Berengaria’s gaze wavered and color rose in her face. She looked so unhappy at being caught defending a heretic that Joanna felt a stab of remorse. But before she could make amends, her sister-in-law put aside her sewing and rose to her feet. “That is indeed a valid question,” she said, “and it is one I shall put to the count. If I have been led astray by his good manners and my wish to believe the best of others, better I know it now.”
As they stared at her, she turned and started across the hall toward Raimond. When Beatrix asked if she’d really do that, Joanna jumped to her feet. “I do not know,” she admitted, “but I want to hear what he says if she does.” And she hastened after Berengaria, with Beatrix just a few steps behind her.
As Berengaria approached, Raimond broke away from the troubadours and moved to meet her, a smile lighting his face. The smile disappeared as soon as she began to speak, though. For a moment, he looked utterly astonished, but he burst out laughing just as Joanna reached them. Those blue-sky eyes caught and held Joanna’s green ones, and again she had the uneasy sense that he knew exactly why she was so aloof, occasionally even rude. He turned back then to Berengaria, saying with sudden earnestness, “I’ve often been asked this and I’ve always given the same answer. No, I am not a Cathar. Cardinal Melior does not believe me. I hope that you will, my lady.”
Berengaria’s dark eyes searched his face intently. “I want to believe you. But I do not understand why you are so tolerant of these ungodly, wicked men. Can you explain that to me, my lord count?”
“They are neither ungodly nor wicked, my lady. The Church calls their priests the perfecti, but they call themselves the ‘good men’ or ‘good Christians,’ for that is how they see themselves. They are greatly respected for the purity of their lives, even by those who are not Believers. They live like the early Church fathers, scorning possessions or material goods, renouncing carnal desires, seeking only to honor God and help their neighbors. They never lie and they forswear all violence, will not even kill animals. I’ve never met more peaceful souls in all my born days. I do not agree with their beliefs. But I do not see why they should burn for those beliefs. They harm no one but themselves, sacrificing their own chances of salvation, and surely that is punishment enough.”
Neither Raimond nor Berengaria had noticed that others had begun to drift over, close enough to hear. They regarded each other somberly, two people yearning to bridge the great gap that loomed between them. “But those beliefs are wrong, my lord count,” she said, although not in accusation; she sounded sad. “They are offensive to God. Can you not see that? See the danger they pose?”
“I was told that your lord husband befriended Saracens in the Holy Land, my lady. Yet I am sure you do not doubt the strength of his Christian faith or think he was tempted by their false God. He understood that even infidels can be men of honor. Is that so different from what I do?”
“Yes . . . because the Saracens were infidels. They were not heretics. The threat posed by the Saracens was a military one. They captured the Holy City of Jerusalem, but they could not imperil the souls of the Christians they defeated. Heretics are so much more dangerous, for they are the enemy who attacks from within. Why can you not see that, my lord count?”
“Because he has been infected by their foul heresies, Madame.”
Both Raimond and Berengaria whirled at the sound of this cold, hostile voice. Cardinal Melior, the archbishop, and the viscount had joined the growing audience, and the cardinal pushed forward now until he stood beside Berengaria. “Even if he has not openly embraced these heresies, they have seeped into his soul, warping his judgment and eroding his faith.”
For the first time, Joanna saw Raimond show anger, his eyes darkening as he stared defiantly at the papal legate. “Have you never wondered, my lord cardinal, why the preaching of the Cathars is so well received in these southern lands? The people see their priests taking hearth mates and concubines, see their bishops engaging in petty squabbles and using excommunication as a political weapon, see a Church as infected by corruption as you claim we are infected by heresy. Mayhap if you worried less about the ‘foxes in the vineyard’ and more about caring for Christ’s poor, the men and women of Toulouse would not find the pure lives of the Cathar priests so surprising or so appealing.”