the friar and the heretic talk in prison
Nov. 5th, 2014 08:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smackenzieBut it doesn't take very long for Brother Peire to realize that Rainaut won't be swayed - not by charity, not by kindness, and certainly not by Brother Peire's earnestness, which Rainaut seems to find funny.
"You really are here just to talk to me," he says on the fifth day of his imprisonment, after Brother Peire has just spent a good twenty minutes trying to explain why women priests run counter to the laws of God and nature. "You have no agenda and no ulterior motive."
"Why do you think I would?" Brother Peire answers, confused. He isn't here for politics. He's just trying to help.
"Because I think your abbot and your order are trying to soften me up before the inquisitor gets here, because you want the credit for getting me to recant."
"But we do want you to recant."
"Of course you do. Everyone does." Rainaut shrugs. "I believe what I believe. You're not going to make me change my mind. You're all much more worried about the state of my soul than I am. You're about to mention torture, aren't you."
Brother Peire’s mouth, which is indeed open to say just that, snaps shut.
"I'm ready for it," Rainaut says. "Well, not ready, but I expect it eventually. I knew what was going to happen the minute the guardsmen appeared to haul me out of the marketplace."
"You were preaching heresy."
"Actually I was just having a discussion with a couple of craftsmen. The role of God and the Mother Church in people's lives was only part of it."
"But no one would have called the guardsmen if you hadn’t been spreading... spiritual poison."
Rainaut laughs at that, and Brother Peire is briefly annoyed. He's serious. Heretical beliefs are toxic and dangerous, like a serious illness, and if someone takes ill, they should seek treatment before they can infect anyone else. And sometimes it's up to the community to help the sick person get well.
"You don't know anything about the real world, do you? You're a good man, Brother Peire, but you don't know anything about people."
"I do know about people," Brother Peire huffs, annoyed again. "I speak to them every day. Brother Gueri and I have a standing appointment to worship with a merchant's mother, and every day she offers us wine and every day we say no, and she looks at me the way Brother Gueri looks at cake, and it makes me profoundly uncomfortable, but we keep going to visit her, because she needs us and because her son donates regularly to the Order for her spiritual upkeep."
"She thinks you're cute." Rainaut grins. "I can understand."
Brother Peire blushes. This is not at all where he wants this conversation to go. He's going to lose control again.
"Oh, I embarrassed you," Rainaut says. "I'm sorry." But he doesn't look particularly apologetic. He makes an obvious effort to wipe the grin off his face, and Brother Peire is only slightly mollified. "But I want to clear something up. I think your abbot is using me to play politics with Ser Mayor and the inquisitor and the Black Friars. He has an end goal that isn't just getting me to renounce my beliefs. I've already forfeited my worldly goods, as few as they are, and you already know I'm not going to forfeit my faith. But your abbot doesn't know that, or he doesn't believe it, and he wants you to keep coming to see me because you're his instrument in this. You're the tool he's going to use to pry my confession out of me and add another notch to the tally he's keeping of Gray Friar wins and losses against the Black Friars. You have no agenda in coming here, which makes you the perfect agent of his."
"I don't believe you. That's a horrible thing to say about the abbot."
"It doesn't matter. What I believe and what you believe will always be completely different things, regardless of actual fact." He sighs. "I like you, Brother Peire, I do, and I appreciate that you keep coming to see me and talk to me. I hope you keep doing it even after the inquisitor gets here and starts pulling out my fingernails. I don't know what shape I’ll be in to continue our conversations, but you can talk to me and I'll listen to you." His lips twitch in something that might be a grin. "For once you won't have to worry about me arguing with you."
"I'll keep coming as long as Brother Abbot lets me," Brother Peire says, partly because it's the truth and partly because Rainaut looks uncertain for the first time, as if he's thinking about what's going to happen to him and isn't sure he's up to it. Brother Peire likes him as well, and enjoys their time together, and while he's not sure he can admit to the abbot - or to anyone - that he's worried about Rainaut's health and happiness in prison the way he would worry about one of his brother friars, he's starting to worry. He doesn't like to worry. It makes him want to help, and in this case, he's not sure how he can.
"The guards tell me the inquisitor should be here tomorrow," Rainaut says. "That's why I've been thinking about why your abbot keeps letting you visit. Should we go back to discussing scripture? You were telling me how weak-minded women are and that God says they're better suited to staying home and taking care of their babies and their husbands, rather than standing on a pulpit and taking care of a spiritual flock."
"I can't right now," Brother Peire admits. "I'm worried about you."
"You're worried about the state of my soul, I know."
"No, not just that." He wants to lean forward, to put his hand on Rainaut's arm, to reassure him. "The Gray Friars don't believe in torture. We think there are other, better methods for bringing an apostate back to the light of God's love. We won't, um, we don't interfere with the inquisitors or their work, and we'd never oppose any edicts of the Holy Father or the Mother Church, but... we don't agree." He hates mentioning any time the Gray Friars' beliefs run counter to that of the Mother Church, but this is the one area in which they've had disagreements. The Order has never strongly opposed the inquisitors' methods, but neither have the friars actively helped. They confine their disagreement to quiet protest, but they do consider it a protest.
And now Brother Peire is admitting the rift, and offering his own protest, however obliquely stated.
"You're concerned for me," Rainaut says.
"Yes. I'm worried."
"You're very kind."
"I like to think that, that we might have been friends, under other circumstances."
"You don't think we're friends now? I thought we were." Rainaut sounds absolutely serious.
"I. Uh. I don't. I mean, I don't, I didn't think that, that - "
"You look at me and see a heretic, and you can't befriend a heretic without risking your own soul."
"That's what I've been taught," Brother Peire says miserably. "I'm sorry. But I, I like you, and, and, and I, I like talking to you."
A smile creeps across Rainaut's face. "Are you aware of your stammer, Brother Peire? Are you hiding some inexplicable feeling for me?"
"You're making fun of me. Please don't."
"I am, and I should apologize. So I will. We should talk about something else. Tell me why you don't think women are cut out for the religious life. How do you explain nuns?"
"They take a vow of chastity," Brother Peire says, relieved to be back on familiar ground, but oddly disappointed to have apparently pulled away from the emotional connection he and Rainaut clearly felt between them. "They don’t have families to care for."
"Neither do friars. Or monks. Or local village priests. I thought celibacy and giving up a worldly life were requirements before you took holy vows. So women can be nuns, but not priests? Who do you think leads the services at a convent?"
"The abbess, but - "
"But she's only allowed to do that within the safety of her cloister." Rainaut looks pleased with himself, as if he just scored some kind of point.
"Well, yes. Monks don't generally leave the monastery to preach to the lay community outside their walls either. They live the same lives as nuns."
"So explain to me why your holy books tell you a woman can't run a church, or lead a congregation in worship."
"Because God says she can't." Brother Peire tries to remember what he learned about the role of women in a man's holy life. He had those lessons a while ago - it isn't as if the Gray Friars have much intimate contact with women. "Because it's a holy thing for women to bear children - it's a way for them to show their faithfulness to God - and He wants them to do that more than He wants them to shut themselves away in a convent. Besides, women were made with weaker wills, um, sexually, and priests have to be celibate. And it's harder for women to control themselves around men than it is for men to control themselves around women."
Rainaut laughs. "You don't know many women, do you. Besides your merchant's mother, I mean. Or many men who aren't friars, for that matter. Should I assume you've kept a tight grip on yourself since you were, say, ten?"
"Of course. I'm not - I don't feel any attraction to women. They can't tempt me."
"Well, if the only woman you have any close contact with is a merchant's mother, who you only see so you can pray together, I'm not surprised."
"What do you believe? Do you think women should be able to study scripture, and preach?"
"I do, actually. I've known some very astute women with beautiful voices and sharp minds and a way of leading a service so that you think you're talking to God, and not a person."
"That - that sounds like blasphemy."
"I'm in prison for heresy. Of course it's blasphemy." But Rainaut's voice is light. He's teasing again. He chuckles. "Why should men have all the glory? You owe your life to a woman. Shouldn't she be able to share in some of the majesty and wonder of studying God's word and then sharing it with her congregation?"
"But what about her family? Her husband, her children? She can't neglect them."
"The women preachers I've known have some help, and some of them are old enough that their children have married and started families of their own. They don't have so many people to look after any more. They don't have big complicated households to run. They can devote some of their hours to God and some of their hours to more worldly things. It works for them. It makes you a happier person to have some balance in your life."
words: 1898
total words: 9227
"You really are here just to talk to me," he says on the fifth day of his imprisonment, after Brother Peire has just spent a good twenty minutes trying to explain why women priests run counter to the laws of God and nature. "You have no agenda and no ulterior motive."
"Why do you think I would?" Brother Peire answers, confused. He isn't here for politics. He's just trying to help.
"Because I think your abbot and your order are trying to soften me up before the inquisitor gets here, because you want the credit for getting me to recant."
"But we do want you to recant."
"Of course you do. Everyone does." Rainaut shrugs. "I believe what I believe. You're not going to make me change my mind. You're all much more worried about the state of my soul than I am. You're about to mention torture, aren't you."
Brother Peire’s mouth, which is indeed open to say just that, snaps shut.
"I'm ready for it," Rainaut says. "Well, not ready, but I expect it eventually. I knew what was going to happen the minute the guardsmen appeared to haul me out of the marketplace."
"You were preaching heresy."
"Actually I was just having a discussion with a couple of craftsmen. The role of God and the Mother Church in people's lives was only part of it."
"But no one would have called the guardsmen if you hadn’t been spreading... spiritual poison."
Rainaut laughs at that, and Brother Peire is briefly annoyed. He's serious. Heretical beliefs are toxic and dangerous, like a serious illness, and if someone takes ill, they should seek treatment before they can infect anyone else. And sometimes it's up to the community to help the sick person get well.
"You don't know anything about the real world, do you? You're a good man, Brother Peire, but you don't know anything about people."
"I do know about people," Brother Peire huffs, annoyed again. "I speak to them every day. Brother Gueri and I have a standing appointment to worship with a merchant's mother, and every day she offers us wine and every day we say no, and she looks at me the way Brother Gueri looks at cake, and it makes me profoundly uncomfortable, but we keep going to visit her, because she needs us and because her son donates regularly to the Order for her spiritual upkeep."
"She thinks you're cute." Rainaut grins. "I can understand."
Brother Peire blushes. This is not at all where he wants this conversation to go. He's going to lose control again.
"Oh, I embarrassed you," Rainaut says. "I'm sorry." But he doesn't look particularly apologetic. He makes an obvious effort to wipe the grin off his face, and Brother Peire is only slightly mollified. "But I want to clear something up. I think your abbot is using me to play politics with Ser Mayor and the inquisitor and the Black Friars. He has an end goal that isn't just getting me to renounce my beliefs. I've already forfeited my worldly goods, as few as they are, and you already know I'm not going to forfeit my faith. But your abbot doesn't know that, or he doesn't believe it, and he wants you to keep coming to see me because you're his instrument in this. You're the tool he's going to use to pry my confession out of me and add another notch to the tally he's keeping of Gray Friar wins and losses against the Black Friars. You have no agenda in coming here, which makes you the perfect agent of his."
"I don't believe you. That's a horrible thing to say about the abbot."
"It doesn't matter. What I believe and what you believe will always be completely different things, regardless of actual fact." He sighs. "I like you, Brother Peire, I do, and I appreciate that you keep coming to see me and talk to me. I hope you keep doing it even after the inquisitor gets here and starts pulling out my fingernails. I don't know what shape I’ll be in to continue our conversations, but you can talk to me and I'll listen to you." His lips twitch in something that might be a grin. "For once you won't have to worry about me arguing with you."
"I'll keep coming as long as Brother Abbot lets me," Brother Peire says, partly because it's the truth and partly because Rainaut looks uncertain for the first time, as if he's thinking about what's going to happen to him and isn't sure he's up to it. Brother Peire likes him as well, and enjoys their time together, and while he's not sure he can admit to the abbot - or to anyone - that he's worried about Rainaut's health and happiness in prison the way he would worry about one of his brother friars, he's starting to worry. He doesn't like to worry. It makes him want to help, and in this case, he's not sure how he can.
"The guards tell me the inquisitor should be here tomorrow," Rainaut says. "That's why I've been thinking about why your abbot keeps letting you visit. Should we go back to discussing scripture? You were telling me how weak-minded women are and that God says they're better suited to staying home and taking care of their babies and their husbands, rather than standing on a pulpit and taking care of a spiritual flock."
"I can't right now," Brother Peire admits. "I'm worried about you."
"You're worried about the state of my soul, I know."
"No, not just that." He wants to lean forward, to put his hand on Rainaut's arm, to reassure him. "The Gray Friars don't believe in torture. We think there are other, better methods for bringing an apostate back to the light of God's love. We won't, um, we don't interfere with the inquisitors or their work, and we'd never oppose any edicts of the Holy Father or the Mother Church, but... we don't agree." He hates mentioning any time the Gray Friars' beliefs run counter to that of the Mother Church, but this is the one area in which they've had disagreements. The Order has never strongly opposed the inquisitors' methods, but neither have the friars actively helped. They confine their disagreement to quiet protest, but they do consider it a protest.
And now Brother Peire is admitting the rift, and offering his own protest, however obliquely stated.
"You're concerned for me," Rainaut says.
"Yes. I'm worried."
"You're very kind."
"I like to think that, that we might have been friends, under other circumstances."
"You don't think we're friends now? I thought we were." Rainaut sounds absolutely serious.
"I. Uh. I don't. I mean, I don't, I didn't think that, that - "
"You look at me and see a heretic, and you can't befriend a heretic without risking your own soul."
"That's what I've been taught," Brother Peire says miserably. "I'm sorry. But I, I like you, and, and, and I, I like talking to you."
A smile creeps across Rainaut's face. "Are you aware of your stammer, Brother Peire? Are you hiding some inexplicable feeling for me?"
"You're making fun of me. Please don't."
"I am, and I should apologize. So I will. We should talk about something else. Tell me why you don't think women are cut out for the religious life. How do you explain nuns?"
"They take a vow of chastity," Brother Peire says, relieved to be back on familiar ground, but oddly disappointed to have apparently pulled away from the emotional connection he and Rainaut clearly felt between them. "They don’t have families to care for."
"Neither do friars. Or monks. Or local village priests. I thought celibacy and giving up a worldly life were requirements before you took holy vows. So women can be nuns, but not priests? Who do you think leads the services at a convent?"
"The abbess, but - "
"But she's only allowed to do that within the safety of her cloister." Rainaut looks pleased with himself, as if he just scored some kind of point.
"Well, yes. Monks don't generally leave the monastery to preach to the lay community outside their walls either. They live the same lives as nuns."
"So explain to me why your holy books tell you a woman can't run a church, or lead a congregation in worship."
"Because God says she can't." Brother Peire tries to remember what he learned about the role of women in a man's holy life. He had those lessons a while ago - it isn't as if the Gray Friars have much intimate contact with women. "Because it's a holy thing for women to bear children - it's a way for them to show their faithfulness to God - and He wants them to do that more than He wants them to shut themselves away in a convent. Besides, women were made with weaker wills, um, sexually, and priests have to be celibate. And it's harder for women to control themselves around men than it is for men to control themselves around women."
Rainaut laughs. "You don't know many women, do you. Besides your merchant's mother, I mean. Or many men who aren't friars, for that matter. Should I assume you've kept a tight grip on yourself since you were, say, ten?"
"Of course. I'm not - I don't feel any attraction to women. They can't tempt me."
"Well, if the only woman you have any close contact with is a merchant's mother, who you only see so you can pray together, I'm not surprised."
"What do you believe? Do you think women should be able to study scripture, and preach?"
"I do, actually. I've known some very astute women with beautiful voices and sharp minds and a way of leading a service so that you think you're talking to God, and not a person."
"That - that sounds like blasphemy."
"I'm in prison for heresy. Of course it's blasphemy." But Rainaut's voice is light. He's teasing again. He chuckles. "Why should men have all the glory? You owe your life to a woman. Shouldn't she be able to share in some of the majesty and wonder of studying God's word and then sharing it with her congregation?"
"But what about her family? Her husband, her children? She can't neglect them."
"The women preachers I've known have some help, and some of them are old enough that their children have married and started families of their own. They don't have so many people to look after any more. They don't have big complicated households to run. They can devote some of their hours to God and some of their hours to more worldly things. It works for them. It makes you a happier person to have some balance in your life."
words: 1898
total words: 9227
