The Jester

Chapter 122

NO REPLY CAME from the King, and day by day, the ranks grew more tired and impatient. These were not soldiers, prepared to occupy a city like Treille. They were farmers, tradesmen, husbands, and fathers. They longed to go home.

Lookouts were scattered along the road to the north, but each day, no answer came.

Why? If Emilie had contacted him? If she was able. And what if she was not?

Then one day the lookouts did spot a party traveling south toward the castle. I was in the great room. Alphonse burst in. “H-Hugh, a party of riders is approaching. It looks like it could be from the King!”

We rushed to the city walls as fast as our legs would carry us. I climbed the ramparts and watched the party approach, my heart racing. From the north, six riders at full gallop. Knights, carrying a ba

But with a cross upon it. Knights pledged to the Church.

They escorted a rider in the center of their group, in the dark robes of a cleric.

We drew open the outer gates, and the party rode into the courtyard. A crowd gathered in the square. All of us-Odo, Georges, the Morrisaey men. Many gri

[358] “Is this good or bad?” Alphonse asked.

“I think it’s good,” Father Leo said. “The King wouldn’t send a priest to rebuke us. You’ll see.”

The gaunt, clear-eyed priest slowly dismounted. He wasted no time and faced the crowd. “I am Father Julian, emissary to his eminence Bishop Barthelme. I bear an urgent decree.”

“I am Hugh,” I said. I bowed and made the sign of the cross to show respect.

“My message is for all to hear,” the priest said, passing his eyes right over me. He removed a folded document from his robe and held it aloft.

“ ‘Occupiers of Treille,’ ” the cleric began in a loud, clear voice. “ ‘Farmers, woodsmen, tradesmen, bondmen and free, all followers of the man known as Hugh De Luc… a deserter from the Army of the Cross, which still valiantly fights to free the Holy Land…’ ”

A flash of worry chilled my blood. The crowd grew still.

“ ‘His eminence the Bishop Barthelme Abreau rebukes you for your false rebellion and urges you, this day, the seventeenth of October, 1098, to disband at once, to renounce all claims and territory seized from Duke Baldwin of Treille, and to return to your villages at once or face the full consequence of your actions: immediate and total excommunication from the Church of Rome and the separation from Grace, forever, for your eternal souls.’ ”

The priest paused to observe the look of shock that was on every face, including mine.

“ ‘His eminence insists,’ ” he continued, “ ‘that you repudiate all teachings and promises of the heretic, Hugh De Luc; deny the legitimacy of and confiscate any relics or symbols claimed to be of holy origin in his possession; and discredit all claims, made that present him as an agent of our Lord Jesus Christ.’ ”

“No.” People shook their heads. “This ca

[359] The young priest shouted over them, “In the hopes that you will adhere to this decree immediately and that your souls may be made available to once again receive the Holy Sacrament, a two-day period of enforcement is declared, citing me as the final overseer. This edict is signed His Eminence, Barthelme Abreau, bishop of Borée, representative of the Holy See.”

Borée! I thought. Stephen had done this!

A frightened hush hung over the crowd.

“This is madness.” Father Leo spoke. “These people are not heretics. They only fought for food in their mouths.”

“Then I suggest they chew quickly,” the young priest said, “and return to their farms before their souls remain hungry forever. And you as well, country priest.” He tacked the edict on the church wall.

“This is Stephen’s blackmail,” I shouted to all around. “It is the lance he wants.”

“Then give it to him,” someone yelled, “if it buys back our immortal souls.”

“I’m sorry, Hugh. I came for a fight.” Another shook his head. “But I’m not prepared to be damned for eternity.”

All around, our army looked terrified and overwhelmed. Some climbed down from the walls and meandered slowly toward the city gates.

“That’s right.” The priest nodded. “The Church welcomes you, but only if you act now. Go back to your farms and wives.”

How could I fight against this poisonous assault? These brave men thought they were doing something good when they followed me. Something that God would shine on.

I watched as a steady stream of friends and fighters passed dejectedly by me and toward the city gates. A tightening anger burrowed deep into my chest.

We had just lost the war.

Chapter 123

THAT NIGHT, ODO FOUND ME huddled by myself in the chapel.

I was actually praying. Praying about what to do. If there was indeed a God, I did not believe He would let a bunch of scheming, well-fed pawns like Father Julian, who didn’t give a thought to whether my men lived or died, crush their resolve.

“I know we’re deep in shit,” Odo said with a snort, “if we’ve got you praying.”

“How many of our men are still left?” I asked.

“Half, maybe less. By tomorrow, who knows? Perhaps not even enough to hold the city. We still have some good ones. Georges, Alphonse, the Morrisaey boys… even Father Leo. Most of those who’ve been with us from the start.”

I gave him a weak smile. “Still trusting me?”

“No, I wouldn’t say that. Let’s just say, if they’re making their bet with God, they trust the holy lance more than they trust that slimy church mouse.”

I pulled the lance from the bench next to me and cradled it in my palms.

“So…?” Odo said. “That thing providing any answers? What is next?”

“What is next,” I replied, “is that it’s me Stephen wants, or at [361] least this… not your souls. This edict is a challenge: ‘Come face me if you have the will.’ I’ve no choice but to go.”

“Go?” Odo laughed. “You’re going to march on Borée with what we’ve got left?”

“No, my friend.” I shook my head. “I’m going to march on Borée alone.”

It seemed to take Odo a second to decide whether to object or roll his eyes. “You’re going to Borée? Just you and that spear?”

“You see what he’s telling me, Odo? He has burned villages to get this lance. He killed my wife and child. He has Emilie now. What else can I do?”

“We can wait. Keep Baldwin under guard until word comes. The King will surely stop this lunacy.”

“This is the King’s word.” I shook my head. “The King is noble. He will side with Baldwin and Stephen without even hearing our claims. These men are pledged to him. They raise armies to fight his wars. We… what do we raise, hens?”

“Even a king can be swayed by a good omelet.” The big smith chuckled. Then he looked at me plainly. “I am with you, Hugh, until the end.”

I grabbed his wrist. “No more, Odo. You’ve been a loyal friend, all of you. You’ve trusted me more than any fool could ever ask for.” I shot him a smile. “But now I have to face this. This thing … it has brought me mostly pain. But some things-seeing the town stand up, feeling the pride as we marched on Treille, Baldwin ’s face-they’ve been a joy.”

“You’ve become quite a bad philosopher since you put on that skirt,” Odo commented.

“Maybe… but I go alone.”

Odo didn’t answer, just took a deep breath and smiled. Then he looked around. “So this is what it’s like on the inside of a church. The seats are hard and there’s nothing to eat. I don’t see the attraction.”

[362] “That makes two of us.” I gri

“So where would we be,” I asked, “if I hadn’t wandered off that day on the Crusade? If I had never left, and Sophie and Phillipe were still alive. And Father Leo was preaching dull sermons. And you still put in an honest day’s work.”