the inquisitors at least my soul can have its reward. There is nothing left for me here on earth, but many joys in heaven. I will take to the road with Bertram and Emice and preach to the other believers."

Allesandra would not argue with her friend's choice, she only cared for the danger they all might bring to themselves.

"I'm afraid we cannot deceive the French who hold my castle if we continue to meet this way," she said. "I am suspected myself, but I have led Sir Gaucelm to believe that I am as orthodox as he. We have an uneasy truce."

"Have you, my dear?"

Guilt flooded her veins, and for a moment Allesandra wondered if the newly blessed initiate had been granted the power to read her heart. She tried to blink away the traces of her deception. But Cecelia went on to other matters in a practical way.

"Do not worry for us. We will be gone from here ere you are asked to betray us."

"I would never do that."

Jean entered the hall and broke into their conversation. "Quickly. There are soldiers approaching through the woods. We must leave by the back entrance."

The crowd scattered. "This way, my lady." Jean escorted Allesandra out a door and down a ladder behind the animal pen.

When she glanced back, she saw that the men about the house were now engaged in splitting wood and doing other normal chores. She could only hope that Cecelia and Bertram would find a way to secrete themselves if the French soldiers became too curious.

She and Jean stepped quickly along a path into the woods behind the house. In the distance she heard shouts, and then the sound of horses' hooves breaking through dried branches on the forest floor.

"Quickly. Sit there," ordered Jean, pointing to a fallen log.

No sooner had she taken a seat and Jean brought forth a flute, which he put to his lips, than three horsemen broke into the small clearing and splashed across the brook.

Jean's back was to the men entering the clearing, and for a moment he held Allesandra's eyes, conveying a warning to her. Her heart sank as she saw that Gaucelm rode with Enselm and a squire. There was nowhere to hide. And when the riders saw them, Gaucelm raised a hand for the others to halt.

Setting eyes on him after their night of passion caused her

heart to crash against her chest and her palms to sweat. Yet her face must give no hint of either the seduction of which she had been a part or the ceremony she had just witnessed. But there was a flicker of annoyance on Gaucelm's face, which darkened into a cloud of displeasure as he walked his mount toward her. She stood up, as Jean lowered his flute and turned to bow to Gaucelm.

"My lord Deluc," said Jean quickly. "You have surprised us. My lady Allesandra and I had sought this place to compose our tenson for this afternoon's competition. As you can imagine, it was important for us to get away from that sneaky Lucius who would foil us by satirizing our song if he could."

"Is that so?" asked Gaucelm, as his mount snorted and heaved its sides after the short run across the meadow. "I find it curious that you would roam so far."

His eyes glanced suspiciously about the trees and clearing, and Allesandra felt her cheeks warm. He seemed to insinuate that he'd caught them at activities other than what they professed. His look of accusation inflamed her. Surely he could not believe that she would rise from his bed only to run off with another man the very next morning. She looked for words that would allay his suspicions without giving anything away. Jean was quicker with a defense.

"It was necessary, my lord. In these competitions, one cannot risk a spy. It is the greatest embarrassment to perform one's song only to hear the lines twisted and mocked by a clown who comes afterward. But perhaps my lord would like to hear what we've accomplished so far."

Gaucelm's eyes only glanced at Jean but bored into Allesandra. He paused, taking his time to assess the situation. The lines of concentration creased in his cheek and at the corners of his eyes as he made up his mind. Allesandra read the displeasure still in his eyes.

"I think not. Such hard work deserves a better audience for its showing. We are on the trail of a deer. I would caution you to

take better cover. For had we not come upon you thus, one of our arrows might have caused you great harm."

"We will take your advice now that we know hunters are about. If my lady would be willing to retire now that the greatest work on the tenson is done . . . ?"

"I would be so inclined," she finally said.

She and Gaucelm exchanged a long look, and then Gaucelm lifted his chin and spoke to his companions, who had stopped a little way off.

"Come, let us not waste the day." And he trotted off with the other two.

Allesandra trembled and sat down again on the log. "That was a narrow escape."

Jean glanced back in the direction of the house they had just left.

"Evidently their suspicions were not aroused, for they did not seem interested in any kind of search, so intent were they upon their game."

She dared not mention just what suspicions she had read in Gaucelm's eyes, but gathered her strength again.

"Come," she said. "We must make our way back to the castle in ease, as if we have been doing nothing here but playing music. It is fortunate we did not have to prove our point by a demonstration."

Jean smiled. "Perhaps my cleverness would have indeed been put to the test. But then, they are not familiar with our songs and would not have recognized it had I sung an old one."

"Do not underestimate our overlord," she cautioned. "He is more knowledgeable of our ways than you would suspect. He has not been idle since he took over the great chamber in the castle where all my writings are kept. He is lettered and has made a great study of the Cathar religion and the songs of the troubadours."

Jean's thoughts turned pensive. "In that case I wonder how much he understands the symbolism in the songs. Does he take the literal meaning or the mystical one?"

"It is hard to say. For the moment, I believe he thinks that

troubadours praise and adore only a fleshly lady. But he did warn me last night that the praise and ecstasy we sing of might suggest heresy."

" 'My verse must confuse fools who cannot understand it in two ways'," Jean paraphrased the troubadour Alegret.

"Let us hope," said Allesandra, "that Gaucelm Deluc is such a fool."

Ten

A squall had blown up, and with the howling wind and sudden rain, the bishop's coach and entourage of horsemen, dressed for riding in long black cloaks, made their way over the crest of the hill and wound along the road up to the castle.

"Who goes there?" shouted the guards at the gatehouse from their portal.

"The bishop of Toulouse" came the answering cry. "With legates from the apostolic see." The coach was allowed entrance and clattered over the drawbridge and into the courtyard.

The word was carried to Gaucelm, who had retired to his chamber. Annoyance filled him when Enselm roused him.

"So," he said, throwing aside bed curtains to put on a tunic. "It has come so soon. And in inclement weather, no less."

By the time he was dressed and in the hall to greet his midnight visitors, he had assumed a respectful demeanor. But he did not go any farther in showing reverence to the bishop and his party than he must.

Outside, the storm howled, and the lights that had been lit for the guests flickered from the drafts coming in through shuttered windows.

"Reverend Bishop," Gaucelm said. "I did not expect a visit from you this night."

"No doubt," said Bishop Fulk. He had taken a seat in a high-backed chair by the fire, which was being stoked. His companions still wore their traveling cloaks, hoods thrown back to drip on the rushes.

"My holy brothers have just joined me from Rome with instructions to make a list of heretics in this vicinity. We traced some names to this demesne. Perhaps now that you have been in residence here you can help us."

Gaucelm kept his features neutral. "I see. And have you this list now?"

The bishop waved a hand. "In the morning there will be time. We know the whereabouts of those we seek to question. They will not try to run, for that would only prove their guilt."

"Very well. Then may I have the steward show you to chambers? They may be Spartan, for we are ill prepared to host so noble and holy a party as yourselves. Had you sent word ahead ..."

The smaller of the two legates with Bishop Fulk now spoke in a thick, nasal tone. "Christ did not fuss over simple accommodations. Neither shall we."

Gaucelm did not have a taste for the self-righteous, but he only nodded and turned to issue orders to a servant to awaken the steward and find rooms for the guests. Wine was served, and because of the late hour the bishop and the two legates followed ithe sleepy steward, Julian, to quarters.

Gaucelm was curious indeed as to who it was they sought to interrogate, but he would not find out this night. He was tempted to seek out Allesandra and warn her. But he tried to tell himself that was not necessary. She had assured him she was not a heretic. As to her friends, they would have to look out for themselves.

The news was brought to Allesandra next morning as she, Isabella, and Marcia were brushing their hair and dressing for the day. Julian had not wanted to wake them in the middle of the night, he explained.

Allesandra sent Julian with word for Jean de Batute and Lu-

cius. "Tell them I will meet them in the musician's gallery as soon as I can."

Then she turned to gather her thoughts as she opened the shutters and looked out upon the damp courtyard. Marcia joined her at the window, wringing her hands.