As the court was about to disperse, a large commotion could be heard. It was coming from the direction of the city. A page ran into the great hall and approached Count Raymond.

"My lord," he said, "the papal legate, Peter of Castelnau and his retinue, have entered the city gates. They are presently making their way towards the castle."

"An auspicious moment for him to arrive," mused Count Raymond. "Well, my lord bishop," Raymond said, turning to Odo, "it looks like the papal legate has arrived just in time for the trial by combat."

Odo looked somewhat discomfited, but quickly put on a brave face. "Yes, my lord count," said Odo, "and he shall surely see the triumph of the truth and the vindication of the servants of our Holy Mother Church when the Scotsman falls under the blows of the mighty Albert of Aurillac."

"Yes, my lord bishop," said Count Raymond, "indeed he might. But, as you will recall, the Holy Father, Innocent III, has discouraged clergy from taking recourse to trial by combat. His excellency shall be in a most awkward position."

Odo bowed in mock graciousness. "Excuse me, my lord count, I must be away and make preparations to receive His Excellency Peter of Castelnau and his retinue, at my residence. I pray thee, grant me leave to retire."

"Oh, most certainly," replied the count. "I pray that all will go well in your entertaining the legate. I will, of course, expect to see you and the legate this afternoon, at the lists."

"I shall be there," said the bishop, "but I cannot speak for the honorable Peter of Castelnau in this matter."

Odo hastily headed for the main door. His attendants scurried to keep up with him, and struggled to form some sort of orderly procession out of the great hall, down the steps, through the courtyard, and out the castle gate.

The normally languid Odo marched along with a zealousness that his entourage was not accustomed to. Odo arrived at his palace, only to see the legate and his party already drawn up at the main gate. There stood the tall, angular figure of Peter of Castelnau, dressed in the distinctive white robes of the Cistercian order . Although he was just a friar and therefore nominally lower on the church hierarchy than Odo, Peter of Castelnau was a favorite of the pope and had often acted as his legate in the realm of Languedoc, particularly in efforts to stem the Cathar "heresy." Odo intended to show him due deference and thereby hopefully ingratiate himself with the powers that be in the papal court.

"Welcome!" proclaimed Odo, as he hurried forward to greet the legate.

"We have had an exhausting journey," said the legate. "I hope we will not impose too greatly upon your hospitality, but could you please find lodgings for the members of my party, and then take me to the apartments prepared for me."

"At once," said Odo. "We have been expecting you for some time. I do apologize that I was not here when you arrived, but I was in the attendance of the count on matters of some importance."

"Yes, I have heard news of this trial. Did everything run satisfactorily for you?"

"It did not go as expected," said Odo, somewhat downcast, "but the matter is not over yet. It is to be decided by trial of combat."

"What?!" exclaimed the legate. "Do you not know that the Holy Father has expressly forbidden the clergy to be involved in trials by combat?"

Odo shuffled nervously before the legate but did his utmost to present a gracious front. "There was nothing else that could be done. It was forced upon us."

"Humph," said the legate. "Let us hope that our God in Heaven smiles upon this venture, and that He will give strength to your champion."

"I have little fear that He will give strength to our champion," said Odo more confidently, "for the mighty Albert of Aurillac, the most feared knight in all of southern France, is to champion the Church."

"Well, we shall see, won't we?"

"Yes. Come, let me lead you to your apartments."

Servants scurried hither and thither as Odo waved his hands and glanced angrily at several who seemed not to be busy enough attending to His Excellency.

The two men walked up the main staircase to the second floor, and headed toward the guest apartments.

"What time shall be this trial?" inquired the legate as they paused at the door.

"One hour after noon this day, your excellency," replied Odo.

"Very well, then. Tell your servants to prepare a place for me. I shall be in attendance."

* * *

After the bishop's hasty exit from the castle's main hall, Guillaume ordered the jailer to remove the shackles and the manacles from Malcolm's ankles and wrists, telling the jailer that he would take charge of readying the Scot for the upcoming combat.

"Come, my dear man," said Guillaume softly to Malcolm. "We have much to prepare."

Just then Albert of Aurillac strode over to Guillaume and Malcolm.

"You look strangely familiar," he said, staring intently at Malcolm.

"Perhaps we have met before," remarked Malcolm.

"Perhaps we have, even though the time and circumstance escape me. But that is of no consequence." Albert had come to deliver a message, and would not be sidetracked. "I want you to know," said Albert, "that I enjoy fighting. I enjoy beating an opponent. I shall enjoy fighting you, and I shall stop at nothing, but to kill you."

"Sir Albert, you have such a way with words," said Guillaume, with a notable tinge of sarcasm in his voice.

"Popinjay!" Albert grunted at Guillaume before turning once more to Malcolm. "I am a true son of Mother Church, and I shall defend her honor with every ounce of strength in my body. Make no doubt about that."

Turning to Guillaume, Albert added, "My second will meet you to discuss conditions."

"I shall await your cousin Theobald," answered Guillaume, "half an hour before the combat is to begin."

"Very well," said Albert. "Say your prayers, Scotsman, and be sure that your heart is prepared to meet your God."

"I believe my heart is prepared," said Malcolm, "more prepared than it has ever been in the past. But do not be so sure that I shall be the one to knock on the heavenly portals."

"Ha!" said Albert. "You are cocky, but it remains to be seen if you are as deft with your sword as you are with your tongue."

"And so we shall," said Malcolm.

* * *

Guy, after assisting Roger into the main hall for his court appearance, had stood a ways apart. Guillaume now motioned to him to come over. "We shall need the Scotsman's weapons," said Guillaume. "Arrange to have them brought to my tent, which shall be set up on the field of combat."

"I shall," said Guy, before turning to Malcolm. "Brother Malcolm, please know that I and as many of the others as I can notify shall pray for your strength, and skill, and courage for the time of battle. And most of all, we shall pray for your triumph today. We know that your cause is just, that our God is just, and that He is ever able to do the impossible. Your opponent is mighty, that is plain to see, but you are armed with truth and righteousness."

"Thank you," replied Malcolm. "Those are touching words, and they are a comfort to my heart. Yes, please tell the others to pray, for truly I shall need all their prayers this day!"

* * *

In all the commotion, everyone had forgotten about Roger, who had grown quiet, progressively feeling fainter while sitting on the stool. Guy finally noticed that the man was about to collapse, and rushed over to steady him. Guillaume motioned to two of his uncle's attendants. "Take this man to my quarters," said Guillaume, "and make sure that he is well cared for. Then ride to my father's estate and tell the steward that Roger, of the bishop's guard, is resting here in my apartment and could use the services of the person who has been nursing him. Then wait while he fetches the nurse and bring them back hither."

"Yes, my lord," said the attendant. He and his companion braced Roger from either side. With one of his arms over each of their shoulders, they helped him to the stairway which led to the private quarters of the castle.

Malcolm turned to Guy. "I shall need my horse, too."

"Yes, Malcolm, it will be there, along with all your armor."

"Thank you. You are a good friend."

"It is an honor to be called your friend," said Guy, as he turned and headed off.

"Well," said Guillaume, trying to act cheerful. "We are a somber lot now, aren't we? Come, let us go. I think you need a hearty meal, Malcolm. You cannot fight on an empty stomach. While you are eating, I will tell you of Albert's strengths and weaknesses, for I have seen him fight many times. Though formidable, he is not altogether unbeatable. You might well be the one to make the mighty Albert fall from his pedestal."

"I surely hope so," said Malcolm, "for if I am not, I shall not see another dawn."

"Come, let us be gone."

The two men walked off.

Unnoticed, it seemed, by the others, Robert of Avignon had observed the conversation from a discreet distance. He, too, turned and left the room.

* * *

The sun was high in the sky when Guillaume and Malcolm arrived at the jousting field. There was an annual tournament held in Toulouse, and to accommodate this, the lists had been built some time previously. It was a long field, situated just outside the city walls. A fence divided the field. When jousting with a lance, the two combatants would charge toward each other and ride along opposite sides of the fence. This was to prevent the horses from swerving and crashing into each other.

On one side of the field was a small grandstand where the count and other notables of the area would sit to observe the tourney. On the other side of the field was a fence, and behind it a knoll from which the commoners would watch. At either end, the tents of the combatants would be pitched. There were only two tents pitched this day--one for Albert and one for Malcolm.

True to his word, Guy arrived at the field with Malcolm's horse and his armor. With him was the pretty Heloise. Before coming to the field, they had gotten word to Francis the baker, who promised to spread the word amongst the faithful--hopefully even to Giles--to pray for Malcolm.

Malcolm and Guillaume feasted well, though apprehensively, on pheasant, fruit and good wine. Malcolm had joked darkly that this "last meal" had been one of the better ones of his life. Guillaume, never much given to such melancholic thoughts, told Malcolm to cheer up. "As sure as there is a righteous God, He will give you strength for this battle!"

Guillaume thought for a minute, and noted with some amusement that he was now preaching the strength and grace of God--something that would have been quite out of character for him just a few days earlier. "Well, we need to get you suited up," he quickly added.

"Yes," said Malcolm, "we had better do that."

* * *

These were the days before heavily armored knights; heavy plate armor would only become common in the following centuries. At this time, knights wore a thigh-length shirt of mail called a hauberk. It consisted of small metal rings linked together. There were many thousands of these in one hauberk. Attached to the hauberk was a hood called a coif that covered and protected the head. The sleeves of the hauberk were also made of mail and ended in mittens of the same. A thick padded garment was worn under the hauberk. Chain mail was an ample defense against the slashing blows of a sword, but it could easily be penetrated by a sudden forward thrust, whether from a sword, a spear, or bolts from a crossbow.

On their heads knights wore metal helmets with a nosepiece that partially protected their face. Their legs were covered by mail leggings. Over the hauberk they wore a sleeveless tunic which bore an identifying emblem, called a coat of arms. Malcolm's was blue and bore the image of a lion standing on its hind legs. The shields most common in these days were round on the top and curved down to a long point, something like an inverted tear drop. Malcolm's shield was plain, though it was common for knights to have their coat of arms painted on their shields.

At the appointed time, Theobald came to Guillaume's tent, and the two stepped outside to converse a short distance away.

"Normally," Theobald said, "your man would have the right to choose the weapons, but in this case Bishop Odo appealed to trial by combat to prove his innocence from the charges leveled by Roger. So now Albert stands in the place of the accused, and your man as the accuser. Therefore, Albert claims the right to choose the weapons."

"This is preposterous!" said Guillaume. "My man is the man in the dock, and your man stands in the stead of the accuser!"

"No," replied Theobald, "we must choose the weapons. Albert has instructed me to be very clear. He is to have the choice of weapons."

"Then I appeal to my uncle as the judge," said Guillaume. "Come, let us be off."

Heloise had stood a ways off during all the previous proceedings. Malcolm now turned to her. She blushed and looked down.

"Thank you for coming," Malcolm said quietly.

"I had to. Oh, Malcolm! I fear for your life!"

"Fear not, for was it not you who said your God was a strong God?"

"Yes, but at times like this, I am afraid my faith does waver."

"Mistress Heloise, I would ask you a boon."

"Pray, ask!"

"It is a custom that in the tournament, a knight will wear a token from his lady. I have no lady, but I have found in you not only a lady, but a sister and a woman of rare beauty. I am not very good with words, and I am clumsy around women. Perhaps it is knowing that my death may be imminent that emboldens me to speak this way, but would you have a scarf or some other token that I could wear?"

Heloise blushed. "Oh, Malcolm, I would most gladly give you a token! For in truth, I care for you greatly. Do not die today! Fight with all that is in you. Here, let this be my token to you," she said as she pulled out a large linen handkerchief. "It is not the finery of silk that real ladies would have, but know that it symbolizes my love, truer and greater than any of them could have for thee."

Now it was Malcolm's turn to blush. "Heloise," he confessed, "from the first moment I cast eyes upon you, my heart was lost to you."

"Oh, Malcolm! I gladly give you mine also!"

"Now truly, I have something to live and fight for! Pray, bind that kerchief around my arm here, for it is my fighting arm. With each swing of my sword, I shall see that token and it shall give me strength."

Guy, who was standing by, felt increasingly awkward as he watched this encounter unfold. Finally he could take no more, and distanced himself to give the two more privacy. Presently, Guillaume came back.

"That was a close call, friend, but I have good news," he said. "Albert was trying to claim the right to choose the weapons, as he declared that in this instance our most ungracious bishop was the one offended. But my uncle affirmed that you are legitimately the accused, and therefore retain the right to choose weapons."

"Then I choose the sword," said Malcolm after a moment of thought.

"It is good," said Guillaume. "For with axe or mace, Albert is without peer. Even with the sword he has few equals. The combat will begin on horse. Hmmm, I see you've made a lot of progress in getting ready while I was away."

Malcolm smiled. "Yes, we have made a lot of progress," he said, as he turned to look at Heloise. For a moment, their eyes locked.

"I love thee, noble Malcolm," said Heloise.

"And I love thee, fair lady!" answered Malcolm.

"May God give you might and power!" prayed Heloise. "O Jesus, please bring this, my love, safely through the battle today." She rushed forward and embraced Malcolm ardently.

After a long, tender moment, Malcolm gently pulled himself away from Heloise's grasp.

"I must go now," he whispered softly, and, turning to Guillaume, said, "Come, help me get the rest of this on. For I have a battle to fight."