The Seal(103)

The man took them and told the guard to unshackle him.

‘Will you come?’ Pierre asked the notary.

‘Yes,’ answered Julian.

There was a nod and the Templar lawyer was led out of his cell.

Outside, the day looked grim. Pierre looked to the clouds that threatened a shower and breathed the damp air into his lungs.

Momentarily he was joined by his fellow lawyer Renaud de Provins and the other members of the defence. The cart would take them to their destination. They embraced and together formed a circle of faith. The sky began to kiss the earth and rain fell over them and their bodies shook with cold. They leant into each other and listened. Renaud spoke first.

‘What shall we say? Have you formulated your words?’

Pierre locked his eyes on to those of his partner, a little younger than he, perhaps even a little wiser and more articulate, for he had not made any direct confession.

‘No. It is best that we let the Holy Spirit speak through us, brother.’

But his faith was weary and when he dug into his soul it felt emptied, bled dry. Would the Holy Spirit speak through a man with a scanty frame and eyes that were sunk deep, whose ribs jutted through his mantle like sticks that appear at low tide? He would look like a starved hare among fat wolves. ‘St Hilary protect us’, he prayed, ‘Christ vanquish our enemies!’ He stared out into the day. ‘In this circle we are not yet out of faith?’ His voice pleaded thinly as if it might find strength from their reply.

The men stared into the circle and prayed.

They came to the chapel of St Eloi in the monastery of St Genevieve with relative swiftness. The men said an Ave together, with the rain falling like spikes over their scanty attire, and prepared to meet the men who were their judges.

Inside sat the commissioners, hard, pale and bored. Gilles Aicelin, Archbishop of Narbonne, was present to chair the commission, accompanied by Guillaume Durant, Renaud de la Porte, Matthew of Naples and Jean de Mantua.

The Templars walked in with difficulty, some were limping from their wounds. They stood together, with their mantles flapping in the wind like the flames on the candles and torches.

After reciting the opening formula, the Archbishop of Narbonne asked the four men what it was they wished to say to the commission at this late and inappropriate date.

Pierre began: ‘Your Holiness the Archbishop, Commissioners, it has come to our knowledge that the Archbishop of Sens with his suffragans have convoked in provincial council at Paris, and wish, upon the morrow, to make some proceedings against many of the brothers who have brought themselves to the defence of the Order, so that they might make the brothers desist from their defence. We therefore wish to read to you an appeal, knowing that your power comes directly from his Holiness the Pope.’

Gilles Aicelin looked nervous and tense as he cast his eyes upon the Templar. ‘It is not the commission’s business to hear appeals, but if you would like to defend the Order we shall hear what you have to say.’

‘We gravely suspect, your Holiness,’ began Pierre, his lawyerly bearing composing the lines of his face, so that he gradually lost the look of a hunted man and regained a little of his dignity, ‘that the Archbishop of Sens seeks to conduct a de facto trial behind the commission’s back. His suffragans, archbishops and prelates of the kingdom of France are preparing for this. They will proceed de iure while your inquiry is still pending. We appeal to you, that no execution or unlawful acts be carried out against men who have come to the defence of the Order by the above-named archbishops and prelates of the kingdom since such acts would be against God and justice and would serve to cause severe disturbance to your inquiry. We appeal to the Holy See to place all the brothers who have offered to defend the Order under its protection, and we ask the counsel of wise men, for the purpose of carrying out this appeal, that any necessary moneys should come from the property of the Order. This said, money should then be taken in full security to the Lord Pope so that he may prosecute this appeal himself. Meanwhile, we ask the commissioners to order the Archbishop of Sens and the other prelates not to proceed with additional inquiries, and that through the mediation of the commission we may be allowed to go to the Archbishop of Sens to appeal to him directly, together with one notary.’ He ended with his heart beating in his ears, and thus he fought a feeling of faintness. ‘At the same time we beg that you make this appeal known to all the archbishops of the Kingdom of France, at the expense of the said Order, since we ourselves cannot do so as we are imprisoned.’

There was a pause. The commissioners looked to the Archbishop of Narbonne with morbid curiosity. Pierre knew he had placed the man in a difficult position, for Gilles Aicelin was as much the King’s man as he was the Pope’s. To whom would he give his ultimate loyalty? The Templar lawyer was smart enough to know that an audience between the defence and the Archbishop of Sens with a public notarial record would certainly enrage a king anxious that his machinations not be revealed before they have time to do their work. On the other hand, a refusal would surely infuriate the Pope since he would have to admit to his cardinals what they already suspected: that the French clergy were ignoring his authority and conspiring to undermine the trials. This had been his gamble. He had decided to put the King in check.