Read Online To Wear The White Cloak: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery by Sharan Newman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sharan Newman
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Margaret returned, followed by Martin and the new arrival.
Edgar and Catherine both leaped to their feet and ran to hug the man.
“Astrolabe!” Catherine kissed him. “How wonderful to see you. We were just talking about your father.”
“Margaret!” Edgar called her back sharply. “You haven’t met our guest. Astrolabe is an old friend. He’s the son of Master Peter Abelard and Abbess Heloise of the Paraclete.”
“I was born before she entered the convent.” Astrolabe smiled at the girl.
“Astrolabe,” Edgar went on, “this ill-mannered young lady is my sister, Margaret.”
Blushing, Margaret bowed. “ Dex te saut , Master Astrolabe. I apologize for not greeting you properly. Catherine has often spoken of her love for your parents and the time she spent under your mother’s care at the Paraclete. Welcome.”
She went into the kitchen but returned a moment later with a wine cup for Astrolabe and a plate of dried meat and cheese.
“Samonie says the soup is ready whenever you want it,” she told Catherine. “Would you mind if I ate with her and then went up to bed? I’m very tired.”
The tension in her frightened Catherine.
“Of course, ma douz ,” she said. “You need to rest. Tomorrow you’ll be surrounded by small children.”
Margaret gave her a wan smile and left. Catherine resolved to have a serious talk with Edgar soon about his sister’s future.
“Now, Astrolabe,” Edgar said when they were settled and Maurice had been introduced. “You’ve been traveling more than Pope Eugenius lately. I thought you were in Metz. What brings you to Paris?”
“Heresy,” Astrolabe answered. He drained his cup and held it out to be refilled.
The other three gaped at him. Catherine was the first to recover.
“ Endondu! Whose heresy? Master Gilbert?”
It was Astrolabe’s turn to gape. “The bishop? Of course not! Who’d be fool enough to accuse him? No, it’s these Eonists. I saw them when I was home at Le Pallet visiting my aunt. They’re taking over the countryside in Brittany, and no one seems to be able to control them.”
Edgar crossed himself. “It seems like a madness lately, almost as if people believe the Last Days have come. There are these dualists in Germany and the Occitan, Arnoldists in Rome. Madmen roaming the fields only need to wave their arms to attract disciples, I swear. What do these Eonists preach?”
Astrolabe reached for the cheese. “As far as I can tell, their leader says that he’s the son of God and so his followers can do anything he wants them to. He’s clearly mad.”
“He thinks he’s Jesus?” Maurice couldn’t take this in.
“No,” Astrolabe shook his head. “He thinks he’s ‘ eum ’ as in ‘ per eum. ’ ‘Through him’ shall be judged the living and the dead. He seems to believe that ‘ eum ’ and ‘ eon ’ are the same word.”
Catherine blinked. “And he’s built a sect on this?”
“Quite a large one; I’ve seen it,” Astrolabe said. “There’s a charisma about him. His words are empty, senseless, and yet the poor adore him. He leads them to pillage their own churches, even rob small priories of their altar cloths and candlesticks. He makes a mockery of the Mass. It is even said that they conduct orgies as a part of their services.”
“Really?” The other three leaned toward him.
“But I didn’t witness any,” Astrolabe finished.
They leaned back.
“Where are the lords, the advocates for the monks?” Edgar wanted to know.
“That’s what I don’t understand.” Astrolabe tapped his cup, reminding Catherine that it was empty again. “It’s true that there’s been confusion in the land since the death of the count, but the local lords
should be concerned enough to capture this man and disperse his followers. It wouldn’t take many to do it. Eon is connected to a very minor noble family, but even they are trying to convince him to stop this insanity and return to them. And yet, they do no more than
Edgar and Catherine both leaped to their feet and ran to hug the man.
“Astrolabe!” Catherine kissed him. “How wonderful to see you. We were just talking about your father.”
“Margaret!” Edgar called her back sharply. “You haven’t met our guest. Astrolabe is an old friend. He’s the son of Master Peter Abelard and Abbess Heloise of the Paraclete.”
“I was born before she entered the convent.” Astrolabe smiled at the girl.
“Astrolabe,” Edgar went on, “this ill-mannered young lady is my sister, Margaret.”
Blushing, Margaret bowed. “ Dex te saut , Master Astrolabe. I apologize for not greeting you properly. Catherine has often spoken of her love for your parents and the time she spent under your mother’s care at the Paraclete. Welcome.”
She went into the kitchen but returned a moment later with a wine cup for Astrolabe and a plate of dried meat and cheese.
“Samonie says the soup is ready whenever you want it,” she told Catherine. “Would you mind if I ate with her and then went up to bed? I’m very tired.”
The tension in her frightened Catherine.
“Of course, ma douz ,” she said. “You need to rest. Tomorrow you’ll be surrounded by small children.”
Margaret gave her a wan smile and left. Catherine resolved to have a serious talk with Edgar soon about his sister’s future.
“Now, Astrolabe,” Edgar said when they were settled and Maurice had been introduced. “You’ve been traveling more than Pope Eugenius lately. I thought you were in Metz. What brings you to Paris?”
“Heresy,” Astrolabe answered. He drained his cup and held it out to be refilled.
The other three gaped at him. Catherine was the first to recover.
“ Endondu! Whose heresy? Master Gilbert?”
It was Astrolabe’s turn to gape. “The bishop? Of course not! Who’d be fool enough to accuse him? No, it’s these Eonists. I saw them when I was home at Le Pallet visiting my aunt. They’re taking over the countryside in Brittany, and no one seems to be able to control them.”
Edgar crossed himself. “It seems like a madness lately, almost as if people believe the Last Days have come. There are these dualists in Germany and the Occitan, Arnoldists in Rome. Madmen roaming the fields only need to wave their arms to attract disciples, I swear. What do these Eonists preach?”
Astrolabe reached for the cheese. “As far as I can tell, their leader says that he’s the son of God and so his followers can do anything he wants them to. He’s clearly mad.”
“He thinks he’s Jesus?” Maurice couldn’t take this in.
“No,” Astrolabe shook his head. “He thinks he’s ‘ eum ’ as in ‘ per eum. ’ ‘Through him’ shall be judged the living and the dead. He seems to believe that ‘ eum ’ and ‘ eon ’ are the same word.”
Catherine blinked. “And he’s built a sect on this?”
“Quite a large one; I’ve seen it,” Astrolabe said. “There’s a charisma about him. His words are empty, senseless, and yet the poor adore him. He leads them to pillage their own churches, even rob small priories of their altar cloths and candlesticks. He makes a mockery of the Mass. It is even said that they conduct orgies as a part of their services.”
“Really?” The other three leaned toward him.
“But I didn’t witness any,” Astrolabe finished.
They leaned back.
“Where are the lords, the advocates for the monks?” Edgar wanted to know.
“That’s what I don’t understand.” Astrolabe tapped his cup, reminding Catherine that it was empty again. “It’s true that there’s been confusion in the land since the death of the count, but the local lords
should be concerned enough to capture this man and disperse his followers. It wouldn’t take many to do it. Eon is connected to a very minor noble family, but even they are trying to convince him to stop this insanity and return to them. And yet, they do no more than
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