Jan Guillou - The Templar Knight

Arn’s quartermaster Brother Bertrand thought that the process of writing everything down and explaining things to the peasants took up an unreasonable amount of time. But his superior refused to yield an inch; a promise from a Templar knight could not be broken.

In the calmer work atmosphere that came about after the first month of nervous, rushed preparations, Arn finally took time for his sergeant. Armand de Gascogne may have thought he’d been transformed into a masonry worker rather than a sergeant in preparation, which he had become the moment that Jerusalem’s Master had expressed his blessing. But now he was summoned from working on the walls by the weapons master himself and ordered to report, washed and in new clothes, to the master of the castle after the midday meal. Armand’s hope flared up anew. He had not been forgotten, and his chances of being accepted as a full brother had not died with the approaching war.

The master’s parlatorium was in the western part of the castle, high up with two large, vaulted windows looking out on the sea. When Armand arrived at the appointed time he found his lord tired and red-eyed, but still in a calm frame of mind. The beautiful room, with the afternoon sun streaming in, was simply furnished; no decorations on the walls, a large table in the centre covered with maps and documents, and a row of chairs along one wall. Between the two windows facing the sea there was a doorway leading to a balcony. The master’s white mantle lay flung over one of the chairs, but when Armand entered the room and stood at attention, Arn went to fetch his mantle and tied it under his neck with practiced hands. Then he greeted Armand with a slight bow.

‘You have dug and dug, and I should think you probably feel more like a mole than a sergeant in preparation,’ said Arn in a jocular tone, which instantly put Armand on his guard. The high brothers had a habit of laying traps in their words, even those that sounded most friendly.

‘Yes, we did a lot of digging. But it had to be done,’ replied Armand cautiously.

Arn gave him a long, searching look without revealing what he thought of that answer. Then he became serious and pointed to one of the chairs as if issuing an order. Armand sat down in the appointed place as his lord went over to the cluttered table and swept aside some documents. Arn sat down on the table with one leg dangling, leaning on his right hand.

‘Let us first do what has to be done,’ he said curtly. ‘I have summoned you so that we can go over some matters that you must answer truthfully. If this goes well for you, there are no more hindrances to your acceptance into our Order. If it goes badly, you will probably never become one of us. Have you prepared yourself for this moment with the prayers as prescribed by the Rule?’

‘Yes, lord,’ replied Armand with a nervous swallow.

‘Are you married or are you engaged to any woman, and is there any woman who can make a claim on you?’

‘No, lord, I was the third son and -’

‘I understand. Please answer only yes or no. Now, the next question. Were you born legitimately of parents who were united before God?’

‘Yes, lord.’

‘Is your father or his brother or your father’s father a knight?’

‘My father is the baron of Gascogne.’

‘Excellent. Are you in financial debt to anyone of worldly position or to any brother or any sergeant in our Order?’

‘No, lord. How could one be in debt to a brother?’

‘Thank you!’ Arn interrupted him, holding up a warning hand. ‘Just answer my questions, do not argue and do not question!’

‘Forgive me, lord.’

‘Are you healthy in your body, hale and hearty? Yes, I know the answer, but I must ask the question in accordance with the Rule.’

‘Yes, lord.’

‘Have you paid any gold or silver to enter into our Order, and is there anyone who has promised against compensation to make you one of us? This is a serious question; it deals with the crime of simony, and if anything is later discovered, your white mantle will be taken from you. The Rule says that it is better that we know now than later. Well?’

‘No, lord.’

‘Are you prepared to live in chastity, poverty, and obedience?’

‘Yes, lord.’

‘Are you prepared to swear before God and Our Holy Virgin Mary that you will do your utmost in every situation to live up to the traditions and customs of the Knights Templar?’

‘Yes, lord.’

‘Are you prepared before God and Our Holy Virgin Mary to swear that you will never leave our Order, in its moments of weakness or its moments of strength, that you will never betray us and never leave us other than with special permission from our Grand Master?’

‘Yes, lord.’

Arn did not seem to have any more questions; he sat silent and meditative for a while, as if he had already moved far away to other concerns. Then his face brightened suddenly. He jumped down from his half-sitting position on the table, and went over to Armand to embrace him and kiss him on both cheeks.

‘This is what our Rule prescribes from paragraph 669 on. Now you know this section that has been revealed to you, and you have my permission to go and read it again with the chaplain. Come now, we’ll go out on the balcony.’

In a daze, Armand of course did as he was told, following his lord out to the balcony and, after some hesitation, standing just as he did with both hands resting on the stone railing, gazing down at the harbour.

‘That was the preparation,’ Arn explained, a bit wearily. ‘You will be asked the same questions once again at the initiation itself, but then it’s more of a formality, since we already know your answers. It was this moment that counted, and I can now tell you for certain that you will be accepted as a knight as soon as we have time for it. Until then you will wear a white band around your upper right arm.’

For a moment Armand felt a dizzy happiness inside, and he was incapable of replying to this good news.

‘Naturally, we have a war to win first,’ Arn added thoughtfully. ‘And it doesn’t look easy, as you know. But if we die then the matter is no longer of this world. If we survive then you will soon be one of us. Arnoldo de Torroja and I myself will conduct the initiation ceremony. So be it. Do you feel happy about this?’

‘Yes, lord.’

‘I wasn’t very happy when I was in your position. It had to do with the first question.’

Arn had revealed this remarkable admission as if in passing, and Armand didn’t know how to reply, or whether he should say anything at all. They stood for a while looking down at the harbour, where hard work was in progress unloading two lighters that had moored that same day.

‘I have decided to make you our confanonier for the time being,’ Arn said as if he’d returned from his reverie about the first question. ‘I don’t need to explain what a special honour it is to bear the banner of the Temple and the fortress in war; you know that already.’

‘But mustn’t a knight…can a sergeant be given that assignment?’ Armand stammered, overwhelmed by the news.

‘Under normal circumstances it would be a knight, but you would have been a knight by now if the war hadn’t intervened. And I’m the one who decides, no one else. Our confanonier has not recovered from serious wounds; I visited him in the infirmary and have already spoken with him of this. Now let me hear what you think about the war we’re about to re-enter.’

They went in and sat down next to one of the big windows, and Armand tried to tell him what he thought. He presumed it would be a long siege that would be hard to endure but quite possible to win. He did not think they should ride out, 80 knights and 280 sergeants, to meet an army of Mameluke knights on the field. Scarcely 400 men against perhaps 7000 to 8000 knights - that would be very brave but also very stupid.