The Seal(44)
The dog he called Prince whined then.
Philip looked down at his animal and realised with a curious numbness that his thumbnail had been digging into the flesh of the animal’s ear.
16
ONE MAN’S FUNERAL IS ANOTHER MAN’S LURE
Thus shall it be done to the man whom the king delighteth to honour
Esther 6:9
Thursday 12 October 1307
Beneath a canopy of blue and gold stood Philip of France, pale-faced and bored, hugging his royal robes against the frigid air. Next to him his brother Charles sneezed into a lace cloth and sniffed and coughed and feigned grief while at the same time contemplating the voluptuous curves of his next wife, Mahaut de Chatillon. Behind the two brothers and all around were the princes, their wives, Nogaret, Guillaume de Plaisians the Royal Lawyer, Marigny the Co-adjutor, nobles and lesser nobles. Among this shivering and sorry lot stood the Grand Master of the Sovereign Order of Knights Templar, Jacques de Molay, whom the King had personally invited to be pallbearer at the funeral of his brother’s wife Catherine.
Just when things were becoming tiresome, and the body was about to be laid solemn and steady into the frozen ground, the wind picked up its heels causing three things. Firstly, the bishop who presided over the service lost the little book from which he read and was sent chasing it; secondly, one of the attendants lowering the coffin slipped on the muddied snow and the ornate box fell into its hole with an unceremonious thud to a chorus of gasps and wails; and thirdly, the gust swept the canopy that protected the mourners from snow upwards and from its tethers, dragging it like a sail over the little hill outside the abbey, scattering the party and making fly the lilies that had been waiting to be dropped into the grave.
The King, always happy when observing the folly of men, stood therefore amongst this chaos as if it had been created for his own amusement, since it very nearly made him smile to see the fat bishop scurrying over the countryside and Nogaret falling in a tangle as he tried to retrieve the canopy, yelling out curses and holding his back.
Tomorrow he will need that twisted spine of his, he mused, and the wicked thought of it added to his good mood.
Not far from Philip stood Jacques de Molay meagerly attended by a knight companion and two grooms. He too seemed to be observing the spectacle with a fond eye.
Philip took a glance at him and immediately the Grand Master met his stare. It was open and friendly and unguarded, that eye of his.
Philip nodded. ‘Perfect weather for a funeral, Grand Master,’ he called out over the wind as a drift of snow swept them nearly off their feet. ‘Tell me,’ he shouted again, ‘does it snow in the Holy Land?’
The Grand Master shouted back, ‘In some places, your Majesty, but it smells different this snow.’
Philip thought that the Grand Master’s inordinate pride must feel a certain elevation at the honour so personally bestowed upon him. Certainly he appeared serene, like a man who knows that he is esteemed and loved. How could such a man ever suspect the fate that awaited him?
‘Come, Grand Master,’ the King said with exuberance, patting his sides, ‘we shall go to the abbey where there is a brisk fire in the hearth and the abbess has a good spiced wine to warm our blood.’
‘I thank you, my sovereign.’ The Grand Master bowed. ‘I fear I am sorely needed at the Temple this night since there are some things I must attend to before tomorrow.’
The King was struck by a sudden uncertainty and he looked into those eyes with his heart hammering in his ears. Before tomorrow? The smile froze on his face. ‘What could be more important than taking a glass of wine with your king?’
Jacques de Molay hesitated, made another low, respectful bow and joined the King at his walk, side by side, to the abbey.
Philip looked behind him to Nogaret who was following in their train holding some lilies, which he threw into the grave without ceremony while bracing the small of his back.
‘Get that seen to, Nogaret!’ the King called at him and turned his attention to the Grand Master. ‘Soon his spine shall need the rack to set it straight.’
The Grand Master gave a small restrained smile and Philip gazed out at the afternoon. The sky had turned the colour of rose and the pale light of the setting sun poked through a narrow margin of cloudless sky.
‘Winter has come early!’ said the King and clapped a hand over the Grand Master’s shoulders.
FIRST NIGHT SECOND DAY
PAUSE
To have begun is half the job.
Homer, Epistles
Lockenhaus, July 2006
You are going to the concert tonight?’ the old shopkeeper said, startling me from the story and the dream.
I realised that the sun had long since settled beyond the castle walls, making a dark nave of the avenue of lime trees, and that there were no tourists walking this way and that. The only sounds were night sounds, cicadas and crickets.