The Omega Factor(107)

No need.

He’d just wait for Rice and Fuentes to come to him.





Chapter 71



Vilamur kept trying to anticipate where this troubling encounter was going. He’d tried to sympathize, hedge, and divert, all to no avail. Andre Labelle had not budged, still blocking all escape and becoming more and more agitated. His plan had been to get far away before Fuentes and the Dominicans did whatever they were going to do. He did not want to know anything about it, and he surely did not want to be judged guilty by association. Bad enough he’d been involved to start with, but he doubted the maidens were going to lodge any official complaints. Far from that, in fact. Instead, his problem stood three meters away.

“Should we pray some more?” he asked Labelle.

“Your prayers and mine are not the same.”

“Please, then. Use yours.”

Labelle seemed unsure, then bowed his head. “Holy Father, just God of the good spirits, you who are never mistaken, never lie, nor err, nor doubt, for fear of suffering death in the world of the alien god, for we are not of the world and the world is not of us. Give us to know what you know and to love what you love.”

“That’s a lovely prayer,” he said.

“It is our tribute to the God of Light.”

That dualism again. It’s what originally brought the Cathars all their misery. Two gods. But he could not allow Labelle to detect even the slightest hint of ridicule or resentment.

“We have a tribute to God as well.”

Labelle nodded. “The Lord’s Prayer.”

“Were you raised Catholic?”

“I was. It got me nothing but trouble. Our prayer, the Pater Noster, is primarily for Perfecti. Only a Perfectus can address God as Our Father.”

Fascinating that a religion that professed to be without prejudices or classes, opportunity open to all, would restrict who could say a particular prayer to the almighty Creator. It made no sense. But elitism was inevitable with religion. Human beings just could not help themselves.

And he should know.

“Our Father, which art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our supersubstantial bread, and remit our debts as we forgive our debtors. And keep us from temptation and free us from evil. Thine is the kingdom, the power and glory for ever and ever.” Labelle raised his head. “Ours is different.”

“Yes, it is.”

“But nothing in our belief system tells us to hide away a child molester and protect him from the law. Or sleep with married women and father children who are then denied and become bastards. Why would you do such awful things?”

He had no good answer, so he said nothing.

“Will I ever see Bernat de Foix again?” Labelle asked.

He shook his head. “No.”

“He was a good, decent man, who cared about me.”

He could see that was true. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Labelle’s face tightened. “Really? The one person who could destroy your life and you’re sorry he’s gone?”

“He was my son.”

“Which you cared nothing about.”

He’d thought an acknowledgment might work, but it only seemed to make things worse. So he decided to be conciliatory. “You’re right. I am a sinner.”

“This world is nothing but sinners. Our task is to find a way out, to free our soul from this despicable place and find a way to the God of Light. That’s our only purpose here.”

Insanity, for sure. To live your entire life in misery and if you do not give yourself up and become some sort of Perfectus, then you’re reborn into another miserable life, where you do it all again. Over and over and over. It made no sense. Surely the only reason the idea gained any popularity in the thirteenth century was that the Catholic Church had fallen into a state of total corruption. Even a largely illiterate population saw its hypocrisy. So anything had been deemed preferable. But today? In the modern world? The whole thing made no sense.

“You’re evil,” Labelle said to him. “Just like Tallard. Just like all those who came before you. Despicable clerics, abusing their positions. Nothing has changed in eight hundred years.”

He did not know what to say.

“Christ, who was born in the earthly and visible Bethlehem and crucified in Jerusalem, was evil,” Labelle said, voice rising. “Mary Magdalene was his concubine, taken in adultery. Just like you did with de Foix’s mother. The good Christ, the real Christ, neither ate, nor drank, nor assumed the true flesh, nor was he ever in this evil world except spiritually. That’s the difference between us and you. The difference in what we believe to be holy.”

His vehemence stung and Vilamur saw the rage rising in the eyes like a cold mist. Think. How could this powder keg be defused?

“What of other believers?” he asked. “You, as a Perfectus, owe them a duty to look after them.”

Labelle calmed a bit. “I do. And I have.”

“Should you not be with them?”

Labelle stared at him. “Why do you care? We mean nothing to you.”

“All who live within my diocese are my concern.”

Labelle shook his head and stepped closer. “We don’t need your concern. What we needed was for you to be true to your vows. For you to conduct yourself in a manner that is respectful and mindful of us all. Instead, you only looked after yourself. What would you have done with de Foix? How were you going to deal with the fact that you have a son? Tell the world? I doubt it. Of course, that’s no longer a problem since de Foix is gone. Never to be seen again.”