A Convenient Solution

France, 1308. Whilst King Philippe continues to challenge the Papacy, Jean Bellimont (oblivious to such politics) is leading a quiet, contented life as scribe in the city of Troyes. When his Bishop is arrested on spurious charges and Pope Clement sends an

A CONVENIENT SOLUTION A Jean Bellimont Mystery by Trevor Whitton Copyright 2012 Trevor Whitton This ebook is licensed for distribution through free-ebooks.net for your personal enjoyment only and may not be sold or reproduced in any way without the author's explicit agreement. All other copies offered via other channels are illegal and a breech of copyright. Although this book is provided free of charge, if you enjoy it a modest donation would be appreciated. Chapter 1 1308 – Troyes, Kingdom of France……… The old man sitting before the exquisitely carved oak table took a deep breath – his pen poised over the official parchment before him. Beside it sat a small purse of coins. It was a reasonable price given the gift at his disposal. He ran his hand through thinning grey hair, his heavy, pouched eyes straining to make out the characters on the page. His name was Guichard, and he was the current Bishop of Troyes – an important appointment by most people’s reckoning. But his greatest disappointment was the contempt in which he was held by his townspeople. He looked at the purse again, and then slowly tipped its contents onto the table. Twelve coins. What was that, really? Compared to the post he was giving, it was nothing. The recipient would be set for life - as would his family. What price could you put on that? And his enemies accused him of simony! Well, they could call it what they liked – those ill-bred, uneducated buffoons. He was the Bishop, and he was far from being the only churchman in Christendom to do it. In fact, it would be considered arrogant of him not to. Besides - his decision was God’s decision. Anyone who challenged that was a heretic. He stood slowly, his back bent from the pain in his joints and his knees stiff from sitting too long at his table. As the sun came out from behind a cloud it cast a beam through the Palace window and onto the Bishop's face. He looked out at the unfinished apse of his Cathedral, another irritation to add to his woes. It was a sorry state of affairs for a Bishopric of this standing. Nearly one hundred years of building – including the setback of the Great Storm in 1228 – and still it was incomplete! He leant forward on the windowsill so that he could see whether anyone was working below. Pulleys, ropes, scaffolding, cranes, mortar buckets, masonry and tools of all kinds desecrated the site. A frown crossed the Bishop’s brow as he noticed the idle men. That was the trouble with paying labourers as they worked – the longer they took to finish the job, the more they were paid. It practically amounted to an incentive to be slow! (He neglected to acknowledge that many of the labourers gave their time voluntarily in the service of God!) He turned back into the room with a shake of his head. Yes, it was indeed necessary – even imperative – for him to make the most of every financial opportunity that presented itself. If his detractors could only see that he didn’t do it in order to line his own pockets but for the greater glory of God, they might leave him alone to get on with the business of the Church. What made him particularly angry was the fact that King Philippe had caused this problem himself by recalling the Kingdom’s coinage and replacing it with currency of a lesser value. What kind of idiot would do that? And – as if that wasn’t enough - having survived the outrage that followed by hiding behind the skirts of the Templars (taking refuge in the Paris Temple), he then proceeded to banish the Italian bankers! The Jews followed just two years ago - and then the ultimate proof of his madness. Last year he’d had all the Templars arrested, and was now trying to coerce Pope Clement into dissolving the Order altogether. So much for gratitude! And it was all very well for the King to confiscate the Order’s wealth and property, but what about the impact on trading towns such as Troyes? The combined effect of his policies were devastating! The revenues from the Great Annual Faire alone had been halved in the last three years. Well, the irony was that those very Templars who had once protected the King and were themselves betrayed, now provided the possibility of a financial solution to the Bishop’s problems. God knew how to care for His own and had directed Providence to Troyes. Guichard looked long and hard at the second document on his desk. As always, things were made more difficult by the politics of the day. Even Guichard didn’t know the Pope’s true position in regard to the Templars. Publicly he condemned the King’s actions, and the Bishop was sure that privately he opposed them as well. But it was rumoured that Clement realised that – in reality - there was little he could do, and that in order to win the war in the long run he was prepared to lose this battle. Consequently, any support of those Templars who had managed to escape the purge was fraught with danger – both from the Church and the King. But no one had any moral right to object to the methods by which Guichard sought to keep his Bishopric financed – least of all the King. Philippe ‘the Fair’ indeed! No, he had absolutely no justification for objecting to the way in which any Bishop or member of the clergy sought to compensate themselves for his catastrophic policies. And with that thought he bent and signed the document without any further hesitation. Just a couple of miles away, on the plains to the west, justice in the form of half a dozen riders was approaching the gates of Troyes. At their head was Guillaume de Nogaret, one of the most feared men in France. His mission was a bold one, and would undoubtedly cause shock and debate throughout the Christian world for years to come - but this was of no consequence to him. Fulfilling the commands of his King was all the justification he ever needed, but the opportunity to inflict harm on the Church as well definitely offered an added bonus. By the time the riders had reached the gates of the city they were attracting considerable attention. They navigated their way through the narrow streets in the direction of the Bishop's Palace with no need for secrecy. Their mission today would be swift and completed before anyone had a chance to react. Even the Bailli of Troyes would be unaware of events until they were well away on the road back to Paris. It would be much later as news reached the ears of the Pope when matters would come to a head. They crossed the expanse of Saint Jean's market as the stalls were beginning to pack up for the day. Guichard’s reverie was suddenly interrupted by the entrance of one of his staff. Thomas Garonde, the manager of the Office’s estates, bowed his head politely. 'Sorry to disturb you, Your Eminence, but it has come to my attention that the Bailli has again acted contrary to our wishes in regard to the poachers we caught several months ago.' 'Has he taken any action against them?' asked Guichard impatiently. 'I believe they have been fined a trifling sum – hardly a sufficient deterrent, I fear.' 'Well? Why come to me? Surely you should be harassing Bailli Dubois?' 'I wanted your authority to pursue the matter and to insist that he prosecute these men,' replied Garonde humbly. 'Is it absolutely necessary? After all, it’s such a trivial matter…’ Guichard was only too well aware of his estate manager’s shortcomings. He was a young, good looking man, dark of complexion with long, well groomed hair which fell easily to his shoulders. His prospects in life seemed promising on the face of it - he had a job that was usually reserved for men twice his age and experience, and he had a generally sober disposition. Unfortunately, he also had a serious gambling problem and, as a consequence, was as poor as a beggar’s dog. He had no inheritance at all to look forward to, and his poor temper made him an unlikely suitor for any woman who might be able to help him out of his pecuniary difficulties. In many ways he was a gifted manager, but Guichard knew it was largely due to his meanness and lack of sympathy for others less fortunate. There was no doubting he felt a certain contempt for those worse off than himself, and it was common knowledge that the tenants loathed him. He was very good when circumstances demanded a firm hand, but was often over-zealous when a gentler approach might have been more effective. 'The incidence of poaching has been growing steadily for some time, Your Eminence. I believe it is necessary to make an example of these men,' the young man added, pressing his cause. 'Very well – but don’t get carried away. Remember you’re a Christian, Thomas, and should behave with compassion.' 'Yes, Your Eminence, always.' He bowed respectfully and backed out of the room. Guichard shook his head irritably once he was alone again. He liked to be respected, but he hated sycophancy. He was just about to return to his work when there was a loud crash from downstairs - followed by the sound of shouting and the unmistakable clang of swords. Fear, anger and bewilderment in equal measure passed through the mind of the Bishop. Who would cause such a disturbance? Thieves? The townspeople rising against him? A disgruntled suitor seeking redress for an appointment he had been expecting? Eventually the intruders reached the top of the stairs and burst through the study door. The first thing Guichard saw as the six men entered was the gold fleur-de-lys emblazoned on the soldiers’ sleeves. Fury welled up inside him. 'This is an outrage!' he began to shout, until he looked beyond the soldiers and recognised the face of the man standing behind them. Guillaume de Nogaret – Councillor, Keeper of the Seal, and ruthless prosecutor of the King’s commands. The colour drained from the Bishop’s face and he collapsed, terror-stricken, into the chair behind him. 'What is the meaning of this?' he croaked as the men crossed the room towards him. Nogaret stepped forward, pulled an official parchment from his belt, broke the seal and began to read in a confident, powerful voice: 'Guichard, Bishop of Troyes, you are charged with the murder of Jeanne of Navarre, Queen of France, through witchcraft. You are also charged with murdering the Queen’s mother by poisoning, as well as simony, sodomy, being the son of an incubus, various acts of homicide and sorcery, usury, counterfeiting, blasphemy and incitement to riot.' The Bishop’s mouth hung open and his eyes were wide with horror. Behind the intruders he could see several members of his staff – the over-zealous Thomas, his legal adviser Antoine Reynard (a red headed man who was cursed with a club foot), and his scribe Jean Bellimont. 'You can’t be serious? I haven’t done any of those things. This is some kind of mistake,' stammered Guichard, the sweat now pouring off his brow. Nogaret continued, speaking over the top of the terrified accused: 'I have been authorised by the King himself to place you under arrest and to convey you immediately to the Louvre for questioning and trial. You are immediately stripped of your office and may bring with you no servants or entourage of any description. An advocate will be appointed by the State in due course.' The Councillor smiled, baring broken, rotted teeth. 'You can be assured that you will receive a fair trial.' Guichard jumped to his feet, knocking his chair to the floor in the process. He came from behind the desk to confront his attacker directly. 'Who do you think you are – you son of heretics – ' (it was rumoured that Nogaret's parents had been loathsome Cathars) ' - to cast such ridiculous accusations at me? For that matter, who is the King to interfere in matters that – notwithstanding their absurdity - are wholly within the preserve of the Church? The State has absolutely no jurisdiction…' Growing impatient, Nogaret gave a sign to the nearest soldier, who responded by ramming the butt of his sword hard into the Bishop’s stomach. Guichard’s face betrayed utter astonishment, before he crumpled to his knees in agony. He could vaguely hear the town’s bells ringing outside as he was picked up by the soldiers – one under each arm – and forcibly removed from the Palace. Through misty eyes he saw the dim outlines of his staff wringing their hands, uncertain what to do. 'Send a message to the Pope – quickly. Tell him I’ve been arrested by the King and will perish if he doesn’t act immediately,' - then he retched violently and, thankfully, the world went black. Chapter 2 When the news reached Pope Clement in Bordeaux two weeks later, he could hardly credit what he was hearing. The continued arrogance of the King of France was astounding. He directed his gaze towards Bernard Corrente, his most trusted and beloved Cardinal. 'I pity this man when he’s called to account by Our Lord, my word I do,' he said quietly. Corrente nodded, his expression taut. It was an extremely difficult time for everyone, but most of all for His Holiness. The fate of Christendom seemed to hang on his every decision – all thanks to the unscrupulous behaviour of one man. 'This situation must be handled very carefully,’ he said, dismissing the messenger with a gesture. ‘If we overreact, who knows what catastrophe could befall us – the King included.' Clement nodded thoughtfully. 'But if I do nothing, the Church is doomed. To allow Philippe to behave with impunity would be to condone his actions and the charges against Guichard.' He slumped onto the velvet cushions of his chair and stroked his chin distractedly. What a fool man is to covet this job, he thought. 'He wants you to react rashly, of course,' said the Cardinal. 'Of course he does!' Clement shouted, waving his arms in the air impatiently. 'Even stacking his troops in Poitiers during our meeting in May was an attempt to provoke a response from me. He’s just itching for an excuse to crush the Papacy.' Corrente crossed the room quietly – his measured response in stark contrast to that of his patron. Although neither ever spoke of it, both understood that his composure in the face of adversity was the most valuable asset he brought to the Office. 'He knows that if you do nothing it would acknowledge the Crown’s jurisdiction over the Church - a precedent it would be difficult for your successors to ignore. Have you heard of this latest pamphlet published by the lawyer from Coutances?' 'Pierre Dubois?' 'The same. He’s now openly advocating that you relinquish temporal power to the King of France, who will administer the Papal States on your behalf and pay you an annual stipend as compensation!' Clement had to laugh at the audacity of the man. 'You can’t take him too seriously, Bernard,' he said dismissively. 'But it’s scandalous! It’s beyond scandalous, it’s…' The Cardinal was lost for words. 'He’s only writing for himself. He’s not employed by the King – he doesn’t even know him, as far as I’m aware. His pamphlets are just the ravings of an unfettered ideologue.' 'But it’s an accurate representation of Philippe’s ultimate designs, nonetheless,' insisted Corrente. 'I can’t argue with that,' said Clement, nodding sadly. They fell into silence for a few moments, each contemplating the state of affairs and trying to anticipate the consequences of the various options at their disposal. Eventually Clement rose from his chair and strode to the trefoil window overlooking the town and river Garonne beyond. ‘How did we come to this? We should be on the same side – Philippe and I. Why should it be so difficult to settle our differences?’ Corrente stepped to his side – close enough to be intimate, whilst still maintaining a respectable distance. ‘Well, for a start the man is insane.’ Clement smiled ruefully, but gave a barely detectable shake of his head. ‘That’s not the whole story, though, is it?’ ‘Well, if you’re after a history lesson, it all began with one of your predecessors – Boniface. He was the one who had the courage to stand up against Philippe over the Crown’s right to tax the clergy. It was only a device to support his obsessive war against England, after all. And we both know where that led.’ ‘Philippe had Bernard de Saisset arrested on charges of treason.’ ‘A Papal legate and Bishop of Pamiers, no less! I suppose we shouldn’t be so surprised with this latest turn of events. It’s not the first time he’s done such a thing, is it?’ They were suddenly interrupted by a short knock at the door. ‘What is it?’ An attendant stuck his head into the room and bowed respectfully. ‘Well?’ growled the Pope. ‘There is a delegation from Castille wishing an audience, Your Holiness.’ ‘Send them away. I have no time for anyone today. Do not disturb me again unless I call for you.’ He dismissed the attendant with a flick of his wrist and turned back to the window. ‘What still amazes me is that popular opinion sided with Philippe. How could that be? Do my countrymen have no concerns at all for their mortal souls?’ ‘It was their unquestioning adoration that gave him the confidence – the unbelievable arrogance - to denounce Boniface as a heretic and declare his election illegitimate. And they will bear that responsibility along with their King when their souls are judged. They are just as much to blame.’ ‘I have a close friend who was there, you know,’ said Clement, glancing over his shoulder and shooting another rueful smile at his Cardinal. Corrente frowned. ‘Where?’ ‘Angani – when Philippe sent Guillaume de Nogaret and Sciarra Colonna to arrest Boniface. And Colonna had his own agenda, of course. An especially evil man amongst evil men.’ Clement walked over to a nearby table and poured himself a glass of red wine. He sipped it slowly and took solace in the fact that there was something in his country that he could still be proud of. ‘We all thought the tide had turned when Boniface escaped, and that it was the beginning of the end for Philippe. But he died only a month later in Rome.’ Corrente coughed respectfully. Clement frowned and stopped mid-sip. ‘What is it?’ Still the Cardinal hesitated. ‘Come on, speak up. You have no need [...]... risk that again, Sire Even someone as naive as Clement.’ The King kicked over a chair and hurled a vase violently across the room – smashing it against the wall Soissons remained calm and waited for the tantrum to subside ‘It may actually offer you an opportunity, Sire,’ he said as the King slumped petulantly onto his throne ‘How so? I can only see that it complicates things.’ Soissons stepped forward... into a chair by the fire, Bernard drew the heavy Flemish curtains across the windows and began lighting the candles around the huge, vaulted hall Where was that damned physician? 'You must choose two of your brother Cardinals to accompany you to Troyes, Bernard,' said Clement from across the room 'And one of them must be an Italian,' he added weakly Corrente understood at once 'Of course – but three Cardinals?... Predictably, Clement exploded 'What would they have me do?' he shouted in exasperation 'I must remain in France Philippe continues to threaten action against Boniface – a precedent which I cannot allow to happen On top of that, England and France are still at war – and everyone knows that freeing the Holy Land is out of the question until the two can reconcile their differences and combine their armies... Sire.' 'Yesterday morning? You’ve done very well.' 'I was told to spare no expense, sire I used four horses.' Philippe was by now deep in thought and had ignored the explanation He opened the note and read again; ‘Three Cardinals have been despatched to Troyes to investigate the arrest of Guichard I respectfully suggest that you send a well-armed delegation to keep an eye on them Be assured that the people... an attendant to stoke it 'And bring the physician for His Holiness – tell him he’s had another attack.' The sooner they settled into a fixed place – whether it be France or Italy – the better All this travelling around, particularly with winter coming on, was diabolical for the Pope’s health Clement found the strength to squeeze Bernard’s hand 'Thank you,' he whispered Having settled the stricken man... thought it was under threat from someone – oh, I don’t know – like me!’ Soissons had to admit that the argument was certainly plausible ‘All the more reason to have two groups working for you, Sire You need to maintain your advantage.’ ‘You’re right It’s an excellent plan, Pierre Thank you.’ The Knight bowed deeply ‘It’s my privilege, Sire.’ 'I want you to go yourself – and take Guillaume de Plassan with... armies in a Crusade And would they have me miss the upcoming Council of Vienne? I know, given the current circumstances and the plight of our Brother Knights Templar that it won’t be a very important event…' It was unusual for Clement to resort to sarcasm unless his temper was roused - and nothing roused that temper more than the shortsightedness of the Italian Cardinals 'Whose side are they on, anyway?... your actions and that the Cardinals will get no co-operation.’ The note wasn’t signed, but the seal guaranteed its validity ‘Wait for me outside,’ he said to the messenger ‘I’ll send a reply shortly.’ He handed the note to Soissons - his most trusted chevalier de l’hotel 'It’s not the news I was hoping for,' he said, watching closely as the other began reading Soissons’s face was emotionless as he... tried to imagine that conversation Through the darkness the deep, booming bells of the Cathedral tolled for evening mass As he turned down the narrow alleyway leading to his home, he was still searching for the words to describe their new situation Passing under the low lintel of his doorway, Jean removed his sodden wool coat and muddy boots and considered his plan of attack He looked down at the holes... his stockings and shook his head in despair With an effort he entered the kitchen, where the housekeeper Elizabeth was re-stoking the fire and his brother Gastolde sat warming his hands The three greeted each other briefly, while Marguerite stood stirring a large pot of steaming soup Jean guessed that it was turnip and leek (again) 'You’re home early.' Marguerite smiled, giving her husband the perfect . cast a beam through the Palace window and onto the Bishop's face. He looked out at the unfinished apse of his Cathedral, another irritation to add. my attention that the Bailli has again acted contrary to our wishes in regard to the poachers we caught several months ago.' 'Has