‘If you speak of women and children,’ my master said with polite hostility, ‘imperilled by blood-thirsty animals, if you mean the elderly and the infirm, then those rumours are true. We have always maintained that the only true Crusade is the one against the infidel. Must we recall the terrible crime that saw women and children massacred in the churches?’
The bishop smiled with malice. ‘The antichrist makes no distinction between sex, nor age. That is well known. And neither should those, whose place – in the divine order of things
– is to root out such loathsomeness. Kill them all! God will recognise his own!’
‘God forgive the bishop of Citeaux, I believe he did not know what he was saying when he uttered those words,’ my master said bitterly.
The bishop looked at him curiously, as though this reply was beyond his understanding. ‘The bishop of Citeaux was a practical man, as I am. Even now there still exists a stink about the place. We must stamp out any seedlings before they resurface, and we can do no better than to start with these monasteries whose influence and wealth surpasses that of any secular organisation, whose abbots feel themselves autonomous and unconstrained. These false clerics, we know, side with emperors and kings against Rome. They call secular rulers their masters, quoting our beloved St Ambrose and St Augustine and using their divine words to further their own selfish aims at independence! Praise God that the pope has commanded a review of all monastic practices in this area! It is time we root out all those who stray from the regulations of the Apostolic See.’ He then proceeded in a fraternal way, ‘Take care that your order is not next!’
‘We are sanctioned by the pope, your grace.’
‘I confess, you have been useful,’ he answered as we rounded the south walk and the scriptorium, now empty and silent. ‘But do not make the mistake of thinking that we will look the other way if your brotherhood transgresses the teachings of Christ. Consider this . . .’ He moved closer, ‘There are many who, from the start, have had misgivings about your order’s duplicity. I, for one, and many others like me, are watching you and your kind with the utmost care. St Bernard may have been your most devout advocate, but I feel sure that he looks down from the blissful non-existence of divinity, in rebuke. His valiant knights, behaving like Jews!’
‘I would hope that in heaven there is less distinction between race and creed than we find here among sinful mortals. However, if St Bernard gazes down upon our brotherhood, it is with love and approval, for it is not the Templar order that should be closely scrutinised, your grace, but all the small parishes which are in the hands of dubious priests, and perhaps the larger diocese, run by greedy bishops.’
The other man’s face matched the colour of his amethyst ring.
‘Even in his life,’ my master continued, ‘St Bernard could see avarice blooming like weeds in the hierarchies of the church.’
‘Master Templar! How dare you say such things!’
‘I am merely saying that even the faithful dog must be closely watched by the shepherd.’
There was an awkward silence. The bishop spoke then, with restrained anger. ‘The Synod of Toulouse is quite clear! And it is my duty to uphold it! It is the responsibility of all citizens to search out heretics, to root out lasciviousness and its followers, patrons or protectors. No one is exempt, as you say. Not even the Militia of Christ!’ He stared at my master, a look pregnant with unspoken hostilities, and it was then that I knew that we were being openly threatened.
‘Not even the pope himself, one hopes.’
There was another terrible pause. Incredulity did battle with dislike for supremacy on the bishop’s face. ‘The time will come, preceptor, when your order will have outgrown its usefulness. What will become of fighting monks who have lost their raison d’être? Will you continue to barter and trade, staining your hands with money and blood when it is meekness and mildness in the service of God that you should seek! Your order is no better than these irreverent monasteries. No better than this Manfred devil, for you have become a law unto yourselves. It is your own empire that you seek, autonomous, independent, owing allegiance to none other, least of all the pope. In effect, you take for yourselves a power that not even the emperor dare claim! Even kings are in awe of you! Be careful, you have made yourselves indispensable, that may be true, but you are also hated, for it is no secret that you are the bankers for every throne in Europe . . . and kings with empty coffers have very short memories!’ In an attempt to calm himself, he wiped his brow with a handkerchief and continued, ‘Remember usury is an abomination in the eyes of God and the church.’