Fifth Gospel(113)

Judas hesitated and Caiaphas grew concerned that the man was developing a late pang for his wrongdoing.

‘What will you do to him?’ Judas said, finally.

‘Do to him?’ Caiaphas raised his brow, a little amused. He prepared to flick away this annoying insect called, Judas. ‘That is no longer your concern, for you are on different ground now, since you have sold your loyalty. Go earn your wages!’ As he said it he made a gesture of dismissal and the man stood a moment looking about him, unsure of what to do before giving them his back and running out of the chamber like a phantom into the night.

Caiaphas was weary. He put his staff on the stone dais, and leaning on it for support stood, glancing his eye about the room, his mind already contemplating a good scratch against a rock wall.

‘We go!’ he said.





57


LAST SUPPER




I look behind me now to see that the sky is near tinged with a soft promise of light. How different everything is from this place below the fortress!

I remember that terrible night, when the garrison tried to take back the barbican. A detachment of men had traversed the narrow space between it and the fortress, to come upon the French by surprise. All had gone well until one of them disturbed a rock and alerted the enemy. A terrible fighting had broken out on the steep slopes then and our men had tried to make a hasty retreat back to the fortress, but they had found the narrow pass blocked from behind. The valiant knights of Pierre Roger de Mirepoix fought desperately to break through the barrier of knights and archers. Thankfully, they had managed to make a way to the gates, dragging the wounded behind them before the French could storm the fortress, but not before countless knights and soldiers had fallen to their deaths.

I hope we do not find their bodies scattered along our path. What grief would we feel then? I do not wish to think on it.

Once inside the gates, our knights and archers fought to repel the Crusaders, some of whom had pushed their way in as far as the forecourt where a skirmish had broken out.

In that terrible commotion the wounded were set down in any place available. It was dark and only a few torches were lit, making it difficult to see, but the smell of blood and the cries of pain directed us to those who were dying. I went from man to man, each more wounded than the next by way of sword or arrow fire. All of them wanted the convenenza; the consoler, the Holy Spirit, which had been promised to every man in John’s Gospel. At the time I was troubled about whether I should give it, though I knew the gesture would offer such a comfort that I could not, in all conscience, withhold it.

That was when the Marquésia de Lantar came to me, and I hardly recognised her due to my panic and the darkness. She was old and determined, she wanted the consolamentum.

‘Why now, Marquésia? In this turmoil!’

‘I will go to help, and I do not wish to die without it,’ she said.

‘Come, what can you do? There are younger persons who can do such tasks.’

‘It was a woman who killed Simon de Montfort!’ she said with some pride. ‘In all that fighting in Toulouse, a woman threw a rock from the barricades and it hit that devil right between the eyes and killed him! I don’t want to kill a man, pairé, but I will offer to help with the wounded, that, at least, I can do.’

I thought of that young boy wandering the fortress alone, the child who could not speak and whose eyes penetrated deep into the world. I asked her about her charge,

‘Will you not think of him?’

‘Come now, pairé, you and I both know I will not leave this place! Whether I die helping or I die on the pyre…it is all the same…the boy will be taken care of…he is not destined to die here. I have already arranged for my son-in-law to have the troubadour take him away.’

Screams tore the night in two then. I could barely see the Marquésia’s determined face. I took her hastily aside.

‘If you receive the consolamentum you will not be able to deny it, since to deny the Holy Spirit is the greatest sin…is that clear to you?’

‘Yes, pairé,’ she said, ‘I know it.’

‘You wish to embrace the faith?’

‘Yes, pairé, bless me.’

‘Then kneel, my dear.’

I asked her the ritual questions and she answered them, and then came time for the solemn promise.

‘Firstly,’ I said, ‘you must dedicate yourself to God, and to John’s Gospel. You must never lie, never take an oath, never have any contact with a man, nor kill an animal, nor eat meat….’

‘I promise,’ she said.

‘And you must promise never to betray your faith, no matter what death awaits you.’