Knights Templar - Temple And The Crown Part 15

"A weapon ?t for a king," Torquil said, closing his hands around hilt and sheath and drawing the blade.

"But how can such a weapon serve against the creations of sorcery?"

"A dagger or dirk is merely the point of the sword. The sword itself represents the will of the wielder."

Fingon lightly touched Torquil's ?st where it grasped the weapon's hilt.

"Each of us stands at the center of a pattern," he went on. "The pattern is made up of different threads, interwoven and all radiating outward, much like Robert's spider's web. These strands, both dark and bright, bind and anchor us to the world around us. And within this binding lies the source of the danger you fear.

"As long as the pattern of life is undisturbed, it will be hard to discern the single thread which spells ruin-and impossible for anyone to follow one of these threads back to its source without detection. So you must be like the spider, patiently awaiting her prey. If a hostile hand should shake the web from afar, you will know in that instant which thread to cut." He glanced at the dirk. "And you now have the means to do so."

Slowly Torquil nodded, casting his gaze along the length of the blade.

"I understand," he said, "and I will be watching." He ?tted the tip of the dirk's blade to the opening of the sheath. "And when I strike," he added, shoving the blade home, "it will be with all my strength."

Chapter Fifteen.

Late February, 1307.

A FORTNIGHT LATER, AFTER A BITTER WEEK OF FROST AND snow, the February day dawned winsomely mild in distant Paris. The sun glared in a clear blue sky, transforming the snowcapped towers of the city into shimmering confections like icing sugar, with string-courses of icicles scintillating like prisms in the new-minted light. By noon, the hard-packed crust of ice in the streets had given way to a malodorous slush, redolent with the reek of manure.

Undaunted, the city's citizens cast aside some of their winter layers and sallied forth in their stoutest boots, ready to make the best of this ameliorating turn in the weather. Among those abroad was the king's princ.i.p.al minister, Guillaume de Nogaret-though any pleasure he might expect to derive from the day's outing came not from the ?ne weather, but from the business shortly to be conducted. The modest horse-drawn conveyance with its anonymous markings and drawn shutters was not his accustomed mode of travel within the city; but nor were his two companions men with whom he willingly would have a.s.sociated, save through professional necessity.

He kept his antipathy carefully masked as his transport lurched along the mud-clogged street, idly studying the pair seated across from him. The smaller and possibly brighter of the two, called Esquin de Floyran, was slender as a weasel, with pinched features and ?ne blond hair, who sat nervously plucking at the ends of a spa.r.s.e moustache with ?ngers as slim and deft as a woman's. The other, one Arnolfo Deghi, was squat and squint-eyed, with a ?orid, coa.r.s.e-featured face and greasy black curls. His dingy robe strained across his slack belly as he sprawled in his seat and dislodged shreds of food from his strong yellow teeth with a dirty thumbnail.

Two very different men: the core of the case Nogaret was building against the Templars. But though physically at odds with one another, the pair shared in common the shifty, calculating demeanor of the paid informant. Backing them, Nogaret had recruited ten additional spies from the gaols and the streets: forgers and swindlers, perjurers and thieves, sending them to in?ltrate selected Templar preceptories throughout King Philip's domain.

There, forti?ed with promises and bribes and curbed by threats, their work of the past several months had been both to gather information and to construct an elaborate network of lies. Now it was time to invoke the aid of the king. By no means satis?ed with the wealth he had ravished from the Jews, Philip remained covetous of the property of the Templars. All he lacked was an adequate pretext for seizing it.

And that, Nogaret's two hired accomplices were about to give him.

"I trust I need not remind you," Nogaret said, instantly engaging the attention of both men, "that any deviation from your agreed instructions will have serious consequences. You know what the king desires to hear. Have you any doubts regarding what you are to say?"

His two a.s.sociates exchanged wary glances and shook their heads in unison.

"None, Messire," the blond, weaselly man said with obsequious eagerness.

"I feel obliged to point out that your attempts to enlist the suspicions of the King of Aragon were somewhat less than convincing," Nogaret said blandly. "I hope you're prepared to make a better case this time. You wouldn't want to disappoint me."

The blond man paled a little, and he ducked his head submissively.

"No, Messire," he muttered.

Smiling faintly, without a trace of humor, Nogaret turned his unwavering gaze on the second man.

"What about you? You're certain your Templar superiors suspected nothing?"

"Nothing, Messire," the dark informant said at once. "The hints I've let drop will amply support the rumors we've been circulating. I've drawn up a list of those who are prepared to offer testimony, given the right price."

The wheel rumble of their conveyance changed, and Nogaret brie?y drew aside one of the shutters to con?rm that they had pa.s.sed onto the Grand Pont, lined on either side by the colorful booths of the money changers. Emerging onto the Ile de la Cit, they skirted the chapel of Saint Bartholeme and approached the gates of the Palais Royal, where Nogaret's driver was recognized at once and the rig allowed to pa.s.s.

The king's chief minister and his companions alighted from their conveyance in the palace forecourt, where Nogaret instructed the driver to remain in readiness. He then led the way through an inner court to the main entrance of the palace itself, where they were met by a steward whose fawning respect paid tribute to Nogaret's in?uence. Inside, the man ushered them past several interior guard posts to the privy chamber of the king himself.

Philip was already present, pacing the ?oor with petulant impatience.

"You are late, monsieur," he snapped. "You know I dislike being made to wait."

Nogaret bowed with suave self-con?dence. "A thousand pardons, Sire. We set out in good time, but traf?c in the streets detained us." Without giving Philip time to rebut, he presented his two companions.

"Sire, these are the men I told you about. I believe you will ?nd their testimony enlightening, to say the least."

The king waved the explanation aside irritably and ?ounced into a chair, subjecting the two men to a hard-eyed glare.

"These are the witnesses who have come forward, ready to give evidence against the Templars?"

Nogaret inclined his head. "They are, Sire." He ?rst beckoned his blond hireling forward. "This is Esquin de Floyran, once a subprior of the preceptory of Monfaucon. And this man," he went on, indicating the darker man, "is Arnolfo Deghi, a Florentine lay brother, previously sworn to the preceptory of Richerenches. Both of them are moved to come forward and expose the per?dy that lurks beneath the mask of sanct.i.ty presented to the world by the Order of the Temple."

Philip looked from one to the other, then singled out Esquin, who had doffed his cap before entering the presence chamber and was ?ngering it nervously.

"Your name seems familiar to us," he noted with a scowl. "We seem to recall having had a letter from you."

Esquin made a simpering obeisance.

"I had the honor to write to Your Majesty some six months ago, Sire, warning of certain dangers the Templars pose to all decent men whilst professing themselves to be warriors of G.o.d. They proclaim themselves dedicated to the service of Christ, but in fact they are dedicated to nothing but their own iniquitous vices."

When he did not go on, Philip impatiently made a rolling motion with one hand.

"And? And?" he prompted. "We would hear the details of what you have witnessed. Tell all that you have seen, and have no fear; We will protect you from the Templars."

Esquin ?ashed an oblique glance at Nogaret, who returned a curt nod by way of encouragement.

"Yes, Sire," he began on a note of wheedling humility. "I am but a poor clerk, as Your Majesty can plainly see. I joined the Order out of a sincere desire to do good, little guessing what would be my fate once I was professed. These many years, I have held my tongue in dread of reprisals. But seeing that the authority of the blessed Saint Louis lives once again in Your Grace, I will make so bold as to speak freely, for I can bear my silent shame no longer."

The king accepted this piece of ?attery as his due, inclining his head in acknowledgment. "Proceed."

Esquin lifted his eyes piously to the ceiling, managing to look somewhat embarra.s.sed.

"When I was a youth of barely eighteen," he began, "I was approached by the head of the local preceptory. The knight asked me if I would like to become a member of the Order of the Temple. Most respectfully I told him that I should like it very much, only I had no property to hand over by way of a gift. The knight smiled at me in a speaking manner and said, 'A handsome young man like you need bring no gift other than his presence, to be welcome to our brotherhood.' "

"And how did you respond?" the king asked.

Esquin a.s.sumed an air of blushing hesitation. "I thanked him for correcting the error of my a.s.sumptions, and said I was glad to think that rumor had lied in claiming that the Knights of the Temple loved only wealth. I told him if my poverty was no impediment, that I would be most eager to join, whereupon he offered to act as my sponsor. Thinking no ill, I accepted, counting myself most fortunate to have found so kind a patron."

King Philip frowned. "I see nothing of substance in this."

"Nor did I, Sire-to my lasting shame," Esquin said, modestly dropping his gaze. "Initially, all seemed innocent. Under my patron's auspices, I was enrolled amongst the postulants at the preceptory of Monfaucon. There followed a period of instruction, during which I learned to practice what I a.s.sumed was to be my rule of life. It was not until the day of my formal reception that I discovered the dreadful truth lurking beneath my patron's fair speech and benevolent treatment."

Philip had sat forward, and now was hanging on Esquin's every word.

"What truth is that?" he demanded.

Esquin feigned morti?cation. "A terrible truth, Sire. That night, after we had all taken our vows, my sponsor came to me in my cell. Ordering me to arise, he led me to another part of the preceptory, to a richly furnished chamber I had never visited before. Reminding me of my vow of obedience to my superiors, he then astonished me beyond measure by ordering me to remove my garments. When I would have protested, he said to me, "Have you so soon forgotten the words of our Rule? 'Do as you are bidden with full compliance or it shall go ill with you. You are now ours to command, body and soul.'

"What he meant, I could not imagine," he continued, "but his manner struck fear in my heart. I did as he commanded and stripped myself naked, blushing to ?nd myself the object of his gaze. Ordering me to leave my garments where they lay, he led me down a secret mural stair to an underground chamber appointed like a heathen temple. There I was shocked to see the senior members of our community a.s.sembled round an altar, arrayed like pagan priests in robes of purple and gold.

"My sponsor led me closer, and the senior among his companions addressed me in these words.

"'The Temple which we serve is the body. The body is a temple of delight. He who would serve the Temple serves his brothers by giving them his body. Thus do we keep ourselves unde?led by women, whilst gratifying our bodies' natural appet.i.tes.'"

The king's face had gone very still as he listened to this recitation, and he hung on Esquin's every word as the narrative continued.

"As it came upon me what he meant, I was seized by many hands and forced to kneel before him,"

Esquin said. Now thoroughly captivated by his own fancy, he wove his lie with lurid zest. "While they held me thus helpless, my sponsor bent and kissed me on the mouth. It was-not the chaste kiss by which oaths are sealed."

He had the grace to pause as if in discom?ture, swallowing nervously, but went on before the king could speak.

"There was-more," he said. "After that, at his instigation, I was taken to the altar and bent face down across it, compelled to accept a second kiss in a more obscene manner. And then they-used me as a stallion uses a mare. and did not desist until each one had taken his pleasure of me."

At this, the king could contain himself no more.

"Can this really be true?" he demanded. Beneath the note of incredulity was an undercurrent of hopeful glee.

"As G.o.d is my witness, Sire," Esquin a.s.sured him. "I can hardly bear to speak of it, for shame. After my ordeal, I was told that I now belonged to Satan, who would come for me and consume me with ?re if ever I spoke of what had transpired." He hung his head most convincingly.

"Thereafter, terror sealed my lips and chained me to a life of degradation-until Monsieur de Nogaret found me. He persuaded me that, by casting myself on your mercy and speaking out against my slave masters, I would ?nd the safety and redemption I had long craved."

"You have richly earned both!" King Philip declared, and turned to Nogaret. "This is a bitter thing, a lamentable thing. It is horrible to contemplate, terrible to hear!"

"An execrable evil," Nogaret agreed. "And the tale is only half-told yet."

He directed a look at Arnolfo Deghi, who took his cue with well-oiled ease.

"Sire, I regret that what I must say to you is, if anything, even more shocking than the testimony rendered by my counterpart," he began in a smooth voice that belied his coa.r.s.e appearance. "The Templars are wolves who have put on the appearance of sheep, the better to serve their master the Devil. By day, they make an outward show of piety and prayer; but dead of night ?nds them in the guise of the vilest blasphemers ever to walk the earth since Judas Iscariot."

Philip's bright, pale eyes were bulging with excitement. "Speak on," he ordered.

"Yes, Sire. I will spare Your Majesty an account of my own reception into the ranks of the Templar Order. Suf?ce it to say that my experiences bear a close and painful resemblance to those endured by Monsieur de Floyran. What I am about to disclose would be grossly horrible for any Christian to hear, much less a Christian king.

"Nevertheless, the facts must be told," he went on, at Philip's warning look, "for only you, Sire, have suf?cient weight of power and authority to wipe out the evils that I have witnessed and of which I am about to speak."

"Out with it, man!"

"Yes, Sire. The preceptory at Richerenches, like the one at Monfaucon, has a secret and accursed chapel dedicated to the Prince of Darkness. By day, it is dressed as a house of G.o.d, but by night, it is a theater for incorrigible iniquities. You have already heard how the Templars, in their secret sanctuaries, regularly engage in acts of b.e.s.t.i.a.l fornication. But you have not yet heard how the name and likeness of Our Lord are ritually desecrated in honor of the Prince of Darkness."

"Surely this cannot be true!" Philip blurted.

"I fear that it is," Arnolfo went on. "The Templars have their priests to celebrate the Ma.s.s," he went on, "but this, Sire, is for outward appearances only. They do not speak the words of Consecration; and during their secret initiation ceremonies, each new knight or brother is required, on pain of death, to deny Christ three times in the hearing of the a.s.sembly. With each denial, he is obliged to spit on the cross, or upon the likeness of Our Lord-or to urinate upon them. Then he is compelled to sacri?ce a black cat or a black c.o.c.kerel on the altar in honor of Satan, who appears to them in the likeness of a disembodied head to be worshiped and adored."

Throughout Arnolfo's narrative, Nogaret had kept a close eye on the king. He was pleased to note that Philip was drinking it all in with horri?ed fascination and a thirsty eagerness. This last piece of invention caused the king to strike his ?st against his palm with an exclamation of triumph.

"I knew it!" he cried. "This is an abominable work! A detestable disgrace! A thing almost inhuman! This evil shall be seized and plucked out by its roots! I swear it, by the head of my grandfather Saint Louis!"

Controlling a smile, Nogaret signaled his henchmen to withdraw. When they had departed, the king turned to his chief minister, beaming with profound satisfaction.

"Monsieur Nogaret, I congratulate you!" he declared. "It is even worse than you led me to believe. The witness of these men will serve as a lever to force wide the doors on every Templar preceptory in France."

Chapter Sixteen.

Spring, 1307.

ARNAULT HAD JUST RETURNED WITH OLIVER DE PENNE from an inspection of the Order's major preceptory at Groux when Christoph convened an informal meeting of le Cercle: only the three of them, plus Gaspar. "De Molay has arrived in France," Christoph announced. "He sailed into Ma.r.s.eilles three days ago, with six galleys and a retinue that would have done credit to a Byzantine prince."

Gaspar sighed and rolled his eyes, for the Grand Master had been instructed by the pope to travel with a minimum of fanfare, even incognito.

"What can he have been thinking?"

"Obviously, it wasn't about following orders," Christoph said sourly. "Apparently he's brought an escort of sixty knights, plus their lay servants. His baggage train, I'm informed, includes twelve packhorses laden with plate and jewels. They are making their way north at a leisurely pace, with a show of pomp that could scarcely be more ostentatious, or more calculated to arouse public hostility."

"Whatever could have possessed him to indulge in such a display?" Arnault muttered, half to himself.

"Our esteemed Grand Master is ever zealous to uphold the dignity of the Order," Oliver said. "He probably considers it only right and proper that he should present himself as a visiting head of state.

Unfortunately, by defying the Holy Father's orders, he's apt to alienate our single staunchest champion."

"Aye, and it lends credence to the claims of our detractors," Gaspar agreed. "Sometimes, I do despair of the man! When he shows his face in Avignon, I have no doubt that the Holy Father will have a few well-chosen words for him!"

No one raised any demur. Already subject to intimidation by the French crown, Clement V was only too likely to feel doubly threatened by this ?exing of power by another rival dignitary-a dignitary, moreover, who was technically subject to papal authority, but independently possessed of very signi?cant ?nancial and military might. It occurred to Arnault that the higher echelons of the Church, like those of the Templar Order itself, were being subjected to powerful external pressures. The damage was insidious, and was only getting worse.

Was there a common agency at work, he wondered, trying to maneuver the Church and the Order into ?ghting one another? If so, the consequences could be disastrous for both.

A week later, the Grand Master's advance party arrived in Paris to prepare the way for his arrival.

Among them were Father Bertrand and two members of le Cercle not normally resident at the Paris Temple: Father Anselmo, a Templar priest whom Arnault had known for many years, and a senior knight called Breville, known to Arnault by name and reputation but whom he had met in person only once or twice. Whatever Breville's particular talents might be, Arnault could only speculate; but he liked the look of the wiry, intense little man who came into Gaspar's of?ce with Oliver de Penne and Father Anselmo.