The Parchment (25 page)

Astonished at what he heard, Brother Michael slowly stood up from his
pre-dieu
and walked menacingly down the center aisle of the chapel to where the French captain stood.

“No French soldier can arrest a Templar. We are under the direct jurisdiction of the pope. Philip has no authority here.” Contemptuously, Brother Michael made a dismissive gesture and turned his back on the French officer. Infuriated, the captain drove his sword into Brother Michael's back. The Templar staggered forward from the force of the blow. Blood spurted from his nose and mouth. Then, like a wounded bear charging the hunter, Brother Michael lunged for the captain, catching him around the neck. Lifting the captain off the ground, he hurled his body across the chapel. The captain hit the wall with a thud and fell to the ground unconscious.

Brother Michael's courage emboldened the others. A young Templar grabbed a gold cross from the altar and charged the startled French soldiers, shouting “For God and Beauseant.” When the others heard their battle cry, the Templars to a man jumped up and ran toward the French soldiers — some bare handed, others brandishing brass candlesticks taken from the altar.

Fifteen Templar knights died fighting at the commanderie in Villeneuve; the rest were taken back in chains to Avignon. On that day, many hundreds more were arrested throughout France.

The spikes on the wheel dug deeply into his flesh. De Molay flinched in pain but did not cry out.

The inquisitor bent over him. “Where is the manuscript? Tell me and you will be given the Holy Sacraments of Penance and the Eucharist.”

De Molay spat at the inquisitor and said nothing.

“Jailer, turn the wheel more.”

De Molay writhed in pain.

“Jailer, more.”

De Molay spat a second time at the inquisitor. This time his spittle was red with blood.

“The manuscript is where you will never find it. Tell that to the whores Clement and de Saone and their madame Philip.”

“Brave words for someone in your predicament, Templar scum.”

The wheel was turned again, this time at an excruciatingly slow pace.

“De Molay, one of your Templars has testified that he saw you urinate on the Cross. Is that true?”

De Molay glared at the inquisitor. “A man will say anything under torture.”

“I am told that you and the members of your order mocked the sufferings of Our Lord Jesus Christ. Maybe if you suffered like him you would repent of your blasphemy and tell us what we want to know.”

The inquisitor motioned to one of the jailers. “Bring some spikes and make a crown of thorns.”

The inquisitor turned and looked at his prisoner. “While you are being crowned, de Molay, I will give you something to think about. If you will not tell us where the parchment is to save yourself,
perhaps you will tell us to save the members of your order. Templars have been arrested all over France.”

“Rot in Hell, priest.”

The inquisitor smiled at de Molay. “You may be sure there will be more Templar arrests. How they are treated depends on you.” De Molay struggled to break free from his bonds but they held.

“Jailer, you know what to do. Push the spikes in deep.” The inquisitor turned and left the room.

A J
URNEY T
R
ME

“
Y
our Holiness, we have tortured de Molay for three days.” The inquisitor squirmed as he addressed the pope and the king of France. “He will not tell us anything. He insists that the manuscript is in a place where you will never find it. De Molay is a brave man; he will not succumb to our torture.”

King Philip rose from his seat in anger. “My good inquisitor, if you cannot break the man, then you must kill him. There is really no alternative. Pope Clement and I have a vested interest in de Molay's guilt. If you need a reason to kill the grand master, I have told you before; condemn him as a heretic.”

The pope signaled the inquisitor to leave the room. When the door closed behind him, Clement looked incredulously at Philip.

“Your Majesty, you cannot be serious — kill de Molay as a heretic?”

“Yes, I am deadly serious.”

“Not for one moment do I think de Molay is a heretic, and I do not think you do either.”

“De Molay is using this manuscript against both of us.”

“He is using the manuscript to save his order, not to spread heresy. He is acting as any grand master would.”

“Bertrand de Got, remember your Bible.” Philip was wont to use the pope's baptismal name when he was about to lecture him on some matter. “Jesus of Nazareth was put to death as a heretic.”

“Yes, the Jewish priests accused him of blasphemy.”

“But Pilate's reason for crucifying him was quite different. Jesus had caused the Romans a political problem by claiming to be ‘king of the Jews.”’

“What are you saying, Philip?”

“The parallel to de Molay should be obvious. We will accuse him of heresy but kill him because he threatens the papacy and the throne of France. A charge of heresy is simpler than trying to explain such complex issues.”

“I will not join you in this, Majesty.”

Philip smiled coldly at the pope. “You forget yourself, Bertrand de Got.” Philip's tone of voice became coldly matter of fact. “You sit on the Throne of Saint Peter because of me. Your predecessor Boniface no longer sits on the Throne of Peter — also because of me. I will not tolerate opposition on how we deal with de Molay. He poses a threat and the threat must be ended. If you stand in my way, you will be removed from your throne.”

The king left the room. Pope Clement realized that he was powerless to save de Molay's life. Even worse, he realized he was afraid to try.

When Gerard left Avignon, he rode north to the village of Divanche. He found lodging in a barn owned by a confrater of the order. On his third night there, news came that Clement had ordered the Templars arrested. Rumors also spread that the grand master had been turned over to the inquisitors.

Gerard knew that he must leave the area immediately. Philip's soldiers would soon be scouring the countryside looking for the parchment. He took out the letter de Molay had given him and read it. “Gerard, the Hebrew manuscript is in your safe keeping. Hide it well. Someday the world may come to learn whether there is a divine bloodline.”

As he was putting the letter back into his saddlebag, word came that the confrater's only son, a Templar initiate, had been killed in the fighting at the commaraderie in Villaneuve. Disconsolate, the confrater fell on the ground and sobbed.

Pitying the man, Gerard helped him to his feet. “God will punish Clement. He usurps the Throne of Peter. I have proof.”

The confrater grasped Gerard's arm. “What proof is there? Let
me see it.”

“I cannot show it to you. I have given my vow to the grand master of the order not to reveal it to anyone.”

“But if it would avenge my son's death....” The confrater struggled with Gerard as the Templar tried to mount his horse.

“Stop, old man.”

Gerard's horse reared up and his hoof struck the man in the head. The confrater fell against a rock and lay unconscious on the ground, blood pouring from the back of his head. Several farmhands came running as Gerard mounted his horse and rode quickly away.

Gerard de Montelambert took many months to travel from Avignon to Rome. With the arrests of his fellow Templars in France, he proceeded cautiously. He shaved off his Templar beard and substituted a plain cloak for his white Templar mantle. To avoid detection, Gerard stayed off the main routes to the French-Italian border. Late snows and severe spring flooding in northern Italy further delayed his progress. When he finally arrived in Rome, Gerard took lodging at an inn near the old papal library.

Although the papal household had been moved to Avignon, most of the Church's records had been left behind in Rome. Gerard knew that the founder of the Order of the Temple, Hugh des Payens, had stored the major portion of early Templar documents in the papal library. Gerard remembered the lesson he had learned from his Uncle Edouard. “If a man wishes to hide, he should not hide in the forest; people will look for him there. He should hide instead in the open, preferably in the town square next to the parish church. People forget to look in the most obvious places.” Gerard was about to put Edouard's lesson to the test for a second time. He entered the library and asked an old librarian where the records of the Knights Templar were kept.

“No one has asked to see those records in many months — not since the Templars were suppressed by the pope. People are afraid that they will be accused of heresy by just looking at them. Why do you want to see them?”

“I look for a record of my birth. All my mother would tell me was that I was born on a Templar commanderie in Provence.”

“I hope your mother did not take up with a Templar. There were many such relationships. Good luck in your search.”

Gerard was escorted to a small room far in the rear of the library. After the librarian had left, Gerard took out the parchment from a shoulder bag and looked at it one last time. What would the future hold for it, he wondered. Making the sign of the Cross, he opened an old oaken chest that was inscribed with the Templar motto —
Non Nobis, Domine, Non Nobis Sed Tuo Nomini Da Gloriam
. The chest was piled high with accountings from several Templar commanderies in Aquitaine. Gerard put the parchment in the middle of the pile. Edouard would be proud of him. He had hidden it in a particularly obvious place — among Templar documents in a chest inscribed with the Templar motto in the main library of the Catholic Church. Gerard rang a small bell to summon back the librarian.

“Thank you for your help. I am finished.”

“Did you find the date of your birth?”

“No.”

“These Templars were strange ones — rich and powerful. I don't think they deserved their fate, however. What do you think?”

“All of this is too much for a simple man like me.”

As Gerard left the papal library, he thought again of the motto of his order inscribed on the wooden chest:
Non Nobis, Domine, Non Nobis Sed Tuo Nomini Da Gloriam
.

Gerard de Montelambert left Rome that day and vanished into the Italian countryside.

“An amazing tale, Jean!”

Calvaux smiled. “There's actually a sequel that I haven't told you.”

“Tell me, please. It's fascinating.”

“They say that ten years after Gerard disappeared, there was an outbreak of plague in Cours-des-Trois. Gerard's father had died many years before but his mother still lived in the manor house. Although she was old and feeble, the Marquise walked through the town every day bringing food and blankets to those who were dying.
It was not long, however, before the Lord saw fit to bring her to himself. On the Wednesday before Pentecost, the Marquise contracted the disease. The red boils soon covered her body. The night before she died, the parish priest was walking through the square, when he noticed something strange. The cross that had stood in the square from the day Gerard had left on crusade was gone. The curé could see a faint glimmer of light coming from inside the church. When he opened the door of the church, he saw that the cross had been put back on the altar. Out of the corner of his eye, the curé saw the shadow of a man leave the church by the side door.