The Cloister by James Carroll

Author:James Carroll
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2018-03-06T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I endeavored to appease his anger by a sincere confession of all that was past, but he was only plotting a cruel revenge, as you will see by what follows. I took a journey into Bretagne, in order to bring back my dear Héloïse, whom I now considered as my wife. When I had acquainted her with what had passed between the Canon and me, I found she was of a contrary opinion to me.

“No, Peter,” she said. “We will not. My uncle is a viper. Surely, you know that by now.”

“He hisses, but has no fangs,” Peter replied. “In any case, a viper can be handled.”

“By a Saracen snake charmer. Fulbert cares nothing for your philosophy.”

“He cares for himself. I can show him how he benefits from my release,” Peter Abelard insisted. He was surprised that Héloïse, at this loaded moment, was mustering an argument against him. He went on: “Fulbert can intercede with the Bishop, who can sponsor the writ of my dispensation.”

“Not dispensation. Banishment!” Her eyes flashed with feeling. She leaned toward him, saying, “You saw the Council decree: all marriages of clerics and monks invalid! A brutal reinforcement of Gregory’s so-called reform! The power of Rome—and the protection of its treasure from the heirs of clergy—depend on this emasculation of men like you. As for the would-be wives of your kind, the Pope would have me sold into slavery. The Church, rejecting our marriage, would reject me. At best, I would be assigned a place at the Royal Court, not as a Lady, but as a courtesan—a universally available sex servant.”

“Héloïse, you are—”

“And our son!” she cried. “Our son would certainly be seized by the Bishop. You know this! Our son a thrall! All this even before turning on you. Master Peter Abelard—deprived of his license! Muted forever! The power of the Church slammed down on you! You imagine pathetic Canon Fulbert as your sponsor now? That coward standing against an onslaught aimed at you? Never!”

Abelard shook his head. “Fulbert is tied to my case, whether he would be or not. His prestige is hostage to mine.”

“That is what makes him dangerous,” Héloïse insisted. “Even if he were inclined to untangle the knot for you, he would never do it for me. Not after his humiliation when my great coming out in the court at Bourgogne proved to be fiction.”

“That humiliation is private. No one who matters knows of it. Only to the Bishop did he boast of your commendation, and the Bishop, in his wily prudence, forbade Fulbert to speak of your elevation at the Royal Court until the King was informed by the Duke, which never happened.”

“Ah, but there it is,” she said. “The Bishop was deceived, and Fulbert lives for his approval.”

“If there was dishonor in the matter, reaching as high as the King, the Bishop of Paris will want it known no more than the Cathedral Canon. There is no scandal.” Peter Abelard was carrying himself by now as if he were in disputation with his pupils.

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