Paul Doherty: Satan's Fire

‘Sit down!’ de Molay shouted. ‘All of you!’ His sunburnt face had now turned an ashy grey and a murderous fury blazed in the grand master’s eyes.

‘You’d best sit down!’ de Warrenne ordered. ‘To draw sword or dagger in the king’s presence is treason.’

‘I have heard rumours about what happened in Paris,’ de Molay declared. ‘And I reject them as scurrilous scandal until the full facts are known. What proof does de Craon have for his assertions?’

‘Quite considerable,’ Edward intervened. ‘On the day the assault was launched on Philip, a soldier, wearing the Templar livery, was seen fleeing from the Bois de Boulogne. Secondly, Templars are in London and in Paris. Thirdly, the Templars know the rites of the Assassins: the dagger, the red silk, the sesame seedcake and the three-fold message. Fourthly,’ Edward straightened in his chair and pointed a finger at de Molay. ‘You know, Monseigneur, how there are many in your Order, perhaps even seated round this table, who believe that the Temple was driven out of the Holy Land due, or so they claim, to a lack of support from the kingdoms in the West. Finally,’ Edward looked up at the ceiling. ‘Yes, finally, and I will say this. Thirty years ago the Assassins tried to kill me. They failed and I brained the man responsible with a stool. Very few people know about that attack. Most of the lords who were with me at the time are now dead, but the Templars knew.’

‘And are there other matters?’ de Molay asked wearily.

Corbett, ignoring the rancour his words had caused, continued in a matter-of-fact tone.

‘Since the reign of the king’s father, the Templars have owned the manor of Framlingham on the Botham Bar road, outside York. Usually it is left in the care of bailiffs and stewards. However, over the last two weeks, since the arrival of your good selves in York, petitions have come in about strange happenings: fires are seen glowing at night in the woods. Certain rooms and passageways are strictly forbidden. .’

‘This is nonsense!’ Branquier interrupted. ‘We are a religious Order. We have our own rituals. Sir Hugh, the Templars are an enclosed community: we would not let any jack-in-the-puddle know what we are doing, no more than the king or yourself allow the common sort to wander through the Chancery rooms at Westminster or the Treasury chamber of the Tower.’

‘There are other matters,’ Corbett continued. ‘Sir Richard Branquier, you showed us a gold coin, certainly not from the Royal Mints. Now, with all due respect, these gold coins appeared during the last month: the very time you and your companions took up residence at Framlingham Manor.’

The Templar commanders objected vociferously, beating their fists on the table, shouting denials at what Corbett had said. De Molay remained impassive, gently clapping his hands, exercising that iron discipline for which the Temple was so famous.

‘You’d best finish, Sir Hugh,’ he declared resignedly. ‘What else are we held responsible for? Surely not the strange death on Botham Bar road?’

Corbett smiled thinly. ‘Now you mention it, Monseigneur; two good sisters, Cecilia and Marcia, accompanied by their guide Thurston, came before the mayor and aldermen of this city and swore that, as they approached York, a horse, bearing the lower half of a man’s body, charged wildly by them. Further along the trackway, they discovered a corpse being eerily burnt to death by a fire for which they could see no source.’

‘Yes, we heard that,’ Baddlesmere declared. ‘The story is all over York. The man’s body was burnt beyond recognition.’

‘Not exactly,’ Sir Hugh interrupted. ‘Only the top half of the man’s corpse was burning, the bottom part of his torso and legs. . He shrugged. ‘Well, you have heard the story. What is strange is no one knows who he was, why he was attacked, the identity of the killer, or where the strange fire came from.’

‘I object.’ Branquier spoke up, turning to de Molay. ‘Monseigneur, we have been brought here and our generosity has been exploited. We have always served the Crown of England well and have just agreed to the bestowal of a most generous gift. Now the king’s senior clerk, his Keeper of the Secret Seal, stands in our presence and whispers the most scandalous allegations.’

De Molay placed his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers. ‘No, no.’ De Molay shook his head. ‘You are not saying that, are you, Sir Hugh? You do not really believe the Templars are guilty of such horrid acts?’

‘No, Monseigneur, we do not.’ Corbett stared bleakly at Branquier. ‘But remember, sirs; first, we have not gossiped behind your backs but bluntly informed you about what others have whispered to us. Secondly, there is a remarkable coincidence between your arrival here and those strange happenings. Thirdly, and most importantly, the Templars are a kingdom in themselves. You have houses which stretch from the borders of Scotland to the toe of Italy. From Rouen in the West to the borders of the Slavs. Now gold coins, burning corpses. .’ Corbett shrugged. ‘These matters can be dealt with, but treason against our lord the king is another matter. You can use your knowledge and power to acquire information. You listen to the rumours of courts.’

‘In other words,’ de Molay intervened, ‘you would like us to search out why the Assassins have decided now to reawaken old grievances against your king?’

‘Exactly,’ Corbett replied. ‘We do not intend to threaten you.’ He turned and bowed to Edward. ‘The king has already agreed to the confirmation of your rights and privileges. We simply seek your help in this matter. We would be grateful for what you discover.’

‘And it does not affect what we have agreed?’ the king asked.

‘No,’ de Molay replied. ‘It does not.’

The king heaved a sigh. ‘Then in the abbey church tomorrow, I will take the oath.’

After that the meeting broke up. De Molay and his commanders bowed and took their leave. Edward, de Warrenne and Corbett sat in the refectory, listening to the mailed footsteps of the Templars fade in the distance. The king grinned slyly at Corbett.

‘I got what I wanted, did I not?’

‘And so did the Templars, my lord. Your oath will be a public statement of support for them.’

‘It was a pity,’ Edward pushed back his chair, ‘that you had to lay such allegations before them.’

Corbett smiled as he began to clear his writing tray from the desk.

‘My lord, you have been threatened. These are matters which could be laid at the Templars’ door. By raising them, you are warning the Templars that, perhaps, their Order does not enjoy the support it once did.’

‘Do you think there is any truth in the Assassins’ threat?’ De Warrenne asked.

‘The knives were found,’ Corbett exclaimed. ‘Thirty years ago His Grace was attacked by the same sect. We also have the warnings brought by Monsieur de Craon.’ He shrugged. ‘But it’s all too vague.’

‘In other words,’ Edward declared, getting to his feet and stretching till his muscles cracked, ‘not serious enough to hold you here at York, eh, Hugh? So you can scuttle off, back to your manor at Leighton, to the lovely Lady Maeve and Baby Eleanor.’

‘It has been three months, Sire. You did promise I would be released from your service at Candlemas, some seven weeks ago.’

Edward glanced down at him. ‘Affairs of state, Sir Hugh.’ The king held up his long, scar-studded fingers. ‘We have a council in York and the French envoy is here. We have the marriage negotiations for my son. There’s the business of the counterfeit coins and the matter of the Templars.’ He gripped Corbett’s shoulder. ‘I need you here, Hugh.’

‘And my lady wife needs me at home.’ Corbett retorted. ‘You gave your word, Sire. You, Edward of England, whose motto is, “My word is my troth”.’