****
The gates of the great gatehouse at Temple Bruer were closed and Galeren raised his hand to halt the others as they came into sight. Temple Bruer ordinarily had a tranquil feel to it and despite the preceptory being located within a walled enclosure, with sergeants routinely keeping watch from the battlements, the gates were often open. Galeren didn’t sense anything untoward however, and felt that the usually open feel to the place had been replaced with caution owing to events of late. Ever vigilant though, he continued towards them alone and when close enough he dismounted and walked up to the gatehouse.
“Who are you and what is your business at Temple Bruer?” a brusque voice called from above.
“I am Galeren de Massard,” he replied and looking up at the battlements saw two Templar guards at each. They looked down at the caller and quickly recognised him as one of their own.
“Sir Galeren?” one of the guards queried.
“Yes and several brothers from France. Is Bertrand still here and De Villiers?”
“Aye,” the guard said, “but not for much longer. Wait here a moment and I’ll let them know you are here.”
Not long after, the gates were opened. Galeren motioned for the others to join him and they entered the bailey together. He looked back and smiled as Catherine dismounted and came to his side. He took her hand.
“Are you glad to be back?” she asked him.
“Yes, for now. It feels safer here but I don’t know how long that will last, by the sounds of it, not for long.”
Galeren smiled modestly as he saw his old master come out of the preceptory entrance accompanied by Gerard de Villiers, Richard de Gosbeck, Parsifal and several other men whom he was unfamiliar with. Parsifal grinned from ear to ear and the faces of the others showed their utter amazement, but delight at seeing their old comrade return.
“I don’t believe it!” Bertrand le Roux said shaking his head in wonder. He strode towards Galeren and embraced him strongly. “I thought not to see you again my wayward lad, but I am truly glad to.”
“Ourri!” De Villiers cried out suddenly and ran towards his son, as he saw him emerge from amongst the group of French Templars.
“Jesu Galeren,” Bertrand released him and looked at the happy reunion between father and son. “You are full of surprises. De Villiers feared he would never see Ourri again,” Bertrand said as he looked at Catherine and smiled, “especially when we received your letter, Catherine.” He reached out his hand and she tentatively offered him her own, he bowed his head and kissed it graciously.
“You did get it.” Catherine said smiling with relief and pleased that Beaumanoir had made good his promise.
“A good friend of Catherine’s died getting that letter to you.” Galeren said solemnly.
“I am sorry, but we hope it was not in vain. We have taken on board its message and have made plans to leave here and soon.” He looked at the Templars that had arrived with Galeren and raised his eyebrows in query.
“Prisoners from Montlhéry. Not all of them though, I regret. Some died in their suffering.”
Bertrand shook his head bitterly. “De Floyran has a lot to answer for.”
“And the French King and his councillors. They will pay too, mark me on that. This is not over.” Galeren swore.
“But for now at least rest, all of you.” He said, motioning to the men who had arrived with Galeren. “There is plenty of food here and beds to rest your heads. Be welcomed brothers.” He patted Galeren on the shoulder and said as he turned to go back into the preceptory. “I will tell you of our plans here later.”
De Villiers approached Galeren with Ourri in tow. “I don’t know how to thank you.” He said.
“You don’t have to Gerard.”
De Villiers nodded, “I know, but still, I owe you brother. We’ll talk later.” He nodded assuredly and then said. “Let’s get you all inside, it’s freezing out here.”
Following De Villiers, Galeren motioned to the others to join them while their horses were taken from them by the grooms and led to the stables to be cared for. Seeing Parsifal’s smile Galeren approached him and grabbed him in a head lock and ruffled his hair.
“I knew you’d be back!” Parsifal beamed enthusiastically and wrestled his way out of Galeren’s grip.
“Hoped more like!” Richard de Gosbeck’s voice boomed out. “You have been too soft on this one,” he continued, shaking his head as he thumped Galeren twice on the arm in greeting, “I’ve never heard a sergeant complain and squeal so much!”
“Now that does surprise me.” Galeren said sarcastically and winked at Parsifal.
Richard cast an admiring glance over Catherine, which didn’t go unnoticed by either Galeren or Parsifal.
“This is Catherine,” Parsifal took liberty in saying as he bowed graciously to her. “Galeren went to France to save her.” He said full of awe for his master’s fearless courage.
“I can see why,” Richard said, winking approvingly at Galeren. He held out his hand to her.
“This rogue is Richard de Gosbeck,” Galeren said, as Richard took and kissed her hand, “don’t be wooed by his charms.”
“I’ll try not to be.” Catherine said and gave De Gosbeck a warm smile as they walked towards the preceptory’s entrance.
“How are you Parsifal?” Catherine asked.
“Well, but better for seeing you back safely.” He said with genuine sentiment.
She laughed. “It is good to see you too.” She replied and took Galeren’s hand again as they all entered the warmth and, no matter how temporary, sanctuary of the preceptory.
Galeren looked around the main hall of Temple Bruer. A fire was roaring and English and French brothers were exchanging news and tales of what they had seen and heard on both sides of the narrow sea since the French King’s offensive against the Order. There was a general mood of calm and merriment, not least from the men who had been incarcerated in Montlhéry, while everyone tried to find respite from the trials that were yet to be overcome.
Over supper and a few flagons of ale, Ourri passionately recounted the tale of his seizure by De Floyran’s men at Montlhéry and Galeren’s attack on De Floyran’s troop on the way to Chinon, which had resulted in his own and Catherine’s rescue. Galeren watched as Parsifal absorbed the tale with great interest, but didn’t fail to notice the occasional flicker of regret and disappointment entering his bright eyes, at once again being left out of the action. Galeren winked at him for reassurance and then cursed his father’s stubborn refusal to seize his chance of freedom.
“Did you expect anything less of him?” Bertrand asked intuitively.
“Of course not.” He answered, finishing his goblet of ale.
“He could not stand to be free, knowing his men weren’t and what they faced. He will go down with his ship, it is Jacques’ way.” De Villiers added.
“I know,” Galeren said.
They spoke some more on what had come to pass at Montlhéry, the bones of which had been in Beaumanoir’s letter and then the conversation slowly petered out. Galeren sensed that it would resume once again but in quieter quarters and within a more intimate group. He turned to Catherine when he sensed her weariness and said:
“Have you had enough?”
“Yes, I am tired and I am sure you have much more to talk about with your peers.” She smiled at him knowingly.
“The future must be discussed but don’t feel left out. Believe me, it will consist of a lot of arguing if my experience serves me well and you will have the benefit of a calmer version of events when I return.”
“I know,” she said. “Do you think your ideas will be considered now after everything that has happened?”
“I hope so, but they are not without risk themselves. We will see.” He smiled at her and turned to Bertrand and said:
“Excuse me for a moment while I escort Catherine to our quarters. I trust there will be more to discuss before I retire?”
“Absolutely, if
you are up to it tonight. I know you’ve been through much and may need the benefit of peaceful rest.” Bertrand said sympathetically.
“I’ll be up for it.” Galeren said resolutely and stood up and took Catherine’s hand.
“I thought as much,” Le Roux said with a perceptive smile. “My rooms then, when you are ready. Good evening Catherine, it was a pleasure to meet you.” He stood and gave her a courteous nod.
Catherine curtsied respectfully. “Likewise, Master Bertrand.” She answered.
“Bertrand, please.” He corrected gently.
She nodded, and the others at the dais table stood graciously as she bade them all good night and Bertrand smiled as he watched Galeren escort her from the hall.
Chapter Twenty Five
The Wolves of Solomon (Wolves of Solomon Book One) Page 44