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The Knight And The Gnostic

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phlebas said:
Episode 9

"Yield! Are you the lady Barbara de Moore? Yield, and I will offer you what protection I can. My lady, the Pope's man is here and he desires to make an example of you. Become my prisoner and I will try to shield you from him."
I see in her eyes that she trusts me, she who a moment ago wished to take off my head. She looks straight at me without fear.
"I yield Sir Knight. I pray you extend your protection over my people here with me."

My men have caught up with me now and secure this part of the wall, turning away threats. Can I take them prisoner, will the code of paratge force the Abbot to uphold honour and treat them with dignity? I can only do what I can, what chivalry demands, to protect the weak.

"Is there somewhere we can go, somewhere safe we can hold you?"
"Yes, there is a tower in which I have my chambers. It is not far, and it can be defended. I will show you."

As a group we moved swiftly off the wall and through the streets. I could see how much the despoiling of the city and the agony of its people affected the noble lady. She and her companions were lucky, they did not find themselves skewered by lance or sword, or by the hot member of some northern peasant soldier. Fair and unblemished they were still, 'perfecti' indeed, but it will be difficult for me to preserve them in the face of the Abbot.

I know his men had seen us, I knew he would not be far behind me, with his demands for access to the ladies under my protection. As we arrived at the tower one of his men was waiting for us, an evil smirk on his face.

"My Lord, you have done well! The Abbot will be pleased that you have taken so many of the heretics alive. Will you give them into my keeping on his behalf?"

"I am sorry My Lord Thibault, these women have surrendered themselves into my keeping and I have pledged to guarantee their safety from the slaughter around us. I cannot hand them to your keeping as I am honour bound to protect them.

"Come now my Lord Flebas. You know what their fate will be. These heretic whores are to be put to the question. They will taste the irons, and the rack, and sing like no choir you have ever heard. Why postpone what is inevitable, eh? Why risk the wrath of his Excellency. You must desire to see what they have beneath those robes, I see the glances you cast over their bodies. Give them up, and we will uncover the treasures that this city has to offer."

I see fear in the eyes of the lady's followers, though she herself holds brave and firm before Thibault's lecherous gaze. I must do what I can for her.

"Inside my lady. Take your people inside and we will do what we can. Pray for a miracle!"
Click to expand...
A Gentleman!

Barb, there is hope!
 
Episode 10.

I hurry my young perfecti inside, hastily closing and then bolting the heavy wooden door behind me before chasing after the girls to the relative safety of my chamber at the top of the tower. As I race up the stairs, I hope and pray that de Flebas is as good as his word ... that he will do his best to ward off the likes of that vile Lord Thibault, not to mention the Abbot.

On reaching my chamber, I find the girls clustered excitedly at the window. Standing on my toes, I look out over their heads, and my hand flies to my mouth. The scoundrels are not only sacking my city, but they have set the cathedral on fire! People stream from the west front portals, screaming, their clothing aflame on their backs ... only to be ruthlessly cut down by the cordon of soldiers and ruffians who eagerly await them with drawn swords. The dead lie in heaps on the steps of the Cathedral. How many more souls must be burning inside?

madiosi 2016 - 172a-KatG.jpg

What can I do? What is my duty to my God and to my people? I fall to my knees, and bow my head in prayer, asking for divine guidance. I listen to my inner self, to my self of peace, and then I rise slowly to my feet. I tell the other perfecti to remain where they are. I retrace my steps back down the stairway. On reaching the landing, I stride purposely to the heavy tower door, which I unbolt and allow to swing open.

De Flebas stands outside with his men, just as I had left them, resolutely facing a red-faced, highly agitated Lord Thibault, who has by now gathered his own heavily armed retinue behind him. It appears there is about to be a clash of arms. De Flebas and his people have drawn their swords and stand at the ready, shoulder to shoulder. And Thibault's men, who are far more numerous, have begun to move forward, advancing behind a wall of raised shields.

"Wait!" I shout. De Flebas turns, looking startled. Thibault raises his hand, signaling his men to hold back.

"I wish to speak," I continue, doing my best to appear confident. "I want no more bloodshed. There is no need to fight over me. Please take me to the Abbott. He is a man of the cloth as I am a woman of the cloth. I trust that together, under the hand of God, he and I can come to an accommodation that will put a swift end to this horror! Too many have perished already. The killing must stop! I only ask two things: that I meet with him alone and that my girls ... my young perfecti in the tower ... be protected. I want them left unmolested."

Thibault nods affirmatively, a smile of satisfaction crossing his face ... no, that is too kind ... it is an evil smirk! I had hoped for better. A shadow of doubt crosses my mind.

De Flebas, turns to remind me of his earlier statement, that he will do what he can to offer protection, but that his power to do so will be limited.

I hesitate, then I slowly remove my armor and stand before them in only my short linen shirt ... a dark patch of sweat between my breasts ... to symbolically show my sincerity ... declaring myself ready to meet the Abbott in the spirit of peace.

Thibault nods to his men, two of whom slide past de Flebas and take me in hand. One produces a length of rope. The other jerks my arms roughly behind my back. The other tugs at my shirt, baring my shoulder. My wrists are quickly bound.

De Flebas asks if that is necessary.

"For her own protection," growls Thibault, "she has surrendered and placed herself in my custody; I take no chances."

Half a dozen of Thibault's men race up the stairway. Minutes later they return, pushing and shoving my young perfecti before them ... each bound at the wrists behind her back. The binding of my own wrists is disconcerting. To see my young followers similarly bound and in some cases wearing shirts already ripped and torn is deeply worrying.

They line us up and we begin our march to the Chateau de Beziers at the far end of town, where I am told the Abbott awaits my arrival. As we wind our way under guard through the flames and carnage of the dying town, de Flebas takes his place alongside me.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
:confused::confused::confused:
Barbaria1 said:
Episode 10.

I hurry my young perfecti inside, hastily closing and then bolting the heavy wooden door behind me before chasing after the girls to the relative safety of my chamber at the top of the tower. As I race up the stairs, I hope and pray that de Flebas is as good as his word ... that he will do his best to ward off the likes of that vile Lord Thibault, not to mention the Abbot.

On reaching my chamber, I find the girls clustered excitedly at the window. Standing on my toes, I look out over their heads, and my hand flies to my mouth. The scoundrels are not only sacking my city, but they have set the cathedral on fire! People stream from the west front portals, screaming, their clothing aflame on their backs ... only to be ruthlessly cut down by the cordon of soldiers and ruffians who eagerly await them with drawn swords. The dead lie in heaps on the steps of the Cathedral. How many more souls must be burning inside?

What can I do? What is my duty to my God and to my people? I fall to my knees, and bow my head in prayer, asking for divine guidance. I listen to my inner self, to my self of peace, and then I rise slowly to my feet. I tell the other perfecti to remain where they are. I retrace my steps back down the stairway. On reaching the landing, I stride purposely to the heavy tower door, which I unbolt and allow to swing open.

De Flebas stands outside with his men, just as I had left them, resolutely facing a red-faced, highly agitated Lord Thibault, who has by now gathered his own heavily armed retinue behind him. It appears there is about to be a clash of arms. De Flebas and his people have drawn their swords and stand at the ready, shoulder to shoulder. And Thibault's men, who are far more numerous, have begun to move forward, advancing behind a wall of raised shields.

"Wait!" I shout. De Flebas turns, looking startled. Thibault raises his hand, signaling his men to hold back.

"I wish to speak," I continue, doing my best to appear confident. "I want no more bloodshed. There is no need to fight over me. Please take me to the Abbott. He is a man of the cloth as I am a woman of the cloth. I trust that together, under the hand of God, he and I can come to an accommodation that will put a swift end to this horror! Too many have perished already. The killing must stop! I only ask two things: that I meet with him alone and that my girls ... my young perfecti in the tower ... be protected. I want them left unmolested."

Thibault nods affirmatively, a smile of satisfaction crossing his face ... no, that is too kind ... it is an evil smirk! I had hoped for better. A shadow of doubt crosses my mind.

De Flebas, turns to remind me of his earlier statement, that he will do what he can to offer protection, but that his power to do so will be limited.

I hesitate, then I slowly remove my armor and stand before them in only my short linen shirt ... a dark patch of sweat between my breasts ... to symbolically show my sincerity ... declaring myself ready to meet the Abbott in the spirit of peace.

Thibault nods to his men, two of whom slide past de Flebas and take me in hand. One produces a length of rope. The other jerks my arms roughly behind my back. The other tugs at my shirt, baring my shoulder. My wrists are quickly bound.

De Flebas asks if that is necessary.

"For her own protection," growls Thibault, "she has surrendered and placed herself in my custody; I take no chances."

Half a dozen of Thibault's men race up the stairway. Minutes later they return, pushing and shoving my young perfecti before them ... each bound at the wrists behind her back. The binding of my own wrists is disconcerting. To see my young followers similarly bound and in some cases wearing shirts already ripped and torn is deeply worrying.

They line us up and we begin our march to the Chateau de Beziers at the far end of town, where I am told the Abbott awaits my arrival. As we wind our way under guard through the flames and carnage of the dying town, de Flebas takes his place alongside me.
Click to expand...
Perfectae??? :confused:
 
Juan1234 said:
:confused::confused::confused:
Perfectae??? :confused:
Click to expand...

So many variations in spellings across languages ... I am using "perfecti" here as the name given in the Merriam-Webster Dictionary:

Definition of perfecti
  1. : members of the most extreme and ascetic class constituting the elite of various religious sects (as the Cathari or the Manichaeans)
 
Barbaria1 said:
So many variations in spellings across languages ... I am using "perfecti" here as the name given in the Merriam-Webster Dictionary:

Definition of perfecti
  1. : members of the most extreme and ascetic class constituting the elite of various religious sects (as the Cathari or the Manichaeans)
Click to expand...
Sorry. Shutting up. :p
 
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