The Parchment (16 page)

The Marquise shook her head. “There is no fire, Gerard. You are imagining things.”

“No, I'm not. The raven told me.”

Just then the acrid smell of smoke blew through the trees. Gerard and his mother hurried back to Cours-des-Trois. When the Marquise told Edouard what had happened, he grinned. On that day Edouard went to the manor house to speak with his brother the Marquis.

“I can teach Gerard nothing more. He fights with the cunning and determination of a young Hannibal. If you block his way, he circles around you; if you cut off his retreat, he charges you full tilt. It is as if God were training Gerard for some special purpose.”

“I feel this too, Edouard.”

On his twentieth birthday, Gerard entered the parish church of Cours-des-Trois to take the solemn oath of knighthood. He walked to the baptismal font where the bishop poured water over his head, as a reminder of his baptism. Accompanied by the bishop and his Uncle Edouard, Gerard processed down the center aisle of the church. At the foot of the altar, assisted by his two sisters, Gerard put on a white mantle marked front and back with a red cross. The white mantle symbolized a knight's purity, and the red cross the knight's willingness to suffer and die for Christ. After putting on the mantle, Gerard stood solemnly before the bishop and recited the words of his oath.

Then while everyone in the church watched, Gerard turned and knelt before his father and mother. The Marquis touched the blade of his sword to Gerard's shoulders. “My son, today you have taken the oath of a knight. It is an oath to follow the way of the Cross.”

Gerard's father pointed to a large painting of the Crucifixion that hung over the altar of the chapel. “The cross has two bars — the vertical bar symbolizes spiritual life, and the horizontal bar temporal life. Jesus died at the place where the two bars meet. His death reminds us that if we wish to follow him, we must balance body and soul and live at the place where they intersect.”

When the ceremony was over, Edouard motioned his nephew aside. “Gerard, take this coin. It bears the image of Hannibal. The Carthaginian was the master of surprise.”

“Surprise turns one knight into ten and two into fifty. You taught me this lesson many times.”

“Remember the lesson whenever you see the coin.”

The day after his ceremony of knighthood, the Marquis asked Gerard to walk with him around the manor house.

“Gerard, your mother and I have looked forward to the day of your knighthood for many years. You have made us very proud. But now I must speak to you about other matters. The Montelamberts have been vassals of the Duke of Provence for many years. Every year, Cour-des-Trois must provide the duke with fifty cartloads of
wheat and ten cattle. When there is war, the duke requires the village to pay scutage for twenty soldiers.”

“Do not all the landholders in Provence pay similar duties to the duke?”

“Yes. But I am growing old. The doctors say I have a lump in my stomach. Neither leeches nor purgatives will shrink it. Your mother has become concerned. You must take over running the manor. When I die, you will become the Marquis of Cours-des-Trois.”

“I cannot do what you ask, Father.”

The Marquis looked stunned. “What do you mean, Gerard?”

“I must go on Crusade. Edouard thinks that it is my destiny to discover the copper scroll.”

“Edouard has filled your head with nonsense. As my younger brother, he could go to Palestine because he was not heir to the Montelambert lands. But like me, Gerard, you are the heir to Cours-des-Trois—your duty lies here at the manor house, not in Jerusalem.”

“I cannot do what you wish, Father.”

“If you leave, who will take care of your mother and sisters?”

“Annette wishes to enter the convent, and Catherine is soon to be betrothed. They will not live on the manor.”

“And your mother?”

“The rules of vassalage will allow her to stay here in the manor house until she dies.”

“You would forfeit your inheritance to go on crusade?”

“I cannot betray myself, Father.”

“But you would betray those who love you most. Leave me, Gerard.”

“Father, I....”

“Leave me!”

Gerard's mother found her husband sitting alone in the chapel. “My Lord, we have been married for almost thirty years. I have always obeyed you and never opposed your wishes. But I have spoken with
our son and cannot support you on this. Gerard must go to Jerusalem. It is the promise I made to the Virgin.”

The Marquis stared nervously at his wife.

“What do you mean?”

“The night when he was born — I never told you what happened in the chapel.”

“No, you always refused.”

“I knew Gerard was dying in my womb. I begged the Virgin Mother to save him. As I prayed, I felt her presence all around me. There was a whisper—‘Your child will live, but he must follow the destiny that God has prepared for him. Promise me that.’ I said ‘yes.’”

“But Cours-des-Trois needs Gerard. He is its rightful heir.”

“God needs him more. We have been blessed with Gerard for twenty years. Now he is in the hands of God. Your brother Edouard is a good man. He can carry on the Montelambert name here at Cours-des-Trois.”

THE CRUSADER'S R
AD

T
HE DAY OF
Gerard's departure was a sad one in the village. After Mass, the Marquis took Gerard into the great hall of the manor. “You will take the overland route to Palestine?”

“Yes. Knights from all over France and the Rhineland are gathering in Metz. The caravan will leave in mid-September. Edouard will accompany me as far as Burgundy.”

“The Montelambert name is well-known in many parts of Europe. Take this letter of introduction with you, Gerard. It may be helpful.”

The Marquis stood up slowly from his chair and kissed his son on both cheeks. “It is time, Gerard. You must move the cross.”

Gerard lifted the large crucifix from its place on the altar and followed the curé and his parents out into the town square of Cours-des-Trois. There was an ancient tradition in the town; whenever the Marquis departed to go to war, he would carry the cross from the village church and place it outside in the square. When he arrived back in Cours-des-Trois, the Marquis returned the cross to its proper place on the altar. Gerard's father ordered that the cross be moved from the church to the village square in honor of his son's departure for the Holy Land. Once the cross was placed in the square, Gerard embraced his parents and his sisters.

The Marquise caressed Gerard's cheek and handed him a small piece of parchment.

“When you reach Jerusalem, put this into a crack in the walls of the Holy City. It is your family's blessings for you. When you stand before the Holy City, we will be praying at your side.”

Holding back his tears, Gerard pushed the parchment into his pocket and quickly mounted his horse. The Marquise stretched her arms up to kiss her son one last time.

“Follow your destiny, Gerard. God has chosen you for a special purpose.”

Gerard and his uncle left Cours-des-Trois and rode north for several hours until they reached the town of Ventoux. As the road bent into town, Edouard looked puzzled. He motioned Gerard to slow his horse to a pace.

“Something is wrong. The streets are usually filled on market day.”

When they reached the town square, an unruly mob had gathered on the steps of the church. At first, neither Gerard nor Edouard understood what was happening. Then they saw a man and a young girl kneeling on the top step of the church. The girl was little more than ten years of age. Both had Stars of David sewn onto the backs of their garments.

“What are they doing to the Jews?” Gerard questioned a teenage boy standing near him.

“Their heads will be cut off. The Jews kidnapped a Christian baby and ate her flesh. An old woman saw them do it.”

“Do you believe such a story?”

“It is not a story! It is the truth.”

“The truth!”

“Yes, the town elders investigated—they found the bones.” The boy twisted his lip in a sneer. “We do not have to go to Palestine to find Christ's enemies.”

A priest emerged from the darkness of the church. A burly man carrying an axe followed him. The priest blessed the axe and then intoned the words
Libera nos a perfidis Judaeis
. The executioner walked over to where the Jews were kneeling on the ground. The mob jeered and howled in delight. When he saw the executioner's axe, the old man begged for mercy.

“Spare my granddaughter. She is innocent.”

The priest looked at the old Jew.

“Confess what you have done.”

“I took the child and ate her flesh. I did it alone. My granddaughter is innocent.”

The piteous words of the old man only made the mob howl and jeer the louder.

“Call on your God Jehovah to save your granddaughter.”

Gerard drew his sword. The coin Edouard had given him rolled to the ground.

As he bent down to pick it up, Gerard caught his Uncle looking at him. “Gerard, remember surprise turns one man into ten.”

“And two into fifty.”

Brandishing his sword, Gerard spurred his horse to a gallop and rode headlong into the mob. Edouard followed close behind him, striking his sword on his shield. Given the suddenness of the attack, the mob parted like the waters of the Red Sea. When he reached the steps of the church, Gerard jumped off his horse and put his sword to the priest's throat.

“Order the executioner to throw down his axe or the crown of martyrdom awaits you.”

“Please, Sir, I beg of you. You are a Christian knight. I am a good priest. Do not hurt me.”

“Then do what I say! Tell the executioner to put down the axe.”

Cringing with fear, the priest looked imploringly at the executioner.

“In the name of Saint Michael, François, do what the knight says or he will kill me.”

The executioner threw the axe to the ground.

Edouard rode to the rear of the church and returned with two horses. “Priest, come with us until we are safely out of Ventoux. Ride with the child. Feeling her heart beat like a Christian's might teach you tolerance.”

Keeping his sword drawn, Gerard climbed on his horse and led the others out of Ventoux. When they were a day's journey from the town, Gerard and Edouard left the village priest and the two Jews
and continued on toward Burgundy. Weeks later Gerard could still see the look of hatred in the villagers' eyes.

Edouard embraced his nephew at the Burgundian border. “I have something for you. Gerard. I had a scribe copy it.”

Edouard handed Gerard a piece of parchment. Gerard's eyes lit up with excitement. “It is Evardus's chronicle.”

“Yes, Gerard. Take it with you to Jerusalem. The ruins of Herod's Temple are spread over many hectares. No one person can possibly search the length and breadth of them. Read Evardus's words, and search for the copper scroll through the eyes of faith. It is the only way.”

The caravan to the Holy Land was scheduled to leave Metz on the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross — the day on which Constantine's mother, Saint Helena, discovered Jesus' Cross in Jerusalem. The task of organizing the convoy fell to the papal legate, Fulk de Teent, Bishop of Namur. Fulk's first act was to appoint a governing council made up of ranking nobility. The council designated the area north and west of the City as pilgrim campsites. During the weeks before departure, itinerant preachers had traveled the countryside proclaiming the spiritual rewards of pilgrimage. “Jesus said to sell everything and follow Him. This is the way to salvation.” The response was overwhelming. Families, some with newborn infants in their arms, clogged the roads to Metz intent on joining the caravan to Jerusalem.

The council reserved the large meadow area to the east of the city for the nobility and their entourages. Never before had Gerard seen so many soldiers gathered in one place. Knights rode about the meadow with pennants flying from their lances. Sergeants, squires, and common foot soldiers competed with one another in swordsmanship and feats of strength. Only the archers seemed content to sit quietly on the ground oiling their bows and fashioning their arrows. Occasionally several knights of the Temple would ride through the campsite like princes from a far-off realm.

Bishop Fulk designated the area to the south of the city as a depot for provisioning the crusade. Under his watchful eye, physicians, coopers, wainwrights, blacksmiths — tradesmen of all sorts—were recruited to join the crusade. On most days, Fulk would stand with the muleteers as they chose beasts of burden to pull the supply wagons. Fulk decided the particularly sensitive issues himself. When a question arose over the number of prostitutes that would be allowed to join the cavalcade, Fulk decided on fifty. Before he made the decision, however, Fulk sought the advice of the harlot Marguerite. Tall and buxom with henna-dyed hair, Marguerite was well known in the brothels of Metz. Her high-spirited ways made her the subject of gossip even among the clergy. Charmed that a person as important as Bishop Fulk would ask her advice on the number of prostitutes to recruit for the journey, Marguerite immediately signed on to go herself. “It is time that I seek forgiveness for my sins,” she told Fulk. “But with your approval, I would like to postpone total repentance until I reach Palestine. It would be wrong to overlook the needs of some of the younger crusaders during the journey. Of course, Your Excellency is always welcome in my tent.”