The Templars' Last Days Read online

  The years, as well as our Temple Master, had been very good to all three of us and we had become firm friends and companions. Jon Sinclair had become not only the confidant of the Master, but his Seneschal and, as such, the next in line to that exalted and honoured position. As for myself, I now wore the garments and regalia of the Bishop of the Parisian Temple.

  This familiar good company helped to make the discomfort of the journey more bearable; however, this summons from the Pope being the third in as many months, although not unexpected, did not bode well. I prayed that the disquiet that was being stirred up by the King of France could be resolved amicably, if not this time, then at some point in the very near future.

  We approached the town of Avignon from the North, and the view was as always dominated by the mighty river Rhone which was crawling its way through the countryside on its journey to the Mediterranean.

  Ever since the Roman Empire this town had held an enormous military and trading strategic position, from which it both dominated and controlled all activity in that area. The remains of the defensive walls built by the Romans still stood and did their job well. As too did the port facilities, which both the trade and military Templar vessels made full use of.

  As we got nearer, the white of the walls shone brightly out against the background of the river, and the terracotta coloured roofs of the buildings provided a spectacular contrast of colour to that of the dust that we had endured for so many days.

  In the port we could clearly make out the loading and unloading of the merchants’ ships. The various different traders rushing around the quay resembled bees around its hive of honey. Carts were moving in all directions around the quayside in a seemingly chaotic manner. Here and there were mounds of crates and boxes. Some waiting to be loaded onto the ships, whilst others had just been unloaded and were now waiting to be claimed by their owner.

  How could everything be so normal, when my world was in such chaos?

  This town of Avignon was home to a well established Templar preceptory. Because of its military and commercial importance, Avignon had seen the original small hamlet grow exponentially over the years, and had led to the development of the town as it now was. With its dwellings sprawling over both sides of the river Rhone, the town was connected by the Saint Bénezet bridge.

  The overlord of Avignon, Count Angevin of Provence, being a member of the family that was both powerful and politically well connected to the House of Anjou, had proven to be an important ally of the Templars and over time had become a close friend of our Master.

  Count Angevin's powerful empire included the Kingdom of Jerusalem, which became part of their holdings following the success of the First Crusade, when Fulk the Younger married the daughter of the Templar Knight Baldwin II.

  Both the sight and sounds of Avignon lifted the mood of Frederick and myself, for we knew that every step our horses took would bring our small caravan ever closer to our journey's end, and the promise of our reunion with our Brethren within the town.

  The sun had passed its highest point on its daily journey to the West, when we entered Avignon through the old Roman gates which, despite their age, still offered a substantial defensive barrier against any unwelcome attack. As we weaved our way through the small streets of the town, we enjoyed the shade cast by the high dwelling houses on both sides, until we finally burst into the light of the wide expanse of open ground that announced our arrival into the town square.

  As always it was a hub of activity and colour. The various market stalls with their multicoloured canvas roofs reflected the variety of merchandise one could buy here. It ranged from fresh local vegetables and bread to the exotic spices and linens brought in from the Middle East.

  Compared to the humdrum noise of the horses who had provided the only sounds to break the silence of our journey for the last six days, the noise of the traders and their customers, haggling and exchanging news, created a much welcome caldron of sounds.

  All of this colour and noise served as a welcome foreground to the majestic building of the Church of Saint-Pierre, behind which the preceptory of the Knight Templars was to be found. As we circled the marketplace, we were greeted by the Master of the Garrison, Walter du Menils, who led the party into the sanctuary of the Templar grounds.

  Passing through the guarded entrance, we came into the large square courtyard which was the very heart of the Preceptory, being surrounded on all sides by the various dwelling houses and workplaces of the Templars. The noise of the marketplace was now replaced with a respectful tranquility which was only broken by the rhythm of the blacksmith’s hammer, whose smithy was to be found at the back of the courtyard.

  Our Master and Jon entered into the main residence whilst I made my way across to the other side of the courtyard to join my fellow Monks in their residence. I was greeted by Father Gilbert Pavet who, over the many years, had become a good friend and companion to me.

  As we climbed the stairs to my room, Gilbert informed me of the news and events since my last visit. Nothing untoward had occurred which pleased me, as I could do without any internal issues to interfere with the real concerns that had brought me to Avignon.

  My room was as all Cistercian rooms, sparse but practicable. There was a single bed, a chair and desk from which I could work. The large window provided ample light into the room, which was supplemented by a single candlestick by which I could see in the evening. The only decoration on the wall was a cross of our Lord and behind the door was a large hook upon which I could hang my habit.

  Leaving my small bag on the table, I left my room and made my way to the Chapel to give thanks to the Lord for our safe journey and to ask for his strength, wisdom and sound judgement to guide us all safely through the coming days and trials.

  This beautiful simple Chapel was built to hold the small Templar population of Avignon, having only ten pews in total – five either side of the passage that led to the Altar where, sat on top of a table covered with a crisp white cloth were placed two candles and a magnificent Cross.

  I became lost in thought, as being in God's presence always brought a peace and tranquility within myself and transposed me into His beautiful world. His strength and goodness, which were now all around me, served to renew my own resolve and determination to carry out our work in His name. My prayers were interrupted by the distant ringing of the bell which called the Brethren from their toil, to their evening meal.

  As the tones of the bell became more distinct, I slowly rose and made my way to the dining room which was found in the middle chamber of the Hall. Being such a small community, the practice here was for the Knights and the Monks to eat together.

  When I reached the dining room, there was the unusual yet welcoming low noise of old friends and companions reuniting and catching up on the news. Entering through the large wooden doors, the room swallowed me into its bosom. A single table stretched the length of the room with plain functional wooden chairs laid out on either side – one side for the Knights and the other for the Monks. At the head of the table were two very large chairs reserved for the use of visiting dignitaries.

  As my eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight within the dining room, which streamed in through the three large windows dominating the West wall of the room, I noticed that our Master and Jon were already in the room and in deep conversation with the Master of Avignon. As I took in the whole of the dining room, a warm sense of satisfaction overcame my body, as the decision to lift our vows of silence for this visit appeared to be more than justified. Finally, the last of the congregation arrived and we all took our respective places.

  My Master and myself sat at the head of the table and to the right of the Master the knights were seated in order of seniority. In a like manner to my left were sat my Brother Monks. After saying the Lord’s prayer for Grace, the food was served.

  As at all Templar enclaves, Avignon was self sufficient, for although the Templar Knights would never demean themselves to
any sort of manual labour, as Cistercian Monks we had pledged ourselves to a life of poverty and self sufficiency. The vegetables were picked from our gardens at the back of our property, and the bread freshly baked in our kitchens. The chicken had come from our large collection of animals we maintained on our granges just outside of the City walls. Likewise, our wine was from our vineyards found on the hills to the South of the City.

  Conversation during the meal was light in its subject matter and distinctly different on each side of the table. My Brother Monks, in between discussing the success of the current crops, listened with great interest and intensity to the Knights sitting on the other side. They were clearly growing in excitement, being aroused by the rumour of another Crusade to retake the Holy Land that was in the air. The combined attraction of fighting in the name of the Lord and to deliver Jerusalem once more to the Pope and Christianity, was more than the Knights could contain quietly.

  Neither the Master nor I spoke during the meal, our thoughts consumed by the much larger and more immediate issues which had brought us to Avignon. At the end of the meal, the Master, Jon and myself retired to the security of his quarters, where we discussed what tomorrow’s meeting with the Pope might bring.

  I attended mid-night prayers and returned to my room, more in hope of sleep than certainty as my mind was still troubled with the forthcoming and imminent crisis.

  Still whatever may happen tomorrow will, by God’s grace, happen and with that thought I drifted into a light but restful repose.

  Chapter 2

  William of Nogaret had ridden hard through the previous day and night so that he could deliver the latest developments in his negotiations with the Pope and his legate to King Philip IV, but, despite all his efforts and discomforts, he still did not arrive at the outskirts of Fontainebleau until the early hours of the morning. The news was not good, and he felt it better to get some sleep, refresh himself and face the King later in the morning.

  Besides, he was in no fit state to present himself before his Monarch, being roughly attired in riding garbs and covered in the dust and grime that a hard ride across the country roads would cover both horse and rider in.

  He therefore headed to his home to rest, reflect on the last few days and how he could best tell the King the result of his latest negotiations, or, to be more exact, the lack of any meaningful progress.

  William's servants were unprepared for their master to be arriving at such a late hour. The large torches that illuminated the gates to his estate were almost flickering their last. The gatekeeper, however, managed to recognise the horse and rider approaching him at speed and opened the gates so that the horse did not have to break its stride.

  Now he was within the security of his own grounds, William allowed himself to slow down and upon reaching the front of his chateau dismounted, removed his all important saddle-bag and strode meaningfully, though somewhat tiredly, through the impressive front doors.

  The palatial hallway and staircase were dimly lit, but William was too tired and distracted with the matters in hand to be bothered. He barked out his orders to the butler regarding the time he was to be woken, the clothes he would need and the breakfast he would have.

  To William the stairs seemed to have doubled in number since he last ascended them to reach his sleeping quarters, or was this an illusion due to the time spent in the saddle? Either way, his bed looked extremely inviting and he fell immediately into a much needed deep sleep.

  It seemed to William that he had only just closed his eyes, when he was being woken by his butler. Although the tiredness of his body yelled at him to remain in bed and sleep some more, William knew that today was no day for a lie in. Fighting the instincts of his body to remain where it was, he ignored those feelings and rose. Once out of bed William shook off all thoughts of more sleep and lost no time in making himself ready for the tasks that lay ahead of him.

  His butler had, as commanded, laid out William’s finest black tunic and surcoat, white shirt and hose and his best black shoes. His gold chain of office was ready to be placed over his shoulders before he left. He took a few moments to admire himself in the long mirror which stood in the corner of his lavishly fitted bedroom. Satisfied that all was correct, he nodded a sign of approval to himself and headed down to the dining room for his breakfast.

  William deliberately took his time over breakfast, mentally reviewing his actions and reassuring himself that he had not failed in any aspect of the negotiations he had been involved in over the last few days. For he knew only too well that the King would ask him for every detail and fully expect to be answered without hesitation. As his mind mulled over all this information, he heard the sound of his coach pulling up at the front of his chateau. It was time for him to go.

  William's purposeful strides to his carriage were stopped by his butler at the front entrance. After placing over William’s head the solid gold chain of his office as Chancellor and Keeper of the Seals, he adjusted it until it was perfectly symmetrical on his shoulders. The butler then draped over his master’s shoulder his cloak before finally handing to him his black hat and the scrolls which William had brought back with him last night; Satisfied that his master was now perfectly dressed and with a curt bow, he took his leave of his master.

  Finally William strode out into the bright July sunshine .The four dapple grey horses pulling the coach all wore a black caparison onto which was embroidered William’s coat of arms, as were the two horses which would follow behind. The two coachmen driving his coach, and the two outriders, all wore the uniform identifying them as part of William’s household.

  As William settled into the comfort of the cushioned seat of his coach, he could not help but reflect on what a contrast this was to the hardness of the leather saddle he had endured over the previous 48 hours. As William looked out of the windows of his coach, he allowed himself a moment’s reflection on his current status. Not bad for a school teacher, he mused, but today was not a day to sit on past glories.

  Although the ride from his chateau to the King’s palace was no more than 15 minutes, it gave William enough time to settle in his own mind, once again, that all that he could have done had been done. It was now up to the King to decide how he wished to proceed.

  The grounds of the Palace reflected in size the ambitions of King Philip IV and although he had made this journey many times, as he approached the royal household William could not help but be impressed by its size and splendour. The long drive, which led from the high guarded gates up to the plateau upon which sat the palace, dissected the magnificent lawns. These were surrounded by mature forest, which covered many hundreds of acres, and held game in abundance. William allowed himself the luxury of a moment’s reflection on the times in which he and the King had enjoyed many a good day’s hunting and sport in those woods.

  To reach the main entrance the coach would have to cross the large kidney-shaped lake that dominated the access to the front of the royal residence. The lake was traversed at its narrowest point by an arched bridge, and as the coach quickly moved across the bridge William nervously adjusted his chain of office and renewed his grip on the all important scrolls he had with him.

  The coach drew to a halt at the main entrance, and, as always, the King’s butlers and servants appeared to be everywhere. The coach door was opened and William was helped down by a hand of one of the King’s many footmen.

  Each of the 12 steps which led from the road level up to the wide piazza at the front entrance of the Palace, had a footman on either side, forming a guard of honour. Their tunics were made of finest linen, and their blue tunic and white braies and hose were a fitting prelude to the opulence that lay within the Palace itself.

  On reaching the top of the stairs, the full width of the piazza could be grasped, as could the imposing size and splendour of the Palace itself. However, today William was in no mind to dawdle and admire the wonders of the architecture, for he broke into a purposeful stride which broug
ht him quickly to the large main doors.

  The two uniformed doormen bowed in acknowledgement of William’s chain of office as they swung open the doors to reveal the opulent splendour of the cavernous hallway. Yet another butler now accompanied William across the marble floor towards one of the many doors which led off the main hall.

  They now entered the main gallery which led to the music room. The wall to the left was decorated with huge portraits of King Philip's family, and between each of the portraits were large, wall mounted, seven-stemmed gold candlesticks; whilst the right wall was dominated by a series of large windows, allowing the morning sunlight to dart its rays to show off the finery of the furniture that occupied the gallery. The windows were dressed from floor to ceiling with magnificent heavy curtains, which threw long shadows across the highly polished wooden floor.

  As William approached the centre of the gallery, the left wall of which was dominated by a huge marble fireplace, he chanced a quick glance up at his favourite portrait which hung over it. It was a portrait of Philip and his wife Joan upon their marriage some 23 years ago. The marriage was initially made by Philip as a means of acquiring the lands of Champagne and Brie, thus expanding his lands, influence and income. Surprisingly love blossomed and they were blessed with a happy and fruitful union.

  By the time this thought had gone through William's mind, he had reached the door to the music room. Protocol demanded that he now made his presence known and await the King’s pleasure before he could enter. After what seemed an intolerably long time, the doors to the music room swung open, and the butler announced the presence of William to the King.

  Taking this as his cue, William stepped purposely into the music room, gave the requisite bow to acknowledge the King, and was about to speak when he noticed that the King was accompanied by his Queen. William quickly offered a second bow to her, and now awaited the King’s instructions.