The Perfect Heresy by Stephen O’Shea

discussions so as not to goad already hostile audiences. His debating place was taken by another strong-willed, if less antipathetic Cistercian, Bishop Fulk of Toulouse.
    Within a few years, Dominic’s perseverance in the ways of poverty had won him a reputation rivaling that of the Perfect. The Spaniard’s ceaseless wanderings through the hinterlands of Foix, Toulouse, and Albi brought him deep within dualist country. At one point, according to legend, a group of heretical peasants intercepted him in the middle of a field and asked him what he would do if they attacked him. Dominic’s famous reply: “I should beg you not to kill me at one blow, but to tear me limbfrom limb, that thus my martyrdom might be prolonged; I would like to be a mere limbless trunk, with eyes gouged out, wallowing in my own blood, that I might thereby win a worthier martyr’s crown.” He was left alone.

     
    It was Peter of Castelnau who brought these years of talking to a close, although not in the manner he intended. In the spring of 1207, he visited the minor nobility of western Provence and ordered them to persecute heretics instead of using mercenaries in private wars that often harmed Church interests. At the time, the Provençals were in revolt against their titular overlord, Raymond of Toulouse. Although they swore to obey Peter on the subject of mercenaries, Count Raymond flatly refused. He could not conduct his business without hired troops, and he was neither inclined nor able to hunt down his people for their religious beliefs. Peter excommunicated him instantly, dissolving all feudal obligations owed to him by his vassals. He did this in front of a large gathering, thundering out the final flourish of his anathema: “He who dispossesses you will be accounted virtuous, he who strikes you dead will earn a blessing.” It was, historical consensus holds, an extraordinarily provocative act by Peter, which signaled an impatience with the campaign of preaching and debating.
    Backed into a corner, Raymond did what he had always done since becoming count in 1194: He made promises he had no intention of keeping. He agreed to be the scourge of heretics and to drive the mercenaries from his lands. In August of 1207, Raymond was pardoned.
    Summer turned to fall, and nothing happened. Dominicpreached at Prouille, Fulk debated at Pamiers, Raymond dallied at St. Gilles, Arnold conferred with Peter, and Innocent wrote again to the king of France. Finally, the churchmen sought to break the impasse.
    Raymond was singled out for punishment again. As the most powerful lord of a Languedoc rife with heresy, he was held responsible for the hideous blemish disfiguring the face of Christendom. A list of offenses was drawn up once more: He had stolen Church property, offended bishops, outraged abbots, used mercenaries, given public office to Jews, and supported the Cathars. A new excommunication ensued. All of Europe was invited to disregard him, to take whatever was his with the blessing of the pope.
    Raymond tried to negotiate again. He invited Peter of Castelnau for talks that winter in his castle at St. Gilles. According to the correspondence of Innocent III, our principal source for the incidents to follow, the negotiations led nowhere, and Raymond ended up physically threatening the legate in front of witnesses. No doubt the diplomatic count could no longer bear the meddlesome monk, in much the same way that King Henry II of England had lost his patience with Becket.
    On January 13, 1208, the talks broke off amid much acrimony. Peter left St. Gilles with his retinue, bound for Rome. Early the next morning, opposite Aries, Peter and his escort rode out to the ferry crossing of the Rhône. As they waited by the riverside, the irreparable occurred. An unknown horseman bore down on them and drove home a sword through Peter’s back.
    The legate of Pope Innocent III lay dead on the ground. The conversation was over.

5.

Penance and Crusade
     

     
    A