‘You have heard tell how every man has his demon? It is true, Nogaret, there are demons inside us . . . inside all of us. We are stuffed full of them.’
‘Full of demons?’ Nogaret shifted and blinked and shifted again.
Philip was happy to cause discomfort. ‘To the brim full of them! Now here is the point – we can use this to our purposes, in the case of the Templars.’
The lawyer appeared to be struck dumb.
Philip made his voice pleasant. ‘Come, are you not going to ask in what way, Nogaret?’
Guillaume de Nogaret bent his eyes in deference. ‘If I may, sire, in what way shall such a secret be used?’
‘We must first induce a stupor.’
‘A stupor.’
‘In the Templars.’
‘A stupor in the Templars, sire.’
‘Stop repeating everything I say!’ the King thundered. ‘Really, Nogaret! That is becoming a habit!’ He took a moment to wind in his fierceness. ‘I was saying? Yes, the torture must be heavily applied and without mercy, so that the soul begins to leave the body and this, in turn, draws those demons that lie hidden from life and they make themselves manifest in the sweat or the heat vapour.’
‘In the sweat, sire?’
‘Yes . . . and they surface to the tongue which then speaks demonic words. You might ask why this is so?’
‘Yes, sire, that was my next question.’
‘Well . . . have you never seen a man possessed?’
Nogaret gave a shake of the head and a dull expression crossed his face. ‘Not recently, sire.’
‘No? Well then, men who are possessed merely have the evil in their souls unchecked. They lose hold of it, Nogaret, and the evil becomes master . . . It is the same in torture, you see? When a man is in the deepest pain he loses mastery over himself and all that works and weaves within the dark corners of the soul is let loose and is given rein!’
Nogaret squinted, to see it.
‘Evil, Nogaret, can be conjured up like one conjures a spark from a flint stone and this we must do in the case of the Templars. When their pain has caused them to lose the battle with their wits and the evil is called up, then we must take care that the right questions are asked of them so that we are given the correct responses. A catechism of sorts . . . do you follow?’ He looked at his lawyer for a sign of understanding. ‘Inquisitors know such things.’
‘Do they, sire?’ The lawyer seemed hard-pressed to put two and two together.
‘Of course, Nogaret! Though sometimes they torture with too much enthusiasm and inevitably lose their prize.’ He sat back. ‘So far, what do you make of it?’
‘Well, sire, that we are to use demons to conjure up answers to inculpate the Order.’ The lawyer put a lace cloth to his brow.
The King gave him a half-glance, caught up in the grandeur of his plan. ‘Yes by all means!’ He ate a sugared fruit with relish. ‘Does it fascinate you?’
Nogaret cleared his throat and gave an uncertain nod. ‘Thoroughly, your Majesty, my only concern . . . is that . . . it may be . . . in some way . . . impious.’
‘Impious?’
‘The Church may look upon it as . . . sorcery, sire.’
The King sat up again, much struck by this. ‘This is a new thing, Nogaret! Since when have you been so concerned for the opinions of the Church? Was your grandfather not a heretic?’
There was a moment of unease.
‘Yes, your Majesty.’
‘Yes, yes, he was! And you saw him burn to cinders!’
Nogaret’s face became the colour of bone left out in the sun and his fists were clenched, Philip noticed, twisting and crushing the parchments he held in his hands.
Philip’s expression turned to solemn sympathy. ‘Now, now, dear Nogaret, don’t fret, I hold your heresy in high esteem! It is a comfort to me! Think how your hate has served me. How many men would look excommunication in the eye? How many would dare to kidnap a pope or to dispatch another to the upper rooms of heaven? Your manipulation of the curia in the election of Clement was a brilliant exercise in political deceit. Mark my words, it shall go down in history as a fine accomplishment! But my point is this, Nogaret, that I begin to believe that there are moments when remorse breaks through the surface of your contentment, like a fish breaks still water, and creates a ripple . . .’He sat forward again, full of interest. ‘Am I right? Remorse and perhaps fear for your immortal soul?’
The lawyer looked his sovereign in the eye. ‘I was only thinking –’
The King shook a finger at him. ‘Come.’ He smiled feeling a glorious chill. ‘Indulge me, your Royal Highness is curious.’
‘My only purpose, sire,’ Nogaret said to him, ‘is to give selfless devotion to the state. I am its instrument and it is my duty to have no consideration for just or unjust, for merciful or cruel, praiseworthy or disgraceful, pious or impious, my every scruple must be set aside to secure it.’