Knights Templar - Temple And The Crown Part 34

"The Seal of Solomon," Hugues said, hefting the pouch. "We also had a link to you, through le Cercle.

We used the two to scry for you on a monthly basis, beginning about a year after you left France.

Eventually, we caught a glimpse of you-and the Shard. After that, it was a matter of staying out of of?cial clutches until you returned. I suppose you've heard what's been transpiring in your absence?"

"Today's decree, most certainly," Arnault replied. "Of Bruce, very little-though I a.s.sume we would have heard if he were dead."

"Indeed," Christoph said, gesturing for them to take seats on the dusty ?oor. "Sit, and we shall endeavor to bring you up-to-date."

Over cups of sour wine and a loaf of stale bread and rock-hard cheese-all of which tasted like banquet fare, for being shared among long-parted brethren-they heard the latest news of Scotland and the Order.

"You knew Bruce had convened a parliament at St. Andrews, I believe," Hugues said. "That was the year you left for Jerusalem. Later that year, Edward of England ordered the Scottish bishops to enforce the pope's order to arrest all Templars in Scotland. Lamberton, in particular, was under parole, and had no choice but to obey, especially since a papal legate had accompanied Edward's orders. Curiously enough, he could ?nd only two Templars in all of Scotland, and they could account for none of the treasure we were alleged to have there."

Smiling faintly, Arnault nodded. "I don't suppose you know who those two Templars were?"

"As a matter of fact, we do," Father Anselmo said. "Walter de Clifton, the Master of Scotland, and a knight called William de Middleton. When pressed for details, they claimed their brother knights threw off their habits and ?ed across the sea-which, in fact, is no more than the truth. What they neglected to mention was that some of them took much of the wealth from the Scottish treasury to Ireland, where it is being used to buy arms for Bruce. Others ?ed to the west of Scotland, as was suggested by one of their brother knights some months before, and they abide there now, awaiting further instructions."

Grinning broadly, Torquil glanced at Arnault.

"I wonder who could have told them to do that?" he said.

"Obviously, a man of discerning judgment," Arnault replied, with a faint, droll smile. "But, what of Bruce himself? Is he well?"

"Aye, well enough," Christoph said. "He continues to make modest gains, though four of the most important castles in Scotland remain in English hands."

"Those being?" Arnault asked.

"Edinburgh, Stirling, Berwick, and Roxburgh," Hugues said promptly.

Arnault nodded. "That's hardly surprising. Even Edward understands that as long as he holds those, Bruce cannot truly be said to reign in Scotland. But that's no more than I expected, at this stage. What of the situation here?"

Christoph shook his head. "Not good. We reckon that at least one hundred of our brethren have perished at the stake, and hundreds more are still in custody, many of them under torture. The Bishop of Sens burned ?fty-four in a single afternoon." His glance ?icked away. "I regret to report that your cousin Jauffre was one of them."

Arnault bowed his head, but he had known of Jauffre's death.

"The priests Pierre de Bologna and Renaud de Provins had offered to defend the Order at Auvergne,"

Christoph went on, "a.s.sisted by two knights, William de Chambonnet and Bertrand de Sartiges. As a result, nearly six hundred confessions had been retracted.

"About that time, Philip de Marigny was appointed Archbishop of Sens, which has jurisdiction over the bishopric of Paris. He was twenty-three years old at the time of his appointment. Curiously enough, he is also the nephew of the king's chief minister of ?nance-so it is hardly curious that, within a month of his appointment, under instructions from the king, he had convened a provincial council at Paris, invoking his right to judge individual Templars under his jurisdiction. He adjudged them relapsed heretics, since they had recanted their confessions, and sentenced them to death.

"Pierre de Bologna got wind of the plan and tried to stop the proceedings, but to no avail. The executions went ahead, and the news of them shattered morale amongst the brethren. The defense collapsed when Pierre went missing-killed by his gaolers, we think-and Renaud was removed to face charges in the archbishop's court.

"There were more burnings after that, which took the heart out of further defense. We had hopes it might revive last year, when seven armed knights rode into Vienne in full habit and offered to defend the Order, but they were arrested-and released a little later, because of the threat of another two thousand brothers hiding in the forest nearby; but that episode made it clear that we could not hope for a fair hearing.

"Since then, there have been rumors of further secret intrigues involving King Philip and his cronies, and possible deals struck between him and the Holy See. The bull you heard read earlier is but the beginning of the end, I fear. There are several more bulls reportedly in preparation, that will parcel out our possessions and decide the fate of those brothers still in custody."

A heavy silence met the end of this recitation. After a moment, Arnault pushed his cup away and let out a sigh.

"What is it you intend to do next, then?" he asked quietly. "And more to the point, what is it you wish us to do? For I have the distinct impression that merely taking the Shard to Bruce is no longer your primary intention."

Breville leaned forward. "May we see the Shard?"

"Of course."

Eagerly they watched as Arnault pulled the Shard's pouch from under his tunic and opened it. Even nestled in the silk of its Ethiopic wrappings, the holy relic set the air as.h.i.+mmer with unseen ripples of power. A collective sigh of relief whispered among them as Arnault exposed it to view, but none made any attempt to touch it. Even Breville merely held a hand over it for a moment, eyes closed, before signing for Arnault to put it away.

"It may, indeed, serve for what we have in mind," he breathed. "All the while you have been gone, we have lived in hope. Now you bring us proof that our hopes remain green."

"What hopes?" Arnault said, when Breville did not elaborate.

After a glance at Breville, Christoph continued.

"We mentioned that we had con?rmed Nogaret has the Breastplate, and that we believe he seeks to subvert its power. We have also determined that he does, indeed, have the backing of the Knights of the Black Swan-and is, in fact, their leader. Our investigations have established that some of them were with Nogaret when he hounded Brother Gaspar to his death."

"Not that this comes as any surprise," Torquil muttered under his breath.

"No," Christoph agreed. "But with Black Swan resources at hand, in addition to his own, it is very likely that, sooner or later, Nogaret will, indeed, master the Breastplate. So long as that possibility exists, anything else we attempt to do would be at risk."

"So, what are you proposing?" Arnault asked. "A direct a.s.sault on Nogaret?"

"Precisely," Breville replied. "But this may not be as daunting as you might suppose. I am not suggesting that we storm some royal enclave to get at him. There is evidence of dissension in the ranks of his subordinates. The French lord who was previously so active in Scotland, Bartholeme de Challon, seems to have fallen into disfavor, and has withdrawn to his ancestral castle near the German border.

Meanwhile, Nogaret has spirited the Breastplate away to his own citadel in the hills of the Rouerge."

Arnault and Torquil exchanged glances.

"You know this citadel?" Arnault asked.

Breville nodded. "Somewhat. Super?cially, it appears to be derelict-but appearances, especially in this case, are deceiving."

"Physical defenses ?rst, then," Arnault said. "What size garrison?"

"Perhaps a hundred," Breville said. "Probably less."

"Can we raise that many?" Torquil said, glancing at Christoph.

"I doubt it," Christoph replied. "Thirty to forty, perhaps. But it's the esoteric defenses that worry us far more. At any given time, several Knights of the Swan are present in the citadel. The whole place is bound fast with dread enchantments, barriers that will halt a man in his tracks if he comes without Nogaret's express consent. He is well versed in the demonic arts, and has terrible allies watching over him."

"Allies that will bow before the Shard," Arnault said coldly. "He has used the law of man to topple the Order; now let him answer to the Law of G.o.d!"

The others glanced among themselves, then back at Christoph, who slowly nodded. "We had prayed that would be your answer," he murmured.

"And we must continue to pray that Nogaret will not ?nd the means to usurp the virtues of the Breastplate before we can attack," Breville replied. "That has been his aim since it ?rst fell into his hands."

"That is a chance we have to take," Christoph replied. "Now that we have a worthy weapon to hand, we must strike a hard blow in defense of all we hold sacred and true!"

"What about this Lord Bartholeme?" Torquil asked.

"One battle at a time," Arnault said. "Go, Christoph, and summon our brothers for war."

Chapter Thirty-four.

April, 1313 THEIR PREPARATIONS TOOK SOME MONTHS. DURING THAT time, while they gathered and prepared a force suf?cient to take on Nogaret in his mountain citadel, Arnault sent several coded messages to Aubrey, traveling with Bruce, and received several in response, reviewing the state of affairs in Scotland. Only modest progress had been made during the several years of Arnault's absence, but the new year brought several notable successes. Bruce took Perth in January of 1313, by means of an audacious night a.s.sault with rope ladders ?tted with grappling hooks; and in February, besieged Dumfries castle was starved into surrender. Early in April, news had come of the death of John Balliol, whom some still supported as Scotland's rightful king ahead of Bruce. Though a son remained to persist in the Balliol claims to the Scottish crown, the pa.s.sing of the father effectively removed the last stigma from Bruce truly a.s.suming his crown-if he could take the remaining four great castles of Scotland.

Meanwhile, the fate of the Temple had continued to grind toward a conclusion that now appeared to be irreversible. A second papal bull had followed on the heels of the ?rst-Ad Providam, which a.s.signed to the Hospitallers all former Templar properties saving those in Spain and Portugal. A third bull, Considerantes, had followed only a few days later, which reserved the fate of certain individual Templars to the pope alone. That the Grand Master, Jacques de Molay, should be so named was understandable-along with Hugues de Paraud and two other senior preceptors. But Oliver de Penne had also been singled out for papal attention-the sole member of le Cercle now in custody.

"He will confess to nothing," Christoph had declared, on hearing of the bull.

But all of them knew that the price of holding that resolve was apt to be costly, in terms of the tortures that might be brought to bear; and they lamented the fact that, at least for the moment, they could do nothing for Oliver save to pray for him.

By late April of 1313, however, a core of members of le Cercle were ready to proceed against Nogaret.

They had held their peace throughout the previous winter, carefully a.s.sembling their selected force and gathering the necessary intelligence-and had mostly avoided the vicinity of Nogaret's stronghold, lest they arouse suspicion. Their ?rst sight of its approaches but con?rmed what Breville had been telling them through the previous winter.

Though April was nearly past, this isolated part of the country looked for all the world as if some terrible enchantment had kept spring at bay, with nary an anemone or moss ?ower daring to take root in the crevices among the rocks. Instead, diseased-looking lichens stained the hillsides in bilious yellow patches, occasionally punctuated by the desiccated remains of a dead thorn tree, forbidding as a corpse left to swing on a gibbet.

"They say that all of this has happened in the past three years," Breville remarked across the rump of his horse, as he led Arnault, Torquil, and a score of additional knights single ?le through a maze of tumbled boulders. "It's all due to Nogaret, of course-though the local folk know nothing of that. When it began, he went to great lengths to make it seem that this area is under a curse-and burned a few harmless old women as scapegoats. But it's his own sorceries, worked to hedge it round with circles of power, that have blighted the surrounding landscape."

Riding directly behind Breville, Arnault and Torquil could feel the unwholesome in?uence pervading the very air. A glance behind them con?rmed that the others felt it, too, eyes restlessly searching the surrounding hillsides, gloved hands never far from sword hilts and bows.

None of them wore any outward sign of who and what they had been, though all were clad in mail beneath their heavy mantles, and each had a helm at his knee. Summoned by secret signs and coded messages, often relayed by unsuspecting couriers, they had come from scattered refuges throughout France, making their way individually to the rendezvous point: a forest camp now two days' journey behind them.

Now they rode forth as a military company. Since breaking camp early that morning, they had adopted the stealthy secrecy of a skirmish force advancing through hostile territory. Breville had acquainted them with the particular details of their mission the night before. Given the danger, not only of their mission but of being in France at all, it was no time to be circ.u.mspect with the truth concerning the issues at stake, though he had spared them needless details that would only frighten some of them.

"Since the founding of our Order, we of the Temple have always been guardians of a higher wisdom," he had informed them. "We wors.h.i.+p and serve G.o.d according to these higher mysteries. The responsibility for guiding the Order in such matters has secretly been vested in an Inner Circle charged to carry forward this wisdom. If some of you have not been made aware of these facts before now, it was as much for your own safety as for the safety of the future."

He had told them as much as he dared, and Christoph had confessed those who wished it, likewise fortifying all of them with Holy Communion in the silent, predawn darkness before they set out. Although most of the men had not previously been introduced to the esoteric trusts of the Order, all had professed themselves willing to place themselves unreservedly at the service of those who had summoned them. In Christoph, they recognized a senior in the Order, now an ordained priest as well as a knight, though he rode as a knight today, mailed and armed like the rest of them. To those who survived the a.s.sault on Montaigre, more yet might be revealed.

On Breville's advice, they had elected to approach Castle Montaigre from the north. It had been one of the hardest marches Torquil could remember, saving only their experiences in the Holy Land. No clear trail marked the way through this wasteland of scree and boulders; and so close to the castle, nothing lived or moved except noxious insects, toads, and poisonous reptiles. All other creatures had long ago ?ed the area, driven off by the region's prevailing aura of malignancy.

Men of lesser fort.i.tude would have turned back many hours ago, defeated by the air of desolation hanging over this region, but grief and hards.h.i.+p had so tempered the natures of these surviving Templar Knights that their hearts and souls were armored against the weapons of their enemy. More than once they had fetched up against unseen walls of power, erected to repel all intruders; but each time, the barricades had melted away in the presence of the Shard.

Now the company advanced in determined silence, ever watchful, ever mindful of the sufferings in?icted on their brethren by the man who had taken refuge in this place. All knew that even greater dangers remained still in store, but they also knew that the only route to saving the Order lay ahead of them, not behind.

Below them to their right, they began to catch glimpses of a well-de?ned road running level along the valley ?oor. The previous night, Breville had pointed it out on the map he had drawn to brief them.

"The road from Aurillac to Bezier pa.s.ses within a mile of the castle," he had said. "Nogaret's men use it regularly to bring in supplies, but they never approach the castle directly. Instead, they've made a secret entrance for themselves around the back of the hill, well out of sight of any chance travelers along the main route. We believe that any esoteric defenses at that point may also be reduced, precisely because they do use it with such regularity.

"But we won't know until we get there," Breville had warned his listeners. "What I do know is that this represents the only c.h.i.n.k in the castle's defenses I've been able to detect. So be on your guard, and keep saying your prayers."

The afternoon wore on. Chill shadows began to creep across the ground. The Templar party crested the top of a shoulder of high ground as the sun was sinking out of sight behind the western hills. And beyond, perched in a saddle of higher ground, they caught their ?rst distant glimpse of Castle Montaigre. Bathed in the glow of an ominous sunset, its squat turrets looked as if they had been dyed red with blood.

Pausing not at all, Breville led the company on, over the crest of the rise and down into a trough of stony ground, where they came upon a pathway worn smooth with frequent usage. The trail bed was too unyielding to register footprints, but animal droppings along the way marked it as well traf?cked.

Breville glanced right and left, gauged the failing light, then motioned the company off the trail and into a small clearing some little way from the trail.

"From here, we go on foot," he said, dismounting and removing his mantle. "What we seek is perhaps a mile ahead. Leave anything that will hamper your movement or make a sound, and be ready for anything.

It's been several weeks since I was here."

Leaving one of the older knights to stay with the horses, the rest of the Templar party shed their mantles and set off along the beaten track, into what seemed a vale of gloom far deeper than ordinary night.

Presently they came upon a pair of tall boulders that straddled the path like the piers of a gateway.

Ahead, low voices and harness clinks and a dusky ?re-glow warned that they were approaching the end of the trail. At a signal from Christoph, the main Templar company fanned out to take cover among the rocks while Breville, Arnault, and Torquil edged stealthily forward to investigate.

Near at hand, several dozen lean horses and mules milled about within the compa.s.s of a stout wooden paddock. A stone's throw farther off, the tumbledown foundations of a long-deserted village lay scattered along the base of a low cliff. In the midst of these ruins, set solidly against the cliff, stood what appeared to be a new, strongly built edi?ce the size of a gatehouse, its front pierced by a stoutly reinforced gate. Outside, a trio of sentries in leather and steel could be seen leaning indolently on their spears.

The three scouts rejoined the rest of their party, relaying their ?ndings to Christoph in whispers.

"The sentries are the least of our worries," Arnault warned. "The gate looks strong enough to resist anything less than a battering ram, even if it hasn't been magically reinforced. But the building does connect directly to the cliff face-which must be where the tunnel system goes into the mountain."

"It seems that we must force the gate, then," Christoph said.

"Maybe not," Torquil replied. "Maybe a diversion would trick them into opening the gate themselves."

"Precisely my thought," Breville agreed, with one of his tight smiles. "Brother Arnault, Brother Torquil, if you are with me, I believe I have an idea."

The three members of the Decuria chosen to a.s.sist Nogaret in the planned night's work waited in his tower sanctum with ill-concealed expectancy, black-robed and ceremonially prepared by weeks of divers disciplines. Nor was it the ?rst time they had made such preparations; for thus far, the High Priest's Breastplate had refused to yield up its secrets.

The vaulted chamber was decked out with blasphemous splendor, illuminated by dozens of bra.s.s lamps.

Drapes of heavy black silk masked the adjoining windows, stirring now and again when a slight draft would set the fabric undulating like the skin of a reptile-though the draft did not come from outside. A square, squat altar dominated the center of the room, covered with a black velvet pall whose sides were embroidered with alchemical symbols in ?ame and gold that seemed to twist and writhe in the lamplight as if they had a life of their own.

Centered on the altar stood a brazier of live coals. An iron trivet over the coals supported an alembic of blown gla.s.s, inside of which a mixture of boar's blood and swine's gall was gently warming. Thick tallow candles guarded either side of the brazier, stuck onto p.r.i.c.kets set into sections of carved boars' tusks.

The stone ?oor of the chamber had also received exacting preparation, swept clean and inscribed with three magic squares drawn one within the other at right angles, with each chalked square symbolizing one of the three alchemical planes. The innermost square, which enclosed the altar, represented the four pillars of h.e.l.l, while the outermost symbolized the four material elements. Linking the two together, the intermediary square represented the principles of alchemical trans.m.u.tation known as the four Keys of Zosimos, its salients aligned to the cardinal points of the compa.s.s- which were guarded by four yellowed human skulls set facing outward: the skulls of Cathar suicides, retrieved from a ma.s.s grave in the castle courtyard.

Tight-wound and impatient, Valentin de Vesey crouched down to adjust the gaze of one of the skulls-and inhaled with a hiss as the candlelight glinted from the signet ring that he, like his fellows, wore on his right hand, as an electric tingle seemed to dart up his arm and spread through his torso, centering in his groin.

The tension building in the room was becoming harder to relegate to the balance point that was required for the night's disciplines. The very air was charged with subtle whisperings just outside the range of human hearing-a subtle susurrus that stirred the blood with a taut, predatory quickening of pulsebeat coupled with a cerebral hunger and sheer animal l.u.s.t.

Indeed, the song was but an echo and a memory of the very real siren song that had beguiled all three men repeatedly during the past weeks of their preparation. For each of them had been allowed to taste of the carnal pleasures to be found in the embrace of the demon resident in Nogaret's ring, which-for a price-could and would take the form of a demon-lover whose appet.i.tes swept a man into sated oblivion.

Amid the whispers, Valentin de Vesey found his body stirring to the memory of that embrace-and a sidelong glance at his companions, Baudoin de Champiere and Peret Auvergnais, suggested that they, too, were remembering.

In a swirl of shadowy draperies, Nogaret himself entered the chamber. His appearance instantly focused the resolve of all three of his waiting acolytes. The Magister of the Decuria was crowned with a conical headdress swathed with black gauze that veiled his face and partially covered the High Priest's Breastplate, its gold and variegated gems glittering against the black of his robes. In his left hand he carried an animal mask of beaten gold, long-snouted and sharp-eared in the likeness of the Egyptian demon-lord Set; in his right he bore a shallow oblation vessel containing the ruby demon-ring, which had already sealed the fate of so many, threaded on the golden chain by which Nogaret customarily wore it.

It was this demon's siren song that so stirred the blood of those gathered in the chamber, and which now caused every eye to dart to the ring as Nogaret set it and the mask upon the altar, turning then to fold back the veil over his face.