Bernard Knight - A Plague of Heretics

‘Your uncle mentioned the Cathars, from southern France?’

‘It is possible, though I doubt that many Englishmen belong to them, numerous though they are in Albi and around Toulouse. If those here are home-grown blasphemers, they are probably Gnostics or some descendants of the Pelagians, who were called the British heretics long ago.’

John’s brow furrowed, as his clerk’s breadth and depth of learning often left him behind. ‘Who the hell are they?’ he asked.

‘Hell is the right word, master, as no doubt Pelagius has been languishing there for the past eight hundred years. After Arianism, his beliefs were virtually the first to challenge the early Roman Church.’

The coroner wisely decided not to ask about the Arians.

‘Why was this heresy called British, then?’ he demanded instead, interested in spite of his usual apathy about religion.

‘He was a Briton — a Celt like you, sir. In fact, he is also known as Morcant or Morgan — probably a monk from the monastery at Bangor-on-Dee in North Wales, though all his active life was spent in Rome and Carthage.’

‘And these heretical beliefs of his gained adherents?’

‘Indeed they did!’ replied Thomas, gesticulating in the full flow of his lecturing mode. ‘In the early fourth century, they spread so widely that at one time it was a possibility that they would gain the ascendancy over Rome. They were especially popular in Britain, so much so that Pope Celestine had to send three bishops, including St Germanus, to try to quell the rise of the cult, which even had many Roman priests convinced of its worth.’

He was now really into his stride. ‘Pelagius fled from Rome to Carthage and St Augustine of Hippo strove to overcome his heresy — in fact, the Council of Carthage in 418 set down the nine articles which remain the basic tenets of the Roman Catholic faith, as a direct reaction to Pelagius’s teachings.’

This was getting too scholarly for de Wolfe, so he moved the subject on a little.

‘So what about these Cathars? Even I heard about them when I was campaigning in France, down near the Languedoc. Some of the other knights were muttering about exterminating them.’

Thomas shook his head. ‘They are very different from the old Pelagians — and they are a new breed of heretics, posing a modern threat to Rome. I fear there will be a Crusade against them before many years are out. They believe that all material things, including our very bodies, are works of the devil and that only our souls belong to God. They see no reason for the existence of the Holy Church and also claim that a man must work out his own salvation.’

John rose from the wall, bemused by an excess of knowledge.

‘I suppose it matters not one bit which kind of blasphemy our Devon heretics subscribe to, Thomas!’ he observed. ‘Your masters in the cathedral no doubt tar them all with same brush when it comes to getting rid of them.’

The clerk nodded soberly as he followed the coroner. ‘But retribution must be applied through the proper processes — the bishop’s court and the like, not by a knife to the throat, Crowner.’

This time, they went across the Close to Canon’s Row to find one of the other heretic-hunters, Ralph de Hospitali. He occupied a house three doors beyond that of John de Alençon, and Thomas repeated his actions to get de Wolfe admitted to the canon’s presence.

Once again, he found the prebendary living in some luxury, so different from the ascetic home of Thomas’s uncle, just along the road. The well-furnished chamber had a blazing fire in a side hearth like the one in John’s home, and there seemed to be a surfeit of servants about the house.

Ralph was a younger man than Canon fitz Rogo, only a few years older than John himself. He was tall and lean, with a mop of fair hair around his shaved tonsure. A nervous, overactive man, he seemed unable to keep still, restlessly sitting down and then standing up, calling for wine, which his visitors declined.

‘Richard fitz Rogo told me of your visit, and no doubt you need to consult me as well,’ he stated in a staccato voice that suited his twitchy nature. He made no effort to seat his visitors, but paced around them like an angry lion.

‘I heard of the death of this woodworker, who we were about to bring to account,’ he snapped. ‘Even my Christian charity cannot stretch to the hypocrisy of expressing sorrow for it, though I would not wish that method of death on any of God’s creatures.’

His attitude rankled with John, but he suppressed his distaste with an effort. ‘How came you to know of this man’s activities?’ he asked.

‘It was reported to me by Herbert Gale, the senior of our two proctors’ bailiffs. He said he had an informant in the city and so personally went down to a meeting in a house where this Nicholas Budd was expounding his dangerous blasphemy.’

‘You did not personally hear the man commit heresy?’

The canon shook his head vigorously. ‘There was no need! The bailiff’s accusation was sufficient to have the fellow called in for interrogation, which was to be in a few days’ time.’

De Wolfe stared hard at the priest. ‘A servant’s opinion was enough for you?’ he grated.

‘Why not? If the man Budd could explain himself, so be it. If not, he must face the consequences.’

The coroner breathed hard at this cavalier approach to justice.

‘Was Budd the only one you suspected of heresy?’

Ralph de Hospitali leaned against the edge of his table and drummed his fingers on the top. ‘I suspect many more. It seems obvious that there is a spreading cult of these evil thinkers in Devon, many right here in Exeter. But they will be extirpated, mark my words!’ His voice rose in pitch as he became more vehement.

‘Do you know more names?’ asked John, thinking of the pale-faced man in the plague pit.

‘I have suspicions of several, reported by the proctors’ men. My brother in Christ, Robert de Baggetor, is compiling a list of suspects, based on the information passed to him by the two bailiffs and their contacts in the city.’

‘Does the name Vincente d’Estcote appear in his list?’

Ralph looked blankly at the coroner. ‘I do not recall that name, but, as I say, de Baggetor is at present compiling a list and for all I know that person may be included. Why do you ask?’

‘I have certain information that he might have been one of these men with very different views from your own,’ answered John obliquely.

The canon’s sharp wits soon picked him up. ‘What do you mean “might have been”? Has he then seen the error of his ways?’

‘He is dead as well!’ answered John bluntly. ‘And I have no means of determining how he came by his demise.’

De Hospitali jerked himself upright and took a step towards the coroner. ‘If you have other names, you must give them to me. You have a duty under God to do so.’

‘And I have a duty under the king’s peace to see that the law is upheld, sir,’ retorted de Wolfe. ‘Where can I find your bailiff? I need to see this list of his, in case others have met an untimely fate.’

For the first time, Thomas opened his mouth, for until now he had been studiously ignored by the canon.

‘Sir, how does the bailiff, who is really but a constable, make a record of these men? Can he read and write?’

Ralph looked down at the clerk as if noticing his presence for the first time. ‘Herbert Gale is a former merchant’s clerk, who spent some of his youth in the abbey school at Bath. His fellow bailiff is illiterate, but Herbert has some learning. You will no doubt find him in the small building which houses the cathedral detention cells, on the north side of the Close.’

He rang a small bell to summon his steward, an unambiguous sign that the interview was over. Realising that there was nothing more to be gained, John left, his clerk trailing behind him. They walked slowly back along Canon’s Row, in silence for the first hundred paces.