Free Tales of the Knights Templar by Katherine Kurtz

white-robed trio began their circuit of the roofed arcade. “I am pleased to see you again, Nicholas.”
    “Then you remember me?”
    “Oh, yes. You were pointed out to me by my former student, Tauler. He thought you showed promise.”
    Nicholas lowered his eyes modestly. “Father Johannes is a very great preacher.”
    “And a good judge of character. I am told he now preaches frequently in the Beguine houses.”
    “The whole region is aflame with the Spirit,” Nicholas Minor said, his eyes alight. “Everywhere, people talk of God.”
    “Not all the flames are metaphorical,” Trevet added somberly. “A growing number of bishops are less than pleased that these women and their male counterparts—Beghards, they call them—have taken it upon themselves to preach and teach, as well as to pray and perform their good works.”
    “There are such controversies in Germany, also,” Eckhart said. “And increasing oppression, I fear. Earlier, Nicholas Major, you mentioned a woman from Hainaut. This is the Beguine who was executed here in Paris last year?”
    “Ah, yes. That poor woman, Marguerite Porete. Another of Friar’s Guillaume’s forensic triumphs.”
    “It was reported that she was convicted by the theological faculty.”
    “And correctly reported, alas. Some of the brethren here concurred in that vote. Berengar of Landorra, for one.”
    “He can be severe. But why was there “such a process at all? Surely the bishop of Paris—”
    “Ah, but you see, the Beguine had previously submitted her little book to several theologians, Godfrey of Fontaines among them, God rest his mischievous soul. And Master Godfrey had approved it. He said her teaching was difficult, perhaps too rigorous for the simple souls for whom it was written, but without heretical intent or matter. In order for Friar Guillaume to obtain a conviction, Godfrey—who was inconveniently dead by then—would have to be overruled. It took twenty-four masters of theology to do it. But our pious brother and, I am told—” Trevet glanced around again and lowered his voice, “Nogaret himself, were able to convince them.”
    “She never spoke,” Nicholas Minor added, “either to admit or to deny.”
    “Even in the face of torture?”
    “Even at the stake.”
    For a moment Eckhart gazed through the drizzling mist into the garth. “She must have been steadied by God.”
    “Or by the devil,” Trevet said. “Surely you are not a partisan of the Free Spirit, Eckhart.”
    “Of freedom, yes, and of the Spirit—that, too, Master Nicholas. But not of heresy. Was she a heretic?”
    “I have not seen the book. All copies were destroyed, it is said. But Berengar and the others who had been shown the extracts were of one mind in believing so.”
    “Extracts? Did they not see the whole?”
    “It is customary in such matters to prepare only a list of erroneous statements. Theologians are much too preoccupied to sort through hundreds of pages of straw looking for a single turd.” The older man winked. “The inquisitors prefer to use their own noses for that.”
    “I would like to see this book, Nicholas.”
    “So would I, my friend.”
    In the brief lull that followed, Eckhart seemed to disappear into himself. Then the younger Nicholas asked, “Is it true that Nogaret is of Cathar stock?”
    Trevet nodded. “Rumor has it that his grand-sire was burned in the Carcassonne. But Nogaret himself was reared in the true faith.”
    A half-smile formed at the corners of Eckhart’s wide, generous mouth. “Perhaps. He has not proved himself overly kind to popes.”
    “And yet he indulges the Inquisition and raises Guillaume to prominence,” Nicholas Minor objected. “Is this the act of a secret Cathar?”
    “Ah, but consider, my young friend,” Trevet said. “How better to exact his revenge? Controlling the Inquisition is far more cunning than destroying such a marvelous weapon.”
    “But how?”
    The older friar smiled enigmatically. “By