We meet with the troubled French cleric to talk about about his controversial voyage and its devastating aftermath
RENAISSANCE WEEKLY: Father Maurand, you’ve recently returned from what many are calling an unprecedented diplomatic mission. How has this experience affected you?
FATHER MAURAND: [staring into his wine cup, voice barely above a whisper]
Affected me? Mon Dieu… it has destroyed me. I believed I was serving God and France, documenting the heroics of our gallant sailors. Instead, I became witness to… [trails off, shaking his head] I fear my soul may never recover from what I have seen.
RW: You accompanied Captain Polin’s fleet to meet with Barbarossa and Sultan Suleiman. That must have been quite an adventure for a parish priest.
MAURAND: [laughing bitterly]
Adventure? Is that what we call it when Christian ships sail alongside the enemies of Christ? When French sailors watch as Turkish corsairs butcher innocent Italian families? [voice rising] I watched as six thousand Christian souls were dragged into slavery. Six thousand! And our galleys… our Catholic galleys… sailed in formation with their captors!
RW: That sounds deeply troubling. What was your reaction at the time?
MAURAND: [wiping his eyes with a stained sleeve]
At first, I could not comprehend it. Surely there was some mistake? Some greater purpose I could not see? But as the days passed and I watched city after city burn, watched the sea foam red with Christian blood… [voice breaking] How do I reconcile serving a King who makes alliance with the Sultan of the Turks? How do I explain to my parishioners that their sons died fighting alongside the enemies of our faith?
RW: You actually met Sultan Suleiman himself. What was that encounter like?
MAURAND: [looking genuinely perplexed]
That is perhaps the most troubling part of all. The man was… civilised. His court was magnificent, his people clean and well-fed, his justice seemed fair.
[gripping his cup tighter]
How can this be? These are the same Mohammedans we are taught are godless savages, yet their realm seemed more orderly than our own. I have spent sleepless nights wrestling with this contradiction.
RW: Some would say that pragmatic alliances serve France’s greater interests against the Holy Roman Emperor…
MAURAND: [slamming his cup down]
Pragmatic? You call it pragmatic to watch Christians murdered while wearing the livery of France? To smile and feast with those who enslave our co-religionists?
[voice becoming desperate]
I understood statecraft once, I truly did. But what good are earthly kingdoms if we lose our immortal souls in defending them?
RW: How do you reconcile your faith with your service to the Crown?
MAURAND: [long silence, tears flowing]
I cannot. I simply cannot.
Each night I pray for forgiveness, but the images haunt me – the screams of the dying, the chains of the enslaved, the satisfied faces of our Turkish allies.
[voice barely audible]
I fear God has abandoned me for my complicity in these horrors.
RW: You’ve been writing an account of your voyage. What drives you to record these events?
MAURAND: [straightening slightly]
Perhaps… perhaps if I can bear witness to the truth, it might serve some purpose.
Captain Polin wants a tale of glory, but I cannot write lies. The world must know what alliances like these truly cost.
[voice strengthening]
Even if it damns me further, people must understand the price of these policies.
RW: Have you considered leaving the priesthood? Starting fresh somewhere new?
MAURAND: [shaking his head sadly]
Where would I go? What would I become? I am a priest – it is not merely what I do, it is what I am. But how can I offer spiritual guidance when my own faith lies in ruins?
[pauses, then looks up with sudden intensity]
No, I must stay. I must try to make amends through good works, help others who suffer as I have suffered. Perhaps God will find some use for a broken vessel like myself.
RW: Any words of advice for our readers about navigating these complex times?
MAURAND: [standing unsteadily]
Beware the easy justifications of princes and politicians. When they speak of necessity and pragmatism, remember that souls are at stake – not just enemy souls, but your own.
[voice becoming passionate]
Hold fast to your principles, even when the cost seems unbearable. For I have learned that the cost of abandoning them is far worse than any earthly suffering.
Father Maurand spoke with us in a dim tavern in Toulon’s poorer quarter, his black soutane stained and worn, his hands trembling as he struggled with memories that clearly torment him still. Throughout our conversation, his anguish was palpable – a man genuinely wrestling with the moral complexities of his age.