Philip, known as ‘The Fair’, was stock-still, staring at the sun as it came through the windows. He watched it fall at his feet a moment. It was pale and did not warm him. Nothing warmed him. He shooed his mood away as if it were an annoying insect and said, ‘I suppose it has been used before on the Jews . . . and, after all, we must provide original entertainment for the masses . . . Tell me the outcome, are we arresting the Order or the individuals?’
Philip made a click of the tongue and the dogs began a low growling in their chests. He observed this with affection.
Nogaret, for his part, edged away. ‘The Order, sire, is beyond our regard . . . it is answerable to the Pope alone, and so we must contrive to have the Church make the arrest. Once they are in our prisons the individuals are yours.’
‘Then our hands are tied without the collusion of the Church?’
‘I’m afraid so, sire, for purposes of legality we shall need the Inquisitor of France.’
‘And . . .’ His eyes were darts. ‘Will he do it?’
‘He is loyal to your Majesty.’
‘Yes, yes, but will it appease the Pope?’ There was a rising of the brow.
The lawyer looked at him and at the snarling dogs. ‘Pope Clement is our man, we may be certain this is only a formality. However, he shall require that we make a show of it for his Roman cardinals. He may no longer be in Rome but it seems that he has enough enemies wherever he is.’ He made a sigh and wiped his brow. Every movement caused the growls to grow louder.
‘Poor man, I wonder how it must feel to be universally disliked?’ the King said.
‘I would suggest – not pleasant, sire.’
Philip moved a hand and the growling dogs began creeping towards Nogaret, baring their prominent incisors.
The King permitted himself a smile.
‘Sire . . .’ the lawyer pleaded, his usually austere and inscrutable demeanour now animated. ‘Please!’
The King whistled and the animals responded immediately, moving to his side. ‘Well done, Nogaret!’ he said. ‘You lasted longer than yesterday.’ He took one greyhound by the collar and looked into its eyes. ‘Look at him, poor creature! Anxious for blood. Perhaps we could have them torn apart by dogs? Now there’s a spectacle worthy of a Roman festival!’
Nogaret’s face was blank. ‘Who, sire?’
Philip hooded his eyes. ‘Were you not listening, Nogaret? The Templars! Who else?’
‘I’m afraid the pyre is what the people expect, sire.’
Philip marvelled at how the man could show weakness one moment and the next turn hard as a scythe. It was, he mused, an endearing quality in a henchman. ‘Well the people, my dear Nogaret, are becoming dull!’
‘Yes, sire.’
At that moment an attendant entered with a silver tray of nuts and sugared fruits. The man bowed before his king and set the tray down on a small table encrusted with gemstones to one side of the throne. Another servant followed carrying a goblet filled with wine. Phillip took a sip, gave a piece of sugared fruit to each dog and returned his attention to his lawyer.
‘Has the Archbishop of Narbonne changed his mind yet?’
Guillaume de Nogaret shook his head. ‘He will not seal the arrest orders, but has consented to resign his office and lay down the seals. Without the seals the arrest orders shall be weak.’
‘I wonder why he would defend that worthless litter?’ He popped a nut into his mouth. ‘Have they not lost the Holy Land? Have we not convinced him that they are sorcerers and demons, Nogaret? Heretics that surpass even those wretched Cathars he so detests?’ Philip stared at his lawyer then as if he were an unknown landscape. ‘Well, well . . . perhaps you were not so convincing for a reason . . . perhaps you covet the seals for yourself ?’
The lawyer’s face was a wall. ‘Me, sire?’
The King paused, a cold stream of suspicion moved from his head to his heart, plunging him for the moment in its mysterious communication. He narrowed his eyes. ‘Come, Nogaret,’ he said chewing, and staring, ‘your king awaits your answer.’
The lawyer shifted. ‘The man is intractable, sire.’
Philip considered this. ‘Is he? I suppose your advice is that I should give the seals to you?’
Nogaret bowed. ‘I am astonished.’ But his tone suggested otherwise.
Philip was annoyed. ‘Don’t be a weasel, Nogaret, you were expecting it!’ He waved a hand. ‘To whom else should I give them?’
Nogaret made a deferential tilt of his head. ‘Your servant thanks you, sire . . .’
The King turned his attention to the windows, suddenly bored and restless, having been despoiled of his surprise. ‘What are our plans?’