“This is merely a stepping stone.” This had become his mantra since the Abbot’s assignment at the Eglise des Carmes in Loudun. This sleepy little village was certainly not where he had pictured his career in the Church taking him. He had hoped for an assignment in his native England, where the Carmelite Order was blossoming. But political forces had ensured that he was blocked from England. His father had business dealings with the French that had essentially branded him a traitor in the eyes of the English elite and he was therefore tarnished, also. This chant had become the only way to face another dismal day in a town he felt was much too small for him. After his time in the seminary in Paris, a city alive with bright young minds, Loudun felt like the dullest place on earth.
As the younger of two sons, Ian Hargrove was slated for a career in the church while his older brother pursued a career in the military. His spot in the seminary in Paris had been secured by his wealthy family, insuring that his family’s interest would be served whether the King’s rule or the Church’s rule was supreme. “Une foi, un loi, un roi,” or “one faith, one law, one King”—a saying that indicated how tied this society was to state and church. For his family to have solid connections to both the King and the Church ensured their position regardless of current trends in power. His goal now was to attract enough favor to be granted a bishopric and to that end, Loudun was his stepping stone.
Truth be told, he mused as his footfalls echoed rhythmically off the hard, slate floors of the Church, it had not been all bad. The confraternity, a secret brotherhood that functioned, unsanctioned, through the Church, had proven to be an interesting distraction and perhaps the key to his forward movement. The group’s ranks were filled with many wealthy, powerful leaders in the area and that could prove quite useful.
The confraternity started years earlier as a bridge linking medieval pagan beliefs and rituals with the Catholic Church. By adhering to some of the pagan rituals of old, the populace could be enticed into the Church. Over the years, the confraternity had evolved into a secret society—a power base for some of the most influential men. Of course, many elements of paganism remained in their rituals, more for the sake of ceremony than anything else. They wore masks, lightweight, wooden masks painted gray—blank emotionless faces with hollow eye sockets. All the masks were identical ensuring both their anonymity and equality within the group. Their bodies were covered by long brown, hooded robes, tied at the waist by braided cords and finished with large knots on the ends. The props of their rituals: the chalice, the dagger, the pentacle and the wand—all firmly steeped in their pagan roots. For the Abbot, they served to add to the intrigue and drama.
Leadership of the confraternity followed a strict rotation which leant to the equality and equanimity of the group. The Abbot was convinced, however, that with a little careful planning and manipulation he could ensure that he became the defacto leader of this important group and he could, through this affiliation, propel himself quite successfully toward his future. He was taking his time and getting to know all the members in an effort to best plan for his leadership takeover.
His reflections on the confraternity came to an end as he passed one of the new residents of the orphanage in the hall. She moved with a singular purpose, head bent slightly over a stack of books in her arms. Stray hairs, not tamed by the long braid that fell down her back, tickled her face as she brushed them away distractedly. She was quite stunning, he noted. Marguerite had mentioned her in passing—Dominique—he thought she was called.
“Good afternoon, Father,” she murmured as she passed, her eyes meeting his fully. Although respectful, her demeanor was not submissive like the others. He was a good judge of character and he knew instantly that there was something different about this one. Perhaps this convent held some promise after all.