‘Things are in a marvellous condition?’ The King said, perusing his rings.
The treasurer clasped his hands to prevent them from shaking. ‘It is a complex business, but it is profitable in its own way.’
Philip gave him an eye. ‘Without gold?’
‘Yes sire.’
‘What happens then if all your notes are called in at the one time? What of that, Tours?’ He raised a frigid brow and waited.
The treasurer faltered.
‘Well?’
John of Tours blinked, and blinked and blinked. ‘Well, sire...’ He blinked again. ‘This would be most unusual . . .’
‘Yes, yes, unusual, but tell me, Tours, what would happen in such a case?’
‘The bank would be . . . well . . . it would be undone, sire.’
The King nodded as if he had just been told that night would follow day. ‘Yes it would!’ He sat up. ‘But this will not happen, will it, John of Tours?’
The other man shook his head. ‘Not unless . . .’
‘Unless . . . ?’
‘Not unless your Majesty takes over the running of the bank...’ He said it all at once and paused, knowing that all had been said and that his fate was now sealed.
At that moment Marigny returned with a short, laconic man, dark of hair and skin, whose eyes were held in a permanent squint. In his arms he carried a myriad of parchments and ledgers, which he seemed particularly fond of.
‘Fuinon!’ The King’s eyes rolled from the treasurer to his secretary. ‘Your Majesty is not satisfied!’
‘No, sire,’ the man said, squinting.
‘Is this true, that this bank shall be undone if I take control of it?’
‘Sire . . .’ the man began, ‘if I may . . . an international bank is raised above the preoccupations of kingdoms; that is, wars and petty squabbles. Its business is based on its credentials and its impartiality . . . If France were to take over the running of the bank it would not succeed since it would not be seen to have either credentials or impartiality.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because, sire, you have many enemies, England... Flanders . . .’
‘Yes . . . yes . . . enemies, and?’
‘And, sire, the repercussions would be twofold. Those who do not trust you will withdraw their deposits, and where they owe the bank they shall withhold payments on their loans.’
The King began a slow nodding. ‘You are telling me, Fuinon,’ he looked at his assessor, ‘that I have no gold and no bank to speak of?’
The man peered myopically at his king. ‘Not in the usual sense, no, but if there were a way for your Majesty to remain aloof and independent from the bank, then France would retain the usual benefices in taxes and privileges . . .’
‘Taxes? Privileges?’ The King’s face had moved from one emotion to another until it finally settled on anger. ‘Taxes? I could have had those without moving one finger! Privileges? They are mine to take without asking. I have not coveted taxes and privileges, Fuinon! I have not toppled the Temple to acquire what was mine all along! I have done it for one reason and one reason only: to have a bank and a multitude of gold!’
During this tirade the treasurer was transfixed where he stood. He dared not breathe.
The King paused, remembering something, and his face brightened. ‘What about the towns . . . the farms, lands, granaries, mills, manors and castles? Where are the archives and the charters, the titles, Tours? I shall have them brought down to me. At least those if nothing else!’
The treasurer opened his mouth and closed it again. The words came out before he could think. ‘They have gone missing at Acre . . . all the inventory of our holdings is missing, sire . . .’
‘Missing?’ The King’s voice sounded as if it came through broken glass.
The treasurer prepared himself for what would surely come.
‘Marigny!’ Philip shouted, looking around.
The chamberlain stepped up from his place behind his sovereign. ‘Sire?’
‘Is it possible to take possession of Templar property in France without titles, charters and archives?’
Enguerrand de Marigny did not need to think on it. ‘Not without proof of ownership, sire. The truth is that it would be unlikely even if your Lordship had the titles, for in the event that the Order is dissolved the holdings would likely be turned over to the Hospitallers.’
The treasurer grew weak and a desire to vomit worked its way to his throat.
‘I see.’ The King looked for all the world to be on the brink of a murderous yell, instead he turned grave and deathly quiet. ‘This is most unsatisfactory! I have no gold, no bank and no property! I find myself poorer than before! Well, well . . . it is not a good day! Is it, Tours?’