A lively conversation soon ensued around the fire at the gypsy encampment. Ricardo left, and Esme came and sat in his place. After relating the details to Guy and Heloise of what had happened the day before, Malcolm then wanted to satisfy his own inquisitiveness as to what exactly these three Cathars believed. Guy and Heloise were fascinated to have found out that Giles had been teaching others secretly. Esme was thrilled to know that there were others who held the same beliefs and had the same teacher--others who now embraced her as a fellow believer. Guillaume was very familiar with most Cathar practices and beliefs, and assumed the role of a detached observer.

"Is it true," asked Malcolm, "that you do not eat meat and eggs nor drink milk, and that you refrain from marriage?"

"No, it is not," said Guy. "Others may, but not us. For we believe in the freedom of God's love, and that means freedom to enjoy the things which God has provided. Our God is a good God, and we are free to enjoy all the good things that He provides."

"But I have heard that some of you preach that you may take your own life, when trouble surrounds you."

"That is also rubbish," said Guy. "We love our lives. But these are the things that they say about us to discredit us, to try to show that we are dangerous--not only to others, but even to ourselves! For the only ones of our belief who have died violently or unnaturally are those who have been tortured, imprisoned and killed by ourenemies-- which, as you may know, are many.

"We are a peaceful, loving people, and want others to enjoy the peace and love that we have. We are active as preachers and teachers, and we spread our beliefs enthusiastically, but we harm no one. Others seek to harm us because we are freeing people from the spiritual tyranny under which they live and the fears and rules of man and the Church that oppress them."

"Ah, but some of you do have strange beliefs," said Guillaume. "For truly, sometimes I wonder what God you believe in! For there are some of you that believe in two gods--the one bad, the other good--and that you must transcend the bad to get to the good."

"There are many different beliefs," said Heloise, "for not all who do not conform to the Church of Rome are of one mind, neither are we all united. I know there are many preachers and many diverse beliefs among those preachers, but what we have been taught by Giles is that Jesus Christ is the Son of the God of love, sent by God to show us the way of love. Giles also taught us that He was a simple man who lived a simple life, and that He, like some of our fellows, was killed by those envious of Him. His preaching of love undermined their domination. He showed people how to be free, and not under bondage. That is what we tell others: that they can be free--free to enjoy life, free to love."

"But some of you shun physical affection and say that you must refrain from the things of this world in order to perfect yourselves, in order to pass on to that perfect state beyond," replied Guillaume.

"It is true--again," said Guy, "that some teach this, but this is not our belief. We believe that perfection will only come on the other side, when we have passed from this world into the next. Love and showing love is the way to perfection. It is not in the things that you deny yourself, but it is in the things that you do for others. It is in the care and consideration that you show to others--as this gypsy family has done in taking in this one who hated them and sought to do them harm; yet they have taken him in to try and heal him of his wounds. We believe such deeds of kindness are what help one reach perfection."

"Well," said Malcolm. "If this is what you believe, then I am happy to know you, for these are truly honorable beliefs. But why do I hear that the bishop and other members of Holy Mother Church hate you so?"

"It is as we said before," said Guy. "We expose them for what they do not do. We expose them for their hypocrisy. That is why they hate us."

"This Giles," asked Malcolm, "how can I meet him? Truly I would like to hear the things he says."

"I would have to ask him if I can bring you to our next meeting," replied Guy.

"Please do," said Malcolm, "for I would like to know more."

"Well, my friend," said Guillaume, "it looks like you're enjoying this conversation and I hate to pull you away from it, but I must say that the day is getting late now. Tonight you shall be my guest at the Tournament of Song, so we must be thinking of getting away from here. Oh, I must think of a disguise for you!

"Master Guy and Mistress Heloise, I thank you for coming here, and for bringing my companion's sword. I apologize to you for the inconvenience, and I apologize that we cannot stay and enjoy your pleasant company, but Malcolm and I must be off."

Then Guillaume turned to Esme and was once again struck by the deep beauty in her eyes. "Mistress Esme," said Guillaume politely, "tell your noble father that he is most welcome to stay here. Thank you for your hospitality, and for the meal. I am concerned about that soldier, yonder, and I do join my prayers with yours that he will recover. Come, Malcolm, we must be going."

Reluctantly, Malcolm nodded and arose. He turned to Guy and Heloise and said, "Thank you for telling me the things that you have today. I came in search of a mystery, and I have found something profound. You are truly a unique and noble people. I thank you, too, for coming this far to bring me my sword, and I pray that I will be able to return the favor someday."

"You are welcome, noble Scotsman," said Guy. "You are a true and honest man." The two shook hands and then Malcolm turned to Heloise. Once again his awkwardness with women showed itself as he stammered out a disjoined repetition of all that he had just said to Guy. Heloise blushed slightly. As they looked into each other's eyes, there was a long pause--a pause that grew almost awkward for the others standing around.

"Oh," Guillaume teased as he slapped Malcolm on the back, "I think our dear Scotsman is smitten by your beauty, Ma'am!"

Heloise flushed a deep red. Malcolm turned angrily to Guillaume, but seeing the good-natured smile on the young man's face, quickly found himself forgiving Guillaume for embarrassing him.

"Yes, we must be going," said Malcolm somewhat brusquely as he headed towards his horse.

Guillaume turned back toward Esme, and again their eyes met. For a moment he seemed transported to some silent, timeless realm. Then a sweet smile broke on Esme's face, and it was Guillaume's turn to blush! He recovered with a smile and bowed chivalrously to the young woman. Without a word, he turned and headed off to join Malcolm.

"You make light of me for being love-smitten," said Malcolm to Guillaume, "but methinks your heart too has been lost at this campfire."

Guillaume smiled, but didn't answer. He swung himself into the horse's saddle. "Come on, Scotsman! We must be off. First stop is my father's house, which is about fifteen minutes' ride from here. For there I think I can outfit you in a most deceiving disguise."

Malcolm looked at Guillaume, somewhat puzzled, but decided not to test the matter further. He, too, swung into his saddle, and the two headed up the road that led out of the woods, then turned in the direction of Guillaume's father's country home.

* * *

We will skip the rest of the events of the afternoon, for they are rather inconsequential to this story. We switch once again to the great hall of the castle in Toulouse, which bustled with activity, for it would be the venue of the Tournament of Song. Servants rushed about, busily preparing the banquet tables that ringed the hall. Many knights, great lords, and sons of great lords had gathered in Toulouse that night.

The judge of the tournament was to be none other than the lovely wife of Count Raymond. She was the sister of Peter, the king of Aragon, the state that bordered the County of Toulouse to the south and west. Raymond's late first wife, Joan, had been the sister of Richard the Lion-Hearted. Richard, himself a renowned troubadour, had died several years earlier, not far from Toulouse, from wounds received while besieging the castle of a rebellious underlord within his lands in France.

Count Raymond had been a troubadour himself in earlier times, but in these days he found himself so taken up with affairs of state that he no longer had time to pen songs. But tonight he, too, came to watch and to listen, for he found that a good song could almost magically make him feel less burdened with the cares that constantly bedeviled him.

Shortly before the entertainment was to begin, Guillaume and young Raymond arrived. With them was a stranger, dressed in Saracen robes. His dark complexion, offset by the white headgear common to the Moors of southern Spain, made this stranger seem peculiarly out of place.

"This is Sharif Abu Ben-Ramen," explained Guillaume to his startled uncle. "He is a Moorish doctor from Grenada, who has come to the Languedoc to ply his trade and teach his craft. The physicians of Cordoba and Grenada are famed throughout the world for their healing prowess. I have invited him to come tonight, to see and listen to the songs and beauty and culture of our fair Christian town. It may be that we can influence him to look kindly upon our religion."

Count Raymond turned pale as he stared at the familiar features of the Saracen . The brown dye that tanned Malcolm's face did little to hide his identity from the count. Raymond shook his head in dismay, then nodded to the man and sat down again, heavily, in his chair.

Reaching forward to grab his goblet of wine, Guillaume whispered in the younger Raymond's ear. "We have obviously displeased your father with what we have done."

Young Raymond turned to Guillaume with a twinkle in his eyes. He always enjoyed his cousin's pranks; that Guillaume had disguised a friend was clear, but the younger Raymond was in the dark as to who exactly Malcolm was.

"That we have, cousin! That we have!" he said. "And let us see how well the ruse can be played off against the others!"

"Come, noble doctor," said Guillaume to Sharif Abu Ben-Ramen, "let us be seated up here, on the right hand of my illustrious uncle. I am so sorry that those of your religion do not drink alcohol, for though you will be able to listen to the good music, you will not be able to partake with us of this rather good wine that is produced in great quantity within our fair county."

The Saracen nodded, but remained quiet as he sat down. Malcolm felt quite uncomfortable in the unfamiliar clothes, but he had gone along with the scheme and there was no turning back. To be invited to the Tournament of Song and to sit in a place of some honor was something that he would not have wanted to miss. The songs of the troubadours were famous throughout Christendom, and here he was going to hear some of the very best of them.

The songs were divided into several categories. The first singer sang a variation of Le Chanson de Roland, the story of the noble Roland, a Frankish knight who, several centuries earlier, had crossed the Pyrenees with Charlemagne with the intention of liberating those lands from the conquering Saracens. After a rather inconclusive campaign, Roland was given the command of the rearguard as the army of the Franks headed home. His was a noble mission doomed to failure, for his company was small in number and the enemy strong. Soon, the small, heroic band was defeated and all were killed in battle. However, their deeds became the essence of a legend and a popular subject for song.

Several people in the audience stared at Malcolm during the song. It took him a while before he realized that he should be somewhat offended by the words, for it did not speak of Saracens in pleasant terms. Turning to Guillaume, he bent over and whispered into his ear, somewhat jokingly, "I should be picking up my scimitar and running you through right about now, for the insults in this song."

"Noble Saracen," Guillaume whispered back, "do not take your disguise too literally. You can pretend to be offended, but the song will not last long. Fear not."

To Malcolm's relief, the song soon ended, to the cheers of the onlookers.

The next song told of heroic deeds, this time based on the struggles between various kingdoms that France had been divided into hundreds of years before.

The third troubadour sang of unrequited love. His was the story of a young knight who loved a princess who knew not that she was loved by the man. Tragically, the song ended in the young man leaving for the Crusades and dying in a far land, without the woman ever knowing of his love.

Then it was Guillaume's turn. Accompanied by a musician on a lute, he sang a song of two lovers. It was a happy song, for the two were finally united and lived in endless bliss.

There were many other songs that night, and much wine was drunk. Malcolm thoroughly enjoyed the evening, even though he had to remain sober. After much roistering and singing, the tournament came to an end, and the countess was to award the prize, a richly decorated goblet, to the winner. After much debate with her husband, and acknowledging to those gathered that it was hard to be a judge when her own nephew had been among the contestants, she awarded the cup to the young chevalier who had sung the sad song of the unrequited love. A huge cheer went out from the crowd as the young man came forward and knelt before the countess. As he arose, she gave him the cup. Holding it high above his head, the young man turned to everyone, and they once again shouted and applauded.

"Come," said Guillaume to Malcolm, "you and I must be departing soon. We must find a nice place for us to spend the night--out of harm's way, and away from the eyes of prying servants. I think that you and I might do better to stay at that inn of yours than to remain here in the castle, where already we know someone is telling the bishop my uncle's every move."

As they were leaving, a formidable knight in a drunken stupor turned to Malcolm. "You heathen Saracen!" he snarled. "Why do you come and show yourself among us Christians? You alchemist! You who do covenant with the Evil One! I should take my sword and run you through and be done with you now!" Malcolm eyed Guillaume nervously.

Guillaume turned to the man. "This Saracen is here by my invitation. He is a noble man, true and honest, and I will not have you insulting him in my uncle's house. If you decide to run him through, you will have to run me through first. And then, I think, my uncle might have somewhat against thee."

The color rose in the knight's face as he muttered a halfhearted apology, turned, and headed out the door.

"Some of my countrymen are truly bigoted," said Guillaume, "but I think it was more the wine talking than himself. It is well known in our parts that to achieve the best education, one must go to Cordoba, and there study in the university, but it seems that while some here are not averse to having the Moors educate them, Saracens in their own backyard make them nervous.

"But that man, Albert of Aurillac, is a truly dangerous man. He is not only rude and ill-tempered, but also one of the greatest warriors in these parts. I assume he did not take things further because he feared running afoul of my uncle. Come, let us go, before we encounter any of the others."

Bidding goodnight to the younger Raymond, Guillaume and Malcolm slipped out of the great hall by a side door and made their way down a short flight of steps into a side room, where Malcolm removed his disguise, washed the dye from his hands and face, and donned a cloak.

From there, they slipped out of the castle compound and into the town, and headed down the main street. Guillaume obviously knew where he was going, but to Malcolm, everything was new and unfamiliar. They passed the baker's shop, where, unbeknownst to them, Giles' group had met two days earlier. Then Guillaume turned to the right, into a small alleyway. Pressing on in the dark, they soon came to the inn. Guillaume knocked on the front door.

A voice that they both recognized shouted out from behind the door, "Who is it?"

"It is Malcolm and Guillaume," replied Guillaume.

The bolt clanged loudly as it was pulled, and the door swung open. The two made their way into the inn as Guy closed the door behind them.

"What are you doing here?" asked Guy.

"First I must swear you to an oath of loyalty and secrecy," said Guillaume.

"It is against my beliefs to swear any oath, but you have my word that what passes between you and I tonight will not be told to others," replied Guy.

Guillaume looked deep in Guy's eyes and hesitated for a moment. Then he continued, "Our friend, Malcolm, is supposed to be resident in my uncle's dungeon, but I was trying to find him some more hospitable accommodations tonight. He told me that you maintained a very nice inn here."

"Well, I hope it is better than your uncle's dungeon," said Guy with a smile, "though your uncle's dungeon probably has more occupancy than our inn tonight. Your room is still empty, sir," Guy said to Malcolm. "In truth, you may have the run of the place, for there are no other customers. But pray tell me, sir, why are you supposed to be resident in our count's dungeon?"

"Did Esme not tell you how we met?" asked Guillaume.

"Yes, she did," said Guy, "and that if it hadn't been for Malcolm here, the bishop's soldiers would have had their way with her, and possibly even killed her. And in turn, if you hadn't intervened, Malcolm himself could have been killed."

"Yes," said Malcolm. "I would have passed on to my reward--whatever that may be--if it had not been for the timely intervention of my friend, the noble Guillaume."

"As I said before," Guillaume interrupted, "it was the least that I could do, after having watched you fight those brutes single-handedly."

Turning to Guy, Guillaume continued, "That is why Malcolm is currently resident--or supposed to be resident--in my uncle's choicest lodgings. You see, the bishop has told a different story to my uncle, and his soldiers have accused Malcolm, along with some accomplices, of attacking them on the highway and robbing them of a goodly sum, and also of absconding with the body of one of them.

"And further, the bishop's soldiers contend that it was a conspiracy involving not only Malcolm, but also the gypsies and the Cathars."

"But surely your uncle does not believe this?" said Guy. "For you yourself were witness to the mal-intentions of the bishop's soldiers."

"Yes, this is true," said Guillaume. "My uncle does not believe it. But there is much politics in this. For even now, a delegation from the pope is in transit to our fair city to argue in front of my uncle that he should suppress you and others of the Cathars. Bishop Odo, our beloved local prelate, is encouraging him in this endeavor, and is also trying to use this attack on his men as another reason to persuade my uncle to oppress you. But my uncle has a plan whereby he hopes to expose the bishop as a liar, and therefore place the papal legate in an embarrassing and compromised position whereby he will not be able to press my uncle into carrying out the pope's wishes. It is all very complicated, but much hinges on keeping our dear Scot here out of the public eye--that is, until the day of trial."

"The day of trial?" queried Guy.

"Yes, the day after tomorrow, my uncle has set the trial."

"Well, please make yourself at home. My sister has already retired for the night, and I was also about to sleep, but can I get you anything first?"

"We will be all right, my friend," said Guillaume. "Just show us the way to our rooms. I fear we need a good night's rest as there may not be much chance for such a luxury in the days to come."