Jack Whyte - Order in Chaos

“Mutiny and disobedience.” The words reverberated in the silence they produced. “Eight men stand here in chains, accused of both these sins against the most basic tenet of our Brotherhood. Some might argue that their infringements are but minor, in the overall view of what has happened recently. That is for you to decide here in chapter. I will take no part in this trial. Brother de Montrichard will sit in charge, as is his right as preceptor. But regarding the serious nature of the accusations, I must say this. All of us, every man here present, swore the triple oath upon entering the Order: to adhere to poverty, chastity, and obedience to our superiors in all things. And obedience is primary among those, because without obedience, to the Rule and to our superiors, we are but a rabble, a mob more dangerous than any other, for we are trained to fight and kill, and as a mob, we threaten mayhem to ourselves and all around us.”

He turned deliberately and swept the ranks on either side of him with eyes that held no trace of humor. “Heed me. I speak now as a man, not as the senior member present but as a brother among brethren and a veteran member of this Order, and I speak from my heart. We have been too long away from our daily discipline these past few months—that is a simple truth that you will all acknowledge. But the truth is far greater than that, and far more disquieting. We have drifted too far from our beginnings in recent years. We have grown lax and lazy, all of us, and I can say so loudly and openly here in chapter knowing that the only ears to hear that truth are ours alone.

“Since the fall of Acre and the loss of our holdings in Outremer, we, the knights and sergeants of the Order, have in many respects become a rudderless ship, because our raison d’être , for more than a hundred and fifty years, was the defense and protection of the faith and the Church in the Holy Land. When we lost the struggle there, we lost our way, and, I regret to say, we lost our status in the eyes of men. The fall of Acre fortress, which had been seen as invulnerable and indestructible, was attributed to us, the fault laid at our door. We were the custodian of the Church’s interests in Outremer, and we are seen now as having been negligent in caring for our charges. That is untrue, as every man here knows, but people think it true, and we can now do nothing to change that. Too many decades have elapsed. No one cares about the roll of honor we have earned since we began. No one remembers our successes or the valor of our exploits in bygone days. All they see is failure and the loss of Outremer.”

He lifted his voice to a shout on his next words, seeing the impact of the unexpected sound among the suddenly stiffening ranks. “And we encourage this! The Temple encourages it, through its policies past and current! We make it easy for our scowling enemies to hate us. The Temple pays no taxes, anywhere, and neither do its adherents—the merchants, moneylenders, and guildsmen who gouge and steal for profit under the Temple’s auspices, calling themselves Templars in defiance of the fact that they have never owned a sword or swung a blow in defense of anything other than their own greed … And that includes the so-called Brethren of the Temple, none of whom serve as we do.

“Think upon that, and how it looks to others less fortunate. They see us as laden with privilege, tax free and wealthy beyond credence, while they struggle daily to survive. They see our trading empire and resent it. The churchmen see our letters of marque and credit, and the bullion in our vaults, and the fees we charge, and they think of us as usurers. And all men see us—and rightly so, I fear—as arrogant, intolerant bullies, swaggering about in our forked beards, with rich clothing and the finest horseflesh, behaving with ingrained smugness towards everyone we see as lesser than ourselves, which means they themselves—all of them, everywhere, who are not Templars.”

He stopped, his voice fading as quickly as it had swelled, and then resumed in a quieter, more solemn tone. “That is the truth. And that, at root, is what has undone us in France, and possibly elsewhere. Men may give it different names and ascribe what happened to other causes, but at the bottom of it all, we brought our troubles upon ourselves in recent years by giving people reason to be envious, and resentful, and angry at us for what they perceive us to be. No man here, I believe, can deny the truth of what I have said, if he but takes the times to think on it in conscience.

“But we are here in Scotland now, where, thanks to the efforts and goodwill of our predecessors in this troubled realm, our Order remains highly regarded. I intend to maintain that high regard while we are here. I will explain my plans and issue my commands as Master in Scotland when I return, but for now, I will withdraw and leave it to this chapter to conduct the trial of these men with only one advisory from me: past misdeeds may be forgiven in good conscience and goodwill, but in this instance forgiveness, if such you choose, should be weighed judiciously against the prospects of future behavior. I will say no more. You know the procedures, and you know the punishments involved should your judgment go against them. Commander de Montrichard, if you will send for me when your deliberations on this matter are concluded, I shall then conclude what I wish to say to chapter. In the meantime, the East is yours.”

Will stepped down from the dais and marched swiftly from the chapter meeting, returning directly to his chamber on the second level. Tam Sinclair, just leaving the chamber with an empty basket, having replenished the log supply by the fireplace, stopped as Will came into view and stood, lips pursed, eyes asquint in the dim light.

“Well, are they for entombment?”

Will barely paused. “D’you think they should be?”

“That’s no’ for me to say, but I think a man would have to ha’e done something awfu’ terrible before I’d sentence him to that … bein’ sealed up in a hole in the wall, wi’ no fresh air to breathe. I canna think o’ a worse way to die—ither than bein’ buried alive in a coffin. Come to think o’ it, it’s the same damn thing, except that you gi’e the prisoner bread and water to keep him alive while’s he’s waitin’ to die o’ suffocation. An’ just because he wouldna shave off his beard?”

Will stopped in his tracks and stood motionless for the length of several heartbeats before he shook his head and turned to look at his kinsman.

“No. No, no, no, Tam, that has little to do with it. The beard is unimportant in the overall. It’s the mutiny that’s important—the arrogance, the pride, the example that they set for others by such willful misheed. That is what needs to be nipped in the bud before it can flower and seed itself. And besides, entombment is not an option in this instance. Entombment is the last resort against intransigence. These fellows will probably be sentenced to a month of confinement with bread and water. Martelet might get two months or even three. But he won’t be walled up.”

“You hope,” Tam grunted. “You’re no’ even there to keep an eye on the trial. What if he defies them an’ some idiot loses his head and condemns him? Stranger things have happened.”

“Then I will veto the punishment. But now I have to write, while the trial’s going on. Is there ink ready?”

Tam looked sideways at him, scowling, and did not even deign to answer such a silly question as he swept out, bearing his empty basket.

THREE

Less than an hour had gone by when Will was summoned back to the chapter meeting, and he strode into the assembly carrying the sheet of parchment on which he had listed the points he wished to address in the aftermath of the Master’s letter. He saw at a glance that the prisoners had been removed and that the remaining brethren were standing at attention, awaiting his arrival, but he showed no curiosity about what had transpired. Instead he nodded courteously to the preceptor, who was also on his feet, waiting to relinquish the Eastern dais and command of the chapter gathering to him, but invited him to remain on the dais, in a chair by his side. As soon as de Montrichard was seated, Will invited the brotherhood to be seated.