The Omega Factor(44)
Chapter 28
To the most revered Charles VII, by the grace of God most high King of the Franks, your faithful and humble bishop sends greetings and the courage of Charlemagne. Concerning those things you have charged me to do, I wish Your Nobility to hold as a certainty that I have neither allied myself with the enemies of your crown, nor have I shown friendship toward them. In accordance with my vow to prize you with sincere affection and to strive to place myself at your command, as time and place require, my only desire is to protect you in the affairs of Toulouse.
But if you would take up the arms of your right hand and the shield of your protection and raise yourself to deal a blow for the aid of Toulouse, more firmly and freely would we follow the path of your armed forces. It is not only I who mourn, all the people are consumed with unspeakable sadness as we see our land, which the vigor of the kings of the Franks adorned with liberty, be in danger of falling to the English or the Moors to whom it does not belong. Let not Your Highness be affronted that I dare speak thus to you, most dear lord. For the more I am the special servant of both the Lord and your crown, the greater is my sadness when I see that crown fall from the height of its due state.
Not only in Toulouse, but from the Garonne to the Rhône, I see adversaries hurrying to accomplish their boast, that by subjecting the members of your kingdom to servitude they will more easily make its head totter. Good king, take on your vigor. Bring your strong arm to our region, that the audacity of your enemies may be put down and your friends may be comforted. Do what is necessary so that the prelates and princes of our region, along with les Vautours, guard Toulouse both when you are there and when you are absent. Strive to restore it to its due condition. I ask, and others plead, that you give no heed to the cost of doing this, for you will recover a hundred times whatever you spend, and your name, which is now but a shadow among us, will be exalted by all. Valete, valeant qui vos amant.
Vilamur laid the ancient document down.
It had sat safely within the diocese’s archives for centuries. He’d come straight over after ending the call with Cardinal Fuentes. He was curious whether any reference to the words les Vautours was anywhere among the olden records. A few years back everything on file had been digitized and scanned electronically. So it had taken the archivist only a few moments to locate the sole reference. A letter from Pierre du Moulin, who served as archbishop of Toulouse from 1439 to 1451.
The archivist had also placed the letter in historical context.
The Hundred Years’ War was then waning, but the English from the west and the Moors from the south continued to ravage the Languedoc. The French did little to stop the carnage, satisfied with the chaos those raids created among the southern nobility, who’d always harbored an independent streak toward the monarchy. So the local bishop, fearful for what was happening around him, penned a plea to a distant king. Apparently the letter never found its way from Toulouse north to Charles VII. Good thing. The king might have taken offense with the valediction, which struck the archivist as thick with irony. Valete, valeant qui vos amant. Goodbye from those who love you. But, as was explained, valete meant “be strong” as well as “farewell.” So the king might not have appreciated the implication of weakness.
The singular reference to les Vautours came without explanation or elaboration, and the archivist, a trained historian, could not say who or what they were. He’d never noticed the reference until today. Some sort of fighting force? Mercenaries? Another of the countless medieval societies that sprang up everywhere? Impossible to know. Even more puzzling was why those words were of such importance to the Vatican.
The archivist also reminded him that the cache of documents the diocese maintained had been ravaged over the centuries. Particularly during the Albigensian Crusade, when the pope’s forces had taken Toulouse. A lot had been lost, so there was no telling how many other references might have existed. The one surviving mention was a bit innocuous and meaningless. Regardless, he’d asked the archivist to see what he could learn about anything related to Vultures and report that information directly to him.
He left the archives and headed back to the rectory.
At the moment the video confession was more pressing. It had come to his private mobile number, not the one associated with the diocese. How that number had been obtained was just another of the many questions that remained unanswered. He’d already deleted it from his phone but realized that offered little to no protection. Whoever made it certainly controlled its distribution.
And he was at their mercy.
Bishops all over the world had been toppled on the mere allegation of a cover-up regarding claims of clergy sexual abuse. Like him, most had probably done exactly what Rome had wanted but, in the end, they became sacrificial lambs. Even several cardinals had fallen victim. Was he next?
It certainly looked that way.
He walked back to the rectory, greeting several people he knew. His office had already called twice looking for him, but he’d texted his assistant and told him that he would be unavailable for another hour or so. Thankfully, as archbishop, no one questioned him. The appropriate excuses would be made and appointments rescheduled. Inside, he sat in his den and tried to make sense out of what was happening. His housekeeper had returned and offered to prepare a late lunch but he declined.
No appetite.
He closed his eyes and allowed the silence to wash over him. Thirty years he’d worked to get to this point. Obtaining a red hat and cardinal’s robes would be his crowning achievement. No way he would ever be pope, nor did he particularly want to be. Being a prince of the church would more than suffice. Doubtful he’d ever even get to vote in the Sistine Chapel for a pope before he turned eighty. Just three years away. The current Vicar of Christ showed no signs of failing health.