rein in his commanding personality, on conspicuous display in the tumultuous two years leading up to this crucial interview, and learn the devious ways of the courtier. If one considers Bernardâs own recollections in 1319 of the push-me-pull-you beginning to his presentation in 1301, it seems likely that the two men had hit upon a strategy worthy of a courtroom drama, an elaborate choreography of deception.
Picquigny, Délicieux, and the men of Albi and Carcassonne entered the great hall in Senlis and made the customary obeisances to their lord. Doubtless Philip greeted his faithful servant Picquigny with some familiarity. Then he looked at the man about whom he had heard so many clamorous rumors, and bade Bernard Délicieux speak.
The friar began hesitatingly, saying that he would not have been in his majestyâs presence had not his magistrate, Jean de Picquigny, ordered him to come. Picquigny would have nodded on cue. The king inquired as to what had brought the men of Carcassonne and Albi to Senlis. Bernard replied that it was too awful to relate, too disturbing . . . he did not want to upset the king with such horrible tales.
At one moment Picquigny commanded the Franciscan to speak. Bernard refused, again saying he could not. He was too afraid. Other Franciscans had tried to tell the kingâs loyal servants in the south of the evil being done to the kingdom, but they had been dismissed as tale-tellers intent on diminishing the Dominicans. Laymen over the years had tried as well, lawyers of Carcassonne, but they ended up in the Wall, falsely accused of heresy. He feared that if he spoke out, then he too would feel the pain of Dominican fury.
Whether Bernard then gestured to the door, on the other side of which chafed the angry Dominicans, is unknown, but the temptation to do so for someone as histrionic as Délicieux must have been considerable. Neither do we know how long this pantomime of reluctance continued, only that it came to a rather dramatic end.
Stony-faced, the king pondered the men before him. They had traveled at great expense up to the north, encouraged in their suit by one of his most trusted enquêteurs , then obtained an audience with himâyet they dared not speak. Philip rose from his chair and crossed the short distance separating him from Bernard Délicieux. He placed his right hand on the friarâs tonsured head. The king swore that no harm would come to him no matter what he said or whom he accused. He gave his word, the kingâs wordâa royal guarantee of safetyâand commanded Délicieux to speak.
The moment had come, and the friar of Carcassonne seized it. He launched into his arguments, doubtless using all of the rhetorical and predicatory weapons at his disposal. The king was told that the inquisition thwarted his subjects at every turn. Whenever they defended the kingâs prerogatives, acted in the kingâs interests, tried to fulfill their duties and obligations to the king, they were attacked by the inquisitors and the bishop of Albi. These men actively undermined the Kingdom of France and, by their actions, led Philipâs subjects to the extremities of dangerous despair. An inquisitor had even preached that heresy had spread through the malevolence of the king of France.
It was a curious way to frame the complaints of a Languedoc still indignant at the deprivation of its independence, but Bernard had crafted his presentation for an audience of one. After having established what was at stake for Philip and his realm, he moved on to the particulars of the case: the iniquitous registers, invented Good Men, scandalous prosecutions, unconscionable extortions, unjust incarcerations, inhuman torments, the reign of terror. Given what contemporaries said of Bernardâs powers, the king must have opened wide his eyesâlike an owl, perhaps.
No detail was spared. The men of Albi chimed in with their condemnation of Bishop Castanet. Bernard
Picquigny, Délicieux, and the men of Albi and Carcassonne entered the great hall in Senlis and made the customary obeisances to their lord. Doubtless Philip greeted his faithful servant Picquigny with some familiarity. Then he looked at the man about whom he had heard so many clamorous rumors, and bade Bernard Délicieux speak.
The friar began hesitatingly, saying that he would not have been in his majestyâs presence had not his magistrate, Jean de Picquigny, ordered him to come. Picquigny would have nodded on cue. The king inquired as to what had brought the men of Carcassonne and Albi to Senlis. Bernard replied that it was too awful to relate, too disturbing . . . he did not want to upset the king with such horrible tales.
At one moment Picquigny commanded the Franciscan to speak. Bernard refused, again saying he could not. He was too afraid. Other Franciscans had tried to tell the kingâs loyal servants in the south of the evil being done to the kingdom, but they had been dismissed as tale-tellers intent on diminishing the Dominicans. Laymen over the years had tried as well, lawyers of Carcassonne, but they ended up in the Wall, falsely accused of heresy. He feared that if he spoke out, then he too would feel the pain of Dominican fury.
Whether Bernard then gestured to the door, on the other side of which chafed the angry Dominicans, is unknown, but the temptation to do so for someone as histrionic as Délicieux must have been considerable. Neither do we know how long this pantomime of reluctance continued, only that it came to a rather dramatic end.
Stony-faced, the king pondered the men before him. They had traveled at great expense up to the north, encouraged in their suit by one of his most trusted enquêteurs , then obtained an audience with himâyet they dared not speak. Philip rose from his chair and crossed the short distance separating him from Bernard Délicieux. He placed his right hand on the friarâs tonsured head. The king swore that no harm would come to him no matter what he said or whom he accused. He gave his word, the kingâs wordâa royal guarantee of safetyâand commanded Délicieux to speak.
The moment had come, and the friar of Carcassonne seized it. He launched into his arguments, doubtless using all of the rhetorical and predicatory weapons at his disposal. The king was told that the inquisition thwarted his subjects at every turn. Whenever they defended the kingâs prerogatives, acted in the kingâs interests, tried to fulfill their duties and obligations to the king, they were attacked by the inquisitors and the bishop of Albi. These men actively undermined the Kingdom of France and, by their actions, led Philipâs subjects to the extremities of dangerous despair. An inquisitor had even preached that heresy had spread through the malevolence of the king of France.
It was a curious way to frame the complaints of a Languedoc still indignant at the deprivation of its independence, but Bernard had crafted his presentation for an audience of one. After having established what was at stake for Philip and his realm, he moved on to the particulars of the case: the iniquitous registers, invented Good Men, scandalous prosecutions, unconscionable extortions, unjust incarcerations, inhuman torments, the reign of terror. Given what contemporaries said of Bernardâs powers, the king must have opened wide his eyesâlike an owl, perhaps.
No detail was spared. The men of Albi chimed in with their condemnation of Bishop Castanet. Bernard
Similar Books
