25th September 1307, Paris
De Nogaret woke from a restless sleep with the terrifying realization that he was being watched.
“What do you fear the most?” an eerily familiar voice oozed from across the room. De Nogaret scrambled upright and squinted into the darkness to see the form of a large man sat on a chair in the far right corner of the room. Could it be?
“De Floyran? Is that you?” De Nogaret said nervously, pulling the covers up around him as if he sought protection from them.
“Were you expecting someone else?” De Floyran replied smoothly.
“No, I . . . what are you doing in my chambers at this hour?” he said trying not to sound too angry or alarmed. He knew that they were supposed to be allies and although he was fascinated by the renegade Templar, he was well aware that De Floyran was a mercenary and dangerous. He had seen how brutal he was at Anagni. Though instinct told him to be wary, Esquin de Floyran had an enigmatic and powerful charisma and De Nogaret was palpably drawn to him, like moth to flame.
“Waiting for an answer to my question.” De Floyran answered unwaveringly. De Nogaret sighed and rubbed the scant sleep from his eyes,
“Falling from grace,” he said and then shrugged, “losing favour, my position, my future. I fear that, satisfied?”
“No,” De Floyran chuckled darkly, “but I expected such a shallow answer from a limp swine such as yourself.”
De Nogaret glowered at the insult, “You can barely talk, denouncing your own.” He spat back angrily.
De Floyran laughed, “That’s better.”
“What are you doing here Esquin? Surely it’s not to discuss my fears. I don’t appreciate having you enter into my private chambers uninvited in the dead of night.”
“There is no better time than now, besides I thought you’d be pleased to see me.” De Floyran’s voice was smooth but De Nogaret still felt the skin prickle at his neck.
“I . . . am,” he answered cautiously, “but would have preferred a little warning and a more civilised hour.”
“But then we couldn’t have had this conversation.”
“A conversation about fear?” De Nogaret said bewildered. “You’ll need to clarify the point for I fail to see the importance of it at this hour.”
“The point will be clear soon enough when you have satisfied my question,” De Floyran said, “now again, what do you fear in the dead of night? ’Twas not fear of falling from grace that had you jolting awake just then. Do you hasten pass shadows at night or do you stare boldly into them?”
“Are you talking of monsters?” De Nogaret said nonchalantly, but the dark edge to De Floyran’s voice made him uncomfortable. What was he doing here?
“Do you believe in monsters, witchcraft, the devil?” De Floyran continued.
“I don’t believe in monsters, but I am a God fearing man, so devils perhaps. Does that satisfy you?” De Nogaret said trying to sound assertive even though the conversation felt as if it had a sinister intent. He felt vulnerable in his bed and wondered if he should get up, but being unsure of De Floyran’s motives he decided to stay where he was.
“Guillaume, for a clever man you severely lack imagination.” De Floyran sighed and then said, “I am about to tell you the greatest secret of the Knights Templar, so I would expect a little more enthusiasm.”
De Nogaret sat bolt upright, unease suddenly replaced by interest.
“You have my full attention. Would you like some wine. Ou –” he began to shout out his servant’s name but De Floyran stopped him before he finished.
“No, no wine. Later, perhaps. All I want is for you to listen to me.”
De Nogaret nodded his eyes bright like an owl on a night hunt. This was what he had been waiting for. De Floyran had been ambiguous when he had mentioned, some weeks past, that the Temple concealed a diabolical secret. De Nogaret had begun to regret telling the King that such a secret existed as he was beginning to think that the slippery Templar may be using it as a bargaining tool.
However, despite Philip’s delight at De Nogaret’s indictment against the Templars and the fact that the Templars’ fate was more or less sealed as far as Philip was concerned, this was what he, De Nogaret, wanted. It was the secret which deep down he had always believed existed. Many had spoken of a great secret hidden by the Temple, but no one knew what it was or even whether it really existed. Many theories were nothing more than wild speculation and malicious gossip, most of which had formed the basis of De Nogaret’s denunciation; heresy, blasphemy, sodomy and worship of demonic prophets among others. Yet here was a former Templar who had said that the truth was far more heinous than any accusation that had been laid down in the indictment. De Nogaret waited with bated breath for De Floyran to speak.
“Imagine the most monstrous thing you can,” De Floyran said dramatically, “it lurks in shadows and waits for the scent of blood. I am talking about monsters Guillaume, real monsters.”
De Nogaret said nothing for he was paralysed with anticipation and transfixed by the mercenary’s green eyes that gleamed at him from across the room.
“Imagine a man who can change his form. Imagine that he can become one of the most dreaded beasts known to humanity, a beast that can tear a man apart . . . a wolf, Guillaume.” De Nogaret’s eyes narrowed but he nodded eagerly lapping up the theatre.
“Werewolves, Guillaume, you have heard of such creatures? Perhaps as a child, a tale told to make you behave?”
“Yes,” Guillaume managed hoarsely, he could barely breath, “they are in folklore, but surely you are not saying that such things exist?”
“I am and they do.” De Floyran said and then added slowly, “the Knights Templar are werewolves.”
De Nogaret shook his head in disbelief but nevertheless flinched. Something about De Floyran and the way he told his tale made De Nogaret believe him and Christ he wanted it to be true. As diabolical and unbelievable as it was, it was at the same time hideously delicious, even perfect!
“Can this really be so?” De Nogaret said trying to remain impassive, though his heart pounded in his chest and his clammy hands gripped the sheets about him.
“Do you need proof?” De Floyran asked. De Nogaret could almost see the glint of his teeth as he smiled. Of course, if what he said was true that would mean that he too was a werewolf.
“Can you prove it?” De Nogaret asked warily.
“The Order of the Knights Templar is a guise hiding the most malevolent race of creatures that is the scourge of God’s Earth. They have fooled the Church for near two centuries, imagine?” De Floyran shook his head as if to emphasize the incredulity of what he was saying.
“The Order’s founders were werewolves; its leaders, hierarchy and all of its knights are werewolves. The rest who serve the Temple are ignorant of its bestial roots. I was a Templar, I am a werewolf. I remain cursed whether in the Temple or not. You chastise me for denouncing my own, but I only seek salvation.” De Floyran said theatrically.
De Nogaret doubted this last sentiment, despite De Floyran’s dramatic rendition of the Templars’ true nature he knew the knight was both beyond salvation and cared less for it. His brutality and imposing presence, however, could readily be explained by such a cursed existence, but did such a horror really exist?
De Floyran was speaking of the supernatural, like witchcraft. Although De Nogaret had seen many accused of sorcery, he was disinclined to believe magic was involved, heresy and knowledge outside the Church’s teaching perhaps, but not enchantment.
“Do you seek proof?” De Floyran asked again.
De Nogaret was dying for it, but at the same time he realised that if Esquin de Floyran did speak the truth then he was in a precarious position.
“I do seek proof, but only if my safety is assured.”
“Oh bless you Guillaume!” De Floyran cackled, “I have not come here to kill you and the wolf in me will recognise you as friend, you need have no fear.”
De Nogaret nodded to show that he was happy, althoug
h he was not, but it was a risk he was willing to take. Besides, De Floyran had nothing to gain by killing him rather he had everything to lose.
De Floyran stood up and without a sound moved to the centre of the large room, it was then that De Nogaret saw that he was completely naked. Looking intently at De Nogaret who was still holed up in his bed, De Floyran, without warning suddenly doubled over, crying out in the most inhumane agony. De Nogaret gasped in shock at the sound which, in all its horror, only lasted a few seconds. His eyes widened in amazement as he saw De Floyran melt into the darkness like an apparition, except he did not disappear but changed. De Nogaret could not fathom what he had just seen, nor would he be able to describe it to another, but clear in his vision, as had been the man who’d stood there moments before, was now the form of a huge black wolf.
“Jesu!” De Nogaret cried out and crossed himself several times. The wolf lowered its head and stared unkindly at him, its green eyes easily recognizable as De Floyran’s and its disdainful view of him unmistakably apparent. Fear pulsated through De Nogaret’s heart despite De Floyran’s prior assurances and he found himself crying out, “Enough! Enough, I’ve seen enough.”
The wolf sat down but did not break its gaze, and then as if it had never happened De Nogaret blinked to find Esquin de Floyran sat cross legged on the floor in the centre of his bed chamber.
“I’ll have that wine now,” De Floyran smiled at the white but rapt visage of Guillaume De Nogaret.
De Floyran had insisted on taking his wine in one of the many inns of disrepute that were to be found in the darker streets of Paris. A celebration, he had called it, now that the burden of his secret had been lifted. Guillaume de Nogaret was stuck in a state that was between incredulity and fascination as he reflected on what De Floyran had both told and shown him. The fact that he was walking side by side with a creature that, before this night, he never imagined existed was inconceivable. And yet such creatures did exist and had been living amongst humanity as Knights Templar for near two centuries! They had been honoured and protected by Rome and had grown powerful, almost untouchable, over the decades.
De Nogaret had done his research on the wily knights and knew of their fearsome reputation. They were fearless in battle often taking on double, even triple their number, they commanded respect and had an extremely powerful presence. The latter De Nogaret had noticed the most when he had had dealings with Templars. Many saw it as arrogance, such as the King, but De Nogaret had seen it as something more, though he’d never been able to put his finger on it until now.
When Esquin de Floyran and his men had assisted him at Anagni he had noticed it most then. They had appeared as an extremely tight group sharing a secret knowledge between them which had come over as arrogance and supremacy. De Nogaret knew they were renegade Templars, every one, but assumed that the firm bond they appeared to have and denigrating attitude was a result of their former training and service. Now he knew that they still belonged to an elicit group, expelled in name but bound in blood.
Though De Floyran had described it to him as something diabolical, De Nogaret did not view it in that way and also knew that despite what he had said neither did De Floyran. As he thought of the man’s transfiguration, it struck him not as a curse but as a gift, an immeasurable gift that someone like he should be in possession of. De Floyran had especially intrigued him, right from the moment of their first meeting. He was everything that De Nogaret was not; tall, ruggedly handsome and charming, with the eyes of a devil and the smile of a saint. De Nogaret was aware that he himself was an unattractive man, nondescript and undesirable to women. However, he was compensated by the fact that he was clever and his lust for power was sated by destroying those to whom it already belonged.
The Templars were doomed and Guillaume knew he would be rewarded handsomely for the crucial part that he played. However, as they wound down the alleys and back streets of the city, in silence, De Nogaret realised that the truth, in all its stark horror, which he had wanted merely to seal the Templars’ fate, was something he now found himself coveting. Was it possible that De Floyran could give to him this remarkable gift? If it was, then De Floyran could give him power and presence, De Floyran could change his life.
“This will do.” De Floyran stopped and remarked with a wave of his arm.
“Seedy and grimy,” De Nogaret responded, his repulsion clear in his tone.
De Floyran laughed at the little man’s aversion, “’Tis open and welcoming is it not? Everything we require is inside. Besides, we will go unnoticed.”
De Nogaret shrugged again and reluctantly followed his companion inside. The place stank of ale and sin and was full of men enjoying both. De Floyran motioned for Guillaume to sit. He did so and waited for him to return with a flagon of ale.
Not many words were exchanged while they drank. De Floyran watched De Nogaret’s beady expression and knew that his mind was busy trying to find greater advantage to what he had just been told, other than simply the destruction of the Order. But De Floyran appreciated what a cunning toad he was and had anticipated just this. Despite abhorring his company he also knew that De Nogaret was crucial to his own plans and he would need to play him to his advantage.
“Where do we stand on things?” De Floyran finally broke the silence.
De Nogaret looked up as his chain of thought was broken and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “Philip had several copies of a summarised version of the indictment made. He sent these out, along with a letter commanding the arrest of the Templars, to all his bailiffs and seneschals in the Kingdom.”
“When has the arrest date been set?” De Floyran asked pouring himself more ale.
“I believe that it has been set for Friday the 13th of October.”
De Floyran narrowed his eyes as if in thought and then said, “Does Clement know?”
“Clement is set to supervise an inquiry into the Templars which was requested by the Grand Master. However, Philip knows that the illness and incompetence that plagues the Pope will delay such to a future date, which is beyond Philip’s patience. He plans a swift, clean sweep of arrests and an immediate inquisition.
Clement may protest but with the damning indictment he will soon adhere to Philip’s methods. Besides, we have the most shocking secret to yet reveal. Clement is Pope, the truth could undo him. Even if it did not, he would never protect monsters nor wish for it to be known that he and his predecessors have done so for near two hundred years.” De Nogaret paused and looked down aware that he was sat with one such monster. De Floyran waved his hand dismissively.
“And the Temple does not suspect anything?”
“I think not. The bout of prior accusations and setting of a papal inquiry into them has averted their attention from this separate inquest. The Grand Master even now attempts to appease the King by reinstating the Temple’s disgraced treasurer and he is due to be pall bearer at the funeral of Catherine de Vallois the day before the arrests are planned. This is no ill-executed scheme, believe me, if the Temple suspected anything then I would expect the Grand Master, at least, to flee France.”
“Do not underestimate De Molay or his council,” De Floyran waved a cautionary finger, “they are as slippery as eels when it comes to avoiding jeopardy.”
“Not this time,” De Nogaret said smugly, “the Grand Master is being watched.”
“Commendable, but the information you will be getting will all be lies.” De Floyran said assuredly.
“How so?” De Nogaret frowned.
“I doubt your spies would admit that they could not penetrate the Templar council. They would be sniffed out from a mile away, unless you have other werewolf collaborators?”
De Nogaret’s eyes flickered with interest, “You can tell who is and isn’t?”
“Of course you fool!” De Floyran said contemptuously. “We are wolves,” he added more quietly. “Our sense of smell is second to none. We can sense all through smell; your emotions, where you’ve been, who y
ou’ve been with. For example, I know that you took relief with your hand shortly before you went abed.”
De Nogaret immediately reddened with embarrassment and was about to object when De Floyran interjected,
“You may have washed yourself but I can still smell your latent lust upon you.” He raised his eyebrows and added, “There’s not much you can hide from me. But getting back to the point, I would have our King set about the arrest of the Templars sooner, because like me not much will remain hidden from them for long.”
De Nogaret forgot his embarrassment and nodded his understanding. They could not afford to lose the element of surprise nor the prize of arresting the Grand Master and his peers. “I will speak to him with haste. Will you come with me and recount your tale?”
“I fear I cannot for I must go again to England on the morrow.”
“But you have just returned!” De Nogaret protested.
“Aye, but I interrupted my outing to give you the nail in the Templars coffin. I must resume my business as soon as possible. You should be thankful.”
“I am,” De Nogaret sighed, “but I doubt the King will believe such a tale.”
“You can convince him. Get him to make the arrests as soon as possible and I promise I will give him all the proof he needs, spectacular proof!” He beamed an immaculate grin. His perfect white teeth were another advantage of his gift, De Nogaret supposed as he ran his tongue across his own discoloured and rotting pegs.
“I suppose,” De Nogaret shrugged, “can I trust you?” It was a pointless question.
“Of course,” De Floyran said flippantly, “but failing that what choice do you have? I leave you with this though, this is all to my benefit as well and I trust myself to come through.”
De Nogaret nodded and drained his cup of ale, he would have to take him on his word and after all, he had just revealed his secret to him.
“Let’s get a couple of women,” De Floyran said suddenly, watching De Nogaret’s expression closely. Guillaume looked up hesitantly; “Here?” he said wrinkling his nose as if in disgust.
“Yes here, ’tis the perfect place. I always want a woman after I change, ’tis the beast in me.” He widened his eyes suggestively.
De Nogaret felt his groin stir at the thought of it, though he was not in the habit of going to whores. He was surprised that De Floyran would want to either, as he imagined that he had no trouble picking up desirable women with his looks and charm. However, if the urge took him . . . De Nogaret knew nothing about the libido of werewolves. Perhaps it was as rampant and base as the place they were presently sat in.
“Come on,” De Floyran encouraged, “it’s on me, what about those two?”
He pointed across the room to two young but worn looking women. Despite his distaste at the place he could feel De Floyran’s lust getting under his own skin. He had been to a whore once, the first time in fact, but had been left feeling both unsatisfied and defiled. He had never repeated the experience and lived daily by ignoring his body’s wants and needs and throwing himself instead into his devilish work. It sufficed for the most part, his work had become his mistress and his achievements his climax. But now in the charged company of this Templar, this werewolf, De Nogaret was aroused and feeling the desire to give in to his more primitive needs, he found himself saying yes.
The room the women took them to was divided, for privacy, by a tattered and tarnished linen sheet. Each partition consisted of a small pallet that was covered with more stained sheets, evidence of many sordid couplings. Guillaume felt his stomach turn but De Floyran wasted no time studying the squalid surroundings and instead disappeared behind the scant partition and quickly set to the task of fucking his choice of whore.
Guillaume sat on the very edge of his pallet and clasped his sweaty hands together; his own whore knelt before him. She smiled and began to unlace his shirt, but he slapped her hands away,
“Wait!” he said nervously, his attention drawn to the vigorous sounds coming from beyond the partition, a mixture of intense arousal and revulsion hit him at once.
“Come on my love,” the woman purred, “your friend will be through before your cock sees the light of day.” She chuckled and grabbed at his groin. Guillaume struck out viciously at her sending her reeling into the corner of the small room.
“Get your filthy hands off me you stinking whore!” he screamed his abhorrence. De Floyran jumped up and threw aside the partition.
“What in God’s name?” he cried standing naked with a sheen of fine sweat covering his body, his interrupted momentum evident by his still erect and quivering member. He looked first at the whore huddled in the corner and then to a flustered De Nogaret, who was still perched on the end of the pallet.
A glint of something sinister entered Esquin’s eyes and then he fixed De Nogaret with a questioning look.
“I don’t want her touching me, she’s dirty!” Guillaume said looking up at De Floyran with momentary fascination which was quickly replaced by embarrassment. De Floyran nodded his understanding at the situation but the look on his face almost boasted delight.
He then said, “Get a drink and wait for me downstairs.”
De Nogaret nodded and quickly got up, fumbling to straighten his attire as he made for the door.
“You,” De Floyran snapped his fingers at the whore still hunched in the corner, “finish me off, seeing as I paid for the pair of you.”
He smiled and winked at De Nogaret who looked back as his hand grasped the door handle. The whore crawled over to De Floyran on hand and knees while De Nogaret averted his eyes and hurriedly left the room.
A few minutes later De Floyran returned from the room, where he had sought their entertainment, with a spring in his step and a sparkle in his eye which led De Nogaret to believe that the whore had dealt with his final request to his satisfaction. He sat down and grabbing a cup, helped himself to the wine in the flagon that sat before Guillaume. He drank deep and draining the cup sighed his contentment before filling it again to the brim. He smiled at De Nogaret and said,
“’Tis men you prefer then?”
Guillaume looked at him aghast, “Jesu no!” he said petulantly but immediately saw that De Floyran was teasing him.
“Whores repulse me. They are soiled and impure.” He said in way of explanation.
“So you have never been with a woman?” De Floyran asked drinking his wine and then refilling both their cups.
“Yes, I have. A whore in fact, a time ago now. It did not leave me satisfied, rather despoiled. However, I am wont to have little success with the type of women I desire.”
“Ahhhhh,” De Floyran said nodding his head, “you seek purity . . . innocence.”
Guillaume’s eyes widened and he suddenly felt a thrill as De Floyran spoke of the essence of his desire.
“Yes,” De Nogaret breathed.
“Then we are similar, as I too desire those qualities in a woman.” He waved his hand dismissively as he saw Guillaume’s expression, “Whores are a quick and convenient fix for the rampant appetite I have need to satisfy frequently, but I consider it a physical need. My true pleasure comes from another quarter.”
De Nogaret’s eyes, first bright with nascent interest became dull and he shrugged, “And I am sure a man like you has no trouble charming innocent maidens and making them pliable in your arms with false promises.”
De Floyran drained his cup for the third time and refilled it; De Nogaret’s wine remained untouched.
“I promise them nothing.” He said brazenly.
“Ha!” De Nogaret spat in disbelief. “Even a man of your prowess must have need to assure a woman that her precious maidenhead is not about to be wasted on a selfish scoundrel who will be gone before his pillow is cold. I doubt any pure and innocent maid would be wont to give her prize to such a man so willingly.”
“I did not say that they gave it to me willingly.” De Floyran said darkly. Guillaume felt a cold chill enter his body but as he was beginning to l
earn, everything that De Floyran said both shocked and excited him.
“What are you saying? That you force yourself on them?”
“I am saying exactly that. Charming women doesn’t interest me, taking them against their will does, ’tis from where I derive my greatest pleasure.” He smiled, his white teeth gleamed in the dusky light of the inn and De Nogaret felt his groin stir again.
“You do this often?” De Nogaret asked feverishly.
“As often as I desire, but as I said my appetite is insatiable so whores are convenient, but the more innocent the prey the better.” He smiled wolfishly, “I recently had a novice in my grasp.”
“A novice?” De Nogaret said again both filled with intrigue and a little shock.
“Aye, she was like a peach but I did not get a chance to taste her.”
“What happened?” De Nogaret asked his interest mounting.
“We were disturbed and she eluded me, but I’ll find her again and she will taste even sweeter.”
“’Tis a bit risky, raping nuns,” Guillaume observed, “they are like to report you. If you are a wanderer then I am sure no trouble comes with it, but a man of my standing would soon find himself set upon.”
“Not if there is no one to tell the tale.” De Floyran said dispassionately.
De Nogaret’s expression turned to one of genuine shock as he took on De Floyran’s meaning, “I am not one for murder.” He said categorically.
De Floyran cackled both loudly and callously, then leaned forward across the table so that he was close to Guillaume and whispered,
“You have just written an indictment that will condemn thousands of men. Don’t give me the pious act when you are about to murder hundreds of Templars.”
De Nogaret’s face darkened and his eyes narrowed, “What I do is for the good of the Church and the King. To bring down a dangerous and powerful institution like the Templars is a far cry from what you speak. The Order will be tried and punished as is justly deserved.”
“And how do you think your King and your Church will deal with the wolves of the Temple, hmmm? Surely they won’t condone such a race of men and allow them to prevail. I smell the stake; they’ll charge them with heresy and roast them.”
“’Tis not my concern after the fact. If the Templars are tried and found guilty, which they will be, then many of them will burn. I do not relish the stake or suffering but after what you have just told me my conscience will not allow such dangerous and powerful creatures to wield such influence.”
“Mmmmmm,” De Floyran mused shrewdly, “you may be able to fool yourself, Guillaume, but you’ll never be able to fool me. I can smell your murderous nature. You may distance yourself from it, speaking of conscience and duty yet you suck up the consequence like a starving leech. You enjoy the sport but the kill is what thrills you the most. You need no pretence with me, Guillaume. I understand you, better then you understand yourself.”
Guillaume’s pupils dilated and his eyes darted nervously about the room. He picked up his cup for the first time and drank the wine down hungrily. When he was finished he had a second and a third and when he had caught up to De Floyran he steadily put his cup down on the table and in a whisper, which was thick with sweet anticipation, he said,
“Show me.”
Chapter Ten
The Wolves of Solomon (Wolves of Solomon Book One) Page 16