Stewart Binns - Anarchy

I needed to find out more.

‘So you are in the service of King Baldwin?’

‘No, my friend, we are a brotherhood; we serve only our God, our mission and one another. The King provides us with lodgings, stables and horses and a small stipend. We live under strict discipline by our own rules, which include modesty, chastity and frugality. As soon as our Order is well established here, I will return to Europe where I will seek the blessing of His Holiness, after which I will found communities in all Christian domains and kingdoms to provide the resources to support our cause.’

I was intrigued. There was such a plausible certainty about Hugh de Payens. Then Godfrey de Saint-Omer spoke. He had a more moderated tone than Hugh, but still possessed the same look of unwavering conviction.

‘Hugh is Grand Master of our Order. We follow him in strict obedience. You will be required to do the same.’

These Knights Templar sounded very similar to my grandfather’s Brotherhood of St Etheldreda at Ely, and my father’s Brethren of the Blood of the Talisman – except their cause extended beyond the borders of a single domain. I needed time to think.

‘Hugh, I would like to reflect on everything you have said. May we discuss this tomorrow?’

‘Of course, my friend. We leave for Jerusalem in two days’ time. There we will take our oath together on Temple Mount in the eyes of God, and our mission will begin. Let us meet here tomorrow evening.’

As the Templars left, I noticed the expressions on the faces of those around us in the tavern. It was plain to see that these men had a charismatic effect on all who met them. I turned to Eadmer, who was ready with a question.

‘You are tempted to join them, aren’t you?’

‘Intrigued, for sure. What do you think?’

‘They certainly look like they can fight – confirmed by the way their leader despatched that man in Paris – but I’m not sure about the frugality and the chastity!’

I couldn’t help a wry smile at Eadmer’s blunt assessment.

‘I’m sure that the chastity part only applies to the knights. Sergeants will be exempt.’

‘You are tempted, I can tell. Do you really think you could live on bread and water and give up women on a permanent basis?’

‘Nothing is forever, Eadmer. Besides, after what happened with Livia, I have decided to avoid the fairer sex for a while.’

‘Well, I suppose it means we can travel to Jerusalem and have the chance to meet King Baldwin.’

‘Quite right! But let’s sleep on it and decide in the morning.’

At breakfast the next day, Eadmer and I agreed that we would join this strange group of men. There was no doubt that the Templars – and in particular, Hugh de Payens – had an aura about them. So I decided that, for the time being, their journey was worth following. Eadmer also had one shrewd suggestion to make before we departed for Jerusalem.

‘If, God help us, we are to commit to a life of “frugality”, let’s leave our money with one of the Jewish moneylenders here. They offer good rates for a sum as large as ours.’

‘Always thinking, Eadmer – what would I do without you? When you get the promissory note, add it to this one.’

I gave him a note written in Latin twenty years earlier by a Lombardian usurer in Toulouse.

‘This is the balance of the sale of my family’s home in the Lot, in Aquitaine. It is an idyllic place, but tragedy struck. My father’s first love, a beautiful Muslim girl called Mahnoor, was murdered there by assassins sent by her own father. Later, my grandfather’s extended family died in an outbreak of the putrid fever, and so it was sold before my mother and father left on the Great Crusade.’

Eadmer looked at the note closely.

‘I can’t read the Latin words, but I can count the numbers. This is a lot of geld. We must make sure that if we ever travel back to England, God willing, we go via Toulouse to retrieve this promise.’

‘It has been a long time. Perhaps the lender is long dead. But it would be good to see the place that I know was very important to my family. There is a small plot on the land where several precious people are buried. We kept ownership of the plot; it would be good to pay my respects there. Let’s agree that we will return via Aquitaine when we travel back to England.’

Eadmer smiled at me with the mischievous grin he reserved for moments of mockery.

‘Agreed! Assuming you haven’t become a religious fanatic in the meantime…’

When we met Hugh and the Templars later that day, there was a genuine sense of brotherly comradeship between us as I confirmed my willingness to become the ninth and final founding member of the Knights Templar.

Before we left for Jerusalem the next morning, Rosal – a Cistercian monk and the least fearsome of the Templars – cut my hair and trimmed my beard. He gave me my new white cappa robe, and my cape and shield. Eadmer got the same haircut, but as a sergeant-at-arms wore a black cappa under his cape.

Rosal did not say much, but he gave me a reminder of the strong code of discipline to which I must now submit.

‘Remember, Harold of Hereford, Hugh is our Master. You must be sure always to address him as such.’

Jerusalem was over three hundred miles from Antioch. It was a long and exhausting journey in conditions Eadmer and I had never experienced before. Although it was mid-October, when the sun reached its zenith it was unbearably hot. The summer had been unusually dry and the autumn had brought little rain to soften the ground. Around the middle of that first day, I surveyed the barren and remote environment of our route and asked Hugh the most obvious of questions.

‘Master, how do just nine knights and their squadrons protect a road as long and isolated as this?’

He gave me an answer that was equally evident to him.

‘With faith, my friend.’

We passed many pilgrims on the road, mingling with myriad caravans of traders and merchants whose predecessors had trodden the route for centuries. The names of the ancient cities we visited prompted many memories for me. They were placenames I remembered from the Gospels, and cities that my mother had described in such detail: the magisterial Phoenician port of Tripoli, home to countless tribes and tongues; Sidon, with its many Roman buildings still in daily use, its bustling markets selling everything from silks and spices to swords and slaves; and Acre, the greatest port in the Holy Land, richer, it was said, than any European kingdom.

Everything that my mother had passed on to me, as told to her by my grandmother, about the wisdom of the ancient world and the great achievements of Egypt, Greece and Rome, seemed to be there before my eyes: towering domes, triumphal arches, circuses, theatres and hippodromes. I was utterly captivated by the journey.

The whole experience was enhanced by being with Hugh de Payens and the Templars. Wherever we went, Muslims looked on in awe. Christians bowed their heads; some even fell to their knees and crossed themselves. The Templars seemed to epitomize the indomitable knights of the First Crusade. I felt invigorated in their presence, knowing that I was travelling in my family’s footsteps, and I saw them in my mind’s eye: my grandfather, mother and father, and the fearless Adela.

When we reached Jerusalem, the feeling of euphoria was multiplied. After enduring the pain and hardship of an almost impossible journey from Europe, here was the Holy City that thousands of Christians had fought and died for. I remembered, word for word, my mother’s description of Jerusalem: ‘It was a thing of wonder. From the top of the Mount of Olives you could see the holiest places in the world for the three religions of Abraham. There before us, beyond its lofty walls, were the Dome of the Rock, the Temple of Solomon, the al-Aksa Mosque and the Holy Sepulchre – the most revered buildings in the world. They glowed in the sun, their walls bleached white, their domes, minarets and crosses gleaming symbols of man’s devotion to his maker.’