The Wolves of Solomon (Wolves of Solomon Book One)

by R. L. Blackhurst

  ****

  “Gathering your strength for the ordeal ahead?” De Floyran asked, as Galeren slowly opened his eyes to look at him as he entered the torture room. De Floyran was accompanied by Botolf, Armin and Huguard, the latter two in wolf form in case the unpredictable Galeren had had a thought to change himself.

  However, he was still in human form and hung in the strappado; his arms pulled upwards and back so that his own weight wrenched his shoulders almost out of their sockets. This method of torture was often employed in the first instance, as it was extremely effective. Usually, no further action was required to secure a confession as, in most cases, the excruciating agony of dislocation was sufficient to get the victim talking. The terrible pain was prolonged even after they had been taken down.

  “Or had you passed out from the pain?” De Floyran added with a self-satisfied smile on his face. Many victims did pass out from the pain and had to be resuscitated for questioning with a few firm slaps or a bucket full of water thrown over them. Such could go on for hours, however, De Floyran knew that Galeren was made of stronger stuff and his comment was merely to rile him.

  “Get on with it.” Galeren growled and De Floyran laughed raucously.

  “Amazing! That is exactly what Catherine said to me. Would you like to know what I got on with?” he paused and watched Galeren’s eyes darken.

  “I’ll put you out of your misery. Get him down.” De Floyran commanded.

  Botolf took hold of the device’s rope that was bound to a large hook embedded in the wall and unsecured it. The pulley system lowered Galeren to the ground and he gripped the floor with his feet, determined not to fall upon it. He slowly pulled his arms back down behind him and stared at De Floyran, waiting for his next move.

  “Here,” De Floyran said and threw the wrapped fowl on the small table that was in the corner of the room. “I thought you might be hungry.”

  “Fuck you.” Galeren said. “What’s going on?” Galeren’s senses were flooded with trepidation. Catherine. De Floyran folded his arms casually and Raymond Caradas entered the room with some clothing which he placed on the table next to the food.

  “I said what is going on?” Galeren repeated as his heartbeat quickened.

  De Floyran smiled. “You are free to go. I have provided clothing for you to wear and food for sustenance. The palfrey you rode in on will be saddled up and waiting for you. You will not be stopped if you leave without fuss, quietly.”

  “Do you think me dim-witted?” Galeren said. “You do not mean to let me go. Besides, you know well that I would not leave without Catherine or at least a fight for her.”

  “It’s not what I want. It is what Catherine wants you to do.” De Floyran said with a triumphant smile. “She and I came to a little compromise.”

  Galeren stared blankly at De Floyran, his breathing became shallow. He was loath to ask the bastard what his meaning was, though he dreaded that he already knew. De Floyran got tired of waiting and shrugging he said:

  “I fear the beautiful Catherine has bewitched me. Perhaps it is because she bears my mark. No woman has lived with that before. I find her,” he paused and raised his hand to his chin and stroked the stubble there, “intriguing. You know well my view of women, they are not much worth unless on their backs and I am not one to play games of seduction. I take what I want when I want it.”

  He shook his head as if perplexed. “But Catherine has caused me some confusion. On the one hand I want to hurt her, to punish her for causing me to have such unnatural thoughts while it is those very thoughts that give me the strange desire to protect and care for her.” He sighed as if in genuine turmoil. “I am almost ashamed to say it but I think she has gentled me. I have just been given an estate of my choice and I want a wife with whom to produce an heir. She is perfect,” he smiled at Galeren, “and I can see myself enjoying her for many years.”

  “You whoreson!” Galeren stepped towards him, his teeth bared but De Floyran held his ground and let his men control the offence.

  “She would not agree to it.” Galeren said. A thread of certainty was in his eyes as he tried to shrug off Botolf’s grip from his sore shoulder, but Catherine’s words came back to haunt him. What would she agree to, to save him? His arms were still secured behind him, his hands still in the manacles of the strappado device.

  “She knows I would rather die, and Christ knows she would too than be with you!”

  “Then you do not know her as well as you think.” De Floyran grinned.

  “What have you said to her?”

  “Only what is within my power to do. Throughout history we have seen that it is easier to sacrifice yourself than the one you love. She is merely honouring that time long tradition. She wishes to see you freed and unharmed, to return to your brethren in England. I’ve no doubt that she holds onto some romantic notion that you will seek her out and save her, like in some Arthurian romance but that will not be. You will never find her and I am positive that the bond we share will, in time, temper her feelings towards me. She will give into the nature she is bound by and become my mate in every sense of the word.”

  “You know nothing of the bond between mates!” Galeren screamed enraged at him. “Is this how you think to torture me?”

  “Well, I would like to have pulled you apart limb from limb, but that is gratuitous, not to mention a relatively short-lived pleasure. This is more elegant and it works because my feelings towards Catherine are genuine, but don’t misinterpret them as merciful.” He said, a dark tone entering his voice, “I would still have no qualms about causing her agony in your presence if you do not honour your end of the bargain, which is to walk out of here and not look back. I’ll have her willingly or I will just as happily satisfy my darker desires and cause her a lot of pain.” He smiled. “You must sacrifice each other and then I will consider you efficiently tortured my old friend.”

  “I want to see her!” Galeren demanded.

  “Predictable, but I have no problem with it. I can assure you though her mind is quite made up.”

  “We will see. Just bring her to me and I want to see her alone.”

  “This is the last request I will ever grant you. Be thankful.” De Floyran grinned with pleasure and nodding to his foe snapped his fingers and left the torture room.

  Galeren, now manacled to the wall, waited for what seemed an age for Catherine to be brought to him. When she finally entered the room he grimaced as he could see the determination on her face and knew what she would say.

  “Galeren,” she said in barely a whisper as the door was closed behind her and they were alone. She went to him and held him.

  “Don’t despise me.”

  “Despise you?” he said pulling away to look at her, “that I could never do, but I beg you not to do this. I would rather die.”

  “And I could not bear that. Perhaps it is selfish of me but this does offer some hope.”

  “Hope?” Galeren said bewildered. “Hope that you do not bear his child or get used to his attentions. What hope Catherine? I cannot accept the thought of it, lest walk out of these gates and leave you to live it.”

  “You don’t understand. He will have me anyway, he has made that clear. He wants me to be with him willingly to hurt you of course. But if I do not, he will torture you to death in front of me and then force himself on me, maybe once or maybe for the rest of my miserable life.”

  “It is rape whichever way you look at it!” Galeren cried miserably.

  “Yes, you are right!” she said passionately, “but I would rather it knowing that you lived, that we may be reunited. I can survive with that hope.”

  “And what if I cannot?” Galeren shouted in fury, “I cannot! At least if I were dead I would know nothing of it. This way I will be haunted by you every moment, agonising whether his hands are upon you. Christ, can you not see it! There must be another way.”

  “There is not. I love you and won’t let you die. Even if I never saw you again, you will li
ve in my heart and that will save me from the darkness.”

  His heart tightened as he saw the tears well up in her sorrowful eyes and begin to course down her face. He pulled at his manacles as if to be free of them so he could hold her but she stepped towards him and laid her hands on his bare chest, “I don’t want it this way but when we were in the pit there seemed to be no hope, now we have a little. You will be free and you will find me, I know you will.”

  “I will Catherine,” he said assuredly, “but I am afraid what I will find,” he added despairingly.

  “You will find me.” She looked at him with promise in her eyes. “Remember what you said to me when you killed those mercenaries in the forest on the way to Ashby?”

  He shook his head, “You said, ‘I will do or say anything to prevent harm from coming to you.’ I never forgot it and now it is my turn to say the same.”

  “Catherine,” he said defeated and rested his chin upon her head. They remained that way for a few moments and then Catherine said, “The Pope plans to issue a Bull ordering the arrest of all the Templars throughout the Christian world.”

  “What?”

  “I heard De Floyran speaking to one of the King’s councillors.” She continued but her voice suddenly dropped to a faint whisper, “I saw Robard Beaumanoir.” She saw Galeren’s frown deepen and quickly continued in the same vein. “He is sending a message to Parsifal at Bruer to warn the English Templars about the Pope’s Bull.”

  Galeren’s expression changed. “You trust he will do it?” he sounded doubtful.

  “He feels he owes me and I believe that this in part will alleviate some of his guilt over me, of which he made clear that he has. Besides, you will now be free to get to England yourself and warn them.”

  “I am not going to leave French soil without you, mark me on that.”

  She smiled sadly. “Don’t torture yourself with thoughts of me. Don’t think of me in misery. Remember us, and what we will be again. I am strong Galeren and I will wait for you.”

  “You will not wait long.” Galeren promised and then said warningly, “De Floyran,” just as the door opened and he appeared with a cunning look on his face.

  “Have you changed your mind?” he addressed Catherine.

  “No,” she shook her head.

  “Good girl!” De Floyran said chirpily.

  “When will he be free to go?”

  “Tonight, when he is ready.” De Floyran answered. “I would have delayed until tomorrow but the King wants me to escort De Molay to his new place of incarceration. Chinon, in case you are wondering. The Pope wants him to join the other members of the Templar council.”

  “What of the other Templars here?” Galeren asked with fervent concern.

  “They are to be left here to rot,” De Floyran laughed viciously but quickly backed away as Galeren lunged forward.

  “Ah, ah, ah . . . ” he waved a warning finger, “keep your temper in check. You still have much to lose.” He pulled Catherine away from him. “Come sweeting, back to our chamber. I must have parting words with Galeren. Caradas will bring you to the bailey to wave your farewell when he departs.”

  He smiled at Galeren as she was forced to leave and waited until he was sure she had been taken from the dungeons and was out of werewolf earshot.

  “Of course, what she doesn’t know is that I cannot let you live at all.”

  “You bastard!” Galeren spat, though he sensed it was coming.

  “The King only wants De Molay to leave Montlhéry. The rest of you were meant to end your days here. But he allowed me to have final say on your fate as long as you did not leave here alive. Christ knows I don’t want you to leave here alive. I have thought of nothing but your death since Acre.”

  He shrugged defensively, “Of course I could not convince Catherine to become my willing mate if you were to be killed. So for her benefit she will see you ride out of Montlhéry alive, but,” he paused and unsheathed a dagger that was attached to his sword belt, “you will not live for long.” He finished and thrust the dagger deep into Galeren’s side. Galeren swallowed a cry and attempted to battle with the agony of its entry. De Floyran slowly pulled it out and inspected the blade proudly.

  “Wolfsbane,” he said casually as he re-sheathed the dagger, “an effective poison which will work its magic on you fairly rapidly. My men will help you dress, Catherine will be none the wiser and I would not have broken my promise to the King. Take heart Galeren,” De Floyran said as he watched the hatred pour out of his eyes, “at least you will not live too long with the torture of knowing your mate is mine, making yourself insane with imagined scenarios which are probably happening.” He laughed. “Oh, and not a word to Catherine about my parting gift, or me and my men will tear her apart in front of you.”

  Galeren sunk down on the floor as De Floyran’s men entered to dress him and did not resist as they set about to their task.

  “I doubt for the chance to see my father before I leave to die?” Galeren said when they had finished.

  “I told you before that I’d granted you your last request when I allowed Catherine to visit you.” De Floyran reminded him unsympathetically. “Besides I know how you Templars scheme when you are together and I could not stomach having to watch your woeful farewells.”

  “You always blame the Temple for what happened to you, but it is you that are twisted Esquin, not the brotherhood.” Galeren said standing up.

  “The Temple is hypocritical. How much innocent blood has been spilled in the last two centuries by Templar swords? And I am sure there are many women that have come up against a Templar’s cock unwillingly and not just mine.” He smiled sweetly.

  Galeren scowled at him, “I am sure you speak the truth. On the first count, blood has been spilt but I believe we have evolved since the early days. The good we have tried to do and would have done, would eventually outweigh such casualties. On the second count, monsters, such as you, do not escape justice for long.”

  “You almost make me sick with your sanctimonious twaddle.” De Floyran said contemptuously. “Remember that it was your failed attempt at justice that has led you, and all whom you love, to here. Think on that in your last agonies. Now you must leave before the wolfsbane renders you ineffectual.”

  Armin and Botolf pushed Galeren ahead of them as they all made their way out of the dungeons. Galeren saw for the last time the men who would not make it out of here alive and couldn’t help the anger in him once again surface. He of course would become one of the Templar casualties of Montlhéry and he couldn’t help but imagine De Floyran recounting the tale in years to come to the rapturous sound of appreciative laughter.

  And what would become of Catherine? She would become nothing more than a slave, staring at a bleak horizon, wondering if this would be the day that he would come to save her from her desolation. He grimaced as he left the dungeons and thought of his father and the other Templars that still lived. For those that were already incarcerated, their future was doomed. Philip and his minions would make an example of them and ensure that the Temple was disseminated forever. Those that were still free would have no choice but to start anew and far from these shores. He could at least have faith in Le Roux, De Villiers, De Gosbeck and even young Parsifal in this dark hour and know that the future of their kind was assured, albeit from the ashes of devastation.

  He saw Catherine in the château bailey guarded by Raymond Caradas. Over her gown she wore a dark black woollen cloak, the hood was up and she turned to stare at him, her grey eyes like those of a ghost, haunted already. De Floyran took Caradas’ place and he instead went over to speak to the guards on night watch to allay their curiosity at the unusual activity. Once done he led Galeren’s palfrey to him and helped him into the saddle.

  Galeren turned his mount to face all of them and looked at each in turn, first at De Floyran’s men his stare cold but full of promise that, if by some strange act of fate he ever came across them again, they would come to a fitting end
. Then he looked at De Floyran who met his stare with smug triumph, completely secure in his executed plan. He would not think to look over his shoulder in the coming days but Galeren gave him a meaningful look of his own and then he turned his gaze upon Catherine. She closed her eyes slowly and opened them and he mirrored her act. She was safe in the knowledge that he would come for her and he needed to secure that knowledge for himself.

  “There is nothing more to say,” De Floyran said sounding bored. “You have said your farewells, this is merely for ceremony. Turn your mount and be on your way to freedom Galeren and never darken my doorstep again.”

  “I cannot promise that.” Galeren said with a dark look in his eye and reined his horse reluctantly away and on towards the gates. As he reached them he felt a spasm rack his body and unsure whether it was a chill of foreboding or the effect of wolfsbane he nevertheless quickly spurred his mount onwards, not wanting Catherine to witness the truth for fear of her own safety. And so swiftly and painfully he was into the night and gone.

  Catherine stared wistfully after him not wanting to accept that he was gone knowing what she now must face. But he was free and now she could wait for his return.

  “Come Catherine, into the warmth. He’s gone.” De Floyran said with chilling finality. He offered her his hand and she took it numbly and he led her back inside. He spoke briefly with Caradas who, with the rest of his men, retired to the barracks to find some rest before the next day’s journey.

  De Floyran took Catherine gently by the arm and led her back up to the chamber that had been her prison for the last few days. But this time he did not leave her alone. He smiled as he removed his gloves and went over to the table, upon which sat a flagon of wine, two cups and some figs and sweet pastries.

  “I thought you may need this.” He said as he poured the wine and offered her a cup. She took it without hesitation and drained its contents immediately. She held it out to be refilled.

  De Floyran laughed gently, “I suppose you think it will be easier for you if you are drunk.” He remarked intuitively. Catherine merely shrugged and took the refilled cup from him.

  “I don’t want you to be afraid. I do not mean to hurt you.”

  Catherine looked at him cagily and he laughed again. “I know what you think of me and I know that at present there is nothing I can do to change your opinion.”

  “You could free me and the others here.” She said daringly.

  “I cannot do that Catherine and I do not want to either. You are exactly where I want you to be. However much you despise me, remember that you gave your word that you would give yourself to me willingly. My men can easily catch up with Galeren and there are others here that would suffer if you do not do my bidding.”

  “I will honour my word. Resistance would be pointless.” Catherine said, knowing that there was too much at stake to resist or anger him.

  “And unpleasant,” he said with a malevolent smile. “Come here.” He commanded. She obeyed him and walked boldly up to him. He put down the cup he was drinking from and unclasped the broach that pinned her cloak together. He pushed the garment from her shoulders and watched it drop to the ground.

  “Take off your gown.” He said and saw the onset of humiliation flicker in her eyes. She hesitated momentarily but then, as if drawing on some hidden strength, she began to undress. De Floyran watched with fascination at the ritual, he could not think of a time where he had ever interacted with a woman in such a way. He quickly followed suit. She watched at first, noting how toned and powerful his body was, a werewolf trait, she presumed. His skin was dark and there was thick black hair scattered across his chest. She quickly averted her eyes, not willing to see the rest of him.

  She stood, still in her undershift while De Floyran, naked, walked towards her. He reached down and gathered the bottom of the scant covering in his grip. He wound the material around his fist, drawing it taut against her body. It rode up her legs as he gathered it upwards. He pulled her against his body and stared into her eyes that looked desperately into his.

  “I have waited a long time for this Catherine,” he breathed huskily, “now say my name.”

  “Esquin,” she said without emotion.

  “Again,” he said, “and how you know I want you to say it.”

  “Esquin,” she said breathlessly and with feigned passion.

  “Yes,” he hissed, as if he had already obtained his satisfaction. “You will never mention Galeren’s name again, not to me, not to my men, not to anyone and you will rue the day that you do, is that understood?”

  She nodded sadly and he took her face with his hand and tilted it up to him. “You are beautiful and you are mine. I will treat you well, if you let me.”

  She nodded dolefully, trying with all her power to prevent the tears from welling up in her eyes.

  “I am your true mate and Galeren has always known that. It was my bite that made you one of us. The wolf in you will be reconciled to that fact relatively quickly and in time your human nature will accept it too and I promise you, when it does you will be content.”

  He moved back from her slightly, and slowly and deliberately removed the undershift, the last vestige of modesty, from her body. He took a moment to admire her. Pleased, he smiled and gathered her into his arms and swiftly took her to the bed. Laying her upon it, he paused and looked down at her legs. He took her left thigh in his hands and then slowly ran them down it, across her knee and then along her calf, where he stopped. He turned her leg slightly and inspected the scar from his bite.

  “Mine,” he said possessively and smiled.

  Chapter Twenty Two