by Ian Morson
EPILOGUE
I will show my glory amongst the nations; all shall see the judgement that I execute and the heavy hand that I lay upon them.
Ezekiel 39:21
The only man eventually prepared to trust the Mongols was Prince Edward, son and heir to King Henry, when he reached the Holy Land in 1271. There he met a like mind in Tedaldo Visconti (who was to be Pope Gregory X), who himself then encountered two Venetian merchants called Niccolò and Maffeo Polo, fresh from their travels to Kublay's fabled court. Mongol ambassadors addressed the Fourteenth Ecumenical Council at Lyons in 1274, and came to England to meet Edward, by then king. It all came to nothing – the only member of Gregory's embassy to reach China for the first time was Niccolo Polo's seventeen-year-old-son, Marco. There is a passing reference in Marco Polo's accounts of his travels to a member of the royal household called Guchuluk. It may not be the same man who came to England and met William Falconer – the name is a common one.
Around the time of the Council of Lyons Guillaume de Beaujeu became the Grand Master of the Order of the Poor Knights of the Temple. He served in that capacity nobly and well, refraining from most of the devious excesses of his predecessors. It was fortunate he did not live to see the end of the Templars. The order was to survive for only another thirty years before the bitter enmity of the French king brought about its downfall.
Nicholas de Ewelme had an undistinguished career as chancellor of the University of Oxford, remaining stubbornly ambitious without evincing any of the skills in diplomacy that the post required. He was removed within two years of appointment, and was succeeded by Thomas Bek.
Peter Bullock died a warrior's death, much to his own surprise, having thought he would die like an old man, in bed. He accidentally found himself in the way of a rusty sword swung by a Welsh student in the midst of a pitched battle between northern and Welsh clerks. He bled to death in the dusty street, pondering on the ironies of a Welshman bringing about his downfall. His sister had married a man called Owain, whom he had had no time for.
William Falconer was to have many further murder puzzles to unravel, and, curiously, appears in a footnote to the records of the Chancellor's Court, accused of murder himself. The result of the trial is not recorded, but it is said Falconer left Oxford later in life to travel to Cathay in search of Peking engineers and information about flight.