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The Knight And The Gnostic

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phlebas said:
Loyalty, hope, maybe even affection. She waited in hope, but you know what the Scottish bard almost said "The best laid plans of mice and Barb go oft astray"

And now we move towards the end game . . . .

Episode 32

The knock on the head has affected me more than I expected. After leaving the Abbot's men I set out to meet Barbara, but somehow I found myself slumped against a wall. I don't know how long I was there, but fearing that I may have missed my rendezvous with Barbara I stood too quickly, making me giddy for a moment, then I hurried on to the orchard.

As I feared! I approach the orchard to see poor Barbara bound with a pole across her shoulders and with a rope around her neck! That vile beast Bernard had her, I was too late! They had cast away her cloak, and doubtless violated her. Her arms were stretched out, her body exposed, and she was going to be marched through the town like this!

"Well will you look at who has turned up now? I wonder how you knew just where to find us, Flebas?"

This was too much for me.

"You forget yourself, Bernard the oaf! You will address me correctly or not at all!"

With this I cuffed him hard across the face, and kicked the feet out from under him. His face betrayed his rage and hatred for this humiliation, but he stayed down, he knew he was on dangerous ground and that I was within my rights to chastise him for such a liberty. No matter, I was late and he had the upper hand, I could not stage a rescue in the face of numerous witnesses. There was nothing to do but to go along with things now.

I join their procession back within the city, back to the Abbot. Barbara caught my eye and nodded her acceptance. She knew now that events had an inevitable momentum, her dreams of freedom were sweet but short lived. I had tried to save her, and through my own weakness I had failed. Now she was to meet the judgement of Arnaud Amaury.

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There he was, hardly able to contain his pleasure that his prize captive had been returned to him. She stands before him, weary but proud, her bare breasts thrust forward by the pose forced on her, her body dirty but her spirit unbroken. I hold my breath to see what he will pronounce, sure that he has something suitably awful and public in mind to crush the life out of this rebellion.

"There you are, mistress de Moore. I am so glad to see you returned safely to our protection. Now, we must proceed without further delay. You have freely confessed your sins, your error, before our court. You have attempted to escape lawful punishment, which is a very serous matter. You will meet death, yes, inevitable for your level of crime. You will go to your maker and you will serve as an example to every person here that your heresy is a path to death and not life. You claimed spiritual purity, which strikes me as dangerously close to blasphemy. For this, and for vexing me so with your intransigence, I sentence you to death here on the walls of the city. You will be taken as you are to the wall where you will be nailed to a cross, to mark your infamy. You will be crucified in view of the army and the population and you will hang there until your death. Take her from my sight."

I gasp in shock! Crucifixion! This was outrageous, sacriligious! Can he mean this? That Barbara will be taken and nailed to a cross to die, for all to see? The Abbot was overstepping his authority this time, surely! But as I look around I see his followers nod in agreement, even eagerness. Barbara looks stunned, but struggles to pull herself together. Why couldn't I save her when I had the chance! Now I must witness this abomination of an execution, this good and innocent woman will be subject to the greatest of public indignity. While I stand in shock the party start to move off, the Abbot has clearly planned this in advance. I can do nothing but follow.
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I knew that little toad of a man would not have the dignity to give Barbara de Moore a quick, and noble death. That petty little man:mad:
Don't be too hard on yourself de Flebas, you tried your best, that is all anyone can hope to do.
As usual, a great written episode.
 
Episode 33

Crucified! He can't be serious! But the Abbot and Papal Legate, Arnaud Amaury, is not only a serious man, he is cunning too.

By executing me in exactly the same manner as the ancient Romans did to Christ, our Savior, Arnaud is mocking the elevated status of women afforded to me ... and to my other young perfecti sisters ... by our true and holy movement of faith and redemption.

He is seizing the moment to mock both me and the concept of a pure and righteously saintly woman ... a perfecti ... by publicly crucifying me ... me, not a man, but me ... a woman ... on a cross ... in juxtaposition to and in direct contradiction of the sacred image of the true Savior.

My crucifixion near the castle at the highest point of the wall of Beziers, where everyone can see it, is intended by the Abbot to be a clear and memorable demonstration, to one and all, of my ordinariness, of my inability to overcome my human frailties, of my mortality. He aims to reveal me to be nothing more than a blasphemy, an anti-Christ disguised in a woman's body!

All this comes to me in a rush, and I reel under its impact. I stand there stunned, my mind retreating, racing back to my capture in the olive grove, to my brutal triple rape by the wicked Bernard and his two thugs, to the encounter with de Flebas as they marched me down the hill, to his acquiescence to a situation beyond his control, to my nod of forgiveness, to the gathering throng as I was escorted to and through the gates of the city and paraded naked through the streets, to the way they all joined in procession .... soldiers, knights, scoundrels, townspeople ... all drawn by the prospect of a grisly spectacle.

And to how I had imagined my execution, believing it would be quick and somehow noble. In my mind, I thought I would stand defiant until they pressed my neck to the block and the executioner raised his ax. Or, I would stand tied to a post atop a byre and pray to God as my body was consumed in a flaming inferno. Or, I would show Arnaud a contemptuous look as they kicked the stool from beneath my feet and the gallows noose pulled tight and broke my neck.

But no, it is not to be. My execution will be slow, lasting for many hours ... interminable hours ... through which I will entertain the masses with my pathetic struggles and terrible suffering ... writhing and twisting, naked and rudely exposed, mocked and reviled. No greater humiliation and horror can I imagine than to die slowly, helplessly nailed to a cross!
 
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Barbaria1 said:
Episode 33

Crucified! He can't be serious! But the Abbot and Papal Legate, Arnaud Amaury, is not only a serious man, he is cunning too.

By executing me in exactly the same manner as the ancient Romans did to Christ, our Savior, Arnaud is mocking the elevated status of women afforded to me ... and to my other young perfecti sisters ... by our true and holy movement of faith and redemption.

He is seizing the moment to mock both me and the concept of a pure and righteously saintly woman ... a perfecti ... by publicly crucifying me ... me, not a man, but me ... a woman ... on a cross ... in juxtaposition to and in direct contradiction of the sacred image of the true Savior.

My crucifixion near the castle at the highest point of the wall of Beziers, where everyone can see it, is intended by the Abbot to be a clear and memorable demonstration, to one and all, of my ordinariness, of my inability to overcome my human frailties, of my mortality. He aims to reveal me to be nothing more than a blasphemy, an anti-Christ disguised in a woman's body!

All this comes to me in a rush, and I reel under its impact. I stand there stunned, my mind retreating, racing back to my capture in the olive grove, to my brutal triple rape by the wicked Bernard and his two thugs, to the encounter with de Flebas as they marched me down the hill, to his acquiescence to a situation beyond his control, to my nod of forgiveness, to the gathering throng as I was escorted to and through the gates of the city and paraded naked through the streets, to the way they all joined in procession .... soldiers, knights, scoundrels, townspeople ... all drawn by the prospect of a grisly spectacle.

And to how I had imagined my execution, believing it would be quick and somehow noble. In my mind, I thought I would stand defiant until they pressed my neck to the block and the executioner raised his ax. Or, I would stand tied to a post atop a byre and pray to God as my body was consumed in a flaming inferno. Or, I would show Arnaud a contemptuous look as they kicked the stool from beneath my feet and the gallows noose pulled tight and broke my neck.

But no, it is not to be. My execution will be slow, lasting for many hours ... interminable hours ... through which I will entertain the masses with my pathetic struggles and terrible suffering ... writhing and twisting, naked and rudely exposed, mocked and reviled. No greater humiliation and horror can I imagine than to die slowly, helplessly nailed to a cross!
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Yes, I was hoping for a more noble excecution for you. A quick beheading would have been very noble. That is what you deserve, not displayed nude on a cross, to be humiliated like some common criminal.
But Arnaud Amaury seems to have no mercy, that treacherous fiend. I had a feeling this was going to happen:(
Another fine episode Barb!
 
Hondoboot2 said:
Yes, I was hoping for a more noble excecution for you. A quick beheading would have been very noble. That is what you deserve, not displayed nude on a cross, to be humiliated like some common criminal.
But Arnaud Amaury seems to have no mercy, that treacherous fiend. I had a feeling this was going to happen:(
Another fine episode Barb!
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Yes Hondo, you are right. The word "mercy" is just not in Arnaud's vocabulary. :confused:
 
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