The Seal(75)

In truth, in all his considerable time as treasurer, he had seen very little gold, for it was possible to transact without it if one had a ledger and some ink. The Temple collected revenues and credited them against expenses and debts in a system devised by the Arab merchants called double entry. This method was exceedingly practical. It meant that very little monies were handled at all. In all sixty accounts that were currently operating, as few as twenty needed a transaction in gold. The Templar wealth lay, rather, in common property – castles, manors, towns and villages, granaries, farms and mills. Some of the wealth came in the form of donations for the assistance of a donor’s soul, some of it by way of new entrants into the Order or from returns from rented lands, goods and services. Also, quite a tidy revenue came in the way of profit from variations in currency. But usury – being an abomination unto the Lord – was not employed since the collection of interest on loans was not appropriate to men of God. However, administrative charges could be made for expenses incurred on amounts lent. After all, any surplus profit had always been absorbed into the running costs of the Temple or otherwise used to maintain the Templar forces in the Holy Land.

He continued to wet his quill with ink, until the great bells sounded nones in echoed disharmonies. He closed his ledger and said a Pater Noster with devotion, his head bowed and his heart fervent. He asked God to watch over his fellows who lay in the King’s prison and he asked that his Saviour might give him courage when the time came to meet his destiny . . . which he sensed would be sooner than later.

He looked up from his prayers and remembered the dream then . . .

Some time ago he had seen the image of the Grail, the Holy Cup wherein was contained Christ’s blood, the cup that Joseph of Arimathea had obtained from Pilate, in his meditations. Since then he had become preoccupied with the ideal, the womb waiting to be fertilised and filled with an impulse of Christ. It contained, to him, the seed of a New Jerusalem shining in the most profound illumination. The seed of a new world funded by a great bank, operated in the name of Christ for His people. That is, a bank that served all men and not merely the rich and powerful. In this bank there would be no gold, no security, only numbers in ledgers, recorded meticulously and with great care, just as he was now doing. Then gold would naturally lose its value. Never would a florin need to pass from one hand to another because, in reality, no man had a right to own gold. Had not Christ rejected Satan’s offer to turn stones to bread? In such a world, people, filled with hope and dignity, could live free, productive lives. Lives that sought to find the Christ in every word, in every deed.

Now all was lost into the King’s hands. The great ideal would never be realised and he gave himself up to a sigh, his heart full of hopeless longing.

There were footsteps coming from the halls and his mind was wrenched from his meditation to the present. His eyes widened and his brows raised. He stood like that, peering into the gloom, like a small animal that smells a predator.

It was the King.

He straightened his habit and tried to look calm.

From the shadows emerged figures, the King’s guards were first, stone-faced and regal, then gradually the tall shape of Philip, followed by his royal chamberlain, Enguerrand de Marigny.

He knew Marigny. He did not like the man.

Philip was smiling, his energetic limbs making sparks in the frigid air as he moved towards the treasurer. His chamberlain stood a little behind him, flicking through some parchments.

The King’s eyes made a study of John of Tours, and the shadows, and with a voice that echoed down the ever-stretching lanes of boxes, he said, ‘Well, Tours! Here is your king. He has come to stroke his fortune!’

‘Sire.’ John of Tours bowed.

‘I have been patient, Tours. Now I wish to know how rich I have become! Show me to the gold Byzantines . . . I desire to see the lustre of my benefits, though I suspect there is silver besides that!’ He slapped two hands together, looking at the beech crates stacked up as high as a man. ‘Are they in these boxes?’

The treasurer fumbled with his words. The King would have to learn a thing or two about banking and John of Tours did not wish to be the one to teach him.

‘Perhaps I should show you the ledgers, sire?’ He moved toward his desk and took up the large collection of parchments held by metal clasps.

‘Ledgers?’ The King raised a quizzical brow, smiling still. ‘Why, pray, should there be a royal interest in ledgers?’

‘Ledgers, sire, enumerate an account of profit and loss . . . monies borrowed and deposits,’ he explained. ‘This is the most accurate way of knowing the state of the bank.’