The seating at Bishop Wishart’s “intimate” table for gatherings such as these was notoriously and deliberately informal, the Bishop believing that people in small gatherings would interact more easily and honestly if they were able to seat themselves where they wished. Protocol and formality were therefore ignored more often than not, and although I saw a few raised eyebrows at first among the English guests, the word was quickly passed among them that this informality was one of their host’s episcopal idiosyncrasies, and they accepted the convention without demur.
During a brief lull in the general conversation, one of those odd moments when everyone falls silent at the same time as though at some unseen signal, Bishop Crambeth leaned forward and spoke across the table to the Templar le Jay, who was sitting a few places to my left.
“Sir Brian, Brother Brian, how are you finding life in England nowadays, as opposed to Scotland, I mean, seeing that you are, in fact, Scots born? I have not seen you since you were transferred south, what was it, five years ago? And therefore I admit, frankly, to being curious. Is the air more beneficial down there for a man such as yourself?”
All eyes turned to the dark-faced Templar, who found the grace to smile. “I find it pleasant there, my lord Bishop, and very little different from my former posting here, since the preceptor’s duties remain the same irrespective of where they apply. To those of us in holy orders, as you know yourself, it matters less where we live than how we live.”
“Well said,” Crambeth replied mildly. “Well said. But on that very topic, I have a question for you, if you would not consider me impertinent to ask it.”
“Ask away, my lord.”
“It concerns your support of King Edward … your support, and that of your order, of course. You yourself swore allegiance openly to Edward when you moved south five years ago, did you not?” He waited for le Jay’s nod. “Would you explain to me, then, how that could be so? You are a Temple Knight, and it has always been my understanding that the Knights of the Temple were forbidden to swear fealty to any temporal monarch. They owe their allegiance directly to the Pope alone. Has that changed, then?”
Le Jay’s smile did not waver, and he gave a sideways dip of his head. “Aye, you are correct, my lord, as ever … to the Pope and, of course, to our Grand Master.”
“But not to Edward of England—” Crambeth held up one hand to forestall a response. “I have no intent here to embarrass you, my friend, nor do I wish to discomfit you in any way, but there is something here I plainly do not understand.”
“I must point out,” le Jay said, ostensibly responding to Bishop Crambeth but clearly, from the pitch of his voice, addressing the whole gathering, “that Edward Plantagenet is no man’s idea of a normal, temporal monarch. He is unique, distinguished from all others in several respects, and the oath of which you spoke, my lord Bishop, was not undertaken lightly. Quite bluntly, I could not have undertaken it at all had my obeisance not been authorized by our Grand Master at the time, Sieur Tibauld de Godin. I was merely the vehicle on that auspicious occasion. It was the Order of the Temple itself that extended the privilege of its fealty to King Edward, in recognition of his outstanding exploits and achievements on behalf of the Church and the Pope.”
Aware of the effect of his words upon those to whom this information came as a revelation, le Jay sat silent for a moment before he continued. “Edward crusaded as a Prince, in the Holy Land, in Acre to be precise, on the Ninth Crusade. He stood with our order and fought beside us there against the Turkish heathen. And in his Christian monarchy, he espouses the principles of feudalism, in which it is decreed that all Christian society is hierarchical, extending upwards through monarchs to the Pope himself. Edward Plantagenet has proved his devotion and commitment to the Pope, every bit as completely as we in the Order of the Temple have proved ours, and therefore we Templars see no contradiction between our fealty to this particular King and our loyalty to the Pope.”
“Hmm.” Crambeth nodded. “So be it. I thank you for resolving that for me.” He turned away to talk to Hazelrig again, but then hesitated and swung back towards the Templar. “So, and again I beg your indulgence, but would I be correct in saying that although your sworn duties as a Temple Knight forbid you to bear arms against another Christian, your sworn fealty to England’s King might send you here to fight your fellow Scots in his name?”
A profound silence fell over the table. Le Jay sat open mouthed. His face flushed and then just as quickly grew pale, his fingers curled motionless in the fork of his great black beard. Finally, though, he found his voice and spoke in a cold monotone.