Sad Tale of the Brothers Grossbart - By Jesse Bullington Page 0,70
always trickles down, specially when you’s proud as princes and twice’s stupid. You’d think livin as they do, chosen people and all, they’d have more sense than to question a good thing. Heresy is what it is, and worse yet, cowardice. Cryin and carryin on, why, why, why?! I’ll tell you, Martyn, I’ll tell you honest: kind a maggot askin them questions’ too scared to have faith, and that’s how he’s worse than a simple heretic. Ain’t enough his family died, he gotta know why. Why me, why them, why, why, why? Cause you’s a cunt, that’s why. Cause Her Will is inscrutable, and what’s more, none a our fuckin trade. We truck in the flesh, and doin as She commands, showin mercy and acceptin fate for just that stead a raisin them questions what would get you burnt quick you wasn’t wearin robes. Gotta believe in a world without answers, a fate without explanation or apology, or you’s the cuntiest a the cunts and you’s gonna get your precious answer in the fires below!”
The wheels squeaked and the wagon bounced. Hegel sweated, wondering if their load would soon lighten. His brother usually restrained himself around clergy as there were so many hidden heretics infiltrating the Church but this man had shown remarkable charity, what with not being sore about getting shot. Manfried spoke the gospel, though, and if this priest took offense it was proof of his cowardice.
“Amen,” Martyn breathed. “You speak well, Manfried, although I might advise rearranging the order of your points in the future, as most company will not listen so attentively and discern your meaning for what it is. And forgive me if I, through my awkwardness of speech, have implied I do anything but agree wholeheartedly with you. My simple, and admittedly rude, curiosity bested me, but only for a moment.”
“Amen, indeed,” chortled Hegel, sliding his hand off the pommel of the dagger under his cloak.
“Well, it ain’t nuthin,” Manfried muttered, delighted his diatribe had pleased the priest. “Just the truth, unfettered by that fancy and meaningless talk so pleases the countryfolk.”
“As I told you,” Martyn said after sipping the bottle, “although perhaps not clearly enough, it is precisely that sort of double-speak that has divided Christian from Christian to such grave extent that the Pope no longer sits in his proper place but must dwell in the recently tamed wilds of Avignon, and why I was scorned by some of my brethren for embarking on my journey. They would rather accuse each other of heresy than battle real evil made flesh.”
“Cowardice is oft hid under the moniker a common sense,” said Hegel, and the others nodded in agreement.
“And you are correct,” Martyn continued, “shamed though I am to admit it, that there are many in the Church for whom the Will of God no longer suffices, and they damage not only their own salvation but also the sanctity of the entire institution by focusing more on the questions than the answers.”
“What with all them different orders traipsin bout, can’t tell one from another,” Hegel put in, Manfried winded and content to drink and listen.
“That is not so much of a problem as when the divisions become intolerable.” Martyn belched. “The fiend I hunted is indicative of this. I found little support in pursuing a demon that I had seen. Sad times when thwarting corporeal evil sent from the Devil to work his mischief is less imperative than investigating rumors of heresy, when the righteous are not even in their city. I found an ally in Jean de la Roquetaillade, a Franciscan gifted with prophecy, but he was imprisoned for preaching the truth—that the End Times have arrived. I met with him in his cell every time I journeyed to Avignon, further proof, further proof! Concern for the souls of man has been supplanted by a desire for power. I prayed that my quest might bring the Church back together, but before leaving Avignon the last time I found myself a pariah and a laughingstock to those who disgrace His Name through act and word, some whispering I was a secret Waldensian! They denied me an audience with Lord Clement, then again with Lord Innocent, and when I recently returned to implore Lord Urban the same curt dismissal awaited me.”
“Tragic,” said Hegel.
“Tell me, brothers, have you heard of the trial of Formosus?”
Manfried yawned. Hegel blinked.
“Pope Formosus’s desecration is most topical, so I will advise you on what befell him and let you two pious