Requiem: The Fall of the Templars (41 page)

“I have already thought about this. We will contact the Colonnas. Most of them fled to France when the pope exiled them, but they are still powerful and have supporters in Italy.”

238 robyn

young

Philippe nodded. “It is a good plan. You will take a small force from here who will assist you in arresting the pope and bringing him back to France.”

“Arresting him?” Nogaret’s brow furrowed. “My lord, I beg your pardon, but perhaps you misunderstand me. I did not mean for him to face a trial. I meant for us to fi nish him.”

“Killing him in an attack will achieve nothing. Arresting him for heresy, bringing him back to France to face trial and judgment? These things will irrevocably damage the reputation of the Church in the eyes of the West. It will render the papacy and the man who fills that office fallible, and that I will be the one to expose this will make my throne the more dominant of the two.

Church will stand beneath state, beneath France.” Philippe clasped his hands tightly on the table. “As it should be, should it not?” He looked up at Nogaret.

“The Church should care for my people’s souls, not their earthly needs. It should not be allowed to determine royal policy.”

“No,” said Nogaret firmly. “It should not.” He hesitated. “But a trial could be a protracted, complicated affair and we run the risk of losing support by—”

“Boniface will never reach Paris. You will make it appear as an accident.

But make it quick. I do not want him to suffer.”

A slow smile spread across Nogaret’s face as he understood. “Poison could—”

Philippe rose swiftly. “I do not wish to know the method. That Boniface was arrested for heresy and was on his way to face a trial should be enough to elevate our position over the Church. We will say his heart gave out; it was diseased by the evil in it, the corruption in his mind had spread to his body.

Afterwards, you will travel to Rome and contact our supporters in the Sacred College. Since the estates backed our move against the pope last year, we have gained more allies there. Make certain, through them, that I have a say in who is to wear the papal crown.”

“Boniface’s undoing will be your making, my lord,” said Nogaret, quiet now, his victory set.

Philippe said nothing, but folded the papal bull and placed it under a stack of parchments on the table. “You will take a company of my personal guards with you to Anagni.” He counted off a list of six names. “And William Campbell.”

Nogaret frowned. “Why the Scot?”

“He was once a high-ranking Templar. I think we could use him.”

“We hardly know him.”

the fall of the templars

239

“He has performed every errand I have sent him on.”

“The exchange of messages and money, simple deliveries, nothing more.

How do we know we can trust him? Especially given his links to the order?”

“He has no love of the Temple, that much is clear, and I do not know if I can trust him, which is why I want you to take him with you. Get to know him, but do not tell him of our plans, or the other guards for that matter.

They will only be told of the arrest. You will do the deed alone.”

“My lord—”

“When I make my move against the Temple I do not want any surprises. If he can be trusted, Campbell can provide us with invaluable information on the order. He knows the Temple’s inner workings, details of their assets and property.” Philippe raised his hand as Nogaret opened his mouth. “My decision is fi nal.”

“Yes.”

“Now leave me. I wish to pray.”

When the door shut, Philippe crossed the chamber. His limbs felt leaden as he drew aside the black curtains, embroidered with the arms of France, and entered his private chapel. The tiny recess contained a small altar with a crucifix nailed to the wall. He knelt on the stone and put his palms together. His skin was clammy. “Most gracious lord, forgive me for the mortal sin that will be committed at my command. But there is a man on St. Peter’s throne, who seeks only dominance for himself and who has corrupted that holy offi ce through his actions against your most faithful sons and daughters. The pope must be stopped, for the good of all my subjects and indeed for the people of Christendom. The world is changing, Father. We must change with it.”

Philippe pressed his hands tighter, until they were slick with sweat. “I know this must be your will, for why else would you have sent Nogaret to me? Why else would you allow this to happen?” He opened his eyes and stared at the crucifix. “If I am wrong in this action give me a sign. Show me that I am wrong. Speak and I shall hear it. Command and I shall listen.” Philippe pushed himself to his feet and placed his palms on the wall to either side of the crucifix. “Stay my hand, Father,” he implored. “As . . . as you did with Abraham.

Send a sign to me. Anything!”

But no voice resounded in his head, no angel descended, no tears slipped from the wooden Christ. There was nothing but cold, hard silence, an abyss of it echoing into empty eternity. It was all he ever heard.

23

Ferentino, Italy

september 4, 1303 ad

Will stood in the window and watched another line of men riding up the dusty track toward the castle gate. They had been arriving in companies of varying sizes for the past two days and the courtyard was crammed with horses and men. Soldiers slumped in the shade, drinking water from skins and conversing restlessly, their knight masters having retired to chambers. The fresh scent of olive and eucalyptus trees drifted from the rocky hills that tumbled around the town of Ferentino and, closer, the tang of wild herbs was a relief from the stink of horse dung that pervaded the sweltering air. Will glanced down at a rapid movement beneath him to see a black lizard dart across the window ledge. The sun was starting to sink toward the hills and the busy drone of cicadas rose in the blush of evening.

As a bell clanged hollowly in the town below, Will’s gaze moved to the nearby church tower, then drifted to a line of cypress trees that marched up the slope below the castle gate. He raked the branches with his stare, thinking maybe he had missed it. But despite all his wanting, he didn’t see what he hoped to. His impatience, bubbling beneath the surface of his thoughts, rose quickly to the fore. It was four days and still he’d had no word. Time was running out with every company that filed up the hillside to swell the castle garrison.

Behind him, the door clattered open. Will turned to see Gautier, one of the royal guards he had traveled from Paris with.

“Minister de Nogaret wants us in the Great Hall. Colonna has arrived.”

Leaving the dormitory where he had been billeted, Will followed Gautier down through the upper levels of the castle, his impatience replaced with apprehension. The last pieces of Nogaret’s plan were coming together. Heading along a narrow passageway, he could hear the sound of many voices through the open doors of the Great Hall. Inside, sixty or so men stood about in groups talking animatedly. The last of the sunlight slanted in through the arched win-the fall of the templars

241

dows, staining the walls red, and servants bustled around lighting torches.

Spotting Nogaret’s white silk cap and black robe, Will crossed to him through the crowd.

The minister’s face had darkened the farther south they had ridden, since leaving Paris in July. Oddly, as the color returned to his cheeks, the subtle trace of his old accent became more distinct, filtering through the northern tongue.

Nogaret looked younger, fitter and more at ease than Will had seen him before and he showed not one shred of doubt over what he was about to do. If he hadn’t known his hatred of the Church, Will would have said Nogaret was on a holy mission with all the zeal he was displaying in his undertaking of this treacherous plan.

Standing with Nogaret were the fi ve other French guards they had traveled with, the captain of Ferentino and several local knights and lords. There was also a tall, well-built man in a wine-dark cloak whom Will didn’t recognize, but who was generating enough attention for him to suspect this must be the eagerly anticipated Sciarra Colonna. The man had a hard, tanned face and coal-black eyes that swept the crowd with a keen intensity, a faint smile fl ickering at the corners of his mouth. He looked like a man about to go into battle, who believes he has already won.

“There are a few more companies yet to arrive,” Rainald, the captain of Ferentino, was saying. “But we should be ready to move tomorrow, the next day at the latest.”

“It is good to have you with us, Sciarra,” said Nogaret, glancing around as Will and Gautier joined them. “His Graciousness, King Philippe, wanted me to pass on his gratitude for your assistance in this delicate matter. He is aware how much you risk by returning here. I knew, of course, that your aid would be invaluable to the task ahead.” Nogaret gave a gratifi ed smile as he surveyed the busy hall. “Although I must say I did not expect even you to be able to mobilize such a force in so short a time.”

“I have been waiting for this moment for a long time, Minister de Nogaret.” Sciarra’s voice was rich and dark, his French heavily laced with his native accent. “And I have been planning for it. Had you never contacted me, I would have made this move myself. My family has more cause than most for wanting our persecutor toppled from his throne.”

“All of us here have suffered equally under Boniface’s rule, Sciarra,” said Rainald, a note of resentment in his voice.

“Indeed,” spoke up a portly nobleman beside him.

Sciarra’s black eyes swung to them. “Equally? Your sister was divorced by 242 robyn

young

one of the Caetanis, Rainald. And you, Niccolo,” he said to the portly lord,

“your family was dispossessed of their town. These are legitimate grievances.

But they are negligible in comparison to what has been done to my family.”

Sciarra’s face was filled with hatred; it glittered in his eyes and seethed in his voice. “My uncle, Giacomo, and my brother, Pietro, were preeminent cardinals in the Sacred College. Under Pope Celestine, they were granted innumer-able privileges and greatly favored for their commitment to the papacy. When the pope began to question his ability to fulfill adequately the office to which he had been elected, my family were the ones who supported him. It was Boniface who whispered poison in his ear and persuaded him that he was not fi t to sit upon the papal throne and who convinced Celestine to abdicate and then secured his own election. It was Boniface who imprisoned Celestine for the very thing he had convinced him to do and had him murdered in his cell.”

Around the Great Hall a hush was growing as Sciarra’s voice rose and other men stopped talking to listen.

“When my family spoke out against this outrage, Boniface had my uncle and brother deposed, their benefices and their vestments stripped from them.

He then had all property and possessions belonging to the Colonna family confiscated and all of us proclaimed excommunicate. All our wealth, earned over generations, was lost. Not content with this, Boniface proclaimed a Crusade against my family and all our supporters, offering the same indulgences to any who waged war upon us as those offered to men who take up the Cross against the Saracens. Finally, five years ago, when my family was virtually destroyed, those who weren’t killed or imprisoned were forced to flee to France, and papal forces stormed Palestrina, our last stronghold, not thirty miles from here.” Sciarra turned to Nogaret. “When we come to Anagni, you will see it, Minister. What was once a proud and noble town is a ruin on a hilltop. Boniface had every building razed, except for a single church, left as reminder of who had done this to us. The earth was salted so nothing would grow there again. Every morning, Boniface can open the shutters of his palace and look out upon our defeat and every morning, for the past five years, I have looked out upon a foreign land. It is long past Judgment Day.”

Will glanced around to see nods of agreement and the same shining hatred in the faces of Sciarra’s men and allies. There was a pucker of a frown on Nogaret’s brow as he surveyed the crowd, a look of caution in his eyes, perhaps even some concern. Will understood why. The minister had asked for military support. He had got a mob.

the fall of the templars

243

“We must act swiftly,” Nogaret said, looking back at Sciarra. “On our arrival news came to us that the pope is moving to excommunicate King Philippe. With the knights you have brought, our number totals more than one thousand, although most of those are infantry. We have a hard task ahead of us. Not only does the pope have the support of family in Anagni, but many of the cardinals have residences there also. I am told the town is well defended, positioned on a hill and surrounded by strong Roman walls. Without siege equipment it may take us some time to gain entry, longer if the town garrison is well organized.”

Will shifted restlessly and worried again whether his hope was in vain.

Sciarra, however, didn’t look in the least concerned. “You need not trouble yourself with that, Minister de Nogaret. We require no siege-craft. We have a man inside Anagni who will make certain the gates are opened for us.”

“Who is this man?” questioned Nogaret, surprised. “Does he have the ability to organize this?”

“His name is Godfrey Bussa,” replied Sciarra. “And yes, he has the ability.

He is the commander of the papal guard.”

Will barely managed to keep his shock from showing.

Nogaret’s surprise hovered on his face for a moment, before he smiled.

“Then we will perhaps make shorter work of this than I thought possible.”

“Boniface and his family have made many enemies over the past few years,”

interjected Rainald. “The local communes are primed for an uprising against the Caetanis. Even in Anagni, even among those closest to him, there are many who wish to see him gone.”

“And their support will be gratefully received,” responded Nogaret. “But we must make certain that the pope himself is protected from harm. It must be made clear to all that we are here to arrest him for heresy in the name of France.”