Requiem: The Fall of the Templars (69 page)

The journey to Poitiers had taken longer than he’d anticipated, the autumn storms slowing him down. Once in the town, he had kept off the main routes, knowing he couldn’t afford to be spotted. Hugues de Pairaud thought he was dead, but Will had no doubt the visitor would finish the job if he were caught.

On making contact with a friar he knew from earlier visits, he discovered that he had missed Jacques de Molay by two days. The grand master had gone to Paris, leaving the visitor and the remaining officials at the town’s preceptory until he returned. Clement was seriously ill and despite Will’s frustrated appeals to the friars, he wasn’t allowed to see the pope until the day before the arrests were due to take place.

He had barely an hour’s audience with the pope, who, exhausted by his sickness, was in little position to offer him comfort or aid. He remained at the priory, hoping Clement would recover enough to make a decision as to how to counter the king’s plans, and it was there that he learned the Temple’s preceptory in Poitiers had fallen in a fierce dawn assault led by a heavy contingent of royal guards. All the knights had been rounded up, Hugues and the other officials taken into royal custody and conveyed to Paris. The threat within the scroll confirmed and not knowing whether his daughter, Simon and Robert had managed to leave on the ship, Will implored Clement to write to the king condemning his actions and demanding the immediate release of the knights and their property. The pope agreed to meet the king as soon as he was well, but, frustrated by his lack of urgency, Will decided to return to Paris. He hoped, if he could bring something concrete to Clement, perhaps reports of 410 robyn

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the king’s brutality or confi rmation that he was taking the Temple’s wealth for himself, that he might be able to rouse him to more immediate action.

When he reached Paris, he went straight to the preceptory, but fi nding the place crawling with royal guards, he didn’t dare get close. The city was buzzing with news of the Temple’s fall. There was something ugly in people’s interest.

Some talked about justice, about the knights getting their comeuppance for losing the Holy Land. Others spoke of the charges, nodding knowingly to the butcher as they swapped money for meat, saying how they’d always thought the knights were up to no good. It was through this gossip Will learned that not all the men in the preceptory had been seized that day. People spoke of knights and sergeants fleeing through the streets during the initial chaos of the arrests. It was these fugitives Will had spent the past few days trying to fi nd, which was why he was here in the Latin Quarter, staring at these buildings, looking for a sign.

Finally, he found it: a black door with a peeling golden cross painted on it.

The shutters were closed over the ground-floor windows as it was still early.

Leading his horse through the arched passageway in the side of the building, Will headed into a poky courtyard, with a stable block wedged against the back wall. A boy was out there, sweeping the yard. He glanced up seeing Will and his eyes widened as he looked the horse up and down.

“Where can I find the innkeeper?” Will asked, handing him the reins.

“In the kitchen,” replied the boy, turning the massive horse expertly and leading it toward the stables.

“Keep him saddled,” Will called, heading for the back door, “I won’t be here long.”

Two men inside the kitchen looked around, frowning quizzically as he entered.

One held a knife poised over a fish he was gutting. “What do you want?”

“I’m looking for the innkeeper.”

“He’s in front,” replied the man, slamming the knife down and taking off the fish’s head. He jerked his thumb toward a door behind him. “But there’re no rooms if that’s what you’re after.”

Will moved past him into a dark, musty-smelling room where a scrawny man with carroty hair was maneuvering a barrel across the uneven fl agstones.

He cursed as it caught on one of the benches that lined the room.

“Here, let me.” Will went over and took the other side.

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over to where several others were stacked. He straightened. “Are you here for a room? Because we’re—”

“No,” Will cut across him. “I’m looking for a couple of men I believe are guests of yours.”

“Oh?”

The man’s tone was light, but Will caught an edge of tension in it. “I think you know who I mean.”

The man gave a nervous laugh. “How would I know if you don’t give their names?”

“They’re Templars.”

The man held up his hands, shaking his head. “Sorry.” He was inching away from Will, toward the kitchens.

“I’m not here to turn them in,” said Will quickly. “I only want to speak to them. Please. It’s very important.”

The man started as he came up against a bench. “Look, I’m just letting them stay here,” he said, his face in the gloom pale and frightened, “just until they can escape the city. I’ve done business with the preceptory and the knights always treated me well. I felt I owed them when they came for sanctuary.”

Will nodded reassuringly. “And when this is over you can be sure you’ll be rewarded for your aid.”

The man faltered, then nodded to the stairs. “There are four of them.

Three knights and a sergeant. I’ve given them the top room.”

“Thank you,” said Will, heading for the stairs. The boards groaned as he made his way up past several landings, until he reached a door on the fourth floor, where the stairs ended. He knocked. There was movement in the room beyond, hushed voices. The door opened a crack and a face appeared.

“Yes?”

“My name is William Campbell. I am a friend of Robert de Paris and Simon Tanner. I need to speak to you.”

“I’m sorry,” said the voice, “I don’t know them.”

“Wait, Gui,” came another voice beyond, “let him in.”

The door closed and Will heard a muted exchange. Finally, it opened fully, allowing him to step into the room. As he did so, a sword came up to his throat and he froze.

“Remove his weapon, Albert,” said the man behind him, kicking the door closed.

A young man with a broad, ruddy face unsheathed Will’s sword. As he did 412 robyn

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so, Will glanced at the two other men in the room, both armed and ready to move against him if necessary. They had all shaved their beards, but there was a telltale white patch on each of their chins, where the sun hadn’t browned them in years. Their clothes were coarse and ill-fitting, too long or short, and all of them had the watchful, wary look of the hunted.

“What do you want?” demanded the man called Gui, who still had his sword pressed against Will’s throat.

“Information.”

“How did you find us?” asked Albert worriedly.

“A servant from the preceptory who made it out told me.”

Gui muttered a curse. “I told you we shouldn’t stay. If he could fi nd us, that means the royal guards could. We need to get out of Paris.”

“How can we?” answered one of the other knights. “We’ve no money and we’re known in this city.” He tugged at his robe. “Without a decent disguise we’ll not make it past the watchmen on the gates. You heard what Martin said.

They’re questioning everyone trying to leave.”

“What information did you want?” Gui asked Will.

“Last month, do you know if a group of Templars left the preceptory? Robert de Paris and Simon Tanner would have been among them. They were supposed to be leaving on a ship.”

Gui said nothing for a few moments. Slowly he lowered the weapon, but kept the blade trained on Will. “Yes. No one knew what was happening, or why they left, but later I heard it said they had taken the treasury. It was thought the visitor must have ordered it.”

Will let out a breath. “What about the day of the arrests? Can you tell me what happened? Has the king begun any kind of trial? Are the knights just being detained or are they being questioned?”

Albert shook his head. “We don’t know. The four of us were in the infi rmary when the arrests began. When we saw the guards come in and kill several knights, we decided to run. We thought we should try to get to another preceptory to tell them what was happening.”

“It wouldn’t have done you any good,” replied Will. “This wasn’t confi ned to Paris.”

Gui was frowning intently. “Who are you? How do you know all this?”

“Someone who doesn’t want to see the king get his prize,” replied Will.

“But in order to do that I need proof that the king is acting unlawfully in the arrests to take back to the pope.”

“The pope?” voiced Albert hopefully.

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A low rumble of hoofbeats came to them, mingled with shouts of alarm.

Will and Gui went to the window. A troop of royal guards was riding down the street toward the inn, people scattering out of their way. Will swore as they came to a halt outside, horses wheeling and stamping.

“Did you lead them here?” snarled Gui, turning on him.

“No.”

Words drifted to them. “Open up, in the name of the king!”

“Shit!” Gui wrenched open the door.

Will followed the men, pounding down the stairs.

“The back!” Gui was bellowing as they reached the next landing. “We’ll get out the back!”

“No!” shouted Will. “They’ll have it covered. The windows! We might be able to climb onto the roof.”

But the knights ignored him and followed Gui headlong down the rickety stairs. Doors all along the hallway were opening, guests roused from their beds.

“What the hell is happening?” demanded one man, stepping out. He shrank back as Will came at him.

Pushing past him, Will entered the room and ran to the window. He cursed, seeing nothing but a long drop into the courtyard below. There were scores of soldiers down there, pouring into the back door. He heard shouting somewhere below as he sprinted from the room, down the hall. He tried one door and found it locked, tried another and shouldered his way in. A man leapt at him as he entered, swinging a bed pot. Will ducked and lunged, knee-ing him in the stomach. The man doubled over and a scream tore through the air as a woman vaulted from a crumpled bed. She was naked, her mouth peeling back in another scream. Stamping footsteps were coming up the stairs. Ignoring the woman, Will went to the window and thrust open the shutters.

There was a ledge outside. If he stood on it, he might be able to reach the next building. He swung his leg up and over the sill, grabbing hold of the frame to support himself, just as three royal guards came running into the room. The woman’s screams intensified as one of them caught Will by the hood of his cloak. He was hauled back into the room and crashed to the fl oor. One of the guards kicked him in the face and blood flooded the back of his throat. Dazed and choking, Will was dragged out of the room.

Spitting blood between his teeth as they lugged him into the street, Will saw the other men had been apprehended. Gui was on the floor, his face twisted with pain. A crowd had gathered, people spilling from shops and inns 414 robyn

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to watch the excitement. Someone cheered as Albert, who was struggling, was punched in the side and dropped to his knees.

“Another clutch of rats fleeing the sinking ship,” came a cold voice. “Arrest the innkeeper and all his staff.” The command was loud enough for all the onlookers to hear. “Anyone who harbors heretics will be dealt with in the same way.”

Will hung his head quickly, seeing a set of black robes sweep into sight.

“Who are they? Knights or sergeants?”

“I’m not sure,” replied the guard. “But we’ll know soon enough when we’ve got them locked away.”

“Indeed we will. Take them all to the preceptory.”

From under his lowered gaze, Will watched the black robes swish away. He felt himself being marched off, then that cold voice struck out again.

“Wait!”

Will tensed.

“That man there. Show me his face!”

Will tried to pull away, but one of the men holding him wrenched back his hair. He found himself looking straight into the dark eyes of Guillaume de Nogaret.

Nogaret’s face showed disbelief, then the slow spread of satisfaction.

“Shall we take him with the others, Minister?” asked one of the guards hesitantly.

“No,” murmured Nogaret. “This one can go to the Louvre.” His voice was thick with relish. “I’ll have a special cell prepared for him.”

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The Louvre, Paris

october 31, 1307 ad

Will walked the cell fl oor, five paces forward, five back. For the past four days he had filled the hours that stretched into infi nity in the cramped, airless space with these small acts of freedom.

They hadn’t bound his body and so he could make the choice to sit and think, lie down and sleep to save his strength, or pace to keep his muscles working.

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The prison—four bare walls, no window, a blank door with a hole for his food to be shoved through—was a surprise. The way Nogaret looked at him when he was hanging between the royal guards, he had imagined beatings and tortures awaited him. In some ways, this nothingness, almost devoid of human contact, was worse. His anticipation of what was to come was now so heightened, his whole being seemed to vibrate with it and it took all his control not to let his thoughts spiral into madness. He had to stay calm, prepare himself, and so he walked, focusing on the simplicity of placing one bare foot in front of the other.

Some time later, the sound of footsteps echoed. Will halted, listening. They were coming closer. He guessed there were three, maybe four men, the chink of their mail unmistakable. He pressed his back against the cell wall as the footsteps stopped outside his door, heard a bolt rattle and snap back.

“Face the wall,” came a harsh voice.

Will hesitated, not wanting to show weakness, but there seemed no reason to disobey the simple order and so he turned. His back itched with expectation as the door opened and a cold draft brushed across him. He tensed as hands gripped his arms, pulling them back. Rope circled his wrists. He heard a man’s breaths behind him as the pressure increased, and felt the blood pulsing in his veins, his hands growing hot and prickly. He was jerked round and marched forward, two men to either side of him.