The Conscience of a King

THE CONSCIENCE OF A KING The Medieval Saga Series Book Seven David Field Table of Contents I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI XII XIII XIV XV XVI XVII XVIII XIX XX XXI XXII XXIII XXIV XXV XXVI XXVII XXVIII XXIX XXX XXXI A NOTE TO THE READER MORE BOOKS BY DAVID FIELD I France, 1229 They were bringing back the dead and wounded. It would have been difficult to tell which was which, were it not for the shrieks of agony as those carrying the not quite dead stumbled on the wet, uneven ground between the tents. To ten-year-old Simon de Montfort, it was an irritating distraction as he struggled with his Latin psalter in the late afternoon sun. He hoped that his father was not among the casualties, but if he was then no doubt the news would be brought to him eventually. It had been the same, day in, day out, for almost a year. His father, also named Simon, was somewhere in the vanguard of the mighty force that was laying siege to Toulouse, which the hated Count Raymond had seized back from them the previous year. It had come into their temporary possession during the early stages of what, since Simon’s first year in this life, had called itself a Crusade. The enemy against whom they notionally fought — who were called Cathars — seemed, from what Simon had seen of them, to be no more dangerous than ploughmen, stonemasons and priests, but they were alleged to be a mighty threat to the entire fabric of Christendom. This, at least, had been the opinion of a previous Pope who had styled himself ‘Innocent’, and who had first given the blessing of Christ to the ill-assorted assembly of warriors, religious zealots and bloodthirsty land-grabbers who made up the supposedly Christian host. At some stage in the past Simon’s father had been appointed as the recognised leader of this army, and under his leadership it had laid waste to most of the Languedoc. This was part of what they called ‘le Midi’: that area of France from the Loire to the southern coast that was not so firmly in the grip of the Capetian kings who ruled from Paris. In the Languedoc, royal dominance was under constant challenge from powerful barons such as Raymond of Toulouse, and King Philippe had been secretly appreciative of the drive south by forces under the notional command of the Pope. In reality, the army was led by men such as Simon’s father who were under feudal bondage to the king, so that whatever land they overran would be held under his suzerainty. While Simon had been growing up in military camps on the fringes of one siege after another, they had overrun a good deal of land in the name of Christ. The unwarlike — and largely unarmed — people who had been besieged, killed, or burned out of their villages as the Crusade moved south hadn’t seemed much of a danger to Simon, to judge by the few who had been dragged back into the camp tied like hogs, and abused for the ribald amusement of the rough men at arms. Simon had learned at a very early age not to question the reason for all this loss of human life, but grew more convinced, as the years went by, that it was all about land and titles. Not that his father seemed to be lacking in estates. He was already the feudal lord of what they called Montfort-l’Amaury, a large area of rich pasture just north of Paris that had been first granted, over a century earlier, to the Amaury de Montfort after whom Simon’s brother was named. Although Simon’s father had benefitted from a substantial dowry when he married Simon’s mother, the union had not added to the de Montfort estates, which remained centred around Montfort-l’Amaury. Simon himself had been born in the castle from which his parents ruled this estate with a strong hand and a religious fervour that had allegedly spurred them to take up Pope Innocent’s call to exterminate Catharism, but it seemed to Simon that their primary motivation had been the desire to acquire more land in le Midi. Simon and his family had until recently enjoyed a luxurious, and largely undisturbed, existence behind the castle walls of Toulouse, until Count Raymond had begun to fight back. While they had been rooting out more Cathars in the Foix region — with Simon in his parentally imposed role of younger son hidden away in a tent studying religious tracts — Raymond had taken back his birthright. Now, the notional Crusader army was back out in the countryside, laying siege once again to the town that Simon Senior had so well fortified during his years of occupation. Today had been the first day of this siege, and there had been Crusader casualties — the ones whose groans had disturbed his studies. Simon put down the book his tutor had set him to study in order to find his older brother Amaury, who at twenty-three years of age was already a seasoned warrior who commanded one wing of their father’s force. He would be able to advise Simon whether or not he could look forward to a return to the warm firesides and feather-down beds inside Toulouse Castle. Amaury was knocking back the contents of a wine gourd when Simon found him in the tent in which some of his companions in arms were having their wounds dressed by monks. Skilled in matters of healing, the monks travelled with the Crusader forces in return for their keep. Amaury had spent the entire Crusade riding alongside their father and his immediate entourage, hoping for the opportunity to win his spurs in combat. He grimaced as Simon walked up to him and asked about their father. ‘He is supervising the dispatch of those who sought to break free in a sortie from the main town