The Templars' Last Days (16 page)

It was important that the timing of the dispatches was such that those preceptories furthest from any Templar port received their orders first, and so we took advantage of the few hours’ start that Philip’s over-confidence had given to us, to ensure that the first despatch riders went to the furthest outposts within King Philip’s lands.

Although I was relatively sure that William’s agents would not be active here in Poitiers – after all why should they be? – I could not take any chances. So each rider was instructed not to leave until 30 minutes had passed since the last rider left. I was thankful that the rain and darkness seemed to be providing perfect cover for this operation, so I was confident that all was well.

The Grand Master and I bid a fond farewell to our Holy Father and Guy with a certainty that we would never see one another again, donned our plain black cloaks and hoods, and headed out into the rain and darkness for Paris.

That evening, the Pontiff and Guy deliberately arrived late at the royal chateau, and once inside the hallway, they were guided by the butlers towards the ballroom. The butler left them once they reached the entrance to the ballroom. Both stood bewildered for a moment at the top of the five steps, which would lead them down to ballroom floor, whilst they took in the scene that was below them. The large and decadent ballroom was alive with music, light conversation and boisterous laughter.

Each of the walls of the ballroom were light blue in colour, broken only by the heavy gilt framed portraits of past Kings and noblemen of France. The double doors, which would normally be opened to allow the guests to spread out onto the terrace, seemed too fragile to protect the room from the heavy storm that continued to rage outside, but somehow they managed to fulfil their purpose with apparent ease. The room was illuminated by the light which came from the four large and magnificently decorated chandeliers suspended from the ceiling, assisted by the matching over large wall lights, which were positioned between the portraits.

The music which reverberated around their ears was coming from the troubadours found to their right, and the floor before them, on all sides, was but a sea of bodies made up of the cream of Poitiers society. Around the room were positioned innumerable butlers, each supporting a large silver tray. On some were goblets, no doubt filled with fine wine, whilst on the others, were assorted fruit and cakes.

Both the Pope and Guy were taken aback at the sight before them. For what they saw seemed to them to represent the very worst of the King's hedonistic indulgences. Refusing the offer of wine from the butler, it took them a few moments to recover from what they saw in front of them. As the revellers became aware of the Pope’s presence, they stopped dancing to acknowledge him with a reverential silence, which rippled across the room until the music stopped and the King turned to find out why.

After all that had happened, the King behaved as if nothing had occurred today, for he swept across the ballroom floor and knelt to kiss the Pope's ring. Which, although respectful, his arrogant demeanour only served to further alienate him from the Pope. William, who was just behind his King, sensing that all was not well between them, quickly moved forward to suggest that they retire to where supper awaited them.

William led the way, across the marbled floored hall and to the other side of the chateau. Although nothing was spoken, the tension between the two parties was palpable, and William for one was relieved to reach the small and intimate study where supper was to be served.

Understandably, neither the Pope nor Guy enjoyed the food or the hospitality shown to them that night by a clearly jubilant King Philip and William, who by the end of the supper had adopted an equally annoying condescending attitude, now that they had the result they wanted. So conversation between the two parties was reduced to all but the required niceties that such a gathering demanded. Once again William pressed the point about Matthew being absent, and once again Guy fobbed him off with the reply that he was busy in Avignon on Papal business.

After the light supper was finished, and in order to avoid any misinterpretation of rudeness, the Pope and Guy waited until a decent amount of time had passed, before they gave their excuses to leave. As protocol demanded, the King and William escorted their guests to the main doors of the Chateau, where the Pope's carriage was waiting.

Not a word was exchanged between the Pope and Guy on the short journey back to his quarters, whilst at the Royal chateau nobody could stop the King from his enjoyment. The Bull from the papacy was now firmly in his possession, and the inquisition against the Order of Knight Templars was his to command.

Victory was his and how sweet it tasted.

Chapter 11

Each of the remaining days of September seemed to be as long as a month, even though events kept me busy from dawn to dusk. As each day passed, I received confirmation from one preceptory then another that they were progressing well in the transportation of their treasury holdings to the nearest Templar port. I also received regular updates from Admiral Thibaud as to the number of Templar vessels that were now moored and in which port they were located.

My instructions to each preceptory Master had been very specific regarding the value of the assets to be stored in the newly commissioned barrels. The orders also guided them as to when six barrels were filled they were to be loaded onto a carriage, covered with a cloth, and transported to the nearest Templar port, with no more than one carriage load per day and a gap of two days before the next load was to be despatched. I had calculated that we would be leaving behind around 10% of our assets within each preceptory, which was hoped would satisfy King Philip’s avarice, as even that small residue would be more money than he would have ever imagined or seen before.

There continued to be a fierce debate between the Grand Master and Giles as to who should accompany the Holy relics and myself on their journey to their new home. Giles was insistent that it was the duty of our Grand Master to be the one to guard this precious cargo, whilst Jacques saw it the opposite way around. It took some days of conversation, which sometimes became very heated and animated, before Giles accepted the inevitable logic of him being the one to accompany me on the journey.

As September neared its close, it was time for Giles and me to leave Paris with the Holy relics, and head for La Rochelle. Although there was great need for this to be done in the most inconspicuous manner, I had failed to find one. And so I had to decide upon taking the risk of sending three carriages out at the same time. Two of the carriages would be loaded with the round barrels which appeared to be just simple wine carriers, and they would be uncovered, whilst the third carriage was enclosed and loaded with crates, for there was no other means of transporting the Ark of the Covenant other than to enclose it in a crate.

I prayed for a long time in my chapel, the one in which I felt most in touch with God, but one I would never see again. Both Giles and myself said goodbye to the Grand Master who wished us both well and reminded us once more that the future of the Church and the Holy Order of the Knight Templars was now in our hands.

Giles and I waited for the cover of darkness before the convoy began its journey out of Paris, and I could only pray that King Philip’s agents and spies were too busy with their own arrangements to be watching our every movement. Thankfully, after several anxious days travelling, we reached La Rochelle, mercifully without any incident, and met up with the ever cheerful Admiral Thibaud; and I must admit that I found his upbeat manner a most welcome relief from the stress of the last few days on the road, that came from carrying such a priceless and irreplaceable cargo without any guards.

The King and William, having drunk well into the small hours, were understandably late in rising the next day. However, their mood was still upbeat and over a very congenial late breakfast/lunch chatted over their next move. Eventually, they decided that it was time for some work and they left for the King’s office.

William had instructed his scribes to work through the night to ensure that there were sufficient copies of the two orders ready for the King to sign next morning. As the King and William entered into the bright and airy room which acted as the King’s office when at his chateau here in Poitiers, the large desk was already awash with the scrolls which now required his signature and seal.

After satisfying himself that the copies were in order, William made his leave in order to muster as many despatch riders as he could, for they needed to be distributed to the baillis and seneschals as quickly as possible. He also instructed the royal butlers to make ready for the trip back to Paris.

Due to the sheer number of documents that required the King’s signature and seal, it had turned dark by the time his task was completed, but, even this laborious and tediously repetitive process could not dampen the good mood of the King. For his mind was spent in daydreaming about all that money which was about to become his. Money and wealth beyond his wildest dreams, and with this money would come power, the power which would now allow him as the supreme ruler, the King of France, to influence and control every Christian Monarch throughout the known world.

After another day spent at Poitiers the royal family and entourage finally headed back towards Paris.

As the King’s orders began to reach all the various towns and villages across the lands over which he ruled, they were received in as many different ways; however, each bailli and seneschal knew that it was more than their life was worth to disregard the direct instructions of the King, irrespective of their own feelings towards the Holy Order of the Knight Templars, and they began the task of gathering the information and soldiers as they had been directed.

On 1 of October, the Master of each preceptory across France opened and, where required, had read to him the despatch they had received from their Grand Master. It must have been met with the same gasp of disbelief in every Master’s office, as they heard, and then digested, what was being asked of them:

Jacques de Molay, Grand Master of the Order of the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon, sends to you health and prosperity.

We have fought many noble battles together, had many glorious victories, served our Church and Holy Father with unquestionable loyalty and at all times have been faithful to our Oath. We now face our greatest and final battle together, which we will face in the name of our Lord, Jesus Christ, as defenders of our Church, in protection of our Holy Father and to preserve the Christian faith across all our lands.

Be it known that on Friday 13 of October, in the year of our Lord 1307, at the hour of 5 before noon, you are to surrender, without lifting any arms, to the forces of King Philip IV, for this being the best way of protecting all that we as noble and chivalrous Knights hold dear.

You are to gather your Knights together today and relay to them this command, for it is only by our sacrifice that the Church and all those Christian values that we stand for will survive. We will all face prison and inevitable torture at the hands of Satan's agents. Some will feel the hand of death strike them down whilst in prison, but it will only be through this personal sacrifice that our Holy and noble Order will live on to serve our Lord, our Church and our Holy Father.

Each of you need to pray for God’s strength and guidance in the path that you now have to choose, for it will be necessary for no more than 12 Knights to discard the robes which they wear with such pride and dignity and exchange them for the rags which will disguise their noble calling, and in this new guise accompany the carriages to the ports and be ready to sail into as yet an unknown and uncertain future.

Whilst I call upon those who remain, as I will be doing, to face the certainty of losing their liberty and perhaps their life, but secure in the knowledge that like me you will be fulfilling your sacred Oath in serving God and his Church.

This command must remain secret within our Holy Order and this scroll burnt once every Knight has heard its contents.

May God be with you and protect your souls

Jacques de Molay.

Sharing supper in the quarters of Admiral Thibaud was a welcome distraction for both Giles and myself, as his gregarious nature seemed to dominate the room and the conversation. He was, for some unknown reason, intent on sharing with us as many of his past exploits as the limited time in our company would permit, and the evening passed very quickly.

Giles and I had commandeered three of Admiral Thibaud's finest fighting Cogs for our sea voyage. And once more to the Admiral’s frustration, neither our intended destination nor the nature of our cargo could be shared with him.

For safety reasons the Holy relics had been divided into three prearranged lots, each being housed in a different Cog, for if we hit bad weather or any one of the vessels ran into difficulty and was sunk, then the vast bulk of the Holy relics would remain intact.

As supper was coming to an end, word was brought to the Admiral’s quarter that all the cargo had been safely stored on each of the Cogs and made secure, which meant that I could sleep soundly in the knowledge that they were now safely within the security of the Templars and away from the risk of being captured by King Philip.

Although the Cog lacked a Chapel, I prayed for a long time in the quiet of my cramped quarters, thanking God for his help so far and for his continued strength so that the remaining part of the operation went as had been planned. Even though I knew that sleep would be a difficulty as my mind was still working its way through many issues, I eventually climbed into my bunk, and I think for the first time became aware of the sound of the Cog.

The oak frame seemed to moan and creak at every opportunity it was presented with. The gentle rhythmic movement caused by the becalmed waters of the port seemed to bring a complaint from every joint around me. From the deck above I could hear the sailors continuing with the loading of the remaining Templar cargo which seemed to be never ending.