WE must now go back to the Chateau de Viteau, and see what has happened
there since the departure of Louis for his new home. Of course, the boy
was greatly missed by his mother and brother, but Raymond soon found
himself so busy that he had not time enough to grieve very much over the
absence of his old playmate. In order to prepare himself for the school
at Paris he was obliged to study diligently, and in order that he might
make a good appearance at the house of his cousin, with whom he was to
live, Bernard insisted on his employing nearly all his leisure time in
out-door exercises and knightly accomplishments. Hawking was postponed
for the present, for, after the loss of Raymond's falcon was discovered,
Bernard declared that he had not the heart to train another one
immediately, even if a good bird could be easily obtained, which was not
the case.
Very little was said about the disappearance of the falcon. Raymond, his
mother, and the squire each had a suspicion that Louis had had something
to do with it; but no one of them mentioned it to either of the others.
Each hoped the suspicion was unfounded, and therefore said nothing about
it.
While Raymond was busy with his studies and his manly exercises, the
mind of Bernard, even while giving the boy the benefit of his knowledge
of the management of horses and the use of arms, was occupied with a
very serious matter.
As has been said before, the Countess of Viteau was one of the very few
ladies in France who was fairly educated, and who took an interest in
acquiring knowledge from books. This disposition, so unusual at that
time, together with her well-known efforts to have her sons educated,
even giving a helping hand herself whenever she found that she was
qualified to do so, had attracted attention to her, and many people
began to talk about her, as a woman who gave a great deal of time to
useless pursuits. Why should a lady of her rank—these people said—wish
to read books and study out the meaning of old manuscripts, as if she
were of no higher station than a poor monk? If there were anything in
the books and parchments which she ought to know, the priests would tell
her all about it.
But the Countess thought differently, and she kept on with her reading,
which was almost entirely confined to religious works, and in this way
she gradually formed some ideas about religious matters which were
somewhat different from those taught at that time by the Church of Rome,
or, at least, from those taught by the priests about her. She saw no
harm in her opinions, and did not hesitate to speak of them to the
priests who came to the chateau from a neighboring monastery, and even
to argue in favor of them.
The priests, however, did see harm in the ideas of the Countess, simply
because, in those days, people had very narrow and bigoted ways of
thinking in regard to religious affairs, and it was generally thought
that any person having an opinion differing, even very little, from what
was taught by the monks and priests, was doing a wicked thing to persist
in such an opinion after he had been told it was wrong.
For this reason, when the priests who had charge of the religious
services at Viteau found that their arguments made no impression on the
Countess, who was able to answer them back in such a way that they could
find nothing more to say on their side of the question, they reported
the state of affairs to some of the higher officers of the Church, and,
in due time, a man was sent to Viteau to find out exactly what its
mistress did think, and why she was so wicked as to think it.
The person who was sent was the Dominican monk, Brother Anselmo, who was
met by the two boys and Bernard, on the occasion when we first made
their acquaintance. Brother Anselmo was a quiet-spoken man, making no
pretensions to authority or to superior knowledge; and the Countess
talked with him and answered his questions freely and unsuspectingly.
She knew he was a Dominican, and she knew he had come to the
neighborhood of Viteau on purpose to talk with her on certain religious
subjects; but this did not surprise her, as she supposed all good people
were just as much interested in these subjects as she was; but she had
no idea that he was connected with the Inquisition at Toulouse.
Bernard, the squire, however, knew well who he was, and it troubled him
greatly to know it.
Some weeks after the Dominican had begun to make his almost daily visits
to Viteau, he came, one day, accompanied by another monk, who did not
enter the grounds, but who remained outside the little gate, waiting for
his companion to return.
Bernard noticed the monk waiting outside, and thinking that this unusual
occurrence had something suspicious about it, he followed Brother
Anselmo when he left the chateau, and, as he rejoined his fellow monk,
the squire slipped quietly up to the wall and listened to what they said
to each other. In this case, Bernard did not consider that he was doing
a very improper thing. He feared that danger threatened the household of
Viteau, and that these two monks were the persons through whom the evil
would come. Therefore, he believed that it was his duty to employ every
possible means of averting this danger; and he listened with all his
ears.
What he heard was very little. The two monks stood silent a few moments,
and then the one who had been waiting said something in a low voice,
which Bernard could not hear. To this Brother Anselmo answered: "We have
done all we can. I think it is a case for the Holy Inquisition."
And then the two walked off together.
Bernard now knew that his fears were correct. His beloved mistress, on
account of some of her religious opinions, was in danger of being
carried a prisoner to Toulouse, there to be tried before the officers of
the Inquisition. He had no doubt that her opinions, whatever they were,
were entirely correct, for he had a great respect for her religious
knowledge, and he felt sure she knew more than the monks who came to the
chateau, but he well understood that, if she should be put on trial, and
if the doctrines she believed to be true were found to differ, in the
least point, from those taught by the priests, she would be considered
guilty of heresy, and perhaps be put to death.
The squire went away from the wall a very sad man. He was certain that
no one at the chateau but himself knew of the danger of its mistress,
and he felt that it rested on him to take some immediate steps to save
her, if that were possible.
As he approached the house, Bernard met Raymond, who was coming to take
some lessons from him in the use of the long sword. The good squire
never threw so much energy and good-will into his lessons as he did that
day.
"If he has to fight for his mother," he said to himself, "I want him to
fight well."
[Illustration: BERNARD TEACHING RAYMOND THE USE OF THE LONG SWORD.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------