Jack Whyte - Order in Chaos

“We have had no guidance of any kind from our superiors within the Order since leaving France, and it seems clear to me that we stand in grave need of such guidance. I know that the letter in question does not truly fit that need, since it was written prior to the events that led to our leaving France. But it is, at least, a message from our Master, and one can only presume that it was written in the light of the dilemma in which Master de Molay found himself at the time of writing.” Again he stopped, as though waiting to be interrupted, but no one sought to question him or challenge what he was saying, and eventually he shrugged his shoulders. “I merely feel, in my heart, that the accused here, all eight of them, should be permitted to hear whatever the Master might have said to us before they go on trial. It might be that the advice and guidance therein, intended for all of us, could have some effect on them and their behavior. That is all I wished to say.”

Will had known what the veteran knight was going to say, for he had discussed it with de Montrichard the previous night, and now he merely inclined his head in agreement towards de Pairaud before rising to his feet and moving to stand behind his ceremonial chair.

“So mote it be. In recognition of Sir Reynald’s eloquence and plea, the prisoners will be permitted this privilege on this unique occasion. And unique it is, for it will never be repeated.” He picked up the heavy leather wallet that had been lying on the small table beside his chair.

“This is the first occasion of our gathering as a community in this new land. Not the first gathering , for that was on the beach in Lamlash, but certainly the first gathering we have had as a community beginning to establish itself. I know I have no need to tell any of you how difficult a task we face, attempting our own rebirth here on Arran, and particularly so since we must do it without guidance, solving our own problems for the first time in two hundred years without recourse to our annals, records, and histories. But we are not without resources of our own. We may not have our complete written records in our possession, but thanks be to Almighty God, we have our memories, our lessons, our awareness of how things ought to be according to the Rule by which we are sworn to live. We have sufficiency of all of those, working together in concert and in mutual goodwill, to achieve what we must achieve, and to begin again, if need be.”

The mention of beginning again, of starting over, brought a chorus of muttering and speculation, and Will held up one hand to quell it.

“I know what all of you are thinking, and it is all contained in those last words of mine … if need be . We might have no such need, but at this time we do not know, one way or the other. We have ships homeward bound at sea, and by this time, God willing, they are on their way back from France, and they will bring us tidings of how things are for our brethren there. But until they come we cannot know the truth, and it has been three months now, lacking but six days, since we left in obedience to the Master’s command. But the Master gave me this to bring with us, and commanded that it be opened this day … well, yesterday, in fact. But here it is, and since our good Brother Reynald reads better than most of us and has a loud, clear voice, I will invite him to come here to me, in the East, and to deliver the tidings of our Master to your ears. Brother Reynald, will you come forward?”

De Pairaud stood and walked the length of the chamber to where Will, who had opened the leather wallet by that time, handed him the letter it had contained.

“Check that the seal remains intact, if you will, and then announce it to everyone, so there is no misunderstanding.”

De Pairaud glanced at the inscription and then, slightly baffled, looked up at Will from beneath bushy gray brows. “But this is for you, Sir William. Your name is clearly inscribed here.”

“It is addressed to me because I am the conduit between Master de Molay and the brethren here. Open it and read it to them. There will be nothing contained therein that was not meant for other eyes to read.”

The knight addressed himself to examining the package. He held the seal close to his eyes, peering at it intently, then held the package high in the air.

“Brethren, I have here, as you can see, a sealed package inscribed to Sir William Sinclair and bearing the unbroken seal of our Master, Jacques de Molay, and although it is addressed to himself directly, Sir William has requested that I read it now to you, from the Eastern Chair, in earnest of the importance of the tidings, guidance, and instructions that it may contain. Thus, if you will grant me a few moments, I shall do what Sir William asks of me.”

He inserted his thumb beneath the seal, scattering shards of wax as he opened the wrappings and took the contents in his free hand. It fell into three parts, the first a rolled letter, loosely bound with a leather string and written on several heavy sheets of hand-cut parchment, the second another letter, more tightly rolled and bearing the Master’s personal seal. The third piece was an oblong packet tightly encased in thick waxed cloth, again bearing Will’s name but clearly marked as being for his eyes alone. De Pairaud set it down wordlessly on the table by Will’s chair, where it landed with a solid, heavy sound. De Pairaud held the second, smaller letter out to Will, who shrugged but made no attempt to take it. De Pairaud shrugged in return and set the sealed missive down on the table, too, and then pulled open the primary letter, clearing his throat reflexively as he held the text up, turning it towards the light.

“It says here—” He stopped, recognizing the banality of what he was saying, then began to read the letter aloud in a high, clear voice.

The Temple in Paris

To our good and faithful brother, William Sinclair, Honorable Member of the Governing Council of the Order of the Knights of the Poor Fellow Soldiers of Christ and the Temple of Solomon; Greetings from Jacques de Molay, Master.

My Dear Brother,

Having delivered my instructions to you on the matters currently unfolding here in our Homeland of France, and in the full and confident knowledge that you will obey them in their entirety, I now feel a need to enlarge upon my thoughts, expressed to you in our recent colloquy, in order to ensure that no man, of any rank or station, might be enabled to question you regarding the propriety of anything that you might hereafter pursue or attempt in my name or in the name of our Holy Order.

Accordingly, I have decided to confide in you at greater length, explaining some elements of my thoughts and beliefs that I have not thought appropriate to reveal to my fellow Councilors for reasons that will become apparent as I continue.

I have now come to believe, with great reluctance and frustrated incredulity, that the warnings I have received are correct in every aspect, and that our Holy Order, despite its well-accredited record of exemplary service and unstinting support for the Church and its Christian beliefs and objectives, has become the target for an unscrupulous campaign of calumny and perfidious lies aimed at destroying our reputation and the credibility we achieved over two hundred years of faithful service.

I am equally convinced that the source of this scurrilous campaign is the King himself, Philip, the fourth of that name of the House of Capet, and for the first time in a lifetime of service to this Order, I am experiencing both fear and despair, because in our coming hour of need there is no source of succor and support to which we may safely turn. The worldwide resources of our Order are of no use to us in this extremity, since we have insufficient time to marshal those resources and broadcast what we know, and even were that not the case, we have no proof to offer in the area of our suspicions: nothing has yet occurred to justify our misgivings, and by the time it does, we will be faced with a fait accompli .