Read Online Madonna and Corpse by Jefferson Bass - Free Book Online Page A

crimes as de Molay and de Charney: spitting on the cross, denouncing Christ, worshiping a pagan idol, and performing acts of sexual depravity. Burning the fifty-four Templars consumed two full days and a veritable forest worth of wood; this immolation should require only an hour, or perhaps two, if the fire is kept small to prolong the pain.
    Satisfied that the fuel is more than adequate for the task, the young abbot turns in a slow circle and studies his fellow spectators. They’re a mangy and flea-bitten lot, most of them— enemies of the faith , thinks Fournier, or unreliable friends, at best —but a few arm’s lengths to his right, he notices a cluster of other clerics. They’re Dominicans, judging by their habits: a handful of novices; two friars who appear to be about his own age, possibly younger; and an older man, seemingly the group’s leader. The older man is talking—lecturing, more like it—about heresy in general and the Inquisition in particular. That’s not terribly surprising, since the Dominicans are the pope’s chosen order for detecting and uprooting heresy. But there’s something about the man’s easy confidence that Fournier finds grating.
    He edges closer, listening to the older man’s comments with keen interest, a critical ear, and rising irritation. Fournier’s no Dominican, but he’s taken a keen interest in the Inquisition since his arrival at Fontfroide. Geographically, the center of the Inquisition—Toulouse—is near Fournier’s abbey; theologically, the spirit of the Inquisition is close to Fournier’s stern and austere heart. During the past year, in fact, he’s spent weeks in Toulouse, observing and admiring the work of Bernard Gui, the devout Dominican whose masterful wielding of physical pain, theological cunning, and abject terror has broken hundreds of heretics during his seven years as Chief Inquisitor. Fournier wonders if Gui is here today, but he doubts that the Inquisitor’s busy schedule allows him time to travel from Toulouse to Paris, even for such a worthy cause.
    Suddenly, from the knot of Dominicans, he hears Gui’s name spoken aloud, as if the older friar has somehow been reading his thoughts. The man is speaking in Latin so that the rabble around him cannot understand, but his words are clear to Fournier. The Dominican is criticizing Gui—and not just criticizing him, but mocking him: mocking a brother friar, and the Chief Inquisitor at that. “He has the fierceness of a bull,” the man says with a smile. “The intelligence of a bull, too.”
    Fournier pushes sideways, further closing the distance between himself and the Dominican. The movement catches the eye of the friar, and when he meets Fournier’s gaze, Fournier calls to him in Latin: “Would you dare to say such things about Bernard if he were here to listen?”
    The older man registers mild surprise, but not the contrition and fear that Fournier expected from him. “My words will reach his ears soon enough, I feel certain,” he says to the hulking young Cistercian. “When you relay them, be sure to tell Brother Bernard who spoke them: Johannes Eckhart, master and chair of Dominican theology here at the University of Paris.” He bows, with a slight smile and a sideways tilt to his head—is he mocking Fournier now?—and then turns his back on the indignant abbot.
    “God is not pleased,” Fournier mutters beneath his breath. He considers pushing through the half-dozen people who stand between them, considers teaching the old man a lesson in respect. Suddenly a shout ripples up the shore, like a bow wave from the boat that is making its way upstream toward the Isle of the Jews, making its way toward the towering stake and the stacks of wood.
    The boat, rowed by eight men, carries half a dozen of the king’s guards, as well as Jacques de Molay and Geoffroi de Charny. One of the guards raises a flaming torch high overhead, and the mob roars.
    THE PYRE BURNS UNTIL MIDNIGHT. THE TWO TEMPLARS