Iacobus (3 page)

From that time on, the Frankish monarchy was legally authorized to carry out his vengeance, granting full freedom of action to its royal keeper of the seal, William of Nogaret. Thirty-six freires milites died during the interrogations, fifty-four were burnt at the stake, those who refused to recognize their crimes were sentenced to life imprisonment and only those who publicly accepted their accusations were released in 1312, quickly vanishing from Paris and France over the forthcoming days.

I was thinking about all of this when the voice of His Holiness, John XXII, brought me back to reality.

“So you are aware,” continued the Pope, “of the Frankish Templar’s diaspora to kingdoms more benevolent than those of the Capetians’, and the training, with Our permission, of new military Orders, smaller and more dangerous which now carry out some of the more insignificant services previously provided by the milites Templi. Well, this is all now turning into a surprising mix to complicate even further the difficult political balance at this time between the Christian kingdoms. I’m sure you know that the Portuguese Templars were treated very differently to their brothers in other countries.” I nodded slowly. “In fact, Portugal was the only kingdom in Christendom that was not subjected to the Inquisition, thus saving it from the rack and buskins. And why has this kingdom disobeyed all of the papal mandates? Because Don Denis, King of Portugal, is a fervent supporter of the Templar spirit. And now …,” shouted His Holiness indignantly, “and now he wants to go even further and laugh at Us!”

He downed the contents of his chalice in a single gulp and let it fall on the table with a blow. The cubicularius rushed to refill it.

“Listen carefully, freire, We recently received an unbelievable visit from one of Don Denis’ messengers, requesting authorization to create a new military Order in Portugal which would be given the name of the Order of the Knights of Christ. The King’s audacity goes as far as sending a messenger, a renowned Templar, João Lourenço, who is patiently awaiting Our reply, whatever it may be, in the citadel, to later return to his king on horseback.

What do you make of it all, Galceran of Born?”

“I think that the King of Portugal is acting on very well thought-out plans, Holy Father.”

“And how is that, freire?”

“It’s obvious that he is planning to allow the Temple to continue in his kingdom, and the fact that he sent a Templar as an ambassador proves that he is not afraid of offending you with his disobedience,” I said, continuing with my argument to the evident interest of the Pope. “As You know, the real name of the Order of the Temple was the Order of the Poor Knights of Christ. The Temple part came about from their first residence in the Holy Land, the Temple of Solomon, a gift to the first nine founders from King Baldwin II of Jerusalem. Therefore, the difference between the names of both Orders, the one he wants to found, the Knights of Christ, and the demised Order of the Poor Knights of Christ, is just one word, and it’s a good thing that it is demised seeing that, without a doubt, the Templars were anything but poor. At least now, the King of Portugal is showing some dignity.”

“What else?”

“If he is planning to allow the Temple to exist in his kingdom, he will need to not just change the name but he will also have to return its previous possessions. Who do they belong to at this time?”

“To the King,” said the Pope with resentment. “He was in charge of seizing the Templar assets as ordered by the papal bulls of Our predecessor, Clement, and he is now quite calmly informing Us that he will give these assets to the new Order and, with even greater audacity, as if there was any lacking from this shameful tapestry, he informs us that the Knights of Christ will be governed by the Rule of the Knights of Calatrava, based on the Cistercian ordinances which, take note — and the Portuguese King didn’t say this, no, the Portuguese King kept this quiet! —, are identical to those of the Rule of the milites Templi Salomonis.”

He took another large swig from his chalice, draining it in one go again, and let it fall back on the table with a blow. He was so furious that even his eyes were red with anger. Without a doubt he had a very bloody and bilious nature, very different from the image of impassive gentleness he had displayed upon entering and I wasn’t surprised about what frey Robert had said about his rapid triumphs and energetic character.

“And I’m sure that you will be asking yourself what all this has to do with you. Well, if we put aside the fact that Don Denis wants to humiliate Us in front of the world, laugh at the Church and mock his shepherd, there are still a few details left untold …. Imagine that, because of these shameful reasons, We don’t give him permission. What could happen?”

“I don’t know …,” I interrupted without realizing.

“We have not finished, freire!” he shouted. “If the Order of the Templar sees its desire to rise from the ashes in Portugal as unsuccessful, it would probably cherish the idea of a new Pope who is more compliant with its plans, and we must not rule out the possibility that, in addition to João Lourenço, who was sent to Us by Don Denis, there are other Templars camouflaged in the citadel awaiting Our reply to finish with Us if necessary.”

“If that were the case, Holy Father,” I dared to comment, “the Templar Order would be risking the possibility that the next pontiff would also refuse to give them permission. And then what would they do? Assassinate one pope after another until one gave into their wishes?”

“O.K., I know where you’re going with this, sire Galceran, but you are wrong! It isn’t about the next pontiff, or the next fifty pontiffs. This is about Us, freire, of Our poor life sacrificed to serving God and the Church! The question is, would the Templars dare to kill Us if We deny it permission? Maybe not, maybe the fame hanging over the Order is exaggerated. Do you remember the curse of Jacques de Molay? Have you heard the story …?”

According to the legend circulating the world from one mouth to another, when Jacques de Molay, the last Grand Templar Master, was burnt alive, a gush of wind blew the flames to one side and the prisoner was briefly exposed. Just then, taking advantage of the wind, the Grand Master, who had his head turned towards the palace window where the King, the Pope and the royal keeper of the seal were standing, screamed at the top of his lungs:

“Nekam, Adonai! Chol-Begoal! Pope Clement …, Knight William of Nogaret …, King Philip: I summon you to appear before the Court of God within a year to receive your fair punishment. Cursed! Cursed! All cursed until the thirteenth generation of your races!”

An ominous silence ended his words before his image was lost forever amongst the flames. The terrible thing was that the three of them were indeed dead before that time.

Maybe the rumors circulating about these deaths,” continued John XXII “are no more than hoaxes, vulgar gossip, lies circulated by the Order itself to increase its prestige as a secret and powerful military wing, from which no one can escape. What do you think, freire?”

“It is possible, Your Holiness.”

“Yes, it is possible … But We do not like possibilities and would like you to find out the truth. This is the mission We are entrusting you with: We want evidence, freire Galceran, evidence that scientifically proves whether or not the deaths of King Philip, of the advisor Nogaret and of Pope Clement were a product of God’s will or, on the contrary, of the will of that miserable Jacques de Molay. Your profession as a doctor and your renowned wisdom are invaluable for this task. Use your skills to serve the Church and bring Us the evidence that We request. Think that if the deaths were the will of Our Lord, We could comfortably deny the request of Don Denis without fear of being assassinated but if they were the work of the Order of the Temple, then all of Christianity will live under the threat of the murderous sword of criminals who call themselves monks.”

“This is a huge task, Your Holiness,” I protested; I could feel the sweat pouring down my sides and my hair sticking to my neck. “I don’t think that I can do it. It will be impossible for me find the answers to your questions, especially if it was the Templars who killed them.”

“It’s an order, freire Galceran of Born,” the Grand Commander of France whispered gently but firmly.

“So be it, Knight Galceran, get started as soon as possible! We have little time. Remember that the Templar is waiting for us in the citadel.”

I shook my head helplessly. It was an unrealistic mission, impossible in every way but there was no escape: I had received an order that I could not, under any circumstances, disobey. So I quashed my indignation and gave in.

“I will need some things to get started, Your Holiness: narratives, chronicles, medical reports, Church documents relating to the death of Pope Clement, as well as permission to interview certain witnesses, to check archives, to ….”

“That has all been seen to, freire.” John XXII had the exasperating habit of not letting others finish. “Here are the reports, money, and anything else you may need.” And he handed me a leather chartapacium that he took from a chest at the foot of the table. “Naturally, you will not find anything that proves you are a papal envoy and you will not have my support if you are uncovered. All the authorizations that you need will have to come from your own Order. I am sure that you understand …. Do you have any last requests?”

“None, Your Holiness.”

“Splendid. I expect you back as soon as possible.”

And he held out Peter’s ring, the Fisherman’s ring, for us to kiss.

On the way back to our captaincy, Sir Robert and I remained in absolute silence. The energy of the tiny John had left us utterly exhausted and any further words from him would have been too much to handle; we desperately needing to rest our ears from his dizzying verbiage. But as soon as we entered the patio of our house, with the first lights illuminating the sky, frey Robert invited me to have a final goblet of hot wine in his private quarters. Despite being tired and worried, I would never have refused his offer.

“Brother of Born. The Hospital of St. John has another mission for you,” began the Commander, when we were settled with our goblets of wine in our hands.

“The mission entrusted to me by the Pope is difficult enough, sire, I hope that my Order’s mission is not as demanding.”

“No, no …, they are both related. You see, the Grand Master and the Grand Seneschal thought, seeing as you will have to travel through certain areas, come into contact with certain people and listen to certain things, that you would be in the position to gather some important information for our Order.”

“I’m listening.”

“As you know, following the dissolution of the Templar Order, its immense wealth and prosperous possessions were divided into equal parts between the Christian monarchies and us, the Order of the Hospital of St. John. The definitive distribution of its numerous assets has taken three years and tough disputes with the Kings of France, England, Germany and Italy as well as with the kingdoms of Spain. I can assure you that the Hospitaller knights who carried to term the agreements with the various parties well deserve the paradise of the patient and of the meek. I have never seen agreements that were so arduous to reach, or victories that were so unsatisfying. The shares of the Templar treasures were distributed based on the amounts that, according to the documents, were in the possession of collectors, auditors, accountants and royal treasurers, as well as the Lombard and Jewish bankers. However, when we went to retrieve the gold from the chests, we didn’t find a penny.”

“What!”

Frey Robert held out his hand to stop me.

“More in-depth studies were quickly commissioned from eminent officials and auditors,” he continued. “We tried to find out what had happened to the gold, because fortunately, they couldn’t hide the castles, land, livestock, mills, forges, etc. The cartularies with the Order’s economic activities were investigated: donations, purchases and exchanges, loan contracts, bank records, transactions, arbitrations, perception of rights, etc. Well,” continued Commander Arthus, raising his goblet to the ceiling in a desperate gesture, “the reports revealed that either the Templars had been poorer than rats, or they had been smart enough to make the huge quantity of one thousand five hundred chests full of gold, silver and precious stones — the amount calculated, grosso modo, as the amount they had at the time when a stop was put to their activities, maybe even more —, disappear into thin air.”

“And what happened to those treasures? Where are they?”

“Nobody knows, brother. It is another of the great mysteries that the condemned Order left following its disappearance. You could say that we settled with the first explanation that the accountants gave us, that the Templar was poorer than rats. Better that than to accept the public humiliation of having been laughed at right under our noses. If the Kings prefer to ignore the truth for reasons of personal prestige, then that’s fine but we want to recover the treasures that legally belong to us. Which is why, Brother Galceran, any information that you can get about the gold during your mission for the Pope will be of the utmost importance for our Order. Think about how many hospitals could be built with that money, how many works of mercy could be carried out, how many hospices we could build ….”

“And of the power and influence it would return to us,” I added critically, “almost as much as the Templars had before their disappearance.”

“Yes, that too, of course. Although it’s best we not get into those delicate subjects.”

“True,” I mumbled. “Best not to get into those.”

“A final warning, freire Galceran. You know that our Order and the Order of the Temple were secular enemies due to questions of fame and popularity. Therefore, your captaincy in Rhodes thinks it best if you don’t refer to yourself as a Hospitaller freire, given that you are going to be carrying out an investigation with the interests of so many involved.”

“And with what identity, if I may ask, should I carry out the investigation?”

“No identity, Brother, just as yourself. But if at any time you need to identify yourself in order to protect your life, you will say that you are a member of the new Military Order of St. Mary of Montesa, recently created by James II of Aragon to clean his honor, tainted by the accusations that he swooped on the Templar property like a bird of prey. For this reason the least desirable remains of this property in the Kingdom of Valencia has been appointed to the foundation of this small Order, whose members, the Montesinos, consider themselves to be spiritual and ideological heirs of the Templars, even though there are barely a handful of old Valencian freires milites amongst their ranks who were not able to flee.”