Temple of the Grail(41)

The bishop stood. Looking like a bright ball in his purple robe lined with fur, he fondled a jewelled pectoral cross with short fat fingers and delayed a moment, holding out the other hand in an ecclesiastic gesture of pomp before sitting down with a heavy sound upon his seat.

‘As it is the day of our Lord we will obey his decree by delaying the commencement of proceedings until tomorrow. On this holy day, however, may we search our hearts and meditate carefully, and may the Lord guide your consciences into the everlasting light of truthfulness.’

The abbot rose from his own ornate chair on its own dais to the right of the group. Pulling away his cowl, he spoke with the strength and dignity befitting an abbot whose duty now lay in sustaining his community.

‘Brother Rainiero Sacconi, esteemed members of the legation, my community. It troubles a father’s soul to know that a shadow has cast its evil greyness over the conduct of his children. A father’s eye sees only good, never evil. Only righteousness, never iniquity. And yet, it is as a father that I must seek to illuminate this shadow with the light of truth, to renounce all evil words uttered against my children, and replace them with words of praise and love. This I know is God’s will, as it is the will of the church to see justice done in His name. It is then my fervent wish that our community may assist this inquiry in every way necessary to this end. The preceptor of Douzens,’ he said, surprising my master, ‘whose skill in the medicinal arts is well known, will shed equal objective light on our methods of healing, and so we should grant him every convenience.’

I saw the inquisitor’s eyes glisten with adversarial hatred.

‘Remaining your modest servants,’ the abbot bowed to the legates, ‘may God grant the holy inquisition the wisdom to see these things to be true. In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.’

The abbot then pronounced the benediction, and the legation left with grave and solemn ceremony.

That was when my head felt suddenly very light . . .

Once we were outside in the broad daylight of midmorning I felt a little better, warmed by the sun, and my master’s company.

We walked around the compound, my master lost in thought and I in the misery of my shame.

‘I am sorry, master, but I seem to be so light-headed lately,’ I said lamely.

‘Oh, it was only the heat in the chapter house . . . and that infernal man!’ he snarled. ‘Saladin was right when he said that he never saw a bad Saracen become a good Christian. That wolf in sheep’s clothing may well have outwitted the king . . . and in this case us too, but we are obliged to see it through.’

‘But how? It seems to me that he has taken matters out of our hands. If he has the sanction to mete out punishment here, then there is little we can do.’ I shook my head, trying to dispel the strange sensation.

‘Firstly we must decide what is of greater importance. Our orders from the grand master, or those from the king.’

I had not thought of it before. ‘Are they not equally important?’

‘Yes and no.’

‘How do you mean yes and no, master?’

‘What do you mean, how do I mean? It is perfectly obvious to anyone except stupid squires that, as an illness dictates a particular treatment, so too will circumstances dictate our actions. This is the only wise thing to do.’

‘So what is our next step?’ I asked, a little humiliated. ‘Do you know yet?’

‘No, but I’m sure it will come to me.’ I believe he was then sorry, for his voice became gentler and he said, ‘Now calm down, I did not say that we will not attempt to do those things asked of us. What I am saying is that we may not be in a position to do so and this begs a question that must at once be asked. Why were we chosen to accompany the legation? The abbot brought up a good point. Let us see what we can gather from what we know. Here we have a monastery whose land belongs to the Templar order, but whose monks are Cistercians. This, in the first instance, is strange indeed. Second, it has been largely unknown for many years. No one has so much as given it a cursory thought, until a bright star in the sky of the inquisition is sent here in the middle of some very stormy times in Italy. This sword does not fit its scabbard. Why not use a French inquisitor? Why not Bernard de Caux? It seems to me that there are far too many parties interested in so small a prize, and that leads me to suspect that perhaps it is not so small after all. Then third, we are asked to accompany the legation, though it is miles from our jurisdiction.’

‘But we hold the titles, master.’

‘Yes, so they say, but it is more likely that we were sent because we are expendable. Languedoc, my son, is a strange location of diverse alliances. Alphonse of Poitiers, the king’s brother, who now possesses the sceptre of the south is an avaricious man, deeply political and (unlike our poor vacillating Count Raymond before him) staunchly against heresy. One might say his zeal is in direct proportion to, let us say, the profitable confiscations received by his province from inquisitorial persecution.’