The voices of the priests faded into a darkness lit only by one light. The sanctuary door was closed. He entered the tomb. Inside it was cold and his body ached and fell numb. The light was extinguished then, and he was alone.
A terrible fear overcame him as he felt his body lifted up.
Then a voice came from the darkness and asked him,
Who is this Lord of Terror?
His spirit spoke the spell. ‘It is the Keeper of the Bend of Amentet.’
Who is this Keeper?
‘He keeps me from the knowledge of the heart of Osiris who is the father of the One who was bidden to rule among the gods on the day of the union of Earth with the Sun.’
Who is it this One?
‘He who was bidden to rule among the gods is Horus, the son of Isis.’
Where have you come from, neophyte?
‘From the darkness.’
Where shall you go?
‘Towards the light.’
Etienne awoke with a sudden rush as if he had been drowning and were only now reaching air. He sat up disoriented.
He was in darkness and in his ear a voice.
It was Jacques de Molay, his Grand Master, stooping over him with eyes wild, whispering, ‘Hist!’ and with a finger to Etienne’s mouth and a jerk of the head he said, ‘Gather your things, Etienne, you leave tonight.’
‘Leave?’ Etienne was shaking out the dream and taking hold of his senses. ‘What of Paris?’
Into Etienne’s ears the Grand Master whispered, ‘You will not come to Paris, you and Jourdain will travel disguised. Soon I shall send word to Tomar . . . Marcus is to take the Eagle out to the sea . . .’ He paused like a man who has bewildered himself, as if the words had escaped his grasp and would not return without effort. ‘Out to the sea,’ he said, ‘he is to take the good gold of the Order, Etienne, the titles, and the archives, and he is to drown them. He is to drown them in the sea.’
Etienne’s tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth and he passed a hand over his brow as if to dispel the vision of it. ‘Into the sea?’ The words felt strange in his mouth. ‘The meeting did not go well . . . we are forsaken?’
The Grand Master was stiff and out of breath; he jerked his head and Etienne could see nothing of it save the beard and a reflection in the eyes. ‘The King wishes to bury his hands in our Lord’s gold, Etienne. He wishes to draw power from ownership of our titles and all that is possessed in our archives. In the King’s hands these goods shall no longer serve the spiritual life, but shall become a bulwark to shore up his greed . . . I have long known his heart, but this night I have learnt more . . . Clement is on the scent of something else . . . something . . . far greater and more dangerous in the hands of Philip than the treasure of the Order, and it shall give him more power than all our titles and holdings . . . If we do not hurry, we shall not be in a position to prevent what will come from the two of them.’
Etienne mustered his attention. ‘You wish me to leave you in danger . . . to what end?’
Jacques de Molay silenced him. ‘I am still the Grand Master and I can look after myself. And as for you? What lies before you shall not be so tame as you imagine.’ He paused a moment, removing something from his belt. ‘You must take this . . .’ He handed him something in the darkness. ‘A token of my esteem. It was given to me by a brother long dead . . . There is a legend attached to it, it is a skull dagger brought back from a place known only to our ships, a new world whose position is not marked upon any map. It has served me well and will serve you also, when the time comes.’
Etienne took the dagger, heavy and sharp in his hand.
‘Oh Etienne! I remember receiving you into the Order . . . you were only a boy! Even then did I know that heaven would find a use for you, and so in my heart I have put you beyond all others . . . now it is made clear to me the aim which heaven, in its wisdom, has prepared for you . . .’ There was a movement in the darkness and Etienne’s other hand was taken by the Grand Master and something cold and round was passed into it.
‘What is this?’ Etienne said, looking at it.
The Grand Master was in his ear. ‘The sovereign seal of the Order.’
Etienne stared into the dark at the form of his Grand Master, and he could not speak since his mouth was dry and his tongue would not form words. He could hear his heart drumming out his life in small measures. He needed to wet his mouth.
‘Listen Etienne!’ Jacques said stark into his ear. ‘You will take it from this place, and away.’ His head shook with an intensity held back by the silence of his voice. ‘This shall be the last order you receive from your Grand Master. And it shall be the last time we see one another in this life.’