The Templars' Last Days (17 page)

Eventually I became in tune with the rhythm and the strange new noises that surrounded me, finally drifting into a surprisingly deep sleep. I awoke as usual as dawn was breaking, and after reacquainting myself with these new surroundings completed my morning prayers before venturing up the stairs which led to the upper deck.

Both the Cog and the port were unusually quiet and there was a most serene atmosphere in the air as I strolled around the deck taking in the fresh morning air. As I took in the wondrous sight of the rising sun climbing into the sky, and willingly spreading its gift of light across both the water and land, the port seemed to answer its call and began to burst into life.

The small fishing boats began their exodus towards the open sea. On the quayside, the traders started to appear and set out their stalls for business. Slowly at first, but as the morning took hold of the day, the pace quickened and the noise of business filled the air. The crew of the Cog made their appearance and pushing out their gangplanks the work of loading started again.

I was joined on deck by Giles, who having shaved and discarded his normal Templar uniform in exchange for just the simple clothes of a sailor, was hardly recognisable
. In fact I only realised it was Giles from his ring. We stood for some time in awe of just how well our plans were being executed, for the arrival and departure of the carriages carrying their precious cargo seemed to us to have the desired appearance of normality.

We moved onto the uppermost part of the Cog which resembled the top part of a castle. From here there was a splendid view across the panorama of the port which exposed just how busy a place this really was. I could see that there were at least 10 Templar vessels moored along the quay, each one occupied with the loading of the specially commissioned barrels as well as the other cargo that they would normally carry.

Giles and I spent the rest of the morning enjoying the spectacle which was being played out before us and rehearsing the speech Giles would have to make, before joining the ever cheerful Admiral Thibaud for a midday meal. His hospitality was as generous as his conversation and he had taken this opportunity to introduce Giles and myself to the three captains he had chosen to be in charge of the Cogs on our journey.

Although it was a very affable meal, it went on a little longer than I would have expected a midday meal to normally take; still, I thought that was a good thing as it gave both Giles and myself time to assess Admiral Thibaud's choices of captain. However, my mind was turning to how successful Jon's mission had been and when we would receive word from him.

It was not too many days’ wait before I sighted the sleek lines of the 'Marian' silhouetted against the Quay in the late afternoon sun as she made her way to a mooring; her timely arrival came to me as a most welcome relief. Although it would be another hour or so before she would be finally docked, I knew that in the morning I would be leaving French soil forever.

As the autumn days were now becoming much shorter than those of summer, night had taken control by the time the despatch bag had been transferred from the 'Marian' into my hands. I summoned Giles to join me in my quarters so that we would read the news from Jon together. The news was favourable: we would be sailing in the morning.

Giles and I joined the Admiral and his chosen captains for supper as we had done on each of the previous evenings. In fact I had begun to enjoy our gatherings; it was only a pity it was not under a different set of circumstances. Tonight though, we would finally be able to relieve the Admiral of his curiosity of what was happening. No doubt the Admiral would have been informed by the Templar Knights who had been swelling the numbers of his crews over the last couple of days about the message from the Grand Master, but he would now need to understand the important part he was now to play in the survival of our Holy Order.

The Admiral was as always in good humour and seemed buoyed by the news that we intended to sail at first light tomorrow, even though our destination could not be revealed until we were under sail and on the open sea. Giles then explained what was expected of the Admiral and his fleet. The jovial mood around the table noticeably changed to one of intense concentration and then disbelief and the silence was only broken when the Admiral clapped his hands together, exclaiming in a loud excitable voice 'Action at last' and demanded more wine.

His spirit once more lifted all in the room and I spent my last night in France in the most congenial fashion amongst the true Brethren of our Holy Order. Unfortunately it was due to the lateness of the hour, and the need for an early start, which brought our meal to a premature end. Giles and I both wished the Admiral well and success in his important duties. He gave us both a reassuring smile and we knew that the task he had to undertake was in safe hands.

I gathered the crew of the 'Bernard' together for morning prayers, after which no time was lost in releasing 'Bernard' from her moorings and we led the two sister Cogs, 'Basil' and 'Luke' out of the port of La Rochelle and into the open expanse of the Bay of Biscay. We would be the first of the Templar vessels to leave France for the final time, but not the last to so do. Over the next ten days the whole fleet would be safely out of French waters and heading towards shelter in friendlier countries.

As the crew raised the huge white sail to capture the wind to power us on our way, the Templar Beausant was already proudly flying from the very tip of the mast. I called the captain into my quarters, informed him where we were going and had him set the fastest course to our destination. We would be at sea for at least ten days now, so there was nothing more that Giles or myself could do to influence the inevitable events in France. But the very future of the Catholic Church and our Holy Order were firmly in our hands.

The King’s preparations were now well advanced and with only ten days left before the strike, there was fevered activity all around, none more so than with William. Despatch riders were coming and going from his chateau, like worker bees leaving to find the sweet pollen and returning to the mother nest with their eagerly awaited load. Since his return from Poitiers William had been working day and night to ensure all was in readiness for the 13 of October. There could be no second chance, no failure, no exceptions and certainly no excuses.

William’s patience had been tested to the limits, and well beyond, by the ineptitude of most of the baillis and seneschals who seemed to struggle with the meaning of their initial instructions they had received and what they were expected to do. This meant that most of the towns and villages had returned the despatch rider with further requests for guidance, which resulted in William’s time being absorbed into reading and answering each response individually.

On top of this, he was also responsible for organising the strike on the Parisian preceptory, and would have the pleasure of the King’s company with him, William could not afford any slip-ups here in Paris, but was finding he had less and less time to spend on dealing with his own arrangements as the trickle of enquiries had turned into a flood.

Pushed beyond the limits of tolerance, William in the end wrote out in the plainest language his frustration would allow, a step by step idiot-proof guide that the baillis and seneschals only had to follow, with the closing instruction being 'Just Do It' and sent it out to everybody. He was pleased that this seemed to finally get the message home, for either the baillis and seneschals finally understood the message or they were too scared to ask any more questions, for William received no return communications and finally he could get on with his own responsibilities.

The evening of 12 of October saw King Philip and William attend a special service which the King had asked to be held at Notre-Dame Cathedral. Unusually for such an occasion the congregation was small and handpicked by the King. He wished to be surrounded by those noblemen of France whom he believed could best serve him and his new found wealth.

King Philip IV thanked God for what was now only a few hours away from being his greatest and most rewarding victory; nothing and nobody could now stand in his way.

The Grand Master stood in the chapel in the Paris Temple surrounded by the Templar Knights who had chosen to stay and face the inquisition. They prayed for God’s mercy, strength and support during the trials they would surely face, so that they could only speak the truth.

In Poitiers, the Pope and Guy prayed for all the innocent souls which they may have endangered, for the safe deliverance of the Holy relics, for the future of the Church and importantly the Lord’s forgiveness for what they have done in his name.

On board the 'Basil' I prayed throughout the night for God’s protection of our Grand Master and all the Knight Templars who had sacrificed themselves in His name, that they all be given His strength to withstand the torture that was inevitably to be inflected on each and every one of them, and to provide me with guidance and success so that their sacrifice has not been made in vain.

I had now gone through my journal from those uncertain days of July as I turned over the last leaf which brought me right up to today. I left my journal open, my heart being too heavy with sadness to bring myself to make any sort of entry. We had all gone too far now for any failure to be tolerated, too much had been lost, too many lives sacrificed to get us to where we now were; the Catholic Church and the future of Christianity dictated that I leave my personal feelings to one side, and allow God to provide me with the strength to complete this journey.

Leaving the confines of my quarters I climbed the stairs leading to the upper deck. I swung the door open and was hit by morning daylight which took a moment or two for my eyes to adjust to, and was staggered to find the whole crew on deck waiting for me to lead them in solemn prayer for our Brethren back in France. I chose my words carefully and deliberately in order to best reflect the mood of the crew. There was no noise as prayers ended, just a resolute acceptance of having to return to their chores for the day.

Giles joined me at the top of the castle deck as we looked silently over the strange terrain that stretched out before us. It was yesterday afternoon when our small flotilla of three Cogs moored where the ancient and long abandoned port of Pelusium on the coast of Egypt, once dominated this part of the coastline. For it was here that Jon Sinclair had sent word he would meet us. The port of Pelusium had for a long time been cut off from any direct access to the Mediterranean, but had remained for many centuries an important trading city. Today, though, the city lay empty and abandoned, which meant it was a perfect location for ourselves and our
priceless cargo to be landed without any spying eyes.

As far as our eyes could see, either to the left or right, there was nothing but sand which was acting as a host to the sea which lapped onto it. The flat horizon which lay directly in front was only disturbed by the towering ruined remains of what was once that proud city of Pelusium. However, the only sight that we both wished to see was that of Jon.

It was the middle of the following day before our wish was realised, but we were somewhat startled to see a party of Moslem soldiers and carts draw up on the beach before us. Taking to our defensive positions, we began to prepare to fight, when suddenly a Templar Beausant was raised by a rider who came to the fore of the war party. His voice was familiar, and although I could not recognise him from this distance, he introduced himself as Jon Sinclair and bid we allowed him to board. The thought of this reunion with my old friend certainly helped to lift the mood of everybody. As he scrambled on board the 'Basil' from the small rowboat that had brought him from the shore, I was shocked to see how much he had changed in just a few weeks.

He had exchanged his Knight Templar clothes for the native
galabeya
over which he had a multi striped kaftan. His skin was deeply tanned and the sun had noticeably bleached his hair. He appeared tired and had certainly lost some weight. Still, for all that this was unmistakeably Jon Sinclair, and both Giles and I exchanged warm hugs of welcome with him.

We sought shelter from the afternoon sun in the captain’s quarters which also offered a modicum of privacy for our discussions. Over refreshment of wine and fruit Jon began to explain what he had been doing on his mission.

Jon began to reveal a part of the workings of both our current and all our past Grand Masters that, over the many decades in which our Holy Order had occupied the Holy Lands, had been nurtured and yet one to which I had never been party. For, according to Jon, over the last two hundred years or so, the Knight Templars have been highly influential in the affairs of the Holy Land, and although no longer in control of the Holy City, they still retain powerful friends within the Arab and Christian circle of decision-makers throughout the Holy Land.

The Knight Templars had over these many past years courted the allegiance of Al-Nasir Muhammad, and with the assistance of our association with the Assassins, our Order had been instrumental in ensuring that this powerful leader remained in power. Having twice assisted Al-Nasir to become the ruler of Egypt and the lands they occupied, now was the time to call upon him to return the favour he owed to the Knight Templars.

I could never understand the world of the Templars Knights. They would engage the most bitter of enemies in conversation and agree diplomatic treaties, to avoid the threat of war, yet at the same time, would not have a second thought about killing the same person in a battle? Perhaps that is why I am a man of the cloth, and not a warrior Templar Knight, I mused to myself.

Jon continued with his astonishing account. Unknown to everybody, our Grand Master had recently been over to the Holy Land and visited Al-Nasir Muhammad where he had reached an understanding with him before returning home via Cyprus. So when he had instructed Jon on his mission to seek out and find Al-Nasir Mohammad, Jon's attendance at his court was not unexpected.