Europe's inner demons

He began to lose it a couple of years after becoming bishop. A certain Jean de Calais, who was in charge of Blanche’s revenues in Champagne, was accused of embezzling part of them and was imprisoned in Guichard’s episcopal prison. The man escaped, fled to Italy and was never recaptured; and Guichard found himself accused of conniving in the escape, for money. The accusation was laid before the countess by two men: the archdeacon of Vendôme, Simon Festu, who belonged to her inner circle and was competing with Guichard for her favour; and an agent of an Italian bank called Onofrio Deghi or, in France, Noffo Dei. The countess was quickly persuaded and turned fiercely against her former favourite, who was promptly expelled from the council. In 1301 an enquiry was opened, and it turned into a downright persecution of Guichard. The sudden death of Blanche the following year brought no reprieve, for Queen Joan carried on the persecution. Although the enquiry was still in progress some of Guichard's property was seized, while Enguerrand de Marigny set about making an inventory of the remainder. And already at this stage there were hints of a tactic that was later to be used against the bishop on a massive scale: Enguerrand told Queen Joan that Guichard was employing a Jew to conjure up the demon, which would then be used to frighten her into dropping the case.⁽¹³⁾

So things continued until, in 1304, the fugitive Jean de Calais died in Italy, leaving letters for the king and queen, in which he proclaimed Guichard’s innocence. The bishop, he declared, had had no part in his escape; it was Simon Festu who had managed the whole business, in order to destroy his rival. A reconciliation between Queen Joan and the bishop followed; Guichard paid a sum in compensation, and the enquiry was dropped. In 1306 Noffo Dei, believing himself to be dying, also withdrew his accusations against Guichard; and in June 1307, Pope Clement V formally recognized his innocence. It seemed that the bishop, who was now about sixty, could look forward to a tranquil old age. But this was not to be: the affair of Jean de Calais turned out to be a mere prelude to a far more dangerous onslaught.

This new campaign was instigated by enemies of Guichard in the household of the king’s son, the young king of Navarre; though others were soon to join in. The opening moves bore a remarkable resemblance to the opening moves against the Templars. Just as, on that occasion, an obscure individual, Esquieu de Floyran, had made his way to King Philip as the bearer of horrific revelations concerning the secret activities of the order, so now another obscure individual, a hermit called Reynaud de Langres, brought horrific revelations concerning the secret behaviour of Bishop Guichard. In fourteenth-century France hermits were not necessarily pious and unworldly — many were shady characters who chose that way of life as a means of concealing their real activities. Reynaud de Langres was one such. Early in 1308 he arrived at the archiepiscopal city of Sens, where he informed first a priest, then the archbishop and finally the royal officials of the terrible things he had witnessed at the hermitage of Saint-Flavit de Villemaur, in Guichard’s diocese of Troyes. Queen Joan had died suddenly in 1305, at the early age of thirty-two; and about that time, said the hermit, he had seen the bishop practising maleficia at night, in company with a witch of the district. More recently the bishop had approached him personally and had tried to persuade him to poison the king’s brother and children. He had refused, and now went in fear of his life.

The news was at once conveyed to King Philip, and it could not have come at a more opportune time. It was the very moment when Pope Clement was making his one real attempt to save the Temple, or at least to exert some influence over its fate; and Philip was already preparing his propaganda campaign in reply. The pope was to be intimidated and defamed by every means; in particular, it was to be made plain that in defending the Templars he would be aiding and abetting heresy and so laying himself open to the charge of heresy, no less. Nothing could be more convenient for the king than to have found a bishop who could be charged not only with regicide but with having commerce with demons. He was not the man to let such a chance slip. He insisted that an enquiry be instituted — and he did so in very much the same language as he used about the Templars. The pope must act because the bishop’s crimes constituted an offence not only against the king’s majesty but also against the divine majesty and the Catholic faith; and if he failed to act, the king would do so, to save the honour of the Church.⁽¹⁴⁾