“He ordered that all Templars should immediately be arrested, even the Grand Master, Jacques de Molay. Poor Jacques! They were all taken and put in irons. There were not enough prisons for the Poor Soldiers of Christ, so most of them were chained within the Templar buildings all over France. Held in their own Temples!
“Edgar and I travelled around the country, and by chance we came across friends, in the woods south of Lyons. That would have been in thirteen hundred and ten. By then, of course, we had already heard about the confessions. Did you know how the men were questioned? No? Be thankful you will never have to answer to the Inquisition! And they accused us of being evil!
“We were with the men outside Lyons when we heard about the pope’s council at Vienne in the following year.” He gave a quick laugh, like a mirthless bark. “You should have seen him! He held his great council to denounce us. Us, the Templars! We who only lived to serve him and God, he wanted to denounce us. The others there, the archbishops, the bishops and the cardinals, all wanted to hear our defence. You see, when the men in the prisons had been asked whether they would defend the Order, any who said they would were killed, burned at the stake by the archbishop of Sens, damn him! Over fifty men in a morning, just because they said they would stand up and defend the Temple. So, when the pope asked for other Templars to defend the Order, I think he thought there were none that would come forward. But the other men of God at Vienne, the bishops and archbishops, guaranteed safe passage to any that would come and defend the Order, so I and six others thought, well, why not? And we went!
“I thought he was going to pass out when we walked up the steps to the chamber! Clement sat there on his throne, and when we walked in wearing our Templar tunics, he went bright red and, if his throne’s arms were not so high, I think he would have fallen out!
The clergy were grateful for us, I think, because they honestly wanted to know what our evidence was, and they listened to us carefully. But when we said that there were more of us near Lyons, nearly two thousand of us, the pope seemed to have a fit of the vapours! He ran from the chamber, and we were told a little later that we were to be arrested. I think it was because his palace was close to Lyons, and he feared for his life with almost two thousand Templars so close to his home. Anyway, the other clerics all clamoured for our release because they had promised us safe passage, and we were set free in a short while. We left Vienne by night, unobserved, and returned to our friends.
“After that it seemed clear that there was nowhere safe for us. It was obvious that the pope was willing to see the Order destroyed, so there seemed no point in continuing. Many of us left and returned to our homelands, and many joined the other Orders. Some joined the Teutonic Knights, some went to the Hospitallers, and many joined the monks. Some of us, though, wanted to know what had happened, and we determined to find out, and if it was possible, we wanted our revenge.” He sipped from his mug. “It took two years, but at last we found out the truth.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Simon sat gazing at the knight with a mixture of consternation and disbelief. It seemed incredible that the tall man’s story could be true, but every word spoke of his conviction. Baldwin sat relaxed, his eyes roving slowly from Simon to Hugh, and moving on to the fire, occasionally resting on Edgar. He seemed to have passed beyond worry, as if he knew his tale would not be believed, as if he knew he was to die and cared little for the fact. He seemed to have given up, as if he had dreamed of rest and peace down here in the quiet of Devon, but had found only a new struggle to cope with.
His eyes were half-lidded now, making him look tired, as if weary from the strain of recollection, but Simon could still see the glitter in them. At first he had thought it was the gleam of anger at being discovered, but now he felt sure it was directed not at him but at Oliver de Penne, the man he had killed, as if killing him had not been enough to wipe away the depth of the crime he had committed against Baldwin and his friends.
Hugh shifted uneasily in his seat as the knight continued.
“It was obvious we could not stay in France. The French king and the pope seemed to be dedicated to the destruction of the Temple, and to the death or removal of all Knights Templar. The punishments were varied, but any man who had confessed under torture and then retracted his admission was to be burned at the stake.
“The Order was fortunate in having one man who could defend it, Peter de Bologna, a man who had been Preceptor of the Temple in Rome, and a man of great learning as well as a man who understood the Church. With his knowledge he could fight the case using the Church’s laws. When he examined the witnesses against the Order, it soon became clear that there was no concrete proof of anything. The witnesses referred to hearsay, or were proved to be liars, and de Bologna took full advantage of our enemies’ confusion.
“Now, at about this time, the old archbishop of Sens died, and a new man had to be found. The new archbishop was a friend of the French king, Philip de Marigny. As soon as he took office he moved quickly. He confirmed sentences on the individual Templars in prison – even while their trials were continuing. In one morning he had fifty-four Knights taken out to the stakes and burned.”
Baldwin’s head dropped, as if in prayer, and Simon felt a chilly stab of pain as he saw the tears falling down the knight’s face. Baldwin put a hand up to his brow, holding his head for a minute in silence. The only sound in the room was the fizz and crackle of the burning logs on the fire, and Simon’s eyes were drawn to them as he thought about the deaths of those men.
The knight sat up, wiping his face. “My apologies, but I had friends among that group,” he said, his eyes on the floor. “Peter de Bologna was taken by this same archbishop and sentenced to life in prison. He was not allowed to continue his defence of the Order. But Peter was a shrewd and resourceful man. He managed to escape from his bonds in his gaol, and made off, living rough in the countryside until he managed to make his way to Spain. I met him there.
“Peter was ever a stalwart figure, as I remembered him.
When I found him in Spain he was soldiering again, but not with one of the Orders. I had gone there because I had the idea of joining the Knights Hospitaller. The Spanish were never convinced of the guilt of the Templars, as, indeed, our own king, Edward, was not. The Spanish had always fought alongside the Templars in their struggle to keep the Moorish hordes at bay, and they knew that the Templars were an honourable Order, so it seemed a good place for me to go to. I thought I could join another Order and find peace.
“But Peter de Bologna wanted none of that. You see, during his trial, he had been able to see some papers while he was trying to defend our Order. He could not join another Order afterwards – he was too bitter. He remained as a soldier of fortune, fighting for what he believed, fighting to protect Christendom.
“I should explain, for you probably don’t know how the Templars were organised, but as the Pope is Christ’s vicar on earth, and therefore has power over all men, even kings, so the Knights Templar were answerable only to the Pope, because they were the most holy of all Orders, being created to protect pilgrims. What Peter saw during his defence of the Order was a paper that gave the names of all of the men who had given false witness against us. One of the commissioners was helpful and allowed Peter to see more when he asked, I think because he wanted to see the Order have a fair trial, and some of them showed that there was a conspiracy against us.
“At first, Peter could not believe what he saw, because it seemed too awful. The papers showed that the French king and the pope were in league to destroy the Order, but not because of the crimes alleged. No. For one reason only-they wanted our money! That was all!” He was sitting forward now, his despair at the futility of the destruction of his Order plain on his face as he stared unblinking at Simon, as if trying to transfer his feelings of betrayal and anguish in that single, penetrating and concentrated gaze.