Mike Shevdon - The Eighth Court

I’m getting to that. This goes back to the beginnings of the ceremony,” said Claire. Establishing the barrier took time. There were… incidents. Like Rome, the barrier wasn’t built in a day. Sacrifices had to be made.”

“What kind of sacrifices?” asked Katherine, moving around to sit at the other end of the sofa.

“The usual kind. You have to understand that as the barrier grew stronger the Seventh Court became aware of it. They took steps to prevent the ceremony being performed. They killed successive Remembrancers — bribed them, threatened them, kidnapped their children, murdered their families. But the crown was committed. One king after another made sure that the ceremony was performed. The first ceremony was in 1067,” said Claire. “With just the two knives. The date was kept secret, the venue was changed, people were switched at the last minute. As the barrier got stronger the Seventh Court became more desperate. Still they came. The cost in human lives became difficult to hide. There were… reports.”

“Reports?” said Blackbird.

“This was the time of Plantagenet rule. Anything which undermined the King’s sovereignty was ruthlessly suppressed. Anything which compromised it was dealt with.”

“Only this wasn’t dealt with?” said Blackbird.

“Oh, it was. The barrier was established, and for a while there was peace. The Seventh Court could not cross. It held, and the courts and the crown were united. We had succeeded.”

“In the year 1244 something went wrong. The Remembrancer didn’t perform the ceremony. There were extenuating circumstances — sickness, a bridge collapsed, a servant was compromised. The ceremony failed and the Seventh Court broke through. There was an attack on the King — an all-out assault to remove the figurehead and destroy the barrier forever. They nearly succeeded.”

“But they didn’t,” said Blackbird.

“There were rumours,” said Claire. “The Feyre… there was infrequent communication before that time — a dialogue, albeit at diplomatic levels. After that night, nothing was heard from them for years.”

“An all-out assault…” said Blackbird.

“Pardon?” said Claire.

Blackbird hesitated, and then relented. “You are sharing secrets, and it is only fair that we should share some of ours. There was a time long ago when the Seventh Court broke through in an effort to eliminate all of the half-breed fey, all those of mixed race, in a single night. I have heard it referred to, but no one talks about it. There are enmities that go back to that time that exist today.”

“The King escaped,” said Claire, “with the help of a cadre of hand-picked elite knights. They fought with heavy steel and iron. Many of them died, but they saved the King. He was smuggled out in the chaos while those that protected him stood against the Seventh Court. It was a massacre.”

“Human knights are no match for wraithkin,” said Blackbird.

“They didn’t need to defeat them,” said Claire. “They only needed to delay them long enough for the King to escape. In that they succeeded, thought the cost was high.”

“And they were rewarded?” asked Blackbird.

“Hardly,” said Claire. “The knights were Templars — Poor Soldier Knights of Christ and the Order of the Temple of Solomon — it’s a misleading title. They were hardly poor, being sons of noble families of vast wealth and power. Neither were they simple soldiers. They were well-equipped, highly trained and exceptionally skilled. If anyone could stop the Seventh Court, they could.”

“But they didn’t,” said Blackbird.

“No, they didn’t. But the crown was grateful for what they accomplished. And as crowns will, showed gratitude in ways that were two-handed. They received lands and charters, the gateway to further wealth and power, and they were honoured with certain duties — the assurance that a certain ceremony would be performed, come what may, at sword-point if necessary.”

“The Quit Rents…” said Blackbird.

“Six elite knights were chosen, one for each court of the Feyre. Six families were selected to guard the ceremony down the years. One family was too fragile. One dynasty might be subverted, or bribed, or threatened — but six. That was a good number.”

“Which families?” asked Blackbird.

“You see now why this is secret,” said Claire. “With the knowledge of the families you can find the guardians. You could subvert them, bribe them, eliminate them. But you would have to know who they were, first.”

“How do you know?” asked Blackbird.

“Officially, I don’t. It is not good for me to know. It is better that I simply know they are there. When the time of the ceremony draws near, they deliver the knives and the nails. I don’t know where they’re kept at other times, and that’s by design. I can’t reveal what I don’t know.”

“We have to find them,” said Alex.

“Find them how?” asked Katherine. “We don’t even know who they are, do we?”

“I have the journals, so we know one of the names,” said Claire. “The horseshoes are rendered in respect of a forge in Tweezers Alley. The forge was on a corner of the Templar’s field and was owned by Walter le Brun. He was one of them. That’s as much as I’m supposed to know.”

“ Supposed to know?” asked Blackbird.

“Before he went to Australia, Jerry told me something. We were talking about the ceremony, about why it wasn’t right.”

“Go on…” said Blackbird.

“He said that the ceremony had devolved to the clerks, but that the protection of the ceremony was still the duty of the Queen’s Remembrancer. Each year, at the ceremony, they hold up the horseshoes to be counted, but it’s not the horseshoes they’re counting. There are people in the audience who make themselves known to the Remembrancer as a sign of their continued fidelity and service. If there are enough, the Remembrancer announces Good Number , and the ceremony is complete for the year.”

“And how many were at this year’s ceremony?” asked Blackbird.

“I don’t know,” said Claire, “but Jerry wasn’t happy.”

“Can’t we just look up le Brun up in the phone book? What about the Internet?”

“That was in 1245,” said Claire. “The family lines have merged and divided. There’s no guarantee that anyone called Le Brun would know anything about this.”

“Then they could all be long dead,” said Katherine.

“The point was not that he was the protector,” said Claire, “but that the duty devolved to his line. His successors would take on the duty, and their successors, and so on, down the years.”

“So where are the Templars now?” asked Alex.

“They don’t exist. The order was disbanded in 1307 by Philip IV of France, who seized the assets. A papal bull was issued, dissolving the order. Many of them were killed, a number were tortured. Not in England, though. Edward II disputed the French crown’s claim to the assets and the assets in England were gifted to the Order of St John, the Knights Hospitaler. They were succeeded by the Societies of the Inns of Court, which gave us Lincoln’s Inn, Gray’s Inn, Inner Temple and Middle Temple.”

“Temple?” said Alex. “Isn’t that the same as Templars?”

“Technically, yes,” said Claire, “The Templars were named after the Temple of Solomon in Jerusalem, and Temple in London was named after the order. Nowadays, Inner and Middle Temple are the associations to which court barristers belong. Their idea of a test of strength is to put their case before a judge, and then have a glass of something in a wine bar with the opposition afterwards. There are no Templars in Temple now.”

“Are you sure?” asked Blackbird.