The Wolves of Solomon (Wolves of Solomon Book One)

by R. L. Blackhurst

6th October 1307, Fontainebleau Palace

  “This is what you give me?” Philip said with an angry edge to his voice, he then laughed but this was even more disheartening, “several weeks I have waited and this is what you give me?” He threw his goblet of wine to the floor in rage and immediately motioned to his servant to replace it. De Nogaret, like the others in the room grimaced, but Philip’s rage was like that of a spoilt child and was as easy to dispel; give him something sweet and it would pass.

  “Why would I lie to you, Sire and why would you expect me too?” he said boldly and tried to stand his ground as he saw Philip’s face distort. He felt emboldened since his last encounter with De Floyran, who was the reason he was here. Rather than face the King of France himself, the ex-Templar had hastened back to England to whatever business he was eager to conclude, promising to return with spectacular proof for Philip. De Floyran liked the dramatic, so it seemed, but then so did the King.

  “Dare you speak to me so?” Philip said gulping down his fresh cup of wine. De Nogaret bowed submissively, “I mean no disrespect, your Majesty, but I have no reason to lie and if I was mad enough to do so then I would not tell you something so fantastical.”

  Philip inclined his head as if to ponder the fact and then turned to the two young pleasant looking men to his right, one sipped at his wine like a snake, the other stood dumbfounded.

  “De Plaisians, Beaumanoir!” he shouted, “what think you of this?”

  Guillaume de Plaisians looked across at De Nogaret and smiled as he took another sip of wine.

  “Our brother is a little manic,” he said and quickly turned his gaze towards the King to avoid De Nogaret’s daggers, “but he has no reason to make up such a tale.” He looked back at De Nogaret and smiled slyly. De Nogaret nodded politely but the daggers remained. The King motioned to the other young man, Robard Beaumanoir shrugged.

  “If there is heaven then there must be hell, angels therefore demons. The Church teaches us so and to be aware of the demons that would influence and cause us to lose God. If demons walk amongst us I am not surprised that they are in the guise of the Knights Templar.”

  De Nogaret smiled and nodded at Beaumanoir in respect of his answer. Beaumanoir was a man of few words but when he spoke he made it count. He had not been at Philip’s court long, but he had proven himself apt and reliable. However, despite his dark agreeable looks and confident stance, he was not as savagely ambitious as either he or De Plaisians were. Perhaps that’s why De Nogaret could tolerate him.

  Philip’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Interesting, however still difficult to swallow. You are asking me to believe in monsters, things that are un-Godly!”

  “Un-Godly indeed. I know what I am asking you to believe is inconceivable but I can assure you I saw it with my own eyes.”

  “A man become a wolf?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you weren’t in your cups?” De Plaisians jested and Philip joined in his laughter.

  “No.” De Nogaret said through gritted teeth, he looked back at De Plaisians wishing he could strike the dumb smile off his face but merely smiled at him instead.

  In contrast to what he felt about Beaumanoir, he totally despised De Plaisians and had reason aplenty to hate him. They were both lawyers, both long serving and of high positions in Philip’s council, they were of a similar age and equally talented and ambitious but there the similarities ended. De Plaisians was tall and handsome with sandy brown hair and hazel eyes. He had much attention at court from both men and women and had an easy manner with the King, enjoying his company much more than De Nogaret had invitation to.

  Today, however, it seemed to matter less. In fact, De Nogaret felt that he cared less today than he ever had before, for he had tasted something far more exquisite. It was a freedom and power the likes of which even the King was unable to give him. And it was within his grasp. He allowed his mind to wonder back and relish the night De Floyran showed him what he could have. The girl had been young, pretty and innocent and he’d taken what he wanted before draining her life from her. He could still feel the power that had surged through him as his hands gripped her delicate neck and crushed it. The thought even now aroused him. He pushed the pleasure away and tried to concentrate on the task at hand.

  “And where is the wolfman now?” Philip continued the jest.

  “De Floyran returned to England on urgent business.”

  “I bet he did.” Philip said disdainfully. De Nogaret himself was not pleased that De Floyran had disappeared again and he would have preferred to face Philip with him at his side. However, the King’s patience had been wearing thin for the renegade Templar’s secret and De Nogaret knew he could delay no longer.

  “He promises to return with proof for you, your Majesty.”

  “Turning into a wolf before my eyes would have sufficed, did it not convince you?”

  “Of course, but he is fond of theatrics and I believe he wishes the Pope to be present as well.”

  “So this is true,” Philip said, almost to himself, in a bemused fashion, “the Knights Templar are, Jesu I can barely utter the madness, werewolves?”

  “So De Floyran has said, and I saw him become what he himself claimed to be. There is something about the Templars, you will admit it yourself, that has never been right.” De Nogaret said.

  “That they are blasphemous, greedy heretics?” Philips said glibly.

  “More. They have bond between them, a unity like no other group. They’ve inspired envy because they are powerful and fearless in battle, feared and respected by their foes and almost infallible.”

  “You sound like you admire them.” De Plaisians jibed.

  “I do.” De Nogaret answered flatly. “However, they are dangerous and anti-God. An abomination of nature but they are intelligent and have knowledge beyond the Church’s teaching.”

  “Knowledge, what knowledge?” Philip said eagerly.

  “Magic from the East, blasphemous knowledge that they have gained from the infidel. They seek to destroy God, draw the people from him and captivate them with the devil’s quill.”

  “I stand for God!” Philip said passionately, “and I’ll be damned before I see his work undone by savage demons. If we ever doubted what we are doing then the time for that doubt has gone.

  When De Floyran returns from England with his elaborate proof, and proof there better be, be sure the Pope is here to witness it. I’ll burn every Templar in every land if I have to and it will be God’s work.”

  The King raised his cup and the others joined him in the toast, De Nogaret looked at De Plaisians with a smile that was the darker side of smug. They all drank deep from their cups but a look of concern crossed Philip’s face as he motioned for them be re-filled.

  “Dangerous you say?” he said rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “hmm, I am not ignorant of Templar myth and reputation. Would they resist arrest? I do not wish for a revolt. Can we repress such a group discreetly? I don’t imagine they will take to their destruction lying down, they are great in number.”

  De Nogaret shook his head reassuringly. “Not every Templar is one, only the higher ranking knights and hierarchy. Many sergeants, chaplains and servants are as human as you and I and are oblivious to the in-human nature of the masters they serve.”

  “That is good news,” Philip chirped, “because it is the hierarchy that I want, always has been not their minions. It’s De Molay and his arrogant peers that I want crushed.”

  “We must still exercise caution though, Sire.” Beaumanoir warned. “There are still over a thousand knights.”

  “Not all in France,” De Nogaret contradicted, "besides De Floyran believes those that face arrest will acquiesce peacefully as they believe it is still a routine enquiry that will be quashed by Clement. They know nothing of the indictment or Clement’s waning support. In any case, the Templars would not want to seem aggressive over a matter of routine lest they lose support and look like they have something to hide. They
will not know that we know the truth of their nature.”

  The King nodded. “Their support has diminished since they lost the Holy Land, but you are right De Nogaret, they are clever but we will outsmart them. My men will be well armed and will exercise caution in numbers. I have already instructed the arrests to occur in the early hours of the thirteenth.”

  “Next Friday?” De Plaisians said.

  “Yes, I would do it sooner but De Molay is acting pall bearer at my sister-in-law’s funeral on the 12th. It would be untimely to do it before then. The Templars’ arrogance will keep them ignorant of how close to the edge of the precipice they are.”

  “What of the Templars abroad?” De Plaisians enquired.

  De Nogaret smiled relishing having the upper hand, “France will lead by example. We will crush the Templars here and prove the Order’s heresies. Others will follow suit not wanting to be seen as the protectors of heretics.”

  “Precisely,” Philip said jubilantly, “the matter of their monstrous nature need not be revealed to others. We have enough with which to crush them. France and its King will be remembered for the abolition of the arrogant Templar Knights, their former glory will drown in the tide of their destruction and they will be forgotten.”

  8th October 1307, The Paris Temple

  De Villiers hurried his way through the passageways of the Paris Temple towards De Molay’s private chambers, he was running late and De Molay had said that tonight would see the last meeting of the Templar council for Christ knows how long. He was deep in his thoughts and as he turned the corner a man came towards him out of the shadows and De Villiers instinctively drew his sword.

  “Easy Gerard,” De Charney said stepping back. De Villiers sighed. “Shouldn’t you be in the meeting?” he said pushing passed him. De Charney placed his hand on his arm to stop him.

  “I was waiting for you.” He said.

  “Whatever for?” De Villiers frowned and looked down at De Charney’s hand and the knight slowly removed it.

  “A word.” He said.

  “Away from the council? We are late, save it for the meeting.”

  “No,” De Charney said sharply and then sighed. “De Molay seems out of sorts, he is usually so certain of matters. He’s putting much faith in you Gerard and I want to be sure it is faith well placed.”

  “De Molay’s world is changing.” De Villiers said. “He has relied on the continuity of the Temple for far too long, we all have. Change is never easy, especially after nearly two hundred years. De Molay is wise; he is simply placing matters into the hands of those who are confident with the changing tide.”

  “And what tide do we expect? Are you sure that the threat is real? Nothing may come of the damned indictment. Exercise caution of course but this reaction reeks of panic. You are going to sell most of our fleet, for Christ’s sake its madness!”

  “Geoffroy, the Temple’s material possessions are irrelevant, our survival is not. They will want nothing to be left of us do you understand? At least we can have some control over that, we’ll leave them nothing.”

  “How can you be so sure they will take it that far? Philip is easily bored and needs a cause to champion. If he can’t play crusader in Outremer then he’ll look for one closer to home. His attention simply needs diverting, promise him money and a new crusade and naught will come of this.”

  De Villiers shook his head in dismay and made to move past De Charney who blocked him.

  “The Temple is over Geoffroy!” he said pushing him aside, “accept it. Its destruction is imminent but ours is not, not if we move now.”

  “How can you be so sure?” De Charney said as if in agony. De Villier’s knew what security the Temple had brought to them over the years. Like impenetrable armour in battle, it would seem foolhardy to remove it unless it had a chink in it. But the Templars’ armour did. There would be many, like De Charney, who would hold onto the Temple, preferring to sink with it rather than swim into a vast ocean of uncertainty.

  “’Tis instinct, an ill wind, call it what you will but I know it.”

  “But we stand to lose so much!” De Charney protested.

  “Exactly,” De Villiers said, “Geoffroy, the Temple is a name, a guise that has mostly worked over the decades and brought us wealth and power. Abandoning it to its fate may appear foolish, but it is not us. If we abandon it we will survive even if we have to start again, but if we cling to its coattails and wait for the Pope to save us we will lose a lot more than a few galleys and the Temple’s good name. We best get to the meeting, they will wonder what’s afoot.” He motioned De Charney to follow.

  De Charney rubbed his hand over his face and sighed deeply, “needs must,” he uttered distantly and began to walk with De Villiers to De Molay’s meeting.