Knights Templar - Temple And The Crown Part 7

"If he understands it, it means he's ready to understand it," Arnault pointed out. "And he's strong enough not to betray it. Unless you believe there are traitors in our midst, in the Grand Master's immediate counsel, the question isn't likely to arise-and it will be a good test for Jauffre. Or is there a danger of which I'm not aware?" he asked, turning his gaze to Christoph and Gaspar.

Both men shook their heads.

"Not that we're aware," Christoph said. "But I'm afraid that these are questions we must begin to ask."

He sighed. "I agree, however, that young Jauffre is a good choice. I'll make certain that he's with the delegation sent to Cyprus to serve as the Master's escort. Arnault, I'll leave it to you to brief him about Scotland."

While the resident members of le Cercle were secretly discussing the future of the Order, King Philip was pacing the ?oor of his chamber in the Templar guesthouse.

"This is a d.a.m.nable state of affairs!" he complained forcefully. "It is intolerable!"

Guillaume de Nogaret affected a solicitude he was far from feeling.

"Is the accommodation not to your liking, Sire? If you wish, I shall demand that our hosts ?nd you a different apartment."

"The accommodation is excellent," Philip snapped. "That's exactly the point." He waved a hand around the room. "Gla.s.s in the windows, silk velvet hangings for the bed, furnishings of ivory and rare woods! I am more graciously housed here than I would be in my own palace. No religious establishment should be so luxuriously appointed."

Nogaret forbore to remind the king that this was the best chamber in the guest wing of the commandery, not the brothers' own quarters. Instead, he nodded his head sagely.

"You are entirely right, Sire. Such opulence is most unseemly among monks supposedly sworn to poverty, chast.i.ty, and obedience."

"Unseemly? It's positively scandalous!" Philip retorted. Moodily he ?ung himself into a heavy carved chair laden with fat feather pillows. "These Templars have brought me here to taunt me with their superior wealth. They serve me wine in a golden cup," he continued, picking up a stemmed goblet, "and food on silver plates! And then they have the audacity to reproach me with unpaid debts!"

No mention, in fact, had been made of the large sum of gold that Philip had borrowed from the Templar Order ?ve years earlier, or the like amount advanced to pay the dowry of the king's daughter in bride-price to the Lord Edward of England. But once again Nogaret refrained from issuing a reminder.

"The money they loaned me was the merest tri?e," the king continued on a note of petulance. "They could easily afford it. By rights, they ought to have made me a present of it! Instead, they choose to heap scorn upon my head. Oh, one day they shall pay for their arrogance, their insults."

"A reckoning is long overdue," Nogaret agreed, as Philip drank deeply. "But thus far, no one has had the courage to demand it."

"It is not for want of courage," Philip pointed out through clenched teeth. He held the emptied cup to be re?lled by Nogaret. "They are answerable only to the pope-and he's as corrupt as they are!"

"Too true, I fear, Sire," said Nogaret, and added, "Perhaps bringing the Templars to justice is an undertaking reserved for a king."

Philip's eyes kindled at the suggestion, nostrils ?aring, and after a moment he said, "You may be right."

He paused. "Go now. I must think on this." He waved a hand in dismissal.

Nogaret departed with only a silent bow, well satis?ed with his work. Inciting a riot to gain entry to the Temple had been more than a little risky, but it had paid off. Not only had it enhanced his standing with the king, but it had ?nally given Nogaret access to the Temple-and not just for an hour.

Mentally commending the industry of those responsible for rousing the mob-most of the Decuria, if the truth be known-he made his way to his own accommodation and, locking himself in, prepared to embark upon an even more dangerous gambit. He had been seeking such an opportunity for months.

Focused and intent, he took from the sleeve pocket of his robe a small leather bag containing a stoppered vial of holy chrism oil mixed with bone ash. The ashes were not those of a saint. Working quickly, he used this mixture to smudge symbols of warding about the room with his thumb, ?nally tracing an inverted pentagram of oil and ash in the center of a table in the middle of the room. He cleaned his thumb carefully before putting away the vial. Then he took the ruby ring from its chain about his neck and placed it at the heart of the pentagram.

"Now." he whispered under his breath as he stepped back a pace from the table.

Crossing his arms over his chest with a muttered incantation, he thrice repeated the ancient phrases, with varying pitch and intensity. At the end of the last recitation, he uncrossed his arms and ?ung out both hands in a commanding gesture of summoning, both palms upheld and turned toward the focus of his intent.

The ring at the heart of the pentagram quivered and began to spin, rattling against the wooden tabletop.

Very soon, a thin plume of crimson smoke began curling upward from the center of the circlet, slowly taking the form of a crimson-skinned miniature homunculus the size of a child, with yellow eyes like a goat's, fangs overhanging its full lower lip, and muscular arms folded above genitalia of obscene proportions.

It could and would come in any shape he desired-and for its former master, the despised Pope Boniface, had often come in female form, of astonishing beauty, compliance, and s.e.xual appet.i.te; but the price for that came high. Nogaret preferred not to press his luck. This was its true form- or as true as could be manifested on any physical plane.

"Ialdabaeoth issss here, Ma.s.sster," it hissed in a whispery, sibilant voice. "How may he ssserve?"

Nogaret smiled thinly, regarding the apparition through narrowed eyes. "Well come, Ialdabaeoth. I have some work for you to do. Do you know where we are?"

The imp's yellow eyes swiveled this way and that, and it spat in disgust.

"Thiss isss a sssacred place."

"It is not so holy as that," Nogaret said dismissively. "We are in the heart of the Paris Temple. It is not only a commandery of monks, but also a treasure house. I wish you to descend into the treasury vaults and show me their contents."

"Plea.s.sse, Ma.s.sster," the imp begged, on a thin whine of protest. "There isss much holinesss. It painsss Ialdabaeoth."

"Nevertheless, you will do as I command," Nogaret said ?rmly. "Now go, before you rouse my displeasure."

With a silent, sulking grumble, the demonic image dissolved, fading away like mist until only a faint shimmer remained to show that its essence still was anch.o.r.ed to the ring. Nogaret extended his left hand over the ring where it lay on the tabletop, not shrinking from the scorching sensation in his palm that marked the point of communion between the demon's essence and his own. As he closed his eyes, he at once found himself drawn along a trail of images.

The demon's ?ight whisked him down stairways and around corners. Corridors ?ew past in a dizzying series of twists and turns. Clinging to the ceiling, the demon ?ashed past over the heads of two lay servants engaged in scrubbing a ?oor and ?itted onward like a bat, until at last it entered a dimly lit pa.s.sageway lined with doors along one side.

Probing at the ?rst keyhole, Ialdabaeoth registered a quiver of excitement at the smell of gold and gems-and squirted through into the chamber beyond. Following the demon, Nogaret feasted his gaze on a profusion of chests and coffers. The adjoining vault housed maps and doc.u.ments, some of them richly illuminated with powdered jewels and gold leaf. Further explorations revealed more treasure: armor and weaponry chased with gold and silver, bales of furs and rich fabrics, and troves of reliquaries from which the demon shied away with hissing revulsion.

Then, to the rear of the ?nal vault, they came upon a concealed doorway leading to another chamber beyond. Here Ialdabaeoth came to a shuddering halt, for the hidden door was wreathed in mystical symbols, invisible to human eyes but agonizingly bright to the demon's gaze. The very air crackled with emanations of power that made the little demon bristle and spit, but its reaction was almost certain con?rmation that Nogaret at last had found at least a part of what he was looking for: the sanctum sanctorum of the Templars' treasury.

But all at once he became aware that Ialdabaeoth was shrieking in silent agony. The backlash of the demon's pain struck him with the force of an explosion, and for a moment the whole of creation seemed to careen round them. By sheer effort of will, Nogaret brought the world back into focus and bade the demon return, as did he himself.

Once back in the con?nes of his chamber, he severed the connection and allowed his demon servant to return to the ring. Oblivious to the residual pain that throbbed in his hand, he carefully erased all traces of the work he had done, then closed the ring in his hand, its cool metal easing the ache he now began to feel. Finally, he lay down with closed eyes, to recover his strength and savor his discovery.

Even without the evidence of the sacred inscriptions, there was no mistaking the aura of divine power radiating from the secret vault, strong enough to manifest through the surrounding shielding of masonry and the seals guarding the door. Without more direct examination, he had no way to be certain precisely what relics and magical talismans might lie within that sanctum the demon had been unable to broach, but he thought he might have located the particular one he had long been seeking.

"So," he muttered aloud to himself, opening his eyes to gaze at the vaulted ceiling above. "This is where the High Priest's Breastplate resides. And the Templars are its keepers."

The discovery suggested a further measure he might employ to ascertain more precisely the extent of the Temple's mystical treasures. He was smiling faintly as he slowly sat up.

Among the belongings brought in from the king's carriage was a dispatch case containing several deeds of royal property and a costly string of pearls intended as a gift for Philip's current favorite among the ladies of the court. This the guards had deposited in Nogaret's room for safekeeping.

With the case in hand and the ring back on its chain inside his clothing, Nogaret left his room and went in search of a suitable guide. From the outer door of the guesthouse, he spotted two young Templar brothers making their way across the courtyard, and accosted them with a wave of his hand.

"I have valuables belonging to the king in this satchel," he informed them of?ciously. "Since it appears we may be here for some time, I wish to place the satchel in a secure vault."

"Of course, my lord."

The pair conducted him to one of the brother treasurer's deputies. Once down in the crypt, Nogaret made a show of inspecting the locks on the treasury room doors.

"You're certain this will be secure?" he said as he handed the satchel to the deputy, whose curly beard reached nearly to his waist.

"Quite sure, my lord," the man replied, before disappearing inside.

Seizing this opportunity, while his attendant's notice was otherwise occupied, Nogaret planted the demon ring in a cranny behind a wall sconce, which commanded a view of the corridor.

"Very well, then," he said when the man had emerged from the vault. "I shall require a receipt for the item-and I shall hold you personally accountable."

"I a.s.sure you, there can be no question of its safety, my lord," came the answer.

Nogaret merely gave the man a curt nod, waiting while the receipt was prepared. Later, back in his room, he once again invoked the demon Ialdabaeoth, calling upon the link that would remain until his death.

"You will watch the pa.s.sageway day and night, noting who comes and who goes," he instructed. "And if anyone should appear bearing a relic of the One you do not name, I charge you to show me his face."

Chapter Seven.

June, 1306.

"d.a.m.n THAT TRAITOR BRUCE!" EXCLAIMED AYMER DE Valence, Earl of Pembroke. "And d.a.m.n his audacity! How dare he parade his rebel troops before the town, in contempt of our presence?"

This rant was addressed to a gathering of the highest-ranking of?cers of the English army under his command, presently quartered in the town of Perth, on the River Tay. Pembroke and his senior advisors had taken over the town's guildhall as their headquarters, where they were now a.s.sembled to discuss matters of strategy.

During their march north, the English had captured several Scottish lordlings and three of Bruce's staunchest adherents among the Scottish clergy: the bishops of Glasgow and St. Andrews, Wishart and Lamberton, and Abbot Henry of Scone. The laymen had been hanged; the clergy had been sent south in chains, bound for captivity in English castles. Bruce's own whereabouts, however, had remained a mystery-until that very afternoon, when the Scottish rebel army had suddenly materialized out of the hills and Bruce himself had challenged Pembroke to come out and ?ght.

"We should punish this upstart's presumption as it deserves!" cried Sir William Latimer, a senior banneret of the king's household. "Our strength exceeds his by at least ?fteen hundred men. I say we form up our followings and attack!"

His proposal met with an outburst of approval from all sides. Only Bartholeme de Challon remained unmoved.

"That is something that only a fool would do," he observed.

His voice cut through the din, eliciting a bristling silence. Pembroke gave him an icy stare.

"Perhaps you ought to explain yourself, Lord Bartholeme," he said.

"Willingly." Bartholeme swept the company with a look of mild scorn. "Is it not obvious that Bruce is trying to provoke you? Why else should he do this? If he can goad you into launching an ill-planned attack in the heat of the moment, the advantage is all his. He knows this area, as you do not. Doubtless, he has already picked his ground. If you go after him, the ?ght will be fought on his terms-and you will be the losers."

Grudging murmurs here and there acknowledged that he had made his point with some members of the gathering, but others remained unconvinced. Pembroke himself scowled darkly.

"Let me remind you that we've been hunting Bruce for days, with nothing but midge bites to show for our efforts," he said. "Now that he's suddenly popped up under our noses, are you suggesting we should let him vanish into the hills again without making some effort to engage him?"

"Not in the least," Bartholeme said. "I merely point out that there are more ways than one to ?ay a cat."

"Meaning what?" said Sir Geoffrey Segrave, another of the king's bannerets.

"Meaning that if you are prepared to exercise a little patience, you can get the better of Bruce without exposing your own troops to any great danger," Bartholeme replied.

"You are here not to wage honorable warfare, but to exterminate a race of treacherous vermin. For such a task, guile is the best recourse."

"Very well," Pembroke said cautiously. "I'm listening."

Bartholeme raised his voice for the bene?t of the whole room. "Ignore this challenge for the moment.

Hold your position within the town walls and wait until the summer twilight settles. Those few hours of darkness will suf?ce to mask our movements. When the Scots least expect it-that's when we strike."

"Easier said than done," Segrave said with a snort.

"No, easier than you think," Bartholeme countered. "The Scots are an undisciplined rabble, ill accustomed to maintaining order in camp. In the absence of any obvious danger, they will break up into small groups to forage for food, once nightfall comes. And once they disperse, we shall be able to round them up and cut them down like so many stray sheep."

"So you say now," said a knight called Sir Thomas Grey. "But you yourself have pointed out that Bruce and his following know the forest better than we do. If we leave the town in force, even under cover of darkness, how can we hope to surprise the enemy without giving ourselves away?"

Bartholeme's smile had a wol?sh edge. "Leave that to me," he said.

When the English declined to offer battle, the Scots' reaction was largely one of contempt.

"What do we have to do to make these cowards come out and face us?" one wag grumbled. "Dress ourselves up as women and pretend to be wh.o.r.es?"

"They're probably even afraid of our women!" someone else scoffed, to an answering ripple of laughter.

"Aye, maybe they've ?nally ?gured out what we've known for years," came the scornful rejoinder. "That one Scot in a ?ght is worth a dozen Englishmen!"

While such remarks were being bandied about the Scottish camp, a few miles northwest of Perth, Bruce drew apart with his advisors, among them Torquil Lennox and Aubrey Saint Clair.

"Well, simply offering a challenge to our enemies has failed," he said somewhat perplexedly. "Pembroke, quite rightly, is too astute to order an uphill charge against a Scottish spear force. We're going to have to come up with some other ploy to make the English come and ?ght."

"We could set ?re to the ?elds and farms round about," young James Douglas offered, somewhat doubtfully.

Bruce shook his head. "Not this time. Many of the people of Perth are in sympathy with our cause. I don't want to in?ict the hardship of a ruined harvest on them, unless there's no other way."

"If the English won't attack us, we may have to attack them," Christopher Seton said.

"Bad strategy," said Gilbert de la Haye, Scotland's High Constable. "That amounts to laying siege to the town, and we don't have enough men, let alone time, to pursue a course like that."

"Especially when we know that there's a second English army out there, that could descend on us at any time," Torquil pointed out. "We know Percy's on his way."

"So, how long can we afford to remain here?" asked Neil Bruce, the king's favorite brother.

"Not long," Bruce said bluntly. "Supplies are our biggest problem. If we can't bring Pembroke to battle within the next two days, we'll have to withdraw."

A delegation of sergeants was approaching. The most senior of them put himself forward with a respectful salute.

"Yer Grace, we'd like permission for the men tae go foraging," he announced gruf?y.

Bruce's gaze ?icked among his advisors, and he grimaced.

"Bide a moment, will you?" he said to the sergeant. "I have one or two matters to settle here ?rst."