The Templar Knight

by Jan Guillou

  The rooms of Jerusalem’s Master reminded them a good deal of a Cistercian monastery. There was none of the worldly and sometimes ungodly ostentation which they had seen at other places in the Templars’ quarter of the city. Instead there was a long arcade with a view over the city, much like a part of every Cistercian cloister, and all the walls were white and without sinful pictures. Their host served them an excellent meal despite the fact that there was nothing that originated from four-footed animals or other items that Cistercians could not eat.

  Father Louis was a clear-sighted man, schooled from a very young age by the best teachers in the Cistercians at Cîteaux; for many years he had been the Cistercian order’s envoy from the Holy Father. So he was rather amazed how little he actually knew about the so-called Jerusalem’s Master, a title that seemed to Father Louis utterly grotesque in its presumption, and so ill suited to the man he assumed he would meet. They had told him that Arn de Gothia was a warrior of especially high repute, that he was the victor of the battle of Mont Gisard, when the Templars despite great inferiority in numbers had defeated Saladin himself. So Father Louis had probably expected someone comparable to the Roman commander Belisarius, in any case a military man who could barely speak of anything besides war. But if it were not for a number of white scars on the face and hands of this Arn de Gothia, Father Louis would have thought from his gentle demeanor and conciliatory manner of speaking that he was no different from a brother of Cîteaux. He couldn’t help plying Arn a bit with questions, and thought that he better understood at least one side of the matter when he learned that this Templar knight had actually been brought up in a cloister. Then it was like seeing the dream of blessed Saint Bernard fully realized: the warrior in the Holy War who was at the same time a monk. Father Louis had never imagined that he would ever encounter this dream in the flesh.

  Nor could he avoid noticing that his host ate only bread and drank only water despite all the other food and drink that were on the table, provided for the pleasure of his guests. This high Templar knight was thus doing penance for something. But no matter how much Father Louis wanted to learn more about the matter, this first meeting was hardly the right time to inquire. He was the envoy of the Holy Father, and had brought a papal bull that might not be readily accepted. Besides, these Templar knights were known for their pride; the man who was Grand Master, whom they would soon meet, apparently viewed himself as next in rank only to the Holy Father himself. Which meant that the so-called Jerusalem’s Master would be considered no less than an archbishop. It would be reasonable to assume that such men did not view an abbé as possessing any great power. Nor could they be expected to understand the position of an abbé who worked directly under the Holy Father, acting as his advisor and envoy.

  When the Grand Master himself at long last joined their meeting, all remnants of the meal had been cleared away and they were having a pleasant discussion about the divisions of philosophy into knowledge, learning, and faith. They were also talking about ideas as something that always had to be manifested in material objects; they could not exist solely in the higher pure spheres. This was precisely the sort of conversation that Father Louis never would have imagined having with a Templar knight.

  Arnoldo de Torroja apologized for his tardiness by saying that he had been summoned by the king of Jerusalem. He also told them that he and Arn de Gothia would need to leave soon to meet with the king again. However, he did not want to allow the entire first evening to pass without meeting his Cistercian guests and hearing about their mission. According to Father Louis’s first impression, this Grand Master was a man like those he might have met among the emperor’s ambassadors in Rome, a full-fledged diplomat and negotiator. So he was no coarse Roman Belisarius either.

  Father Louis thought it was a little awkward to proceed at once to the sensitive topic they had come to discuss, but his hosts did not leave him much choice. It would not be proper to do nothing but chat about superfluous matters at their first meeting, and then return the next day to present solemn decrees.

  So he explained the matter directly and without any unnecessary digressions. His two hosts listened attentively, without interrupting and without revealing their thoughts by any change in expression.

  Archbishop William of Tyrus had traveled from the Holy Land to the Third Lateran Council in Rome, and there he had presented serious charges against both the Knights Templar and the Hospitallers.

  According to Archbishop William, the Knights Templar were in certain respects consistently counteracting the Holy Roman Church. If anyone was excommunicated in the Holy Land, he could be buried by the Knights Templar. And before his death he could even be admitted into their order. If a bishop imposed an interdict upon a whole city so that all the sinners were removed from the care of the Church, then the Knights Templar could send their own priests to take care of all churchly services. All these abuses, which gave the impression that the power of the Church was weak or even ridiculous, arose from the fact that the Knights Templar did not answer to any bishop and thus could not be excommunicated or even punished by the patriarch of Jerusalem. What made the situation especially serious, of course, was the fact that both Templars and Hospitallers accepted payment for these services. The Third Lateran Council and the Holy Father Alexander III had therefore decided that all such business transactions must cease immediately. However, Archbishop William had found no hearing for his proposal that various punishments should be imposed on the two orders of knights for these offences against the Church, which had supremacy over all people on the earth.

  Father Louis brought with him a papal bull affixed with the Pope’s seal. He now took it out and laid it on the empty table before them. There in writing stood all that he had just explained. He now needed to know what answer he should take back to the Holy Father.

  “Say that the Order of the Knights Templar from the moment we received word from the Holy Father, shall yield to his edict,” replied Arnoldo de Torroja gently. “This is valid from the moment that I, the Grand Master, pronounced our submission. We shall see to it that this new order is implemented as soon as possible. It may take time, but we do not intend to cause any unnecessary delays. Our decision is already in effect because I have pronounced it so, and I don’t think that my friend and brother Arn de Gothia has any different view in this matter, do you, Arn?”

  “No, absolutely not,” replied Arn in the same calm tone. “We Knights Templar conduct all sorts of business, and business is important to support the expense of an ongoing and costly war. I will gladly tell you more of this matter tomorrow, Father Louis. But to conduct business transactions relating to ecclesiastical matters conflicts with our rules and is called simony. Personally I view the business you spoke of, Father, as simony. So I can fully understand both Archbishop William’s charges and the decision of the Holy Father.”

  “But then I don’t understand…” said Father Louis, as relieved by the swift acceptance of the decision as he was astonished by it. “Why did this sin occur if you both so clearly take exception to it?”

  “Our previous Grand Master Odo de Saint Armand, now blessed in Paradise, had a different perspective on these matters than the two of us,” replied Arnoldo de Torroja.

  “But couldn’t you as highly-placed brothers have criticized your Grand Master for this shameful act if you were so against it?” asked Father Louis in amazement.

  He was met only by meditative smiles from the two men, but received no answer.

  Arn summoned a knight and instructed him to show Father Louis and Brother Pietro, who had not said a word during the conversation, to their lodgings. Then he excused himself by saying that the king wanted to see both the Grand Master and Jerusalem’s Master at once. He assured them that on the following day he would be a better host. With that the Grand Master rose and blessed his two spiritual guests, to both the surprise and resentment of Father Louis.

  The two Cistercians were led to their quarters for the night, but not without an
initial blunder, since they were first led to a room intended for worldly guests with Saracen tile patterns and fountains. But then they were guided to the proper lodgings and were each given a whitewashed cell of the same type they normally occupied.

  Arnoldo de Torroja and Arn hastened together to the king’s night quarters. They had little opportunity to talk about the papal bull on the way, but they were still agreed on the matter. It would be a drain on their income, yet it was good to be freed of this business which they both regarded as extremely dubious. So much the better then that they had been given direct instruction from the Holy Father himself to throw in the face of all those who might be displeased.

  The king’s private rooms were small and dim, because he was unable to move or see very well. He awaited them sitting on his curtained throne, where he sat behind blue muslin so that from the outside he was visible only as a shadow. It was whispered that he had now lost both his hands.

  In the room there was only one servant, a huge Nubian who was both deaf and dumb and sat on some cushions next to the wall with his gaze fixed on his half-concealed lord so that he could intervene at the slightest sign, which only he and the king understood.

  Arnoldo de Torroja and Arn entered, walking side by side, and bowed to the king without a word. Then they sat down on two Egyptian leather stools before the unusual throne. The king spoke to them in a rather high-pitched voice; he was only in his twenties.

  “I’m pleased that the two foremost brothers of the Knights Templar have heeded my summons,” he began and then broke off coughing and made a sign that his guests didn’t understand. The Nubian slave rushed over and arranged something behind the blue curtain though they couldn’t see what he did. They waited in silence.

  “Although I’m farther from my death than some people both believe and hope,” the king went on, “I have no lack of troubles. You are both the backbone in the defense of the Holy Land, the Templar knights, and I wish to discuss two matters with you with no other ears present. So I shall speak in a language that in other circumstances I would have phrased in better terms. Is that all right with you, Templar knights?”

  “Absolutely splendid, Sire,” replied Arnoldo de Torroja.

  “Good,” said the king, then coughed briefly again but made no sign to his slave and continued at once. “The first question deals with the new patriarch of Jerusalem. The second question is about our military situation. I would like to take up the question about the patriarch first. Soon a new patriarch will be appointed, since Amalrik de Nesle is dying. It seems to be a matter for the church, but if I understand my mother Agnes correctly, it is actually more her concern, or rather mine. We have two candidates: Heraclius, archbishop of Caesarea, and William, archbishop of Tyrus. Let us weigh the arguments for and against each. I have understood that William is the enemy of the Knights Templar, but he is a godly man whose honor no one doubts. Heraclius is, if I may be quite honest now that no one can hear us, a rogue of a type that is rather common here in our land, a gone-astray choir boy or the like, and he is also known for his sinful life. And he is my mother’s lover, one of many, naturally. But he doesn’t seem to be your enemy; on the contrary. As you see, there are many less noble weights in the balance trays that we have before us. What is your opinion in this matter?”

  It was obvious that Arnoldo de Torroja should answer, and equally obvious that he had a hard time replying with complete candor. And so he launched into a long harangue about life, God’s inscrutable will, and other things that merely meant that he was talking as he tried to work out what he should actually say. Arn was astonished by the unfortunate young king, who in spite of his frail voice exuded such an unusual power and decisiveness. And yet he suffered from an illness that meant he would soon die, and it caused him always to hide himself from whoever was in his presence.

  “So, to sum up,” said Arnoldo de Torroja, finally coming to a conclusion. “It’s a good thing for the Knights Templar to have a patriarch who is our friend, and a bad thing to have one who is our enemy. At the same time it’s a good thing for the kingdom of Jerusalem to have a man of honor and faith as the supreme guardian over the True Cross and God’s Grave. And a sin to have a sinner in the same responsible post. What God might think in this matter is of course not hard to surmise.”

  “Assuredly, but now it’s a matter of a higher power than God, namely my mother Agnes,” replied the king dryly. “I know that it’s actually the council of all the archbishops in the Holy Land that will decide and vote on this matter. But nowadays many of these men of God are easy to buy. So the decision is de facto mine, or yours and mine, or my mother’s. What I want to know is whether you Templar knights are absolutely opposed to one or the other of these two. Well?”

  “A sinner who is well disposed toward us or an honest man of God who is against us, that is no easy choice, Sire,” replied Arnoldo de Torroja evasively. Had he been able to see into the future he would have said something else with all his might.

  “Fine,” said the king with a sigh. “Then it looks like we’ll have a very unusual man as patriarch, since you’re leaving the decision to my mother. If God is as good as you Templars say, He will undoubtedly send His bolts of lightning against this man every time he approaches a slave boy or a married woman, or an ass for that matter. So! The second thing I wanted to talk about was the situation in the war. In this case everyone lies to me, as you may well understand; it sometimes takes me a year to grasp what has happened and not happened. For example, regarding what really happened at my only victory in the wars that I myself have waged. First I was the great victor at Mont Gisard; there were reliable witnesses who saw Saint George riding above me in a cloud and other such foolishness. Now I know that it was you, Arn de Gothia, who was the victor. Am I not right in this?”

  “The truth is…” Arn replied hesitantly, since he had received a direct question from the king and Arnoldo de Torroja could not answer in his stead, “that the Templar knights in that battle conquered three or four thousand of Saladin’s best troops. It is also true that Jerusalem’s secular army defeated five hundred.”

  “Is that your answer, Arn de Gothia?”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  “And who led the Templar knights in that battle?”

  “I did, with God’s help, Sire.”

  “Good. That’s what I thought. An advantage with some Templars, and you are clearly one of them, Arn de Gothia, is that they answer truthfully. I gladly would live my final years in that manner, but that will hardly be granted me. So! Tell me briefly something about the military situation!”

  “It’s a complicated situation, Sire—” Arnoldo de Torroja began but was instantly cut off by the king.

  “Forgive me, dear Grand Master, but Jerusalem’s Master is at the moment the order’s highest military commander, is he not?”

  “Yes, Sire, that is true,” replied Arnoldo de Torroja.

  “Good!” said the king with an audible sigh. “God, if only I had such men as you around me, men who speak the truth. Then it is no doubt proper that I ask this question of Arn de Gothia, my dear Grand Master, without violating all your numerous rules and honor and glory?”

  “That is fully in order, Sire,” said Arnoldo de Torroja somewhat tensely.

  “Now then!” the king said, peremptorily.

  “The situation can be described as follows, Sire,” Arn began uncertainly. “We have the absolute worst opponent in Christendom against us now, worse than Zenki, worse than Nur al-Din. Saladin has largely united all the Saracens against us, and he is a skilled military leader. He has lost once, when Your Majesty won at Mont Gisard. Otherwise he has won every significant battle. We have to reinforce the Christian side in all of Outremer, otherwise we are defeated, or will be locked inside fortresses and cities, and we can’t stay there indefinitely. That’s the situation.”

  “Do you share this opinion, Grand Master?” the king asked harshly.

  “Yes, Sire. The situation is just as Jerusalem’s M
aster has described it. We must have reinforcements from our home countries. Saladin is something entirely different from what we’ve had to deal with previously.”

  “Well! Then so it shall be. We shall send an envoy to our homelands, to the emperor of Germany, the king of England, and the king of France. Would you be so kind as to participate in this mission, Grand Master?”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  “Even if Grand Master Roger des Moulins from the Hospitallers is also included?”

  “Yes, Sire. Roger des Moulins is an extraordinary man.”

  “And with the new patriarch of Jerusalem, even if he turns out to be someone with whom you should be cautious in the night?”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  “Well, that’s excellent. So it shall be. One more question: who is the best commander of all the secular knights in Outremer?”

  “Count Raymond of Tripoli and then Baldwin d’Ibelin, Sire,” replied Arnoldo de Torroja quickly.

  “And who is the worst?” the king shot back with equal speed. “Could it possibly be my sister’s dear husband Guy de Lusignan?”

  “To compare Guy de Lusignan with either of the two men I mentioned would be like comparing David and Goliath, Sire,” said Arnoldo de Torroja with a slightly ironic bow. This made the king pensive and silent for a moment.

  “So you think that Guy de Lusignan would beat Count Raymond, Grand Master?” he asked in amusement when he was finished thinking.