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smackenzieThe Gray Friars don't spend a great deal of time hunting for active non-believers, preferring to proselytize to those who don't have any particular faith and to minister to anyone who needs them, and in any case the Mother Church's inquisitors – and sometimes the Black Friars – always seem to find the heretics first. Brother Peire has to content himself with talking to his brother friars about what to do about heresies and how to handle the people preaching them.
The consensus, unsurprisingly, is that they must be made to recant, for their own good and the good of their immortal souls, and so they can't spread their heresies like a plague among the faithful. Several of the brothers, as well as the abbot, are old enough to remember the last violent surge of heretical belief and the spiritual trauma that it inflicted on the city, and while no one really wants to see a return to those days, everyone should be prepared for them.
"We were put on this earth to help men and women find peace," the abbot says, "to pray for them and to bring them closer to God. Heretics are a challenge from the Devil, promoted by men and women of weak mind and weaker character. The embrace of heretodoxy is like the spread of a disease, and as we nurse a sick person back to health, so we must nurse the apostate until he or she recants and is spiritually healthy and whole once more."
But everyone agrees with that. The question is how to do it, how to convince the heretics that they're wrong and how to bring them back to the correct beliefs. The Gray Friars frown on severe torture, and the previous abbot even disagreed with the Mother Church over the use of cleansing fire – current thinking is that burning at the stake will clean any demonic influence out of a person and allow their soul to go to Heaven, whether or not they recant while they're still alive – the previous abbot was not in favor, which is one reason why he's the previous abbot – but what about mild torture? Praying over the person, of course. Appealing to logic and reason, also important. There are a few books in the abbot's office dealing with the proper procedures for trying someone for heresy, but so far the Gray Friars have not needed to look in them.
And in the meantime, there are other things for them to do. Daily prayers, ministering to the spiritual needs of the city, eating and sleeping and studying and giving one's life over to God. The Gray Friars in Montagui receive regular donations from a local merchant so that a couple of friars will go visit his mother every afternoon and keep her company and chant the afternoon service. For services in the order's chapel, the abbot leads the friars in prayer, but occasionally the friars are allowed to chant a version of the service outside the chapel in someone's house, or for a group of the faithful, or if the friar is wandering the countryside spreading the good word.
The merchant's mother, known as Sers Aelinor, has asked the abbot to send Brothers Peire and Gueri, and so every day, an hour or so before the afternoon service, they collect a small basket of food from the kitchen (a token, since Sers Aelinor is a woman of means and doesn't need the charity of the Gray Friars) and set off to tend to the old lady's spiritual needs.
Spring is in the air – the sky is clear and blue, the air fresh, the very earliest flowers starting to send up shoots. There's still a slight chill and you will hit frozen earth without digging too deep – and in fact the brothers had a lot of difficulty in the garden yesterday, trying to prepare it for early planting while it was still mostly cold and hard – but Brother Peire can smell spring on the way, and it puts him in a tremendously good mood. The abbot even added a few hymns for new life and the turning seasons to the midday service.
"Are you whistling?" Brother Gueri asks him, curious.
"I think I was," Brother Peire says. He hasn't had reason to repeat any of the childhood rhymes he learned back in his village, in the days before Father Ancelmetz took him fully under his wing and started preparing him in earnest for a religious life. But he still remembers some of them, and those for which he doesn't remember the words, he still remembers the tunes. "My mother used to sing to me when I was very small. I still remember some of the songs."
There are no prohibitions against singing friars, but all the same, it's not very solemn, and the Gray Friars are supposed to be a sober order. But it's a beautiful day and he enjoys being out in it, and while he's not very comfortable ministering to people outside of the order's chapel or any of its public spaces, and while Sers Aelinor sometimes makes him nervous with the way she looks at him, he has a good life and he's grateful for it, and he feels as if he should show that gratitude.
"Should I teach you one of them?" he asks Brother Gueri, who laughs.
"You've heard me sing," he says. "Brother Abbot gave me such a look at the early service, I had to lower my voice so no one could hear how badly I was mangling the chant. Brother Imbert raised his voice to compensate."
Brother Imbert is a skinny, excitable young man who will tell anyone who will stand still long enough that he can't wait – can't wait – until he's allowed to go out into the world as a mendicant friar. The urge to go new places and meet new people and spread God's love and word is almost too much for him. He has a thin face and a beaky nose and a good singing voice, and sometimes he's exhausting to listen to but everyone seems to like him.
"Not everyone can have a voice like the angels," Brother Gueri goes on. "Someone has to have a voice like the frogs."
He says it so matter-of-factly that Brother Peire giggles, is immediately embarrassed, and covers his mouth. Brother Gueri laughs.
"God still loves me," he says, nonchalant. "I can do other things to praise Him. Like taking bread and cheese to a lonely old lady."
"I don't think she's that lonely," Brother Peire comments. "We see her every day. She has a maidservant to talk to." They pause to let an overloaded wagon pass them. The driver nods his head in a gesture of respect for the friars' robes. "Why does she always ask for us?"
"She likes us.:
Brother Peire can't really argue with that. He likes Brother Gueri too.
Sers Aelinor opens the door for them herself, and leads them into a cozy side room where a small table has already been laid with a wine carafe and cups. The friars decline, as they do every time – she always offers them wine and they always politely refuse – the maidservant takes the basket back to the kitchen to unload it, and the old lady settles herself in her chair in front of the fire.
"Thank your abbot for me," she tells them, "for always listening to my request to send you to me. I wish I could attend worship services in your chapel, but my bones are old and I like my house. I should be grateful my neglectful son knows to provide for at least this one of my needs." She turns in the direction of the kitchen. "Mantie!" she calls. "Bring the good friars something to drink."
The maidservant returns with cups of water, which she offers to the friars, and which they accept this time. And then it's the hour for the afternoon service, which Brother Gueri leads because he has a stronger voice, even if he can't hold a tune. The music for the hymns and chants in the afternoon service is simple, at least. Sers Aelinor follows along, and when Brother Peire gets a little carried away and sings over Brother Gueri, she winks at him. He immediately loses his place in the hymn and stumbles over the next few words. Brother Gueri, to his credit, continues on as if nothing has happened.
Afterwards, Sers Aelinor has her maidservant bring them something sweet, which Brother Peire declines and Brother Gueri accepts, and they discuss scripture for an hour before the friars leave.
"You lost your place," Brother Gueri comments as they walk back to the friary. "What happened?"
"I got carried away," Brother Peire admits. "I was swept up in the beauty of the music. Sers Aelinor noticed and winked at me."
"And you were so rattled you forgot what you were singing?"
"I'm ashamed enough already. Don't make it worse."
"My apologies, Brother." Brother Gueri pats him on the arm. "Next time you lead the service. Keep your eyes on me and that way you won't be so distracted."
words: 1473
total words: 3629
The consensus, unsurprisingly, is that they must be made to recant, for their own good and the good of their immortal souls, and so they can't spread their heresies like a plague among the faithful. Several of the brothers, as well as the abbot, are old enough to remember the last violent surge of heretical belief and the spiritual trauma that it inflicted on the city, and while no one really wants to see a return to those days, everyone should be prepared for them.
"We were put on this earth to help men and women find peace," the abbot says, "to pray for them and to bring them closer to God. Heretics are a challenge from the Devil, promoted by men and women of weak mind and weaker character. The embrace of heretodoxy is like the spread of a disease, and as we nurse a sick person back to health, so we must nurse the apostate until he or she recants and is spiritually healthy and whole once more."
But everyone agrees with that. The question is how to do it, how to convince the heretics that they're wrong and how to bring them back to the correct beliefs. The Gray Friars frown on severe torture, and the previous abbot even disagreed with the Mother Church over the use of cleansing fire – current thinking is that burning at the stake will clean any demonic influence out of a person and allow their soul to go to Heaven, whether or not they recant while they're still alive – the previous abbot was not in favor, which is one reason why he's the previous abbot – but what about mild torture? Praying over the person, of course. Appealing to logic and reason, also important. There are a few books in the abbot's office dealing with the proper procedures for trying someone for heresy, but so far the Gray Friars have not needed to look in them.
And in the meantime, there are other things for them to do. Daily prayers, ministering to the spiritual needs of the city, eating and sleeping and studying and giving one's life over to God. The Gray Friars in Montagui receive regular donations from a local merchant so that a couple of friars will go visit his mother every afternoon and keep her company and chant the afternoon service. For services in the order's chapel, the abbot leads the friars in prayer, but occasionally the friars are allowed to chant a version of the service outside the chapel in someone's house, or for a group of the faithful, or if the friar is wandering the countryside spreading the good word.
The merchant's mother, known as Sers Aelinor, has asked the abbot to send Brothers Peire and Gueri, and so every day, an hour or so before the afternoon service, they collect a small basket of food from the kitchen (a token, since Sers Aelinor is a woman of means and doesn't need the charity of the Gray Friars) and set off to tend to the old lady's spiritual needs.
Spring is in the air – the sky is clear and blue, the air fresh, the very earliest flowers starting to send up shoots. There's still a slight chill and you will hit frozen earth without digging too deep – and in fact the brothers had a lot of difficulty in the garden yesterday, trying to prepare it for early planting while it was still mostly cold and hard – but Brother Peire can smell spring on the way, and it puts him in a tremendously good mood. The abbot even added a few hymns for new life and the turning seasons to the midday service.
"Are you whistling?" Brother Gueri asks him, curious.
"I think I was," Brother Peire says. He hasn't had reason to repeat any of the childhood rhymes he learned back in his village, in the days before Father Ancelmetz took him fully under his wing and started preparing him in earnest for a religious life. But he still remembers some of them, and those for which he doesn't remember the words, he still remembers the tunes. "My mother used to sing to me when I was very small. I still remember some of the songs."
There are no prohibitions against singing friars, but all the same, it's not very solemn, and the Gray Friars are supposed to be a sober order. But it's a beautiful day and he enjoys being out in it, and while he's not very comfortable ministering to people outside of the order's chapel or any of its public spaces, and while Sers Aelinor sometimes makes him nervous with the way she looks at him, he has a good life and he's grateful for it, and he feels as if he should show that gratitude.
"Should I teach you one of them?" he asks Brother Gueri, who laughs.
"You've heard me sing," he says. "Brother Abbot gave me such a look at the early service, I had to lower my voice so no one could hear how badly I was mangling the chant. Brother Imbert raised his voice to compensate."
Brother Imbert is a skinny, excitable young man who will tell anyone who will stand still long enough that he can't wait – can't wait – until he's allowed to go out into the world as a mendicant friar. The urge to go new places and meet new people and spread God's love and word is almost too much for him. He has a thin face and a beaky nose and a good singing voice, and sometimes he's exhausting to listen to but everyone seems to like him.
"Not everyone can have a voice like the angels," Brother Gueri goes on. "Someone has to have a voice like the frogs."
He says it so matter-of-factly that Brother Peire giggles, is immediately embarrassed, and covers his mouth. Brother Gueri laughs.
"God still loves me," he says, nonchalant. "I can do other things to praise Him. Like taking bread and cheese to a lonely old lady."
"I don't think she's that lonely," Brother Peire comments. "We see her every day. She has a maidservant to talk to." They pause to let an overloaded wagon pass them. The driver nods his head in a gesture of respect for the friars' robes. "Why does she always ask for us?"
"She likes us.:
Brother Peire can't really argue with that. He likes Brother Gueri too.
Sers Aelinor opens the door for them herself, and leads them into a cozy side room where a small table has already been laid with a wine carafe and cups. The friars decline, as they do every time – she always offers them wine and they always politely refuse – the maidservant takes the basket back to the kitchen to unload it, and the old lady settles herself in her chair in front of the fire.
"Thank your abbot for me," she tells them, "for always listening to my request to send you to me. I wish I could attend worship services in your chapel, but my bones are old and I like my house. I should be grateful my neglectful son knows to provide for at least this one of my needs." She turns in the direction of the kitchen. "Mantie!" she calls. "Bring the good friars something to drink."
The maidservant returns with cups of water, which she offers to the friars, and which they accept this time. And then it's the hour for the afternoon service, which Brother Gueri leads because he has a stronger voice, even if he can't hold a tune. The music for the hymns and chants in the afternoon service is simple, at least. Sers Aelinor follows along, and when Brother Peire gets a little carried away and sings over Brother Gueri, she winks at him. He immediately loses his place in the hymn and stumbles over the next few words. Brother Gueri, to his credit, continues on as if nothing has happened.
Afterwards, Sers Aelinor has her maidservant bring them something sweet, which Brother Peire declines and Brother Gueri accepts, and they discuss scripture for an hour before the friars leave.
"You lost your place," Brother Gueri comments as they walk back to the friary. "What happened?"
"I got carried away," Brother Peire admits. "I was swept up in the beauty of the music. Sers Aelinor noticed and winked at me."
"And you were so rattled you forgot what you were singing?"
"I'm ashamed enough already. Don't make it worse."
"My apologies, Brother." Brother Gueri pats him on the arm. "Next time you lead the service. Keep your eyes on me and that way you won't be so distracted."
words: 1473
total words: 3629
