The US Military AcademyWest Point, New YorkMarch 12

Cadet Corps Commander Mathew Dwayne Jameson walked asfast as he could, stepping carefully so as not to slip on the ice and endup unceremoniously on his ass. As he made his way across the campus,his mood matched the leaden sky that was threatening more snow.What could the Man want to see him about? The e-mail said, "See meASAP." Did he want to tell him his thesis and distinguished graduatestatus were in serious trouble? That would not be an acceptable situationand outcome! DJ, as many called him informally, was expected to bea distinguished graduate (known as a DG) just like his father andgrandfather had been.

Entering the building, he hurried down the long hall, and thehorseshoe taps on his heels, allowed by virtue of his rank as cadet corpscommander, echoed off the marble-lined passageway to his destination.He stopped at the last door on the left. The brass plate on the massivewooden door proclaimed it to be the office of Paul Brown, PhD, Col.USA Retired, and History Department Chairman. Just as he raised hisfist to knock on the door, he was startled by Professor Brown's boomingvoice. "Come in, DJ."

DJ entered the large office, which was lined with bookshelves. Thepungent, sweet smell of stale pipe tobacco greeted him as he crossed theroom and stood at attention in front of the big mahogany desk strewnwith opened books and papers.

"Sir, I came as soon as I received your e-mail."

Tossing a manuscript onto his desk, the slightly balding retiredcolonel looked over the glasses perched on the end of his pointed noseand said, "Be at ease, DJ. Pull up a chair and sit." Cracking his knucklesand rubbing his hands together lightly, he placed them palms downon his desk, leaned forward, and said, after a pregnant pause, "I'vefinished reading your thesis—The Albigensian Crusade? That wasn't atrue military force-on-force campaign. You know that. This is nothinglike the abstract you turned in seeking approval to proceed with yourresearch!"

Professor Brown rolled his chair back, stood up, turned his back onDJ, and stared out of the window at the Hudson River below, watchingthe snowflakes falling ever so slowly. DJ remained silent and waited;this was his fourth year at the academy, and he had been in ProfessorBrown's office many times before. He knew the Man had more tosay. He had visions of his DG status melting away like many of thesnowflakes landing on the office windowpane Professor Brown wasstaring through.

Professor Brown sat back down. Picking up the manuscript andturning over a few pages, he said, "Explain! Why is it so differentfrom your proposal? And what in the world do the words 'At the endof seven hundred years, the Laurel will be green once more' sung bya thirteenth-century troubadour in your introduction have to do withthe military orders of battle in the Crusades against the Muslims of theMiddle East?"

DJ squared his shoulders, came to attention in his seat, andreplied, "Sir, nothing, sir. However, more than two hundred maleand female Cathar civilians, given the choice of being burned alive orrenouncing their particular Gnostic understanding of Christianity andits relationship to humanity, do have meaning for me. That's not onlyas a devout Catholic but also as a professional soldier trying to makesense out of the Catholic Christian Church's military actions againsta Christian populace. As for the song of the troubadour, I believe itprobably meant it would take more than seven hundred years to erasethe stain of the pope's actions on the Christian world."

"That's all well and good, DJ, but it adds nothing to a descriptionof the military aspects of this particular crusade. Scrap it! I believe yourgrandfather would concur, don't you?"

DJ's paternal grandfather, retired US Army Lieutenant GeneralMathew Jameson and former history professor at West Point, hadprovided an endless storybook of military history for DJ's formativeyears. Now about to graduate from the academy, hopefully with honorsas a history major, DJ sure as hell didn't want to screw it up.

DJ replied, "Sir, yes, sir. I guess I got caught up in the melodramaof the historical facts. However, the pope ordering the extirpation of aChristian population because of their particular religious beliefs bothersme." DJ stood up. Visibly agitated, he began pacing back and forth infront of the large desk. "I didn't put this in my paper, but according toinquisition records, Montségur was the Cathar bank and last stronghold,containing vast amounts of gold, silver, donated money, and possiblyother, more valuable, undefined treasure, including secret documentsdetrimental to the Catholic Church. Yet there is no record as to whathappened to any of those treasures."

Professor Brown leaned forward, picked up his pipe from theashtray, lit it, and blew a perfect bluish-white smoke ring, which driftedslowly up to the ceiling. Then he said, "Well, even if you had excellentdocumentation on these tidbits of information regarding undefinedtreasure and ancient documents, I wouldn't approve your putting thatinformation in the final version of this paper. Even though it's notstrictly about military tactics and strategy, your paper expounds verywell on the political and ethical aspects of war. I like that slant of it,despite the fact that you strayed from your original abstract."

DJ sat down again, relieved Professor Brown seemed to approve ofhis paper. He was, however, resigned to the fact that the information hehad begun to uncover would have to wait for another day and occasionto be investigated in more detail so he could reveal his results.

Professor Brown got up from his chair and walked to the corner ofhis office, where, DJ remembered, cadet legend had it he manufacturedcannon barrel cleaner and passed it off as—

"Would you like a cup of coffee, DJ? It's fresh. I just made itabout—um, let me see," he said, looking at his pocket watch. "Aboutsix hours ago."

"No, thank you, sir. I had a cup just before I left to come here. Iwould like a Coke if you have one."

"In the small fridge over there in the corner under the window.Help yourself."

DJ hated lying; however, he had sampled the professor's coffee oncebefore during his plebe year and swore he could still taste it.

DJ sensed Professor Brown was about to drop the other shoe, andhe was right. Professor Brown sat upright, stirred his coffee very slowly,and said, "You do intend to present your work at the academy's projectsday, don't you?"

"Sir, yes, sir! Don't you think I should? Sir, I know my thesis, asyou pointed out, delves into the Albigensian Crusade, which was not amilitary crusade in the strictest sense, but I believe the true importanceof this particular crusade involves the reasons why the Catholic Churchchose this course of action against a civilian Christian populace. I'vedone my research, and I believe I can hold my own in the competition."

Taking a sip of coffee, Professor Brown said, "Well, this yearmembers of Georgetown University, a Jesuit institution, will compete,and some of its faculty will act as judges. Your work will certainly beunder the microscope!"

Popping the top off his Coke, DJ replied, "It doesn't matter to me,sir. I'm confident that my research has been thorough, and I wouldn'tcare if the pope himself led the judging team. As a matter of fact, I'dlove to know if he would have endorsed the actions of...