‘I think you are confused, we are not speaking of Ghibellines, only merchant guilds, craft guilds.’
‘Ahh . . . but the king supports them, like Manfred supports the Ghibellines, because he wants power . . . Louis grows stronger by the day.’
‘But it was the pope, your grace, who handed Languedoc over to him, knowing him well enough. In return the church was promised the end of heresy. But our lord pope was wise for another reason, for he allied himself to a powerful throne, a champion, in the event that his power was once more threatened. It is after all Louis’ brother, Charles of Anjou, who stands at the ready, waiting to ensnare Frederick’s son, Manfred, before he can take up his father’s sword against the church! The pope seems to ally himself with whomever it pleases him, dear bishop. Has he not at this moment the Ghibelline Ottaviano governing northern Italy because this man’s family is very powerful in Bologna, whose geographical position is highly strategic?’
The bishop gave a grunt, perhaps because he hated Ghibellines, or perhaps because he thought that he should have been given this position. Nevertheless he defended his pontiff. ‘The pope’s designs are the concern of God, how am I to question his wisdom? However, you must concede that his supreme authority must remain flawless. How can we perform our duties when the king and the consuls continually erode our power? It is no wonder that we must find intricate and devious ways to exercise our jurisdiction . . .’ he trailed off as if to leave much to the imagination.
‘But is it not also the inquisitors that threaten your power, your grace? The Dominicans who presume to know more than the wise Benedictines.’ My master knew the antagonism that existed between the orders on this matter, and I believe he was using it as a divisive tactic.
The other man narrowed his puffy eyes, ‘Yes, there are men who unknowingly function as the enemy’s tool, but we must keep in mind our duty to the faithful. That is what is most important. For instability always leads, as is well known, to heresy. Look at Languedoc! You must remember, so many here, even those whom the church had trusted, were ‘questionable’. The battle is difficult, but all of us must fight the holy war together, even if sometimes we do not always agree as to the methods applied!’
‘No war is holy, your grace,’ my master said sadly, ‘it is only war.’
‘But you are a man of war! Do you say that the wars you have fought have not been for a holy cause?’
‘I am a Templar, a knight, but also a doctor. What I have seen has not pleased my soul.’
The bishop assessed the meaning of my master’s words and chose, for the moment, to ignore the entire matter, ‘In any case, with a new pope we may see things return to normal, we might forget the stink of the false emperor!’
‘A false emperor that was crowned by the pope.’
‘But what choice did he have? Tell me! Philip of Swabia was dead, Otto of Brunswick was an underhanded mercenary.
Frederick was his only choice. Besides, there were agreements, promises . . . He sought to lie like the Devil until crowned, and once emperor he began his campaign to establish complete imperial authority! Do not confound the truth with lies, preceptor, he was excommunicated at the council of Lyons because of his treason and you, a Templar, should have no reason to side with the likes of that fox! Did he not retain Templar property in Italy? Did he not shame your order by forming an alliance with the Saracens, managing to secure the Holy Land single-handedly, where your order and others were disastrously unsuccessful? We have seen your incompetence in your terrible defeat at Mansourah.’
My master blanched. ‘Frederick may have secured the Holy Land,’ he said with vehemence, ‘but such a bargain was procured at the expense of papal interests, as well as the interests of other European states. However, peace is peace, and I believe one has to measure the success of his diplomacy on those terms.’
‘Many have been deceived by that snake’s artful ways. Many still believe the false emperor to have walked according to truth, but it is plain to anyone that he was a devil, pretending to be a pillar of God in order to disguise his devious plans. It is common knowledge that he embarked on his crusade merely to elevate himself in the eyes of those around him. Once in Outremer, however, his zeal for sacrifice became tempered by a desire, nay, an obsession to serve his own interests and not the interests of the Holy See! He became infected because when you lie belly to belly with pigs you smell like pig, because sin begets sin . . . that also is common knowledge.’ Wagging a finger at my master agitatedly, as though he had forgotten something of great importance, which he was now about to impart, he said, ‘Rumours abound that your men at Acre were influenced by Cabbala and Islam, the seed of heresy! There are many who believe that your order has for too long walked a path that is not so straight.’ He moved closer in a conspiratorial way, ‘Even your dear Louis made your grand master kiss the hem of his tunic as penance for his arrogance. And then there are the rumours, which connect your order with necromancy, sorcery, and all manner of foulness, which I dare not repeat, for doing so would distress my quiescent senses. These rumours may be the result of malicious conspiracy,’ he added. ‘Nevertheless, we live in delicate times, preceptor, the memory of heresies and bloody massacres is still fresh. Do we not remember Avignonet? So much bloodshed! The new pope knows that you defended the heretics of this region, that you harboured Cathar nobles and their families, aiding murderers and adopting their doctrines . . .’