The Wolves of Solomon (Wolves of Solomon Book One) Read online

“He’s not here Esquin,” Raymond Caradas said, taking a swig out of his wine skin but he immediately spat the sour liquid out.

  “Agghh!” he wiped his mouth, “I am sick of this piss. We should be on our way back to Paris!”

  “Patience, old friend. I would have thought you’d be as eager to see Galeren as I, after the whipping he gave you.”

  “I don’t need reminding. Despite the passage of time I am eager to see the bastard but not as eager to play these games as you. I prefer getting on with business instead of all this sneaking around and setting of traps. He’ll get his, they all will.”

  “Ahhh but this is sweeter, Raymond, if a little more effort. But worth the patience.” He sighed however, for in truth he too was tired of roughing it, “You are right though, he is not here and I should know that Galeren is not so stupid. He has hidden her somewhere and not at a preceptory. I said I would be back in Paris near September’s end, and that is over two weeks away yet. We will find him before then.”

  De Floyran was piqued at the situation and at the fact that they had wasted time watching the preceptory. His anger was heightened by the fact that he did need to get back to Paris and tend to business there, but he had wanted to see Galeren before then and have the girl he had bitten.

  “With respect, I think De Nogaret expected us before September’s end.”

  De Floyran spun round to face Caradas, his mouth curled in displeasure and his eyes glowering. Caradas stepped back and immediately lowered his head, both in mark of respect and submissiveness.

  “Don’t contradict me, Raymond,” De Floyran stepped toward him and grabbed him by the throat, “ever! Or question my methods or you will find yourself on the wrong side of me and there will be no games with you, I will just break your fucking neck.” His grip tightened and Caradas choked for air but endeavoured to bow even lower in attempt to pacify De Floyran. Esquin held him so for a few moments longer and then released him.

  Caradas gasped and filled his lungs with air but he remained in a passive position. He had known De Floyran for all of his adult life and knew how easily he could be provoked and how over so little. He would take complaint and criticism at the best of times but was dangerously unpredictable and could turn sour at the slightest remark.

  “Stop cowering Raymond,” De Floyran said nonchalantly, “I know you didn’t mean it.” He flexed the hand that had just been at his friend’s throat. “Darkness comes. Let us hunt this night and scour the area. We will give it a few more days and then return to Paris. But I will be in an ill mood if I return not having visited my old friend. Make sure the men know that.” He looked at Caradas who had stood up but still had his head bowed.

  “I have waited a long time for this, Raymond.” He said a dark edge entering his voice, “I know well there will be an end to this and him, but I want it to be the end I have envisaged Raymond, do you understand?”

  “I do, sir.” Raymond responded rapidly.

  “Esquin, please.” De Floyran protested jovially then said more seriously. “Tell the men.”

  14th September 1307, Paris, France

  De Nogaret leaned back from the parchment he had been working on to let the ink dry. He smiled, for there was not a mistake within it. There was not one scratching out and not one smudge mark, just the purity of indictment laid down in an ink as black as his heart. There had been plenty of testimonies to back up Esquin de Floyran’s allegations. Ex-Templar tenants and servants with grudges had been secured as witnesses, and liars had brought tales of depravity to life for a few coins. That had been easy and though pleased with his efforts to that effect, it paled to the pride he felt as he looked upon the bill of indictment that he had so meticulously laboured upon. It was a beautiful document. Perfectly written; a masterpiece of devastating qualities. Within its pages was held the fate of the most powerful religious military order the world had ever known.

  De Nogaret was grossly arrogant in the knowledge that before him was a document of such supremacy, so beautifully constructed, that the destruction of the Temple was imminent, immune to failure and that he had orchestrated it. He cared not if the accusations were unreliable or out and out untruths. That had become immaterial, now that the document had been created. It was about how, not why anymore and his skill was how. He stared lovingly at the document as the last words dried fast to the page, forever bound to forever damn. He would almost be reluctant to relinquish it into the greedy hands of Philip, who would turn the pages with his food encrusted fingers, his wine stained spittle flecking each page as he gasped and gaped.

  He sighed regretfully and then took heart as he looked at the candle that burned to his right. The night was still young, he would make a copy. He would keep the original and give the copy to the King. If he worked through the night he could do it and still leave for Fontainebleau in the morning as planned.

  “Ourri!” he called out and immediately his new servant entered. “More wine,” he commanded. The young lad look surprised.

  “You are not to bed, sir?” he enquired.

  “No, there is still much work to do. The taste of wine on my tongue will make the task sweeter. I will work through the night yet.”

  “’Tis for the King?” the boy enquired looking at the document as he filled his master’s cup.

  “Careful!” De Nogaret warned, “I would flog you to death myself if you spilt a drop on this work.” Ourri shook a little nervously as he finished filling the cup and moved the flagon away from the table.

  “’Tis important?” he asked, stating the obvious as only a nervous servant would.

  “Oh Ourri,” De Nogaret said swelling with pride, “’tis the most important document, perhaps ever written, aside from the holy book itself. If only you could read, eh?” De Nogaret chuckled.

  “’Twould be a miracle, sir,” the boy answered earnestly and then, “do you still plan to travel to the King’s palace at Fontainebleau on the morrow.”

  “Aye, if you would leave me and let me get on with my work. Leave me undisturbed for the rest of this night. Pray leave the wine on the side. Only come to rouse me if you do not see me by matins.”

  “As you wish, sir.” The servant bowed out of the room. De Nogaret smiled, took a sip of wine and drew forth a new sheet of parchment and begun again his masterpiece.

  It was only when Ourri saw the light diminish from under the door and after a time that another candle had not been lit, that he dared enter the room. De Nogaret was slumped over the document he had been working on, quill still in hand the ink still wet on its nib. With stealth he moved over to the table and saw that the original document was opened on the last page and that that page had been copied onto the parchment that De Nogaret was now slumbering upon. He had finished the copy. There were still a few hours until dawn broke and quickly and carefully, Ourri gathered up the original manuscript, wrapped it in a linen sheet and put it into a leather satchel. Swiftly and without a sound he left the room and hastened to his destination.

  Gerard de Villiers looked around the squalid inn within which he sat and wondered why such a meeting place had been chosen given the numerous alternatives. He supped on his ale inconspicuously, surrounded by the dregs of the inn’s customers who swayed and slept in various doorways, some still loudly drinking, others arguing the price with various whores that decorated the place. He was not dressed as a Templar but rather just as shabbily as the grimy patrons that he sat amongst, his unshaven face and demeanour drawing no attention, as was intended. However, he had been propositioned twice already and sick of the smell of stale ale and filthy flesh, he made ready to leave when suddenly the reason that he was at the inn finally made his entrance.

  “God’s blood Ourri! I’ve been here half the night!” Gerard said through gritted teeth. “Of all the places –”

  “It had to be here, ’tis the closest to De Nogaret’s dwelling. We don’t have much time. He plans to leave for Fontainebleau after matins. I thought he’d never sleep.” Ourri slid the satchel co
ntaining De Nogaret’s masterpiece across to him.

  “This it?” Gerard said, eagerly opening the satchel.

  “Jesu be careful with it! Not a mark must be found on it, for he would know it. I swear he knows every line of it.”

  Gerard carefully removed the document from its linen cover and stared at the front of it, his eyes widened in concern.

  “The indictment against the Temple. Christ on the Cross! I had no idea of the extent of it.” Gerard said, shaking his head in dismay.

  “He has been working on it relentlessly.” Ourri said, “You know how closeted he is. It has been difficult to fathom what has been taking place between him and Philip. But this . . . ” He trailed off. Gerard sighed and opened the document, carefully leafing through the pages. His eyes darted across them as he tried to take in what they read. He studied it for a while and frowned several times and bit his lip nervously as he proceeded through the indictment.

  “Have you read this?” He looked up at Ourri through anxious eyes.

  “Parts, and those I didn’t like. It damns us. It is a powerful document written for Philip. De Nogaret is a crude little man but his work is meticulous, based on lies it may be but this is dangerous for us.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that. It confirms my worst fears. I take it this is the only copy?” Gerard said leafing through to the end of it.

  “No, he has spent this past night making a copy, ’tis why I was so late. One he intends to give to Philip and one, the original I’m guessing, he intends to keep for his egotistical self. We cannot keep this, he will know and he will know that we have it.”

  “I know that. We need time to act. They must not know that we have a suspicion. I must tell De Molay and the council.”

  “Is your word enough without evidence?” Ourri asked.

  “It's true that Jacques hates the theory of conspiracy and believes this is just a minor grievance fashioned by Philip’s jealousy. But he will trust my word and he will act, he would never leave anything to chance. Get this back to De Nogaret in exactly the way you found it. See him at matins and make sure that he does not suspect anything out of place. Watch him carefully and be guarded yourself, we must not let them know that we are on to this.” Gerard sighed.

  “Get word to me of any developments but be vigilant Ourri, if you think there is the slightest danger to yourself then get out of there and to the Temple. I don’t want you taking any foolish risks, is that understood?” he finished sternly.

  “Of course, father.” Ourri said wrapping the document within the linen once more and slipping it back inside the satchel.

  “Again, make sure De Nogaret is not suspicious. We need them to believe we are ignorant of this document. We must try and get ahead of the game, if we are not already too late.”

  “But surely they cannot act without Clement’s approval?” Ourri said, clutching the document close against him.

  “Don’t assume anything. Unfortunately, Clement is weak and Philip is ruthless. I did not foresee a document of this manifold, we must expect the unexpected. Now go, and be safe my son.” Ourri nodded assuredly at his father and then speedily left the depraved premises. Gerard waited a few moments and drained the dregs of his cup. He stood, side stepped a toothless whore and left the inn, hastily making his way back to the Temple.

  21st September 1307, The Paris Temple, Paris

  “I have been lax, gentlemen.” De Molay sighed heavily. The Grand Master sat behind a large oak table in his private chambers at the Paris Temple surrounded by the Templar council. The council consisted of the hierarchy of the Templar brotherhood and present were Hugues de Pairaud, Visitor of France; Raimbaud de Caron, Grand Commander; Geoffroy de Charney, Commander of Normandy, Geoffroy de Gonneville, Commander of Aquitane-Poitou and Gerard de Villiers, Master of the Paris Temple who had already briefed the Grand Master several days before, after he had been shown the damning indictment by Ourri Venois.

  “No one could have predicted this, Jacques.” Hughes de Pairaud offered but De Molay merely looked at the visitor of France and shook his head.

  “My son has for years, and just last week Gerard warned me of the potential danger. I have been foolish and proud.”

  “I disagree,” Geoffroy de Charney said passionately, “we have a right to be proud and arrogant for Christ’s sake, look at what we’ve achieved. Philip is a slippery eel who was born to power, we built ours from the ground up. Everyone knows that Philip’s coffers are empty, he is greedy and pathetic –”

  “But unfortunately for us that makes him incredibly dangerous.” Gerard de Villiers interjected swiftly. “We have come under attack before and nothing has come of it because we’ve had the Pope’s support. But it has been difficult to gauge where Clement’s loyalty lies. I don’t trust him, he is an appeaser. He would reassure you one day, Jacques and then tell Philip what he wanted to hear the next. He will side with whom he thinks could do him the most damage and that is Philip. He lives in Boniface’s shadow and Philip has too much control over him, that and the strength of this document is where the danger lies.”

  “This document, that you briefly flicked your eyes over, sounds like a fanciful dossier with no real evidence to back it up!” De Charney spat.

  “There doesn’t have to be any evidence Geoffroy. It is all lies; it just needs supporters of those lies and there appear to be plenty.” Gerard rubbed his face in attempt to rid it of his concern.

  “Explain yourself Gerard.” Hugues de Pairaud said noting his look.

  “While briefly flicking through the indictment,” he paused and gave De Charney a stern look, “there were several of the accuser’s names that appeared familiar to me. The most disconcerting was that of Esquin de Floyran and several of his associates.”

  “De Floyran.” De Pairaud said recognizing the name and trying to place it.

  “Wasn’t he that animal who ran rampage in Acre, Gerard?” Raimbaud de Caron asked.

  “He was.” Gerard confirm, “Him and his associates brutally raped and murdered several women in Acre, preyed on them and got away with it until they were found out by Galeren de Massard. Surely it’s not been forgotten?”

  “Not so likely.” De Pairaud said assuredly, “It is just that I have not heard the name in such a long time and I thought Galeren had put an end to him.”

  “Well, yes and several of the others.” Gerard answered in a preoccupied tone.

  “You said some of his associates were named in De Nogaret’s indictment, are they synonymous to the men that Galeren slay? De Nogaret may be using the names of dead Templars, who would otherwise hold a grudge against the Temple, as chief accusers.” Raimbaud de Caron observed.

  “Possible,” Gerard said, “but the names of the men in the indictment are not the same as those that Galeren was said to have killed. Raymond Caradas, Huguard Parry, Armin de Merle and Botolf Wardard were all expelled, along with De Floyran and three others, in Acre on the eve of the battle.”

  Gerard paused and then continued. “As far as I know, the four I’ve named fled Acre before the siege began. Only Esquin and the other three remained and attempted to exact revenge on the city and the Temple during the battle. Galeren was sent to dispatch De Floyran. He killed him and his remaining three men. However, it is not impossible that De Floyran survived in the chaos and escaped only now to re-surface.”

  “And the other three?” Geoffroy de Gonneville, who had until this point had been quiet, asked.

  “I would think that they are dead, as their names would undoubtedly have surfaced in the indictment. If revenge is a dish best served cold then De Floyran is feasting on it, if the others were still alive they would want their revenge too, mark my word.”

  “Your memory for names is impressive Gerard.” The Grand Master said, but he had of course already heard all of this when he had spoken privately with De Villiers. He sighed heavily,

  “Well you have heard it brothers, five enemies of the Temple will speak against us an
d the testimonies of ex-Templars will hold weight. I am sure there are plenty of minor accusers as well to fan the flames, but these five cannot be ignored. De Nogaret has certainly done his work and De Floyran, if indeed it is the man himself, would take such an opportunity to destroy us. If he somehow survived Galeren’s sword, I imagine that the bitterness has eaten away at him over the years and now the prospect for revenge has presented itself.”

  “He would only denounce the Temple though, would he not?” Geoffroy de Gonneville asked concerned.

  “’Tis enough, brother.” De Molay answered.

  “Yes, but what I mean is . . . well he wouldn’t expose the truth of us would he?”

  “To his own detriment.” Raimbaud de Caron pointed out.

  “Don’t be so sure,” Gerard cautioned, “Esquin de Floyran may be a monster, but he is a clever one. I wouldn’t mind betting that that is exactly what he intends to do.”

  “What?” Geoffroy de Gonneville cried incredulously, “destroy his own race?”

  “He cares not for his race or for their good. He cares only for himself. He was never a brother, he is a brute that came into the Temple to spill blood, scrounge booty and pursue his barbaric pleasures veiled beneath our banner. He will secure impunity from Philip, fortune and lands and then he will destroy us. He can easily prove it.” Gerard said. De Gonneville put his head in his hands and groaned as if in pain.

  “This is all speculation, we have no idea what De Floyran’s intentions are or even if he is still alive.” De Charney said heatedly.

  “What more evidence do you need?” Gerard snapped at his peer.

  “More than hearsay and that is all we have.”

  “Hearsay? I’ve seen the damned indictment. Or do you think I am making this up, De Charney?” Gerard said standing up angrily. De Charney stood up to face him.

  “I think you are as prone to accept and heighten conspiracy theories as Galeren is, the slightest whiff of a –”

  “Enough!” De Molay cried out banging his fists on the table and standing up. Both De Villiers and De Charney immediately sat down and bowed their heads in respect of the authority of their master.

  “We do not need this bickering.” De Molay said sitting down again. “I understand your point Geoffroy, but Gerard is right.”

  De Charney curled his lips in displeasure and cast a scathing glance at Gerard who refused to react.

  “We cannot leave anything to chance.” De Molay continued. “It may be a storm in a tankard of ale but better we act to prevent disaster than let it decimate us. We know what is important and that is not our standing in the world, our authority, our buildings, our reputation or even our name. It is the race and the knowledge we have accumulated. We are united and the Temple did that, but we can remain united without the Temple guise.”

  “What are you suggesting?” De Charney said his face wild with bemusement. “That we just disappear?”

  “Exactly.” De Molay said hearing a stunned silence fall over the room. It was De Charney that broke it.

  “But you have criticized the very idea before now!”

  “Before, yes.” De Molay answered. “’Tis true that my son has often spoke of such a venture. A change, a new phase, believing we have the knowledge and wherewithal to start afresh somewhere new and somewhere far away from the influence of the Church that not only contradicts our purpose but forces us to suppress it and our true nature. Imagine the horror of the papacy if they knew the truth; imagine their swift and brutal retribution. We dance too close to the fire, brothers. I would not see us consumed by it.”

  “But how can we just disappear?” said De Charney.

  “Quietly.” De Molay answered.

  “What is your thinking Jacques?” Hugues de Pairaud asked.

  “First, know that I have had this news for several days, so while waiting for us to assemble I have had time to digest it. I have not slept for thinking of a viable solution. It is risky and may be to the detriment of some of us but there must be sacrifice for the good of the race.”

  The men of the council looked at each other solemnly, all fearing of what he was about speak.

  “If we run they will follow and if our secret is unveiled they will hunt us to the ends of the Earth, for they will view us as nothing other then the Devil’s disciples. The Church will feel betrayed, violated and will need to make an example to divert their embarrassment, whether the rest of the world knows it or not. We must survive but not as Templars.

  If they wish to destroy us then we must make them think they have or at least the most important among us. If De Floyran denounces us he will want the hierarchy destroyed, he will tell them of our infrastructure and so many of our number, those not of the race, I believe will survive. The future of our race lies with our youth. We must get our women and children safely away and our most precious possessions. Gerard will choose as many of our men as possible and take the fleet out of La Rochelle.”

  “What?” De Charney gulped, “he can’t move the whole fucking fleet, and what of that in Marseilles? Where are they going to port?”

  “They are not all going to port.”

  “What are you saying Jacques?” Hugues de Pairaud asked steadily.

  “The best busses and smaller sailing warships will be kept, twenty or so, those we lease can be reclaimed, the rest of the best can be sold and we’ll leave the most worthless ships at port for the King to claim.” De Molay shook his head. It was with regret that they would have to sell much of their fleet but they could not remove it in its entirety without alerting their enemies and the rest of the Temple to the threat. The human Templars would have to be left to ride the storm.

  “Sell them?” De Charney said incredulously, “you cannot sell our ships! What if nothing comes of this indictment or inquiry?”

  “I know what is at stake. We have to try and sell as many as possible without rousing suspicion.”

  “Without rousing suspicion? You think selling half the Templar fleet won’t look suspicious?” De Charney spat.

  “It won’t be a public event De Charney,” Gerard interjected irritably and then checked himself and continued calmly, “it will be executed carefully. We haven’t the manpower to move the entire fleet, not of the race anyway and besides we cannot tell the entirety of the Temple the potential threat. It won’t work any other way. We must move small and fast.”

  “And if nothing comes of it?” Hugues de Pairaud asked evenly.

  “Then we’ll have a smaller fleet. I pray that is the outcome given the alternative we face. If so we will have kept the best vessels and can again lease what more we need. I daresay we will need more galleys if a new crusade is launched but if not then the loss is negligible.”

  De Charney sighed as Hugues de Pairaud looked intently at the Grand Master and then nodded his agreement.

  “And what of the treasury?” Geoffroy de Gonneville asked.

  “Gerard will take some of it, but leave part for Philip. If and when he comes to claim it I want the bastard disappointed, not fucking rich. I have sent a letter to Pierre d’Aumont with similar instruction regarding our ships in the Mediterranean. What remains of the fleet and treasury will be taken to England, to land at Dunwich and ports to be decided upon, on the East coast. I don’t want the fleet suddenly turning up in Bristol or Dover for reasons apparent.

  Gerard will send word to Bertrand le Roux at Bruer and William de la Fenne and Galeren at Faxfleet. Their guidance will be sought and they will watch France carefully. It will be their council that will decide the future of our race. The rest of us will carry on our duties as if oblivious to the plot and we will ride the tide.”

  “Galeren?” De Charney spat.

  “Shut up Geoffroy!” De Molay shouted, “I trust Galeren’s judgement, he has spoken of new beginnings for years and I am confident that he has a practical way of implementing such. England is the safest haven for us at present.” He looked around the council intently and then said, “If any of you opp
ose this idea then let it be heard now.” He looked at everyone again and as he did each shook their heads slowly to show that they were in agreement.

  “Good. I know we have had little time to ponder or discuss this but the indictment was taken to Philip several days ago and he could strike within the hour.”

  “Won’t he seek Clement’s approval first?” Geoffroy de Gonneville asked. “He cannot act without the pope’s direction, it would be illegal.”

  “If Boniface were Pope I would not be worried but Gerard is right, Clement is like to bend to Philip’s will and as I have said before we cannot take that chance. Better to act and be wrong than be lax and be crushed. I have chosen Gerard for this task because he is a good seaman, and is well known in England and to Le Roux and Galeren. Not to mention his mind, which seems to be stored full of useful information. Pierre d’Aumont too is an able seaman and like Gerard, with no disrespect, will not be so readily sought as the rest of the high council.

  Others who could not be here have been briefed with letters, their only instruction being to carry on as usual. If any arrests occur they will happen in France first. Brothers in other parts of Europe can decide on their own course of action if we are arrested. Some of us may be sacrificed if our worst fears are realized, but as keepers of our race we must ensure that our knowledge, our progress, our children and the brotherhood we have built strong over the past two centuries survives beyond us. I for one am prepared to sacrifice my flesh and blood for the good of that.”

  “And I.” Hugues de Pairaud said resolutely. The rest of the council joined him crying out passionately in agreement and De Molay felt a weight lifted from him.

  “If nothing comes of this, I want our treasured possessions placed in New Temple, London. I will never trust the French King again because of this strike he has made against us. Then perhaps together we can decide on the future of the Temple as it stands now. I have been guilty of apathy these last years, pinning hopes on a new crusade but events over the last few months and indeed the last few days have challenged my thinking. If we are not struck down by existing events then we will be eventually.”

  De Molay arranged six cups on the table and taking the flagon full of wine that had sat there throughout the meeting, he poured from it until each cup was full. He then took the cups and gave one to each of his peers and when they each held one the Grand Master raised his own cup for a toast.

  “To our future,” he said.

  “Our future,” the council echoed and drank deep.

  Chapter Eight