Like always.
This was a holy place, despite the tour guides?lies.
And the perfect location.
To finally confront the devil.
揌e is not my child,?the priest said, voice rising. 揚lease do not say that again.?
Bernat stood outside the rectory, beneath an open window. He抎 followed his mother from their home, across the streets of Pau, to here. She抎 been upset all morning. When she抎 knocked on the rectory door and entered he抎 thought her need spiritual and almost left. But something had told him to be sure.
So he抎 found the window.
He抎 lived in Pau all ten years of his life, enjoying hikes in the nearby mountains and swims in the icy-cold lakes. All had been great until six months ago, when his father suddenly died, his heart giving out. His mother had taken the loss hard but, true to her good nature, she抎 rebounded.
But what was she doing now?
揥hy do you lie??his mother asked in her soft voice. 揥hy hurt me like this??
揑 do not mean to hurt you. I am simply telling the truth. I have no child.?
揃ut you do. I have kept this to myself all these years out of respect to my husband. With him now dead, it is time for you to know the truth.?
He was shocked at what his mother had said.
It couldn抰 be.
揇o you deny what happened between us??his mother asked. 揌ow could you possibly??
揗adam棓
揗y name is Rene. You called me Rene when you took me to your bed.?
揑 prefer to keep this at arm抯 length,?the priest said. 揗adam, we have known each other a long time. I baptized your son. You have volunteered your services to this parish incessantly. I too have served this parish a long time. Never has there been even a hint of scandal associated with me.?
揃ecause I kept quiet. I respected you. I respected the church. But I also cannot deny what happened between us. I卨oved you. I still love you. How can you stand there and deny the truth??
A long silence passed, and the sound of distant traffic could be heard. He抎 walked down this alley between the rectory and the church many times. He attended school nearby and mass every Sunday. He抎 passed this window day after day, never realizing that it opened to the priest. A man he抎 both feared and idolized. All of his friends felt the same way. The black suit and white collar that swept into their classrooms from time to time, smiling, speaking to them for a few moments, then leaving. He was Father. The one who granted forgiveness in the confessional and Holy Communion at the altar. A man to be respected and obeyed.
But his father?
No.
His father was dead.
揥hile my husband lived,?his mother said, 揑 vowed never to speak of this. And I never have.?
揧ou should have continued to keep that vow.?
His attention piqued.
An admission?
Bernat walked back through the ruin, toward the southwest and the side from which he抎 climbed. The day was waning and the number of visitors dwindling. Precisely why he抎 chosen this rural locale, along with its obvious symbolism, as the meeting spot. He stared out at the distant hills, the countryside filled with trees and pastures under a pale sun. Below, the car park remained nearly empty, Andre still in position.
He liked to imagine what happened here in May 1243 when a crusader army arrived below. Ten years of fighting had failed to end Catharism. The pope had threatened a renewed crusade with more deaths and persecutions. Cathars had steadily withdrawn to remote citadels, which began to fall one by one. The fortress at Monts間ur was last. Nearly impregnable. Rising three stories. Around its central courtyard stood workshops, storage rooms, and stables for horses and mules. The crusaders laid siege and a few hundred Cathars managed to hold them off for nine long months. Finally, on March 16, 1244, they surrendered. Two hundred and twenty Cathars refused to renounce their faith and were burned en masse at the base of the pog, each one dying willingly in the flames.
The thought turned his stomach.
Greed, arrogance, hypocrisy.
The Holy Roman Church was guilty of all three.
Then.
And now.
揥hat would you have me do??his mother asked the priest. 揑 have a son to raise. Alone.?
揕eave here, and never broach this subject with me again.?
揧ou deny your child??
揑。 Have. No. Son.?
揧ou do. A fine young man named for my father.?
揜ene.?
No Madam? Much more personal. Bernat stood beneath the window mesmerized, angry, confused.
揚lease,?the priest said. 揑 am to be the new bishop of Albi. I will be leaving here soon.?
揧ou can抰 go. Your son needs a father in his life. I recognize you cannot be that openly, but you could be that privately.?
揑 cannot. Not in any way. That boy means nothing to me.?