A Plague of Heretics

CHAPTER TEN

Both canons and the other clergy were fond of their dinner, so on that November Wednesday a well-fed convocation assembled in the chapter house soon after noon, the cathedral community eating earlier than many folk outside the Close. This was not, of course, a regular chapter meeting, which always took place between Prime and Terce, two of the services held earlier in the morning. However, many of the canons, vicars-choral, secondaries and choristers attended again, mainly out of curiosity about this novel event. Robert de Baggetor had encouraged this, as he wanted the maximum publicity for his campaign against the heretics — even a few townsmen had sidled in without challenge, including Clement the physician.

As the senior clergy trooped in, John de Alençon followed them unenthusiastically. He took his place in the chair that had been set on a small dais alongside the lectern used daily by a secondary to read a chapter from the Rule of St Benedict, a ritual that gave the chapter its name. The benches were ranked in a half-circle before him, with another on each side of his seat to accommodate the interrogators. These were the three prime movers, the canons who had pressed for this enquiry, and the other senior proctor, Canon William de Swindon. In addition, the bishop was represented by his chaplain and the deacon who was his legal adviser, a wizen-faced man who looked as if he drank vinegar instead of wine. The two proctors’ men, Gale and Blundus, stood one each side of the entrance door, looking as if they hoped for a riot, so that they could lay about them with their cudgels.

After the shuffling and fidgeting had subsided, the archdeacon nodded to the bishop’s chaplain, who went to the lectern and read out a passage from the Vulgate, chosen by de Baggetor. Unsurprisingly, it was one of the more lurid and threatening parts of the Book of Revelation, obviously intended to emphasise the tortures of hell that St John alleged were waiting for heretics. John de Alençon then rose to his feet to intone a prayer. It was a fairly neutral supplication, asking for God’s guidance in their deliberations, but free from any blood-and-thunder imprecations, which would have better pleased the canons. Then the two bailiffs went outside and marched in the five subjects of the inquisition, who were stood in a line before the dais, with Gale and Blundus at either end.

‘Give us your names and where you live,’ requested the archdeacon, in a mild tone that held no hint of threat.

Adam the fishmonger, Oliver and Peter and Jordan Cosse from Ide gave the details without demur, but the fifth man took a step forward, which made Blundus grab his arm and try to pull him back until de Alençon signalled to him to desist.

‘I will give you my name, as it is no secret,’ boomed the man in a deep voice. ‘It is Algar, a fuller from the lower town. But I deny the right of this court to bring us here and to question us. We are all freemen who have done no wrong. By whose authority do you claim to hold sway over us?’

Before the archdeacon could respond, Robert de Baggetor had jumped from his seat, red-faced and furious.

‘What authority?’ he shouted. ‘The authority of God in Heaven, transmitted through His vicar on earth, the Holy Father in Rome!’

Algar, a stocky man with wide shoulders and bulging muscles, was unrepentant. ‘We acknowledge God and His precious Son as fervently as you, sir. We are no heathens or pagans, but we do not need a vast army of priests and their acolytes to intercede on our behalf.’

This blunt statement set the tone for the arguments, bluster and threats that followed for the next hour. John de Alençon did his best to act as an impartial referee, but the three canons became more and more intemperate as the men arrayed before them kept stoically to their principles.

De Baggetor was the most aggressive, but Richard fitz Rogo and Ralph de Hospitali attacked the five men with more penetrating vigour. However, whatever accusations and religious dogma were employed, the men stuck to their theme that they were entitled to worship their God in whatever way they chose.

‘We are more steadfast in our beliefs than many priests, especially those in high positions,’ claimed Adam. ‘At least we do not sell absolution from sin as if it was a pound of herrings on my stall!’

This inflamed de Baggetor, especially as he knew it was true. He rose and pointed a quivering finger at the fishmonger.

‘You add insults to Christ’s Holy Church as well as your admitted sin of heresy! You condemn yourselves out of your own mouths!’

Again and again, de Alençon had to rise and attempt to quell what was becoming a tirade on one side and a stubborn stonewalling on the other. It was Algar the fuller and Adam of Dunsford who did most of the responding to the blistering if repetitive attacks of the canons. After they had angrily covered the same ground several times, the archdeacon held up his hands, demanding quiet both from the disputants and the audience, who were now calling out and arguing among themselves, though as they were virtually all in holy orders, there was nothing but support for the canons.

‘This is supposed to be an examination of these men, not just an opportunity for invective and condemnation,’ he called out sternly. ‘Neither is this a trial, for which we require the express consent of the bishop and preferably his presence.’

De Baggetor swung around on his bench to face John.

‘You are the bishop’s vicar-general — you represent him and could make judgements here and now, archdeacon.’

‘Indeed, you could send these men to the secular authorities — as well as excommunicating them on the spot!’ added Richard fitz Rogo. A buzz of agreement rippled around the circle of benches.

‘Not only excommunication, but anathema itself!’ grated de Baggetor.

‘They have not only failed to deny their heresy, but appear to revel in it!’ snapped Ralph de Hospitali. ‘What more do we need to hear? They are condemned out of their own mouths!’

‘This is not the bishop’s court, in spite of what you claim,’ said de Alençon stubbornly. ‘The matter must be put before Our Grace Lord Henry when he returns. It is too important a matter to be dealt with behind his back. Both the message from the Papal Legate and the terms of the original decretal of Verona specifically put the onus to prosecute heresy on bishops.’

A heated argument broke out between the three canons and the vicar-general, but de Alençon was adamant. Nothing would be done until the bishop was consulted. He swept his arm around to encompass the five men still standing resolutely before them.

‘We know who they are. They have lived in the city or nearby for years. What else can we do with them except release them?’

Protests and argument welled up again, involving the people in the congregation as well as the angry canons, but the archdeacon stepped up to the empty lectern and rapped hard on it with the handle of his small eating-knife which he pulled from his pouch.

‘This convocation is now closed,’ he shouted, motioning at the five men below. ‘For now, you are free to go. You proctors’ men, make sure that they are allowed to leave the precinct safely, do you understand?’

Glowering, Gale and Blundus shepherded the accused out through the door, reluctantly pushing aside a number of secondaries and choristers who shouted, jostled and even spat at them. Inside the chamber, unexpectedly one of the listeners from the back benches strode forward and addressed the canons. It was Clement of Salisbury, arrayed in the traditional costume of a physician, a long black tunic with a narrow white apron running down from neck to hem and a black skullcap upon his head.

‘I am but a layman, but a good Christian and a fervent disciple of the Holy Church!’ he called in his strong voice, vibrant with emotion. ‘I speak for many members of Exeter’s devout worshippers in that we believe that these heretics are being dealt with far too lightly. They should be exposed to the full might of the Church’s authority and then turned over to the king’s officers for punishment — though I must confess that I have little faith in some of those officers, who seem to be too sympathetic to these heretical opinions!’

There was a chorus of cheers and stamping at that, ill suited to the usual solemn atmosphere of the chapter house. But the canons on the front benches seemed delighted with Clement’s intervention, and fitz Rogo overrode the archdeacon’s attempt at moderation by leaping to his feet.

‘You see, we have the overwhelming support of our flock in this matter! Though the Holy Roman Church is quite capable of protecting itself, it is comforting to know that our congregations are of the same mind!’

Robert de Baggetor turned angrily to the archdeacon, eager to remonstrate with him for losing the opportunity to settle the matter quickly.

‘Why are you so sympathetic to these blasphemers?’ he snapped. ‘You above all people are supposed to give a lead, not defend these vile men!’

De Alençon shook his grey head. ‘I defended no one, and neither did I condemn them, for it is not within my remit so to do. You will have your chance to conclude this matter when you have placed it before Henry Marshal.’

He pulled the folds of his black cloak around him and walked out into the misty Close.