Knights Templar - Temple And The Crown Part 20

He spoke from long friends.h.i.+p with Flannan Fraser, who was slightly older than he but somewhat junior within le Cercle. Torquil had found him to be fearless and un?appable under any kind of pressure. In recent months, their superiors in Paris had been turning Flannan's talents to smuggling, helping to slip consignments of Templar treasure out of the Paris treasury and into temporary hiding places outside the reach of the French crown. Some of the treasures were of an esoteric nature; some were quite ordinary gold.

It was a consignment of the latter being sent to Bruce's aid-whose survival, in turn, would permit ful?llment of the Temple's longer-term objective: to erect the Fifth Temple here on Scottish soil. In the past year, as Torquil had bent all his energies toward merely keeping Bruce's skin intact, he sometimes had begun to lose sight of their ultimate goal.

He slapped at another midge bite and gave his pony a bit of heel, urging it up a gentle incline, for the hill line ahead was de?nitely beginning to look familiar. But as he topped the rise, he found a broad rift yawning before him, where the trail sheered away to a gravelly streambed below. The stream itself was running shallow at this time of year-easily fordable- but getting down to it safely was likely to be dif?cult, with the light failing.

Signaling the rest of the company to halt, Torquil kneed his mount closer to the edge to look for a way down-and a way back up the other side. The slope was clogged with rocks, brambles, and nasty-looking patches of mud, but there seemed to be a very narrow game trail snaking its way downward and then back up.

"It looks like we can go that way," Aubrey said from beside him, as he swung a leg over his saddle and slipped to the ground-not far, because his feet hung well below the pony's belly.

"Aye, but we'd better take it on foot," Torquil said, also dismounting. "If we weren't losing the light, it'd be no problem."

He looped an arm through a stirrup leather and pointed his pony down the canting path, giving it its head and letting his heels dig in as brakes as they started down. Given a choice, one wanted to be beside a horse headed down a steep hill, or even behind it-not in front, in danger of being over-run; and his added weight at stirrup level would help the pony keep its balance.

Aubrey followed a few pony lengths behind him. The footing proved better than they had feared, and they soon had started scrambling up the other side, this time with Torquil hanging onto his pony's tail.

They were still a dozen horse lengths short of the summit when Torquil's sharp hearing caught the sound of voices ahead.

Signaling a halt, and also for silence, he scrambled to the pony's head and clamped a hand over its nostrils as he listened intently. He couldn't make out words, but the tone was aggressive. Behind him, the ungainly chain of men and animals had come to a halt at his warning gesture. Motioning them to hold their positions, Torquil summoned Aubrey to his side.

"I don't like the sound of that," he whispered, gesturing ahead with his chin as he continued to keep his pony quiet. "I think we'd better have a look, before we go charging over the hill."

Leaving their ponies in the keeping of the next man behind Aubrey, the two Templars made their way silently to the top of the rise, keeping low in the undergrowth. Some ?fty paces down the other side of the hill face they had just climbed stood the abandoned crofter cottage Torquil had been looking for. The cottage itself looked long derelict, with c.h.i.n.ks in the walls and gaping holes where the thatched roof had fallen in; but they were not the ?rst to arrive.

More than a dozen armed men were ranged before it: a motley and uncouth band, dressed in ragged s.h.i.+rts and weatherworn plaids. Though a few carried only cudgels, most had swords or axes, and bore round leather bucklers on their arms, studded with bra.s.s nail heads in different patterns. Simple helmets of steel or boiled leather crowned most of the s.h.a.ggy heads, but a few merely sported sewn bonnets of rough wool cloth, with sprigs of wilted greenery stuck into the bands.

"Macdoualls?" Aubrey mouthed silently to Torquil, barely breathing the name.

Torquil gave him a cautious nod, not taking his eyes from the band. It was the Macdoualls who had captured the king's two brothers and handed them over to a terrible death at the hands of the English. He wondered if one of the Bruces or their men might have talked, alerting the Macdouall chief to post a coast watch, in hopes of preventing any aid from reaching Bruce from Ulster.

"Ye canna win free, ye feartie basterts!" yelled the leader of the Macdoualls, brandis.h.i.+ng his axe in the direction of the bothy. "Gi'e it up, an' we'll mebbe let ye live."

His men seconded his utterance with their own threats and jeers.

"I dinna think I like the terms," came the de?ant rejoinder from inside. "If ye want us, I think ye'll have to come and get us!"

Both Templars recognized the voice only too well.

"Jesus, it's Flannan!" Aubrey whispered to Torquil, indignation in his soft undertone.

"Aye, bring up the rest of the men and have them prepare to attack."

Aubrey slipped back down the slope to execute his orders. Meanwhile, the Macdouall leader appeared to have reached the end of his patience.

"Ha' done wi' ye, then!" he cried. "Lads, gi'e us some wuid! We'll build a wee bane?re and smoke 'em out."

Hoa.r.s.e cheers and whoops of approval greeted this proposal, and his men set to work with a will, s.n.a.t.c.hing up armloads of gorse and dry brushwood and starting to pile it around the bothy's crumbling walls.

"Will ye no hustle yersel', Sorley?" one quipped. "I'm cravin' smokit chookie fer supper tonight."

Coa.r.s.e laughter and the mocking cackle of chicken sounds rang out as the Macdoualls continued their ?re-building preparations, but the activity was giving Aubrey and the others time to get into position.

Torquil glanced pointedly to left and right at the nearest of them and gave a nod, sliding sword and dirk from their sheaths as he began easing his way forward through the bracken. The dirk was one he had taken in a raid since Turnberry, to replace the broken one that now traveled in his saddlebag. Aubrey and the rest advanced with equal stealth, using their long experience of ambush. Intent on building their bon?re, the Macdoualls carried on with their crude banter.

"I'm thinkin' this'll make a bonnie wee oven," one man declared.

"Aye," another agreed, laughing. "Did I not tell ye that Angus was a braw guid cook?"

Keeping their heads well down, the Templar company started forward. The leader of the Macdoualls crouched down beside the kindling and brought out tinder and ?int. But before he could strike the ?rst spark, Torquil bounded up from cover with a hoa.r.s.e shout.

"Non n.o.bis, Domine!"

The famous Templar battle cry stopped the Macdoualls for just a second, frozen with shock. But even as they dove for weapons, their attackers were upon them. The shout had also brought an immediate response from inside the bothy, as the door ?ew open and Flannan Fraser dashed out with two other men behind him, all of them with bared steel.

The clangor of combat shattered the stillness of the deepening twilight. One broad-chested Macdouall went down before he could strike a single blow, spitted on Flannan's blade. Another fell to one of Torquil's men, screaming as blood gushed down his leg from a pumping wound to the groin.

Some of the Macdoualls gave a better account of themselves. One dealt a vicious thigh wound to one of Torquil's Highlanders that sent him to his knees-though the attacker, in turn, was dispatched by Aubrey, who took up a stance athwart the wounded man and dealt death to several more Macdoualls who tried to ?nish both of them. Their Highlanders accounted for several more Macdoualls.

Meanwhile, the leader of the Macdoualls was laying about him with a long-handled axe, exhorting his dwindling band with a volley of obscene oaths. Torquil made for him, killing another Macdouall man on the way and then engaging the leader, blocking the haft of the axe on the quillons of his sword and forcing the weapon aside while his dirk drove home in the other man's belly. As he wrenched the blade free, his opponent's wild eyes were already glazing as he crumpled to the ground in a pool of blood.

He looked around to see the remaining Macdoualls-only three of them-taking to their heels, ?inging down s.h.i.+elds and weapons to bolt for the trees that ?anked the croft on its landward side. Torquil's Highlanders took off after them, brandis.h.i.+ng their weapons and howling like demons.

"Christ, they'll only lose them in the dark!" Torquil muttered. "Aubrey, see if you can call them back. And you"-he nodded toward one of Flannan's men-"see to that wounded man, and check the dead."

Only then did he spare a relieved greeting for Flannan, who had already started prodding with his sword at some of the corpses crumpled nearby.

"Brother Flannan, I do believe they were ready to make a meal of you," he quipped, as he bent to clean his blades on the edge of a dead man's plaid.

"Aye, and I'm verra glad you came along to spoil the banquet," Flannan said with a grin, cleaning his own weapons and sheathing them. "We might've fought our way clear, but we hardly could've left our baggage."

He inclined his head in the direction of the bothy, where his remaining companion had taken up a guard position outside the ramshackle doorway, sword still in hand. By the man's bearing, Torquil guessed he was probably a Templar serjeant, though he did not look familiar. Within the shadows beyond, he thought he could see the outline of several small chests.

"You've brought the gold?" he asked, sheathing his own weapons as he approached to peer inside.

"It's all there, as promised," Flannan a.s.sured him. "And something speci?cally for Bruce."

He stepped inside and knelt beside the nearest of the chests, opening it to unwrap something bundled in heavy silks. Inside was a golden circlet of kings.h.i.+p, similar to the one Bruce had lost at Methven, with open lilies set around the band.

"Luc sent word that Bruce had lost the one we gave him at Scone," Flannan said. "Mebbe it's been replaced by now, but Arnault had this one made in Paris." He glanced at the serjeant still standing in the doorway beside Torquil and nodded to him. "Jules, you can go help Dalmont with that wounded man.

We're secure here."

As the man nodded and headed off, sheathing his sword, Torquil came to crouch beside Flannan, brie?y picking up the circlet to hold it to the failing light.

"I would've thought you'd bring more men," he said, laying it back in its wrappings. "Is it really just the three of you?"

Flannan re-wrapped the crown and closed the chest.

"I didn't want to attract undue attention, once we'd got the cargo ash.o.r.e. I knew ye'd be bringing men.

As it happens, a few more would've been useful, on my part."

A brief cry, sharply cut off, drew their attention outside, where one of the serjeants had just given the coup de grce to one of the "corpses." The other serjeant was bandaging the leg of Torquil's wounded Highlander.

"That's part of the danger in a country at war," Torquil observed. "When the people are ?ghting amongst themselves, a foe can come from any direction. This is proof."

"Aye. D'ye think there are any more Macdoualls in the area?"

Torquil shook his head. "I shouldn't think so-but then, I didn't expect that these would be here."

"At least I think we probably got them all, if your lads caught up with those last three."

"I'll be surprised if they didn't," Torquil replied. "But we'll do a tally when they get back, compare numbers from everybody's head count. I made it thirteen."

"Aye, so did I." Flannan sat down wearily on one of the chests. "How fares Bruce?"

"Much better, of late," Torquil answered. He smiled faintly and sank down beside Flannan. "When news of King Edward's death came north of the border, there couldn't have been greater rejoicing if the Devil himself had been announced dead."

"I know I gave a whoop, when I heard," Flannan said, grinning. "Still, I might half expect a man like Edward to tighten his grip on his foes e'en from the grave-the way a dead man's ?ngers will lock round his sword in his death rigor."

Torquil snorted. "In a way, he did just that. They say that on his deathbed, he ordered that his ?esh should be boiled from his bones and buried, but he wanted the bones themselves borne before the army as they marched into Scotland. Small wonder that they called him the 'Hammer of the Scots.' "

Flannan's shock was enough to drive him brie?y from his mostly educated accents.

"He wanted his mait seethed frae his bones? Bluidy h.e.l.l! Dinnae tell me they did it?"

"Far from it," Torquil said with a chuckle, as Aubrey and then their ?ve Highlanders emerged from the trees. Three of the men carried bulky shapes over their shoulders, and another raised a ?st in triumph as he saw Torquil stand to look at them.

"Three for three," Torquil murmured, raising a hand in acknowledgment. "Unless we've both miscounted, that's all of them. As for this new Edward, however," he resumed, as Flannan joined him, "alas for the father, Plantagenet pa.s.sion has not bred true in the son. The new king hurried home to London and buried the old man at Westminster, ?esh and bones together. With his departure from Scotland, the planned invasion has melted away."

"But, have the English troops melted away?" Flannan replied. "There were English s.h.i.+ps off the Western Isles, I can tell ye!"

"No, the English still hold many key positions," Torquil agreed, "but there again, the new king has served Bruce's interests better than he knows. He's relieved Pembroke of his post as lieutenant of Scotland, and has given it instead to one of his own favorites-someone called John of Brittany."

The Highlanders had reached the bothy, and without ceremony dumped the bodies they carried beside the ones already there.

"We haven't time to bury those," Torquil said to Aubrey. "Does everyone agree on how many there were?"

"Thirteen," Aubrey said.

"That's what we counted," Torquil replied. "Have the men bring the ponies around, so we can get the chests loaded. I want to be out of here by moonrise."

As they dispersed to carry out his orders, Flannan asked, "What next, then?-besides getting out of here.

What will Bruce do next?"

"He's on his way north. Unfortunately, Scotland is still home to many who would rather sell themselves to England than see him on the throne. Until he has brought the likes of the Comyns, the Balliols, and the Macdoualls to heel, he is not truly ruler of this land. That's why he needs the gold you've brought: to support his army in the ?eld until he's in a position to collect the royal revenues due to him."

"G.o.d grant it may be soon!" Flannan said fervently. He sighed and gnawed his lip, casting a glance around the darkening clearing before the bothy. Even though only dead men were nearby, he kept his voice low.

"I canna lie to ye, Torquil. The news from Paris isn't good. We need victory here-and swiftly. The troubles we envisaged two years ago are gaining momentum, and every day brings a fresh threat to the Order. Without a secure base, all that we have striven for will be lost."

"What of the mystical Treasures?" Torquil asked concernedly. "Are they safe?"

"Some are," Flannan said, "but it has been slow work, lest we arouse suspicions. One by one-along with more ordinary treasures, like the gold"-he glanced toward the doorway behind him-"we have been smuggling them out of France by various routes, using different ports up and down the French coast. But we daren't move too much, too quickly, lest we draw the attention of our enemies. And not all our repositories are as secure as we could wish. The Treasures won't be truly safe until we've managed to erect the Fifth Temple."

"How much does the Grand Master know of this?" Torquil asked.

Flannan shook his head. "Nothing. We daren't tell him. He arrived in the spring, as I think ye know, and has had several meetings with the king and with the Holy Father, but he refuses to see any danger. He did convene a Chapter General last month, but little came of it beyond the usual business of the Order."

He paused, then added, "Something's in the wind, though. Just before I left, I even heard Hugues de Paraud say that any Templar with reason to leave the Order should do so quickly, because a terrible calamity is imminent."

"He said that?"

"Aye."

Torquil shook his head. "This is ill news, indeed. What do you think is going to happen? What does Arnault say?"

"Later," Flannan murmured, for the men were returning with the ponies. "This is something Aubrey should hear, too. But ?rst, we need to get this gold moving."

As hoped, they had the gold loaded by moonrise, and were soon under way, back the way they had come. Not until just before dawn, when they stopped for a few hours' sleep in the shelter of a point with vision for miles around, did Flannan share with his fellow knights what Brother Armand Breville had told le Cercle of the Knights of the Black Swan, and the danger they posed. Only in that moment did he understand, for the ?rst time, the true nature of the demon-bird he had fought at Turnberry Point.

"Sweet Jesus, and I've left Bruce all unguarded," he murmured, turning a sick gaze on Flannan and Aubrey.

Flannan shook his head. "From what you've told me, you severed the link. You mebbe even killed whoever sent the creature."

"But he may have a.s.sociates," Aubrey pointed out. "And they may have other weapons."

"We can only do what we can do," Flannan said. "For now, we can make the rendezvous with Bruce as quickly as possible. But ?rst, both of you should get some sleep."

Chapter Twenty-one.

August-October, 1307 IN PARIS, THOUGH ARNAULT DE SAINT CLAIR KNEW ABOUT the gold sent to aid Bruce's cause, he and the rest of le Cercle had been obliged to focus all of their energy of the past several months pus.h.i.+ng the boundaries of the Temple's intelligence network, in an effort to discover the true intentions of king and pope-and attempting to minimize the consequences of the Grand Master's apparent blindness to the signs that calamity was approaching.

De Molay had, indeed, convened a General Chapter late in July, as Flannan Fraser had reported. In addition to the general convent, attended by all members of the Order, the Grand Master had held several private meetings with various of his senior of?cers. Oliver de Penne had been in attendance at several of these, as part of the staff of Hugues de Paraud, the Visitor of the Order. He, in turn, had relayed details of these meetings to le Cercle.

"The king apparently said nothing to indicate that anything is wrong, in that one meeting he had with de Molay," Oliver said, "but the Holy Father got his information from somewhere-and who but G.o.d and the king has the power to put fear into the heart of a pope? Apparently, Clement gave the Grand Master an astonis.h.i.+ng a.s.sortment of alleged 'irregularities' within the Order, and asked if any of them were true."

Oliver had then proceeded to enumerate a catalog of supposed offenses, ranging from simple infractions of the Rule to sodomy, blasphemy, and outright heresy.

"It's clear that the Grand Master doesn't understand the implications," Oliver said. "Since the question has been raised, the Holy Father must investigate-and apparently, de Molay has welcomed the chance to defend the Order. What worries me is that I've been getting whispers of rumors about charges being drafted by the king-that this will become a civil matter. If it does, I'm not sure the pope can protect us."

Oliver's in?uence with Hugues de Paraud had been partially instrumental in persuading the Grand Master to issue a directive reminding all brethren to be mindful of the section of their Rule that forbade discussion of the Order's internal rites and disciplines with any outsider. De Molay had also ordered the burning of certain written doc.u.ments that, in the wrong hands, might have been used against the Order. Arnault's young cousin Jauffre had been among those charged with collecting and disposing of said doc.u.ments.