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THE TEMPLAR BOOK By GENEVA In early 14th century France, as part of his plan for revenge on a rival family for the destruction of his own family, a young man tries to use a magic book saved from the destruction of the Knights Templar. There are some unexpected results. START The time is the early 1300's. I remember that afternoon when I met my uncle and this started. I was practicing close quarter fighting with my friend Jean. Both of us were armed with wooden swords, and they were not really dangerous, but more than once on previous times, when we were tired and tempers became hot, we had given the other bruises, sometimes minor, sometimes a little more. My mother had never got over her concern and eventually she had persuaded my father to order Old Pierre, our instructor, to make sure we put padding on our bodies and wrap cloths round our heads. I wanted one of us to wind it round the top of his head like a turban and pretend to be a Moor fighting against a Christian knight, but we couldn't agree who should be who. At last we had to break off. We were both exhausted. Besides, my arms and legs had not had any protection and hurt from several good blows Jean had landed. At least I had landed some good ones on him as well. Both of us were covered in sweat and dust. Old Pierre was grinning at us and encouraging, or more often taunting, both of us. "All right, probably enough practice now for you striplings!" I heard. It was my father, and Old Pierre reluctantly ordered us to stop. Still, as our instructor in arms and weapons, he would have us at it again the next day. My father looked me up and down. "Marcel, you are growing. I think, maybe, we can soon get you started wearing some adult's armor. Time that you got used to it!" I flushed with pleasure. My father was Abelard deChallonard, Lord of Montfornier Castle and its surrounding lands. I was his eldest son, almost fourteen. My two brothers were much younger than me. I also had two sisters, one older and the other two years younger. I would be my father's heir and, in time, lord of these lands. "Anyway, Marcel. It will soon be time for supper. Go and wash the dust off, the sweat too. Otherwise you'll smell like a goat!" He looked at Jean. " Jean, your father is not back yet so you should come and eat with us too." Jean was the son of Henri Boudreau, a sergeant-at-arms for my father and head of the castle guard. He was often away on business for my father, checking on the outlying areas to make sure the peasants were contented, yes, and their safety. Jean's mother had died in childbirth when he was small and Henri had not remarried. There was a sudden blast of a warning trumpet from the battlements. My father looked up, startled. "What is it?" he shouted to the sentry. The sentry called down." It is a rider, my lord, I think he is alone." My father ran up the stairs to the battlements, Jean and I following. "There, my lord," the lookout pointed. "A man on horseback, coming through the trees just beyond the mill. He's heading this way." I saw my father cautiously scan the road and the rest of the countryside. "Yes, I think you're right. He's alone. Still, we should be careful." I could see no other people with the rider either but my father called out and a few of our men-at-arms ran out from the guardhouse, buckling on their swords and donning their helmets. Then, as the mounted man got nearer, I heard my father snort with pleasure, and he visibly relaxed. "Let down the drawbridge! Lift the portcullis and open the door!" he called." Ahh, let's go down, Marcel," he cried. "Someone I want you to meet!" We watched as the knight, which was what he was, guided his warhorse across the drawbridge. His surcoat was impressive, white with a red cross and his shield bore the same emblem. Even I knew that it was the insignia of a Knight Templar. As he dismounted my father strode to him and embraced him. The two men slapped each other on the back. "Oh, good to see you, Abelard," said the Templar. "Yes, and to see you, Anselm. You are welcome here." The knight stretched, as if to work out some stiffness. "I sometimes think I am getting too old to spend days in the saddle. I am on an errand for the order, yes, and I could have stayed at some Templar's houses on my journey, but I thought I would take time to make a detour to see my family. You are all I have, except for the Order." My father beckoned me. "Marcel, come here. It is years since you saw this knight last. This is your uncle Anselm. He has been away for years. He is a Templar. He has been in the east defending the church and pilgrims." Anselm grinned ruefully. "Well, not quite!" He was suddenly more serious and he sighed. "No, we have been pushed from the Holy Land and there are no more crusades planned yet as far as I know, so we cannot do much. Still, those days may come back. "But enough of that! Marcel, I last saw you oh, ten years ago. Now look at you! What are you now? Thirteen? And you have been practicing at arms! Excellent! You will need the warriors' skills." He rubbed his hand affectionately over my tousled hair, still damp from perspiration. My mother had run out from the kitchen area to join us. "Anselm!" she cried out." Oh, how many years since we saw you? Please, you are welcome to stay with us. You must tell us about the world outside and where you have been." It turned out that Anselm was on his way to Paris. Some Knights Templar had been called there to discuss some concerns of their order. I was in awe of the Templars. They were well known and respected as defenders of Christianity and pilgrims and their exploits were legendary. At dinner that night I listened spellbound as he told us of Paris, Rome, Constantinople and the other lands. "Please," I said." Uncle Anselm, could I become a Templar like you?" I saw my father and mother flinch while Abelard looked at me with just a trace of sadness. "That depends, Marcel. You see, it means giving up your family. Also, I am warrior, but a warrior monk. I cannot marry, and it is my duty to go where I am sent." Being married or not did not concern me. "But you travel to exotic lands! You have seen Rome, and Constantinople!" "Ah, Marcel, but you must think of your family. You are the heir here. You will succeed your father to eventually become lord here. It is your first duty to strive to defend your family and your lands and to attend to the welfare of all the peasants and artisans here. But also, you must fulfill your duties as a loyal subject of King Philip! But remember, your family is important. It will be your duty to defend them like your father does. "But you see, for me, I was his younger brother. I would not inherit anything and I chose to make my life as a warrior in the service of the church." What he said did not concern me at that time, but I sat and listened to the adults as they talked. "Do you know what the Templar plans are for the future?" asked my father. "Oh, I am fairly low down in the Order's hierarchy, so I am not privy to much planning for any future invasions or campaigns. "Unfortunately we have been driven from most of our holdings in the Holy Land, and even the islands that would have served as a springboard for further expeditions. I think too that there is now less appetite in Christendom for further crusades. But we serve the Church well. Perhaps we can be used to defend it here in Europe. It has come about too that people find the Templar organization a reliable way of transferring money. That will help trade develop in Christendom. "Kings too find that they can borrow from us. That will help in the stability of regimes. For instance, King Philip is much in our debt." My father gave a sad shake of his head. "Yes, kings and other rulers have an appetite for money. They find it difficult to cut their expenditures. King Philip is said to have extravagant ways. But the Templars should be careful. The king was greatly in the debt of Jewish moneylenders. His solution? Expel them! The King has not learned thrift. Even I, lord of only a small domain, know that I have to be careful to be economical. So, are the Templars not concerned that the Kings will renege on what they owe?" "I think his Holiness the Pope knows our value, and his influence will keep the king in check." My father nodded in agreement. "Yes, I suppose I am too cynical. So Anselm, what are you going to Paris for?" "There have been some suggestions that our order be combined with that of the Knights Hospitaler. I am going along as an aide to a delegate of the Templars." He shook his head and laughed. "No, I'm not that important, just one of many Templars." "Do you think that will happen? "Each of the orders has its own ideas and entrenched hierarchy, so we shall see. There are other factors too. Some of the purely monastic orders, like the Dominicans, are jealous of our power and influence and intrigue against us. Perhaps by uniting we can resist them better." "But are they not all in the service of the church, and should work together?" I broke in. I saw my father look startled, then give a cynical shake of his head. "Yes, Marcel," said my uncle. "You are right but, how shall I say? Different people take different views of what is important, and many look to their own influence first." "Just tell those above you in the Templar hierarchy to be careful," said my father. "I have heard complaints about the Templars. I think they are mainly driven by jealousy as the Templars have special privileges, and they are wealthy. Some people think they are arrogant." Anselm sighed. " Yes, I suppose so. Some members of our order are too full of their own importance. But brother, enough of me, how is it here with you and your family?" "The estate and lands do well, but I try to be frugal, and careful too. Unfortunately we still have some trouble with a neighbor, Hugh deVersigny. You remember there was a land dispute in our father's time and the lands were awarded to us? Hugh chafes at this and he has been a fractious neighbor. He still covets our lands." My uncle frowned. "Well, Anselm, maintain your guard. They are a powerful family. Isn't it a younger a brother of his who became a Dominican monk? There was a sister too. I think she married into some minor nobility." He barely suppressed a yawn. "But, brother, you will excuse me. I have had a very long day's travel and I feel as if I will fall asleep. I apologize. But I would welcome a bed." "Anselm, you can stay here as long as you wish," my mother said." I have had the servants prepare a bed for you next to Marcel." "Marguerite, my dear sister-in-law, I thank you but, pleasant as this has been, I must attend to my duties, and that means to continue my journey tomorrow." The family lined up as my uncle Anselm prepared to leave in the morning. I was in awe of this noble warrior. In his Templar surcoat and the device on his shield he looked magnificent astride his horse, although it was not a warhorse, only a palfrey, better suited for casual travel. He had told me that his favorite destrier was stabled in the Templar quarters at Rouen. He embraced us all and waved as he went over the drawbridge .I ran to the topmost battlements and waved to him as he disappeared on the Paris road. We heard no more for two years. Life was fairly placid in our estate. My mother had another son, while I grew closer to manhood. As my strength increased Old Pierre introduced Jean and I to the crossbow and after a week I could easily shoot a man's profile from fifty paces, but I scorned its use. "I will be a knight," I protested. " I am a noble! I will do my fighting on horseback, with sword or axe or mace." He looked at m severely."Master Marcel, it is in your interests to be cautious of a crossbow. Know its danger! Its bolts can pierce armor. With it even a peasant could kill a king!" Otherwise I practiced almost all the skills a warrior might need, but my father introduced me more and more into running our estates. We had a seneschal, Pierre Allard, who looked after much of the administration, but my father insisted that I be prepared to run things myself, and also to have the skills to check accounts so he had insisted that I to learn to read and write and count. I chafed at these. It was time spent that would be better put to learning weapons, tactics and fighting but I obeyed my father. He even made me sit in on some of his courts while he dealt with squabbles and other matters with the peasants and other workers in his domain. More and more he asked me my thoughts on cases. If he agreed with me he commended me. If he did not he explained his own reasons. We heard little of events outside, and what we did hear, as my father said, were 'rumors, lies, innuendo and misinformation, with perhaps a grain of truth hidden in them'. We did at one point get a message from King Philip to be prepared to send men to Paris as he was thinking of a war with the English, but nothing came of it. Then, in the spring, we had another visit from my uncle, but this time he was not in his Templars' surcoat, He looked like a plain knight. He even had a different emblem on his shield. Then, examining it more closely, I saw it was a variant of my own family's coat-of -arms. My father again welcomed him effusively, and again presented the family to him. Anselm's eyes lit up when he saw me. "Marcel, you are now grown!" "Yes, and able to do a man's work." "Well, Marcel, in these times it will be needed." He kissed my mother on the cheek and greeted all of my brothers and sisters. He especially made a fuss of my youngest brother, now one year old and beginning to make his first steps. He had been named Anselm after him. "So what brings you this way again?" asked my father, "and where is your Templar surcoat?" Anselm's face grew troubled. "Abelard, I thought it better for me not to display it. These are not good times for the Templars. Accusations are being hatched against the order. Enemies are spreading the rumor that we have been engaged in heretical and blasphemous practices." My father was absolutely shocked. "Surely that is wrong!" But he laughed. "You need have no fear! His Holiness the Pope will not stand for that! Who makes these accusations?" "Actually it is King Philip who does. He has had the master of the order, DeMolay imprisoned and I have no doubt he is being questioned. Others in the hierarchy too." My father shuddered. "Questions are usually put under torture," he said quietly. "Yes," said my uncle, grimacing, "and we know the outcome of that! Few men can stand up to torture for long. So, brother, I am on my way to our house in Rouen. I have been sent to warn the Templars there to be on guard. "As for Pope Clement, I do not think he can save us. He has bowed to pressure from Philip and even sent out word for all the kings in Christendom to arrest Templars and confiscate all of our properties and goods. I only just avoided being arrested in Paris and I have come to warn the others. I think what will happen, unless the king relents, is that the order will be dissolved." I was appalled. "What can you do?" I cried. "Very little, Marcel. I will be imprisoned or worse unless I can escape, and where would I go anyway? I would not be not safe in almost any of the European countries. Their kings are too much under the influence of the pope and, as a Templar who fought against Muslims, I cannot go to any further country. These are all Muslim. If I was arrested, like all of the other Templars, I will be tortured into a confession and then? It will be the penalty for blasphemy and heresy." I shuddered. That could involve burning at the stake. "We could hide you," my father offered. "Thank you, brother, but I hope it will not come to that. Also, the word could get out that you are sheltering me. Then you and your family too would be in danger. Yes, I will try to hide, but in some place where I would be alone, hopefully unnoticed, but first, it is my duty to warn the others in Rouen, and there are some things we have to do to protect ourselves if there is any scrutiny of our doings." "Things to do? Protect? How do you mean?" asked my father. My uncle searched for words. "Abelard, you must believe me. No Templars that I know have been involved in any blasphemy, heresy, or witchcraft in the least. Nor have I heard of any, except from our enemies! We have tried to serve the nations of Christendom well. Yes, we have wealth and perhaps some of us have been a little too concerned with money and power, but that is all. No more than most!" He hesitated. "But, there is one thing. We have a library with old books that the Templars have collected over the years since our founding. Some of our order have been interested in ancient works, and some of these old documents contain occult matter." He made a wry face. "Yes, I know, that is frowned on for Christians, but Templars have sought out all sorts of knowledge. Some of these books are supposed to have magic spells or recipes for potions. Some are treatises on astrology, healing, physick or alchemy. Many of these could be misinterpreted and could provide weapons for our enemies. So, they must be destroyed or hidden so that our enemies do not get them to use against us." He looked round at all of us. "You are my family now. But I have delayed too long. I must be on my way, but may I beg some food from you." "But you must rest for a night!" cried my mother. "I am sorry Marguerite, but I have to get to Rouen. God be with you all." We gave him some bread, a piece of roast meat, cheese and wine and he set off again. My father's face was furrowed with worry. He shook his head. " To think the Templars were so powerful, and now fallen." The very next day my father received an emissary from the king, essentially confirming what my uncle had said and forbidding my father or any in his lands to give any help to Templars. In fact if my father found any Templars he was ordered to arrest them and send them to Paris under guard. At dark, three nights later, we had just finished supper when our guard came to my father. "My lord, there is a man at the portcullis. He wishes to see you." I hurried with my father to the gate and we saw a shrouded figure on a pony, just over the drawbridge. I immediately recognized the figure as my uncle, but my father put his hand on my shoulder. "Hush, Marcel, there are eyes and ears everywhere. Let me do the talking. Say nothing!" He looked at the rider. "Yes, stranger, what can I do for you?" He spoke loudly. My uncle spoke in a deliberate croak. "Please, my lord, I am a humble traveller. It will be cold tonight and I beg some shelter." "You may come in, stranger," and my father dismissed the guard. He hurried my uncle inside out of view. This time in the light, I was shocked at my uncle's appearance. He had removed his cloak and I saw his arm was bandaged with a dirty cloth. When he unwrapped it I saw it was a deep wound and fiery red, a bad sign. My father drew in his breath. "You are injured!" he said. "Yes, some of the king's men came to arrest us. I escaped, but not unharmed, as you can see. I must tell you that all of my fellow Templars at Rouen have been arrested. It happened just as I arrived there so I hid, and was able to escape with only a minor fight. Hopefully there will be nothing against the other Templars knights other than what the torturers make them confess to. That will be bad enough. We have burned many of our records and all our library of old books, but I saved one book that I thought was too valuable to be destroyed. It is a book of spells, and we have found that these work, in contrast to anything else that I know. That book has a spell that will help me now." My mother drew her breath in horror." Spells? That is witchcraft! " she cried. "You must destroy it!" "But we use it for healing," my uncle said. "We use it for good works. I do not think that should be called witchcraft." "Healing should be done by prayer," my father said. "Yes, and faith." My uncle gave a wry smile, changing to a wince of pain." Perhaps, but this book is as effective as prayer. In fact I must use it now. I should have used it before on this wound but I did not have time to stop." He opened his bag and rummaged inside. "Here is the book." I don't know what I was expecting, but it was nothing special to look at, a small book, with a yellow hide cover, and badly kept, by its appearance. "That does not look very impressive! " My father looked skeptical, taking it and flicking through the pages. "It's in bad condition." "No, it has been badly looked after and it looks as if it is fairly old, but it works! Now, the part that I need will be on the sixth page, if my memory serves. Ah, yes." He laid the book down and, peering at it, started reading a passage. My father and mother looked at each other. The words made no sense. Certainly they were like no language I had ever heard. It did not take long. My uncle laid the book down and studied his wound. Suddenly he winced as if with sudden pain, but his face relaxed almost as suddenly. "You can watch!" he said. I had seen deep wounds before, and knew that they took weeks or months to heal properly but, as I watched, the angry redness faded. The skin on each side drew together and knitted. Finally, all that was left was a faint whitish scar line. It had only taken minutes. My uncle flexed his arm. "Almost as good as new! I last used that spell in Sicily." "That is amazing," said my father, "but I can see it is dangerous. The Church would destroy it." "Maybe they would only destroy those who have it. And then, if they got hold of it, they'd use it for their own purposes! That and the other spells in the book." "There are more?" "Yes, to make birthmarks fade, to help in difficult childbirths, to fix club feet. Many things to heal injuries and fevers and heal people, and some others." "Where did it come from? I do not recognize any of the words." "I do not know, brother. It is said that one of the Templars picked it up years ago, just east of Constantinople. That may be just a rumor." "You say it has a spell, that helps in childbirth?" asked my mother. She spoke the word 'spell' distastefully. "Yes, I did." "Marianne, the wife of one Guillaume- he is a soldier in the castle guard-is expecting imminently. Her waters broke just before you came. I think it may be twins and the poor woman is quite small. Would it be possible to use the book to help her?" "I don't know." My uncle gave a faint smile. "The Templars were warriors, but monks too, and pregnant women were, shall I say, not common in their houses! Still we can try. But to protect you, my dear sister-in law, you dare not let it be known that you used a spell! It would be better if you disguised it as part of a proper Christian prayer. Obviously I cannot go to the woman, but here, this is the spell." He flicked through the pages. "Yes this one. Just sound out the words and it should work." I knew Guillaume quite well. He had often helped Old Pierre give Jean and I lessons in fighting and arms. My mother took the book and hurried out. She returned two hours later, a look of satisfaction and wonder on her face. "Anselm, I thank you. The woman should thank you too, and her twin daughters. She was having a terrible time. I am surprised that you did not hear her screams, but I sent the midwife to get some more water and a blanket then I read out the spell, or I should say I sounded it out. I do not recognize the language, or even if it is a language. In a minute her screams were much less, she gave strong pushes and the two babies were delivered, one within minutes of the other. And all are healthy. "Yes, Anselm, that book should definitely be preserved. It has the potential to do much good." My father stroked his beard. "All well and good, but now, Anselm, have you decided what to do? Where you can go?" "I have been thinking. I think just about anyplace in Christendom is unsafe, but the king of Scotland was excommunicated by the pope for murdering an enemy in a church." My father gasped in horror at the terrible blasphemous act. Even I knew how serious it was. "Yes, so possibly he would no longer be too fussy about obeying decrees from Rome. Also, France and Scotland are allies of a sort. They have a common potential enemy in England. I may be able to bribe the captain of some boat to smuggle me there. Perhaps my military knowledge would come in handy to the Scots in their struggles against the English." My father shook his head. "Scotland? It is quite a bit north. I have heard it is a cold damp country, and very poor. Besides, the Scottish king has only scattered forces and the English control most of the castles. If the Scots become too much of a nuisance the English King Edward will invade and crush them. He has done so in the past." "Yes, I have heard that too, but it would be a refuge of sorts at least for a time, although very risky. Perhaps when King Philip's terror has run its course it would be safe for me to return to France. "Now, the book, if I were to be captured, it would be dangerous to be found with a book like that. Can I leave it here for safekeeping? Would you be willing to hide it?" My father's eyes opened wide. "I ... I think that would be unwise. If we were ever suspected...." But my mother took his arm. "Abelard, we are the only ones who know about it. We can hide it easily, There are many alcoves in a castle to hide it. Yes, Anselm, we will do that." My father reluctantly accepted what my mother said. He thought for a bit. "Why don't you set out for the coast, maybe to Honfleur or some other port to see if there is any captain will risk taking you to Scotland. I think, though, that you should not travel alone," He looked at me. "Marcel, that would be a task for you. We have done some trading in the past to the coast. No one would think it odd." "But he would be alone coming back," my mother protested. "Yes, in these times it may be risky. All right, I tell you, take your friend Jean with you. He is a sturdy young man." I could hardly contain my excitement and pride. I was being entrusted with a man's job. I knew Jean would be pleased too. So the next day, my uncle, Jean and I set off to the coast. It would take about two days' journey. On the way we passed through Rouen. My uncle pointed out where the Templar's house was, but when we rode past the building was open and derelict. It looked as if it had been looted and burned. A man standing by it looked us. "Wondering what has happened?" "Yes, the building looks wrecked." "It was owned by the heretic Templars. The king's men came to arrest them all. It was left unprotected and a mob plundered it looking for Templar gold. There was no gold there so in their rage they set it on fire. I think the king's men may have encouraged them." I looked at my uncle. His face looked very concerned but he said nothing. Just a little further on we stopped at an inn for the night. After a meal we sat with some ale. "I had hoped," he said, "that there might have been something of the Templar organization left in Rouen, but I see all is gone. I think I am right to seek refuge away from France." We reached Honfleur two days later and immediately began to check the boats in the harbor. Most were only small fishing boats, but two larger ones would be able to take cargoes. My uncle carefully enquired about a voyage to Scotland. One captain absolutely refused to consider it but another was willing, for quite a bit of money, to risk the passage across the sea and up the English coast to Scotland. We had just finished bargaining with the captain when I felt my uncle flinch. He drew me away suddenly." Captain, I will speak with you later," and he hurried Jean and I behind a corner. "Uncle, what is it? "I just saw a man. He knows me, and unfortunately he is an enemy. He is a brother of Hugh deVersigny, one of your neighbors. He was christened Charles, but now calls himself Joseph, brother Joseph. He is a member of the Dominican Order and I know he has the ear of the king on the Templar's supposed ill-doings. In fact he may be one of those that fans the flames of the king's hatred of the Templars." "Another deVersigny is he? And he is a brother of the one who has made claim to Montfornier and its lands? What is the Dominican doing here?" "Probably looking for people like me, supposed heretics! He will be checking to see that none escape from France. We must be careful. Come back to the tavern and we will keep out of sight." Back at the tavern he took the taverner aside and passed over a gold piece. "Master taverner, I would prefer that no one know we are here. There is another gold piece for you if we are not disturbed by anyone looking for us." The taverner gave a sly look but winked at us. The following day he came to our room. "Yes, masters, you should know there were a group of men came to the tavern. They left a few minutes ago. They were asking about any strangers, especially any Templars. But I told them I hadn't seen anyone like that. " He smiled. "All I see here are common people, travellers." We waited nervously for another day, then my uncle gave the taverner another piece of gold. "Thank you, master taverner. We are very grateful. " Still, we were careful when we again made our way to the docks. The captain looked relieved when he saw us. "Ah sir," he called, "I had almost given up hope of seeing you again. We have finished loading and I was about to set sail. The tide will be right in a few hours, are you ready to leave?" My uncle embraced us. "It is now time I leave you. Thank you, Marcel. Thank you Jean. Perhaps I will see you again when this has settled." With a last hurried embrace he boarded, the boat cast off its mooring ropes and began to move away from the dock. We watched as it until it had almost left the harbor and we were about to turn to make our way back home when I gave a gasp. A warship had appeared at the entrance to the harbour and was obviously stopping the boat with my uncle. As we watched horrified, It escorted the boat back in to the docks. Jean took my arm. "Marcel, this does not look good. We should hide!" We watched from a doorway as the boats docked and I saw men board the smaller vessel, and reappear with my uncle bound with ropes. A black robed monk confronted him. I recognized him as the Dominican who my uncle had warned us about. Someone must have betrayed my uncle. I resisted Jean's attempts to pull me away and watched as my uncle was set on a horse, still bound, and taken away by some soldiers. Jean must have felt my tension. "Marcel, there is nothing we can do. We should look to ours own safety." I shook my head. "We must be sure. We can follow them." We ran to the stable, retrieved our horses, and followed the men at a distance. At a fork they took the Paris road and that was enough to confirm that my uncle was being taken there for interrogation. I shuddered when I thought of the torture then I had the horrible realization that he might let slip the existence of the magic book. If he did so own family might be in danger. We hurried home as fast as we could. My father listened gravely to what I told him. "We shall just have to wait. If the King's forces and that Dominican appear here we will have to see what they say and ask. We will be completely open and let them search the castle if necessary. We will deny all except our hospitality. After all, he is my brother. " We were lucky. No one from the king appeared at the castle but we eventually heard terrible news. Dozens of the Templars had been burned alive as heretics in Paris, and it was rumored that the master, DeMolay, was still in prison. Eventually we saw a list of those executed. I was with my father and I felt him tense as he read it. "Dear God," he muttered. He pointed. One was my uncle's name. Fortunately we were still left alone and we began to relax. But it was then a fever began to spread through the countryside. It had started in the south and gradually spread northwards. Those affected became fevered, then covered with a red rash. About half of those who were affected died with in days. Some were weakened and later died over the winter months. I was with my mother and father as they discussed it. "We must think of ourselves, yes, but the poor peasants too. Is there nothing we can do?" asked my mother. "The priest prays every night for those afflicted," said my father. "I am not sure if it helps," muttered my mother. "Abelard, we have that book from Anselm. I wonder if it has anything that would help? It helped that woman in childbirth." My father grimaced. "But it is magic, forbidden and dangerous!" "I do not want people to suffer!" said my mother quietly. She went off and in a few minutes reappeared with the book. My father was horrified. "Woman, be careful what you are about to do!" Ignoring him she opened it and searched through the pages. "It is a strange book," she said. "The left hand pages have descriptions in both French and Latin. The facing pages, the letters are Roman, but the sounds of the words make no sense. "There is all sorts of stuff here!" she said, turning over the pages. "Ahh, this must have been the one Abelard used when he was wounded, " She turned over more pages. "I wonder if this one would work? It says it will reduce fevers." She stared at the book in thought. "Yes, I must try this. It may be the way to save these people. The family of one of the servants is ill. I will try it with them first." I could see my father's concern, but there was nothing I could do. My mother returned an hour later, an expression of wonder on her face. "It worked, just like the one I tried for the woman in childbirth! I was just in time. Their mother was strong enough but her two children were very weak. Another hour or so and I think they would have died. I recited the spell to them all and within five minutes the rash began to fade and just a few minutes ago they were walking about. I must use it on others." "You realize there is a problem?" asked my father. " Where do you stop? You can cure those who are ill, but there are score round about, there must be tens of thousands in France alone. Then, the more you cure, the more likely it is that the word will get out about this spell book. This is magic! The church would be certain to find it out and, regardless of any good you did, they would suppress it. We would be in danger as suspected witches. And you know the penalty for that." I thought back to my uncle's execution. My mother thought for a bit. "It is a terrible dilemma. But I know that I am doing good. I know, I will persuade the priest come to all who are ill and say some prayer! Then, after he is out of earshot, I will recite the spell. I will limit it to our friends and neighbors." My mother had an unforeseen opportunity to use the book again. The very next day two of my sisters and I fell ill with the fever. The rash had barely appeared when my mother took us together and read out the spell. I had been filled with aches, but in less than an hour I was up and running about, the same with my sisters. In two weeks the worst of the epidemic had passed. All of our servants and guards who had the spell read to them survived. Among other villagers there were many deaths. It was noticed by the local bishop and I was amused that our priest had noticed it too. As these were the people he had recited prayers over, he began giving himself airs about his healing powers. My mother encouraged him to think that way. My mother used an alcove in her room to hide the book, but one time she inadvertently left it out and I was finally able to have a close look at it. It was as she had said. Some parts were in Latin with a French translation, but other parts were incomprehensible. All of the letters were in the Latin alphabet but when I sounded one of the spells out, the sounds made absolutely no sense. My uncle had said that a Templar had obtained it near Constantinople, but the words were not Greek either. Then, to the end, I saw four astonishing spells. One said it would make a man into a beautiful woman! Another would make a woman into a man, and there were spells to use people to change back. I was reading them when my mother suddenly came in and found me. She was horrified. "Marcel, these are dangerous, " she almost screamed. "You didn't read any out loud, did you?" I shook my head, surprised by the look of relief on her face. "But mother, these last spells. What would they be used for?" She struggled to find words, as if reluctant to tell me anything. "I have no idea. If I guess, I could only say that sometimes a man could disguise himself as a woman, for spying. Perhaps to escape from some situation? Maybe it is the same with the spell that makes a woman into a man. I suppose that is why there are spells to reverse the effects and change people back." She took my hands and looked at me. " Now Marcel, I was careless to leave this book out. One of the servants might have seen it. I will hide it away. You must promise not to read it again!" She kissed me. "Marcel, you are my eldest son. I am happy with that. I do not want you as a daughter!" But things were to change within that week. We woke one morning to see armed forces ranged in front of the castle. "What is this?" My father said, mystified. But then he saw the banners of our neighbor Hugh deVersigny and soon a herald approached with a white flag. "What is the meaning of this?" my father called from the battlements. "It is an order from the King, " said the herald. "Then what are Hugh deVersigny's forces doing here?" "They are here to do the king's bidding. I have a message." "What do you want?" "Let me in and I will give you the message." The portcullis was cautiously lowered and the herald rode over. It was quickly raised again behind him. "I bear an order from King Philip," said the herald. "Your lands are forfeit to Hugh deVersigny." "What? On what grounds." My father was incredulous. The herald passed him a scroll. My father's lips pursed when he saw the King's seal on the document. He broke the seal, unrolled the scroll and read the contents. "We are accused of harboring a heretic in the past. It must have been my brother." "What can we do?" My mother was crying. "I will have to go to Paris, to speak to King Philip and plead our case. I have served him loyally in the past. Surely he will overturn this." "We should resist them, fight them off!" I cried. My father shook his head. We might be able to resist deVersigny, but him alone. If he has the ear of the king, then he could get help from the king and we cannot resist these forces. No, I must plead with the king." He spoke to the herald. "Tell your master that I will appeal to King Philip. He must allow me to pass to go to Paris." But word came back from deVersigny that he would accept nothing but surrender. My father would not be allowed to pass. My father held a council with Jean's father Henri, my mother and me. "We have to get someone to Paris to plead our case. I am needed here, but Marcel, that is another task for you. I think we can smuggle you out. There is a passage from our dungeons under the moat that leads to a rocky ravine. You could get out there and make for Paris. Unfortunately, you would have to go on foot as the passage is not big enough for a horse. You must hurry to Paris, get an audience with the king and, God willing, get an order from him for deVersigny to lift his siege." ?"But Marcel cannot go alone," said my mother. "That is not safe, just one person on foot." Henri broke in. "Sire, he should take Jean with him again. They are good friends and Jean is well trained in arms, thanks to Old Pierre. They have travelled together before. Anyway, it is his duty to accompany and protect one who will eventually be his lord." "Thank you, Henri," my father said. "I am fortunate to have such loyal servants." ?I could see my mother's knuckles were white with tension, but it was the best plan. Jean and I prepared to set off the next day. My mother fussed as usual, but when she was not looking my father took me aside. "Marcel, There is a possibility that deVersigny will attack us soon. Our forces are weak and we may no be able to hold out. "There is that magic book. Your mother thinks that it could be hidden safely in the castle in a nook, but I am not so sure. If the castle was captured and it was found, it could lead to serious allegations against all of us. I dare not take that risk. So you should take the book with you. Keep it hidden. If all goes well then you can bring it back with you." ?"But won't you need it to heal battle wounds if you are attacked?" ?"It might be useful, but any major attack here and we would be easily and rapidly overwhelmed. Now be off with you!" He embraced me. "God speed!" ?Jean and I shouldered our packs and slung our swords at our waists. Just in case, I took my crossbow with a supply of bolts, and Jean carried a spear. My father led us into the dungeon, then, in an opening bedside one of the cells, he tapped a large stone. "This is only slightly mortared. " We levered it out, then another, until a passage was revealed. He embraced both of us, and Jean and I crawled into it, each of us carrying a small oil lamp. I wrinkled my nose at the damp foul smell of the passageway. Slimy strands of matter hung from the low ceiling. "Good bye!" my father said and we set off. Behind us I heard the stones being replaced. We would have to go forward. We were soon wading through smelly, cold water. My back ached with the awkward bending but at last the tunnel began to rise and we were out of the water. A bit further along there was a slight lightening and we saw a chink of light. The way was blocked by some rubble, but we were able to push it away and got enough room to wriggle through out into the side of the ravine, blinking in the bright light. ?We stopped to take our breath and listen, but there was no one there. I crawled to the lip of the ravine and looked back at the castle. DeVersigny's forces were being deployed right round the castle. We hid the entrance with more rocks and hearing noises from further along the ravine, Jean and I crept there. "What are they doing?" I whispered. Some men were felling trees and others were sawing them into planks. "They are probably building siege ladders. It looks like deVersigny is going to attack very soon!" I caught Jean's sleeve. "I should go back. They will need my help if they are attacked." "Marcel, there is little the two of us could do. Your father has given you a task. It is your duty to complete it!" He was right, but knowing it did not lessen my guilt. We were very careful on that first day. We kept to the fields and off any roads in case we were recognized. It was a full moon and we were able to keep going until we were totally exhausted, finally taking refuge in the bushes by a small river. I wrapped myself in my cloak, and was asleep almost immediately. The following day, being much further away, it was safe to use the roads and paths and we made better time. Even then, it took us some days to get to Paris. The next problem was to get an audience with the King. My mother had told me that one of her cousins, Drusilla deValtrache was one of the ladies who attended the queen and I was able to contact her. I explained about the siege and our difficulties. "I am horrified," Drusilla said," but this may be a problem. DeVersigny is a powerful baron, and has had the favour of the king in the past. But I will speak to Queen Joan. Perhaps she will intercede with her husband the king to give you an audience." Two days later she gave us good news. "The queen has spoken to the king. He is willing to give you a short audience tomorrow morning." I was nervous when we waited for our audience in the royal palace in the room King Philip used for meetings of state. There were others before me and I stood nervously at the back as the king, courtiers and officials entered. At last I was summoned. Jean had come with me, but stood at the back. When a herald announced me. I strode forward and bowed deeply before the king. He was attended by his steward, and chancellor. Then my stomach gave a lurch. Just behind the king I saw the black clad figure of the Dominican, Joseph. That man had hunted down my uncle, and was responsible in part for his terrible execution, but I forced the thought to the back of my mind and concentrated on what I wanted to say. The king indicated I was to speak. "Sire, my father Abelard is lord of the Montfornier lands. These lands have been owned by my family for two generations and we have always given good and prompt service to the Kings of France. My father is your loyal subject and you have his undying future loyalty. "Unfortunately, we have had continual pressure from our neighbor Hugh deVersigny. As I speak, at this moment, Hugh is laying siege to the castle, endangering my family. He says he has your permission to do this. I escaped and I have made my way to see your majesty to appeal to you. Now was the awkward part. I had to persuade the king that he was wrong, without actually saying so. "Sire, I think that Hugh deVersigny has given your majesty false information. He has betrayed your trust, Sire." "And where is your father, my loyal subject?" I could not decide whether the last words contained a trace of sarcasm. "He has remained behind at the castle to help defend it. I am his representative in pledging, reaffirming his loyalty, my own, and all of my family, to you, majesty." I gave him another bow. The king's expression softened and heleaned over to his chancellor and spoke in a low voice that I could barely hear. There were gesticulations and I could not decide how the argument was going. The king then conferred with another noble behind him and finally fixed his eyes on me. He nodded. "You are still young, but I can see that you are a loyal son to your father, and in time I expect you will be a loyal subject to me. I commend you for your courage. "Yes, I believe that I have been given ?.'', but the Dominican actually pushed forward to the king and interrupted him. There was another long exchange of words and the king turned to me again. His expression was completely changed. "You say that your father was loyal, yet I am informed that he was the brother to a Templar heretic who was found guilty of crimes against me and the holy church. I have been told that your family had given him shelter. "You have put your case well, but my judgment still stands. Your family is henceforth dispossessed from its lands. Any resistance will be treated as treason. You have insulted me by coming here to question my will. That could be taken as treason, but I will be generous and allow you to depart." "But?." I stifled my protest when I saw the malevolent leer of the monk and the intransigence of the king. I do not remember the next minute or so. I was overcome with anger, fear, and the unfairness of it all. When I was calmer I discovered I was outside the palace, with Jean clutching my arm. "Master, control yourself. That Dominican is only looking for a reason to have you arrested." "We are dispossessed!" I whispered. "What will become of us all?" The monk strode by with some others. He sneered at me. "Be wary that you are not thought to be a heretic yourself. Now your father's lands are forfeit. Be sure that you do not cross my path again!" If I had my sword with me then I would have slain him but they had been set aside while I was in the company of the king. I watched him go, angered by my own helplessness. Our escape and journey to Paris had been useless. Still furious, I did not sleep well that night. I decided that we should hurry back to the castle and my father himself should try to escape to see the king. The next day we bought two horses with some money I carried and in two days we were at the outskirts of my father's lands. Then as we got nearer to the castle, I heard faint cries in the distance, becoming louder as we approached. Jean pointed above the trees." Look Master!" There was a pall of smoke and as we rounded the final corner I cried out. The central tower of the castle was in flames. Part of the outer wall had crumbled. With a sudden rumble the tower collapsed in a great cloud of dust and smoke. There was no way anyone could have survived. I cried out and sank to my knees in despair. Jean pulled me back into the trees and watched over me while I huddled in despair. At last he took my shoulders. "Marcel, there is nothing you can do, except save yourself. We must go!" When I had recovered enough to move we scouted round the perimeter of the besieging force's camp and watched. I did not see any prisoners. Many of Hugh's forces in the camp were injured or burned, probably from the falling debris, but I heard uproarious laughter from Hugh deVersigny's tent, and many men lurched around carrying wine flagons. Later I heard drunken laughter rom the tent. No wonder! He now had my father's lands. When we had seen enough, Jean and I crept away. I was devastated at the loss of my entire family. Jean too had lost his father. "I swear revenge on the deVersignys," I cried, "Both Hugh and his brother Joseph for the destruction of my family. And for my Uncle! The deVersignys helped in his terrible destruction as well." "Yes, and my father has died too," said Jean. "I will help you and I will take my revenge too!" . The problem was, how to bring about our revenge. I had nothing. I was almost penniless. Almost all I had was a horse and the weapons I carried and a little money. Jean had very little too. I thought of the little book that I carried. Would it have some spell that I could cast on the deVersignys? But when I looked through it, all spells were benevolent. All were healing spells. The only ones that were not for healing were those to make men into women or the opposite. I supposed I could earn some money as a healer, using the spells in the book but, remembering my mother's precautions when it was used against the fevers, using it would be risky and I would have to plan carefully. The future was bleak and our first concern was how to survive. We had to find work. I discussed it with Jean. Eventually we realized that we were both very well trained in arms and fighting, and we could hire ourselves out to some nobleman as part of his guard. In case we were recognized, we needed to get further away from the ruined Montfornier castle and the deVersigny family. We were young, but Old Pierre had trained us well and we soldiered for a nobleman in Eastern France for a year. It kept us in work but the wages were low. Jean took me aside one day. "You know, I have heard that the Duke of Burgundy is expanding his power and needs soldiers. We might be able to earn more with him." I shook my head. "The Duke and the King of France are too closely related and maybe I want to get revenge against Philip too." I muttered. Jean put his hand over my mouth. "You had better not speak like that. If you were thought to be a traitor?? You know," he spoke quietly," if you were really serious about opposing the king, you could take service with somebody like Edward of England. He is in continual rivalry with Philip. I would imagine there could be open warfare at some time" "But the English are not French. We would be traitors!" "If we went to England we would be no worse than many others. All of the English nobility have French names. They speak French at court and for any official business. It is only the common soldiers and ordinary people who speak their strange tongue. It sounds half German." I was not convinced and we kept on as mercenaries for some months more until the count called us in one day. "Jean, Marcel, I have sheltered you, and you have both given me good service in return, but I have had enquiries about you from a Dominican monk called Joseph. Marcel, were you once of a noble family?" I could have lied, but I was angry with the deVersignys harassing us. "Yes, my lord." "I think for the good of all of us that I must dismiss you. I need your skills, but the safety of my own family may be at risk if you are here. You are certainly are in danger. I would advise you to get beyond the reach of the king of France. Someone appears to want to stir the king up against you. Marcel, Jean, I thank you, but regrettably you must leave. I will give you a month's wages to help you." "Thank you, my Lord. I wish you good fortune for the future" We bowed to him and went to our quarters to collect our few possessions. "I think it is now definite that we must seek our fortunes elsewhere," said Jean. "I agree, but this will continue. Also, if we leave France, it will be more difficult to take revenge. Jean, I am going to return to Montfornier. I do not think I will be recognized. It is now some years since we left. I have matured. I have a beard. Of course, I will avoid contact with any of our past servants and tenants, but I will see if I can get access to Hugh deVersigny and kill him." "Take care, Marcel. I want revenge for my own father's death, but your plan is dangerous. You may be recognized. Also, how will you get access to him? He is almost always surrounded by guards." "I don't know. I won't know until I see how he is protected. But I must do this." "Against my better judgement, I suppose that I should go with you. Just to keep you safe!" He punched my arm lightly. Our way back to Montfornier led us through Paris. It was obvious something was happening in the city. Crowds of people were milling around in a main street and I saw a procession coming along it. It was led by some soldiers clearing the way, followed by some of the king's officials. I recognized some of them from my earlier unsuccessful audience with the king. These were followed by a number of clerics, some in ornate robes, and one or two monks in their dark habits. Guards surrounded two figures dressed in rough dirty, sack-like garments. The heads of both were shorn and their beards were badly cut. They were barefoot and in chains. The procession was moving in the direction of the Seine. I flinched when I recognized one of the clerics in the procession. I was my old nemesis Joseph. I cursed him under my breath. He was one of the deVersigny family. He had poisoned the king's mind against me and been partly responsible for my family's destruction and my uncle's death. "What is going on?" I asked a man standing by me. By his clothing he looked like a baker. "One of the men is the head of the heretic Templars, Jacques deMolay. The other is deCharnay, preceptor of Normandy. They have been imprisoned for years. Yesterday they were to make a public confession of their heresy, but both recanted. So today, they are to be executed. DeMolay said he only confessed under torture and that he and all of the Templars were innocent of all crimes they are charged with!" So this was the last of the actions against the Templars. My uncle and others had been burned years earlier. DeMolay and deCharnay must have been in prison for years. Jean and I put the horses into a stable and followed the crowd. The procession led to a small island in the river. With the rest of the crowd milling around me I watched from the river banks. I shuddered when I saw two stakes set in a patch of open ground with piles of brush and faggots by them and we watched as the whole party were ferried to the island on boats, then the men were stood near the stakes. The nobles and clerics were sitting nearby on benches, but we were too far back to hear what was being said. A cleric in rich robes got up and addressed the crowd. Then deMolay began to speak, looking over the crowd, then to the nobles and the other clerics, and finally to the cathedral along the river. There was a spontaneous concerted gasp from the crowd, and I saw some of the clerics and king's officials half jump up, their faces red with anger, but I could not make out what was being said. Some of the people nearer to the prisoners were talking excitedly and at last the conversation reached me. "DeMolay has said he is completely innocent. He says the King and the Pope will stand before God for judgment for this crime!" Even from a distance I saw the shocked look on all of the faces of the platform party. In seconds the DeMolay and his companion were dragged to the stakes and fixed with chains. Some soldiers brought more wood and piled it around the men. Minutes afterwards, at a signal from one of the king's officials, it was set alight. I closed my eyes in horror as the flames started around the men. De Molay and deCharnay turned to look towards the cathedral. I saw their faces twisted in agony until they were lost behind the smoke. I suppose the men must have screamed out, but the tumult of the crowd was too much for me to hear them. A puff of wind blew some smoke to me and I grimaced at the smell of burning flesh. Two hours or so later the crowds began to disperse. There was only a pile of ash and the ends of some faggots left. The official party rose and formed a procession back to the palace. The group was smaller than had set out as some of the clerics remained behind. Some of the more adventurous or ghoulish citizens were wading across to the island and removing some of the ashes from the pyre, but without soldiers to help them, the clerics were unable to stop them. A prosperous looking burgher passed by us. "Well, well," he said, "DeMolay said that the king and the pope will have to stand before God in judgment for their crime!" He shook his head." The insolence of the man!" At last Joseph was ferried back to the shore along with two other black clad Dominican monks. Jean and I followed them as they made their way along some narrow streets and finally into a large house. I noticed that the house was in a dell and was overlooked with some houses. I had an idea and I told it to Jean. Predictably, he was shocked. "Marcel, You will have to be very lucky to do this. And if you do, you will almost certainly be discovered. If you managed to kill him but you were captured You would die too. Killing a cleric, one who is a confidant of the king, I think it will be the stake for you." "Jean, I do not want you to share my risk. I will take a week. If I am not successful by that time I will give it up. But please do this for me. Be at the western gate to the city each day at noon for a week. I will meet you. If I have not come by a week, you must assume I am dead or captured." I went along these other houses until I found one that would give me accommodation. I was in luck. The room's small window overlooked the garden of the house where Joseph lived. I locked the door of the room and laid my pack on the floor. I pulled out my crossbow and checked it. I had become quite skillful with it. The rest of that day I waited until in the hope that Joseph would use the garden, but he did not appear. For yet another two days there was no sight of him at all. I fretted and knew I would have to take more action. I had noticed a pile of dried brush in the garden below me carelessly piled near the house. That night the house below was silent and dark, other than the lights of some candles showing at the windows. I set fire to a rag, threw it into the pile and ran back to my lodging. I had things ready. The bolt was already set in the tensioned crossbow. My other possessions were packed and ready to go. I had barely mounted the crossbow on the window sill when two men dressed as servants ran out of the house, cried at the fire and one ran back inside. The other shielded his face and tried to pull the burning brush away but the flames were too strong. I had hoped that Joseph would appear in the garden, but a black clad figure appeared at an upstairs window. He was silhouetted against the candlelight in the room but I recognized him. My bolt took him right through the throat and he disappeared backwards. I heard no cry, but a bloody hand caught the windowsill and an agonized face appeared briefly, but fell back. His disappearance was not noticed in the commotion below. While the servants were still occupied with the fire, I wrapped up my few possessions, hid the crossbow in a bag and left. That night I hid in a copse of trees by the Seine. Jean was waiting with the horses at the Western gate to the city as we had arranged. "I have heard people talk about Joseph. So you were successful?" I nodded. "But he did not suffer enough!" In no time at all we were on our horses and casually departing from the city. Jean had the weapons hidden in bags. I had thrown a long cloak, decorated like a woman's, over me and I sat hunched slightly, sitting sidesaddle, like a woman. We looked merely like a couple on our way home from the city. If any guard had seen my face he might have been surprised by my beard. We spent that night in a peasant's barn and the next day I put away the cloak and sat like a man, astride the horse. It was now time to go and see my former home again. We became more careful again when we approached the familiar Montfornier lands. First, we sold the horses as humble mercenaries like us would be unlikely to afford the cost of horses and the money would be useful. Nearer the castle I had expected to find only a large ruined pile of stones, but there was not nearly as much rubble as I had expected. We heard some voices, and as we watched from some trees, some peasants came by, hefted some of the stones into a cart and pulled it away. I should have realized that cut stones were too valuable to leave. They would be used for other buildings. When the peasants were gone we moved cautiously out of the woods and over to the ruins. I scrambled over the remains of the moat, now just pools of water overgrown with rushes. I could barely make out the outline of what had been my boyhood home. In some areas new grass was covering the earth there were even a few small bushes. I felt my eyes fill with tears. I had to get a hold of myself as I renewed my vow of vengeance. Jean had come to stand beside me. His face was stern. "Marcel, my father died here too. I have a like mind to you for some revenge." At last we turned away but Jean slipped on a greasy rock. I grabbed him, but he fell onto some splintered wood and a sharp piece pierced his thigh. I pulled the stick from him, but it left a deep wound that oozed blood. "Jean, I had intended to move on and find an inn away from the deVersigny lands, but your wound needs attention. These deep wounds are dangerous. I think we had better fix it right away." I unslung my pack and dug through it until I found the spell book. The spell to heal wounds had been well used in our exploits as mercenaries and it performed its usual wonders. In only a few minutes or so, Jean's wound was healed, leaving only a slight scar. Just as I had finished placing the book back in the bottom of my pack I caught a glimpse of what looked like someone watching us from the trees but when I straightened to have a better look, there was nothing. I wondered if I was being too apprehensive. Jean's wound had delayed us and as the skies were getting cloudier it was time we were on our way. Picking our way carefully through the rubble, we came to a small cleared patch of ground and in it I saw a simple wooden cross sitting above some mounded earth. I flinched when I read the name on the cross, DeChallonard. I stared at it in anger then kneeling, I said a prayer. This was all that was left of my family. Their bodies must have been discovered in the rubble and they had been buried there, not even close to a church. I wiped the tears from my eyes, and looked around. Jean was looking at me. "What!" I said,