August 1185 A.D. – France – Listening to the Priest

It was summer in the blacksmith’s shop and Raoul took every opportunity to run errands to escape from the hellish atmosphere of the furnace. Today more raw iron was required. The smithy obtained this from a pit outside the city walls. As the valued apprentice, Raoul was in charge of the mechanics of obtaining the basic material. One of the labourers accompanied him. He pulled a cart that they had borrowed for transportation purposes.

A mile or so, outside the city walls, the two came to the hilltop that held their charcoal pit. The pit was full of layers of ore and hot charcoal and sealed with earth at the top. Some of the charcoal mixed with the ore and added carbon. In this way the blacksmith had access to a crude form of steel.

Raoul removed the seal from the pit and drew off some of the molten iron. Apprentice and labourer needed to wait for the lump to harden, before they could carry it back to the city. The two men settled down to wait on the grass bank of the hillside. The sun was beating down pleasantly and they looked forward to a welcome period of rest.

Raoul’s peace was disturbed by a low buzz emanating from the foot of the slope. Peering into the distance, he could see a small crowd gathered round a tiny, stooped, wizened man. Maybe he was a teacher, or perhaps a monk. Raoul was intrigued. Apart from the priests in church he had never had any formal teaching. He turned to the labourer.

“Stay here and watch over our metal. I am minded to move down the hill and find out what so interests the crowd.”

The older man grunted. In his experience nothing good ever came out of exercising curiosity. He had no intention of moving.

The youth moved down the slope, picking his way carefully over the rocks pitting the grassy bank. As he reached the bottom of the hill, he approached the group cautiously. But no one paid him any attention. They were hanging on the words of the man in front of them. He was speaking quietly but with a fierce intensity.

In graphic detail, the teacher described the horrors of daily life in twelfth century Europe. Living at the will of your feudal master. He railed how most people were left with not enough to eat. How illness was rife, throughout each and every kingdom, with war, famine and pestilence stalking the land. How, the preacher argued could any benevolent God, the God of the New Testament, allow the world to be as cruel as this.

Raoul began to lean forward, listening with interest. The preacher was warming to his subject. And he was clearly brim-full of enthusiasm. His brown cloak hung loosely from his shoulders. His hair was spreading lankly down his back. He looked slightly dishevelled. But his eyes were clear, blue and full of fervour. He scanned the crowd, fixing his stare on each of them in turn.

“Brothers and sisters, please listen to my words, I implore you. Which of you has not seen the wickedness and suffering abroad in this land?”

His low voice cut clearly through the heaviness of the summer air.

“Remember, my friends, the devastating famine of last year. The crop failures and the poor and weak, lying starving in our cities, towns and villages.”

The crowd murmured, the memory was still strong.

“Remember also, I beg you, what came with the hunger. Afflictions of every kind. Skin, mouth, bowels, limbs! And what of those that profited from the disaster. Hoarding what little food remained. And then the poor forced to sacrifice what little they had to pay the prices demanded to save themselves from starving!”

Then came the lines that often caused alarm.

“I ask you fellow citizens. What kind of God could allow this? The God of whom Jesus spoke is the God of everlasting love and peace. The material world in which we exist is not of his making. That is the work of Satan. The Church of Rome is too fond of the riches to be found in this earthly realm, to accept that we should care nought for worldly goods!”

A shocked hush settled across the listeners. Furtive glances were exchanged between neighbours. Then suddenly they all drifted away like so many wraiths. This was heresy, pure and simple. To even entertain such thoughts was a wild and dangerous move. Let alone in public.

But Raoul was still standing in the same place. The preacher smiled and beckoned him forward. Most of the time the crowd reacted as they had this afternoon. Converts were few and far between. It was a brave man who would risk following his words.

The traveller spent the next hour teaching the young man the basics of his belief system. He spoke of how salvation could only be achieved by the gaining of spiritual knowledge. And how Jesus had taught how to follow this path. The preacher poured scorn on the practices of the Catholic Church. With its rituals and icons, decorated churches and early wealth, he regarded it as nothing less than the Church of Satan. Corrupting the pure message of Christ. Raoul thought of the precious objects in the church. He could see the preacher’s point.

But before he had chance to get into much detail, it was time to return to the pit. The metal would have cooled sufficiently by now. However, as he left, he arranged a meeting place in the city with the preacher where he could learn more.