The Templars' Last Days (12 page)

For they instructed the Master of each Knight Templar preceptory to immediately command his carpenters to stop any work they were currently engaged in, and to commission the building of 24 barrels to be made exactly to the dimensions they found enclosed.

The instruction then directed that, when built, the barrels were to be brought to the wine cellar entrance of their Temple, in batches of no more than six and no more frequently than every two days. Once within the sanctuary of the Temple walls and away from any danger of being seen by King Philip’s agents or spies, they were to be transferred not to the wine cellar, but to the treasury.

Finally, the instructions also commanded the Master to ensure that an inventory of his treasury, the gold coins, deeds of titles, precious stones, loan notes etc, etc were to be catalogued and entered into a new ledger. This ledger, which contained the current inventory, was then to be sent by despatch rider to the Grand Master in Paris, as soon as the audit was completed. The receiving of these ledgers, together with the progress of my local carpenter, would allow me to reasonably though not completely accurately, gauge the readiness of all of our preceptories.

To each Master it was stressed, within these instructions, that to all outside appearances it was business as usual, for the success of this operation depended upon King Philip’s agents and spies believing that there was no increase, panic or change in our day-to-day activities.

Given the progress here in Paris, I had estimated that this part of the operation, if everything went smoothly, would take up to four weeks to complete before the second phase of the operation could be actioned. Without knowing the timeframe that King Philip was working to, and as the long hot days of August would soon be shortening to welcome the arrival of September, I could only pray that we worked quickly, and that the hand of God would continue to shield and protect us from our enemy.

Whilst I was organising the affairs within the Temple walls of Paris, Jon had ridden to La Rochelle with a set of instructions for the Admiral of our fleet, Thibaud de Montbazin, from the Grand Master.

Admiral Thibaud de Montbazin was commanded to make available the fastest ship currently moored in the port to Jon Sinclair, for he was on a special mission in the name of the Grand Master. Jon had been instructed not to discuss with the Admiral the whereabouts of the final destination of his trip and that, for security reasons, this information could only be shared with the captain of the vessel chosen, and then only once they were out of port and underway.

With my work in Paris now reaching the completion of the first phase, it was time for me to take the short journey to collect the Holy relics which had been placed in our charge for safe keeping. Normally, such a journey would be undertaken in total secrecy; however, the current extraordinary circumstances convinced me that those vows of secrecy had to be breached and shared amongst the two people I knew I could trust.

I had deliberately waited for Jon to have left Paris to fulfil his part of the plan, before I revealed the secret location of the Holy relics to Giles and the Grand Master. Although our Grand Master was aware that his Holy Order were the guardians of these priceless and irreplaceable objects, even he was not privy to their location – until now. There followed some moments of silence as the information was absorbed and digested before the Grand Master asked how I intended to retrieve these Holy relics given our current predicament.

Although the whole journey would take at best six days, at worst eight days, to complete, much discussion, disagreement and concern had been shared amongst the Grand Master, Giles and myself over how this could be organised in order to ensure the security of so valuable a cargo, yet at the same time to not arouse the suspicion of those watching our every move.

The final choice was one of reason and, in everybody’s mind, not only the most efficient, but the one most likely to cause Philip’s agents and spies not to believe anything other than what their eyes told them was happening. For our success depended on our public actions continuing to fuel King Philip’s mind of avarice and his forthcoming success.

Although day had just broken the dark hold of night, this late-August morning was bright and held the promise of yet another of its long hot days, when Giles climbed into his coach. I had to dash from my morning prayers to join him in order that our journey would get underway without any undue delay. Giles had his normal vanguard of four Templar Knights and the same number bringing up the rear.

We left the Paris preceptory by the south gate, knowing that even at this early hour our movements would be relayed almost immediately to the King, but once out of sight of Paris, the coach would turn east and head towards its intended destination, our preceptory at Saint-Dizier.

I always preferred travelling in this coach, as against my own carriage, for the ride was far more comfortable and being enclosed shielded me from any exposure to the weather. Although we were alone in the carriage, Giles and I were careful to speak quietly when discussing how everything was progressing, relying on the noise of the horses and the coach to muffle any conversation and prevent what was being said from being overheard.

It was about an hour into our journey when it was deemed safe enough to turn east, and pick up the main tracks that would lead us to our first overnight stop. Over the centuries, the Holy Order had been bequeathed or had had donated to it much land, many estates and villages, which meant that no matter in which direction of travel I went, I could be assured of finding either a Knight Templar property, or a Cistercian Abbey, within a day’s travel.

This network was invaluable when it came to the timely deliverance of important communiqués, for the despatch bags could be exchanged every 12 hours or so to a fresh horse and rider and so halving the normal journey time. It also proved to be extremely useful on a journey such as this, for we knew that each evening we could depend upon safe, secure and comfortable accommodation amongst our brethren and companions.

It was late morning of the third day, when we approached the Chateau of Saint-Dizier. Since we had set off at first light our convoy had been travelling along the road which hugged the banks of the river Marne. However, as we neared our destination, the river Marne veered away to our left as it began to form a large horseshoe curve on its south-easterly journey.

The Chateau itself was constructed on the land that occupied the ground formed by this bend in the river Marne, and was thus offered a natural defence not only to to the rear, but also to both sides of the Chateau – for there was insufficient land between the bend of the river and the defensive walls for a large number of attackers to gather. It was only the open ground at the front of the Chateau which offered any would-be invader the opportunity to mount any type of a meaningful assault on the building.

It was a magnificent Chateau whose high walls dominated the otherwise flat countryside and I had always enjoyed my visits to this particular place. The main entrance into the Chateau was sandwiched between two enormous turrets, and it led into the expanse of the Chateau grounds.

Our coach made straight for the quarters of Master Pons le Blanc, who, as our party came to a halt, had made a timely appearance at the top of the steps which led into his home. For obvious reasons, our visit was unannounced, and by the expressions on the face of Master Pons, which displayed an array of emotions from the initial warmth of his greeting to that being quickly replaced by his confused and somewhat bemused mind, for no doubt this unscheduled visit by Giles and myself, so quickly after him receiving the latest set of instructions from the Grand Master, surely could only be bad news for him.

Nevertheless he quickly put such thoughts out of his mind and offered Giles and myself a warm welcome and bade that we join him in his office before the midday meal which would shortly be served. Master Pons’ office was typically functional, but the views from his windows gave way to the most spectacular backdrop of the free flowing river Marne and the green rolling countryside that covered the land for as far as the eye could see.

Master Pons asked Giles and myself to sit, and after his steward had delivered a tray of fruit and wine by way of refreshment, engaged us in a conversation, the subject matter of which had clearly been on his mind. We had been given permission by the Grand Master to be open and earnest with Master Pons and to answer any of his questions fully, and this we did.

Although Master Pons heard our replies, I was not convinced that he fully understood what was happening. And why should he? For, if I was to be honest, I was not sure that even we, the very architects of the plan, fully knew what the outcome would be. However, we were determined that we must continue to be the masters of our own destiny, to serve the Church, to protect its Holy relics and to be true to our oath.

Our deep conversation was interrupted by the distinctive sound of the bell which was calling my fellow Monks from their labour in the fields and workshops to the midday meal, and so Master Pons suggested we reconvene after the meal. Giles requested that at that time the carpenter be sent for as we had need of his services, and with that we followed Master Pons to the dining room.

Our surprise presence in the dining room was greeted with a most warm welcome, for I had many good and old friends amongst the Monks who resided here and to them this unexpected visit was an opportunity to catch up on what news and gossip lay outside of the walls in which they served.

Protocol demanded that Giles and I sat at the head of the table and that it was my privilege to both give and return thanks for our food. The mood around the long dining table was one of warmth and cheerfulness – and why not? For the crops had been extremely bountiful this season. For only Giles and myself were aware of what was shortly going to irrevocably change the lives of every person in this room, and as each day passed, that change became one day closer. So I gave thanks to God for allowing His children to enjoy each day whilst they could.

Whilst Master Pons and Giles retired back to his office to continue their conversation, I made my excuses to visit the wine cellars. It had been some many years since I last visited these cellars, but other than there being more barrels and clay pots than I seemed to remember, the cellar was as dark and cold as always.

However, my purpose here was not to assess the wine holdings – it was far more important, for behind the clutter of barrels and shelves which covered the far wall, lay a secret room and within that room were stored the Holy relics. Knowledge of this room, let alone its contents, were known to only two living individuals, both of us sworn to secrecy never to reveal the location, or the contents, of this room to anybody in the world. Further, this knowledge was always to be passed on orally and never to be written down.

Upon becoming the Templar Bishop of Paris, knowledge of the Holy relics was passed onto me by my predecessor, together with their whereabouts at that time. It was one of my first duties to move the Holy relics to a new place of security, and only to share that knowledge with one other.

Judging by the level of chaos within the wine cellar, the plethora of cobwebs together with the depth of the dust which covered the shelves and pots on the far wall, there was no reason for me to think that this secret room had ever been discovered but had remained undisturbed and intact since my last visit here. However, within the next few hours its secret location would become surplus to my requirements. Feeling that all was well, I made my way back to Master Pons’ office and the challenge of his questions.

I think that over the mid-day meal Master Pons had finally reconciled in his mind as to why he had been instructed to carry out such an extensive audit of his treasury and to make ready the transportation of the same if so instructed. For when I had written the instructions, on behalf of the Grand Master, it had been strongly implied that as an organisation it was imperative that we prepare for a Holy Crusade if called upon by the Holy Father. And in his wisdom, he would only call such a Crusade if the Knight Templars could provide evidence that we had sufficient finances to see such a mission to its successful fruition.

Behind his title, Master Pons, like every Knight Templar, was first and foremost a warrior who had little or no interest in, let alone an understanding of, the nuances of either politics or finance. That said, his natural instincts told him to climb on his horse and head for the Holy Lands; however, his instructions were to resist such actions until the Grand Master wrote again. I think that with Giles being a well respected Templar Knight, his explanation of this delay bore more weight with Master Pons than anything I could ever have said on my own.

As our conversation was reaching its end, I believe I threw Master Pons into further confusion when I asked him to send a dozen Masons to the wine cellars and for them to make themselves available to me. With a throw of his hands in the air, Master Pons rose and, muttering to himself, left the office to find his Masons.

I waited with some impatience at the cellar door for the Masons to congregate, but eventually there were sufficient numbers for the work to start. The shelving, barrels and pots, which had acted as such an effective defensive barrier over many years, had first to be cleared out of the way. Once the wall was free of all obstructions the work of taking down the wall began. This had to be done with great care, for any brick falling inwards could cause irreparable damage to the items stored within the hidden room.

The Masons’ work was done in complete silence and to me seemed to follow a preset and known pattern of work. First, they scraped away the bonding between each of the bricks, starting at the top of the wall and working down to the floor level. Work was by its very nature slow, the dust caused by dislodging this bonding created its very own atmosphere within the confines of the cellar. The moving of the barrels and shelves, had disturbed the many inches of dust which had accumulated over the many years, which was now joined in the air by the fragments of the bonding which stoutly resisted the Masons’ attempts to be moved.