The Wolves of Solomon (Wolves of Solomon Book One)

by R. L. Blackhurst

17th March 1310, Aberdeenshire

  To the left, to the left! Galeren called out. Catherine immediately skidded in the undergrowth as she tried to reposition herself and ducked as the stag’s antlers swished in her direction.

  Watch it! Galeren warned. Catherine snapped at the stag’s forequarters in retaliation and the animal veered to its left.

  Hold him Parsifal! Galeren commanded and Parsifal pushed forward snapping at the stag’s left front leg to hold it between them and prevent it from escaping.

  Good, good he’s tiring. Galeren said bringing up the rear. I’m taking him down, be ready.

  The white wolf surged forward feeling the stag’s adrenaline drain as fatigue took over. The animal stumbled but regained its balance as it tried desperately to escape, but it was too late.

  Galeren timed the rhythm of the animal’s steps and swiftly grabbed the stag’s back left hoof as it left the ground and brought the creature crashing down. He released it immediately and rolled in the undergrowth as his momentum kept him going. Catherine quickly took advantage of the animal’s fall and wishing to end its distress she quickly pounced upon it and grabbing its throat crushed it in her powerful jaws. It was over in seconds. Catherine released the stag’s throat and looked at the whites of its rolled back eyes and motionless body. She felt a stab of regret and guilt momentarily but lost her train of thought as she felt Galeren crash into the side of her.

  Well done, he said.

  That is the fastest yet, Parsifal added joining them.

  Take your spoils, Galeren encouraged and Catherine looked at her prize. Galeren had made her fast all day for this; he had said it would increase her drive. Indeed, there was nothing better than an empty stomach to ensure the success of a hunt. They had been on numerous hunts before of course, but often in bigger groups and Galeren wanted Catherine to be more confident in her own hunting skills.

  Licking her chops enthusiastically, Catherine tore into the beast’s belly and felt immediate satisfaction as the stag’s warm flesh and blood entered her mouth and slipped down her throat. It seemed strange to her sometimes that eating a freshly killed stag raw was so natural and something she enjoyed, especially when the kill was hers. The warm meat tasted divine, though she knew in human form it would not have been so appealing. As the wolf she was still Catherine, but her needs and desires were different. She was a beast of nature, wild and free and it was a magical state to be in.

  She looked over at her mate and attempted to clean her bloodied muzzle with her tongue. Once she had sated her initial, ravenous, hunger she motioned for the others to join her. This was a rare treat to have first taste of a kill. Usually she had to wait until more important members of the pack had satisfied their hunger. She had learned much about the pack over the last two years and Galeren had made it his quest to have her become fully tuned to her werewolf life and forget her former solely human existence. She had become stronger and her dominant wolf half had made her powerful.

  Although they lived primarily in human form, they took every opportunity to enjoy their wild natures. It was a welcome distraction from the concerns of the Temple’s future as Galeren had struggled to maintain patience as the months stretched into years. He had even taken to training Catherine to become skilled with a sword and that too she had mastered.

  Of course as her confidence and power grew she became ever more certain that when the call to France came, she would be allowed to join the group who went. She did not broach the subject with Galeren as he was always adamant that she would not. The spectre of De Floyran’s damage would always resurface and Catherine preferred to keep it far from Galeren’s thoughts, though she knew that it was a fire that smouldered deep within him. She knew it was hard for him to wait and do nothing and her recurring dreams of burning Templars concerned them both. Yet without the support of the others, Galeren was powerless to do anything and to his frustration could do nothing but wait.

  When they had eaten to their fill the three wolves collapsed on the grass and dozed in the spring sun. When at last it became low in the sky, Parsifal stirred and got to his feet.

  I am back to Maryculter, he said.

  Tell the others there is a fresh kill if they are interested, Galeren said sleepily. Though in truth there was not much left of the animal they had slain.

  I will. ’Twas a good hunt. I will see you soon, he said and disappeared into the forest.

  When they were certain he was gone, Galeren and Catherine immediately changed and he pulled her close, kissing her desperately as he rolled on top of her. She laughed and returned his affections with enthusiasm and let the pleasure of the afternoon overtake her. Afterwards, he remained upon her and studied her face. He looked at her black hair which had grown long and now fell past her shoulders and smiled.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I was just thinking of when we were in the oubliette in Montlhéry. I thought I would never see your hair grow long. But I was wrong.”

  “I am glad you were wrong.” She said.

  “Did you enjoy the hunt?” he asked twirling a lock of it around his finger.

  “I did, I always do.” She said and then smiling asked, “You’d live as a wolf, wouldn’t you?”

  “If you would.” He answered honestly, “I would, of course, change for some things,” he said with a mischievous grin, “I would miss this face.”

  “What do you envisage when you think of the new world?” she asked. They had spoken on the subject many times over the last couple of years but hearing him speak of it made it feel real.

  “Mmm,” he mused as if in thought, “I see big blue skies and I see forests, plains, mountains and the ocean. I see freedom and a joining with nature that I think we may not as yet have experienced.”

  “How not?” she asked curiously.

  “Well, I will not fear that a troop of hunters is coming over the ridge looking for wolf skins and I will not fear witch hunts or inquisitions.”

  “What about the Skraelings? How do you know that they do not hunt for wolf skins?”

  “I do not know for certain, but they were described by the Viking explorers as being primitive. It depends how you interpret the Viking description but I take it as meaning that they live by simpler means and that they are probably more in tune with nature.

  If they do hunt for wolf skins, it will be for survival, not so they can line their collars and cuffs with it to elevate their status. We once lived like that before Christianity wiped the light from our lives. Pagans gave thanks to the Earth for what they took from it and were never greedy. Christianity teaches that God will provide, and when he does not someone gets the blame for it and suffers.”

  “It was over three hundred years ago, perhaps they too have been corrupted by a religion.” She said pessimistically.

  “Perhaps, but it is the chance we will have to take.” He smiled, “But I don’t think it will be like that. I dream that we will have space to breath.”

  “Will we stay with the others or disappear into your space?”

  “Mayhap a bit of both, we will see.” He grinned but then tensed immediately as he sensed someone’s approach.

  It was Parsifal, but he was on horseback and leading a second horse behind him. “It is time.” He said seriously and threw some clothing down to them.

  Catherine waited for what seemed to be an age for Galeren to return to the small cottage they shared on the Maryculter estate. Parsifal had been reticent in what he meant by “it is time” but what was clear was that it had something to do with going back to France. It was the words she had both yearned for and dreaded. On the one hand their future could not start until the Templar brothers that were imprisoned in France were freed. Galeren was impatient for the chance to make it so and finish De Floyran for good. Once this was done they could plan their future and make their way to the new world that offered hope and freedom.

  On the other hand, however, she feared for what would happen when Galeren and the others returned to
France. Catherine was sure that he would not let her accompany them and so she would be forced to face an agonising wait. Her visions of burning Templars seemed prophetic and she did not know how she would manage to keep from going insane as she was left to wait in the darkness of ignorance.

  The door opened and Galeren strode in, his face was taut with concern but as he spotted Catherine sitting in the candlelit room his expression softened and he said, “I did not expect to find you still up.”

  “You expect me to sleep when I know what is coming?” she said sounding a little offended.

  He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I am sorry. Rather I mean that I wish you were asleep, with no cares.” He went and joined her at the table.

  “They are the cares of us all.” She commented, as she poured him and herself a cup of mead. “So what is the news?” she asked with a heart full of trepidation. He drank his mead quickly and then said:

  “The Templar servants that were incarcerated have all been released, reconciled with the Church and absolved on the premise that it is the knights that are the channels of evil in the Temple, and we know why that is.”

  “But that is good, isn’t it? I know they are not brethren but they do not deserve to suffer.” Catherine said.

  “Of course not and it is indeed a good thing.” Galeren stressed as he poured more mead. “They are still loyal brothers and it is one less concern to trouble us. The papal commission has called for a defence of the Temple to commence.”

  “A defence?”

  “Yes, a chance for any free Templars to journey to Paris to offer a defence for the Order.”

  “Surely it’s a trap!” Catherine said with apprehension spreading across her face.

  “The commission, I’ll warrant, does not know the truth and so it will be a genuine proposal. However, no knight will risk it because the King is liable to arrest any who would be foolish enough to go but our spies have told us that many of the freed servants will be going to champion the cause of the knights.

  We think a gathering of brothers at the defence may be our only opportunity to strike. The King will be nervous and all eyes will be on Paris. Most of our knights are now imprisoned at the château in Chinon and some are at the Temple in Paris. This is a prime opportunity to make a move, we must take it. It is a dangerous time for us. My father and the others have gone back to their original confessions.”

  “Why?” Catherine said sounding perplexed.

  “No one is sure, but I’ll bet that the King and De Nogaret have cooked up a scheme to make it happen.”

  Catherine frowned in thought and then said, “Philip may have panicked, thinking the papal commission may absolve the Temple after the retraction of confessions. He may have pressed Clement into declaring those who retracted their confessions as relapsed heretics.”

  “The stake?” Galeren asked grimly and then cursed himself quietly. Catherine was clever and he instantly regretted saying more to her on the subject than he should, despite the fact that he valued her opinion and sharp mind. However, on this matter he reasoned that the less he said about it the better. She would worry; she may even try to follow them. He could not risk having her on French soil again. He must allay her fears, not add to them.

  “Yes! My visions, Galeren.”

  “I doubt Clement would do that, seriously.” He looked at her intently. “Besides the information we have received is vague at best. It is not like before; the King and Pope are more guarded and trust no one outside their tight circle. The point is that the defence will distract the King and if we can get our brethren out of Chinon then we will have the force to move on the places where Templars are incarcerated in Paris. The King, Pope, De Nogaret and even De Floyran will be powerless to stop us. We may never get another opportunity like this.”

  “What exactly is the plan then?” she asked, chewing nervously on her lip.

  “Eight of us are to go,” he paused and then continued. “We’ll sort out the details when we are in France.”

  Catherine folded her arms, “What are you hiding from me?”

  “Nothing,” Galeren said defensively.

  “I don’t believe you. Bertrand said he wouldn’t let you go to France unless you had a watertight plan.”

  “The plan is watertight, but the less you know the better.”

  Catherine’s face crumbled, “Why are you shutting me out? You said you would share everything with me!”

  “I do share everything with you,” Galeren said angrily, “but not this and you know well why!”

  “De Floyran,” Catherine said, shaking her head.

  “Yes De Floyran! Don’t you understand?”

  “Of course I understand! But why can’t you let me help you, don’t you think I have revenge of my own to be mete out? I am strong in the wolf, stronger than him. I have learned so much these last few years. I am not afraid of him!”

  “I know, but your presence would weaken me. My thoughts would be more concerned with protecting you than on the mission and that could put everybody in jeopardy. I have told you time and again that I would not take you, why can’t you just leave it at that!”

  “Because I fear to lose you! Have you not thought that I may seek to protect you?”

  Galeren smiled at the sentiment, “I do not need protecting, have I not proven that?” he watched her face sadden. “Christ Catherine, I trust you with my life but you must let me go and do this. If I am in sound mind that you are safely here then I can get this done and return home to our future.”

  She looked down and then slowly and reluctantly nodded. “So I must wait in darkness.”

  “Only for a little while.” He said trying to sound upbeat, “I hate to be parted from you but it is something that I must do without you. I must know you are safe here with Parsifal.”

  “Parsifal’s not going either?” Catherine asked incredulously.

  “No,” Galeren said sternly.

  “Does he know?”

  “Not yet and he will accept my decision as you should.”

  “I think not! He will feel left out and unworthy and he doesn’t deserve that!”

  “He will have to accept my decision!” Galeren cried and slammed his fists down hard on the table. “This is hard enough for me without you making it harder! I need your support not your criticism. You are the two people I care about most in the world. Do you think I do this to hurt you?”

  Catherine looked at him, her expression was unforgiving. Galeren sighed and threw his hands up into the air.

  “I care not, but know that I will not speak on this matter again.” He stood up and waved a finger at her warningly, “I will have you gagged and bound in chains if you broach the subject again.” He said and stormed out of the room just as the candle burned out and left Catherine in darkness.

  19th March 1310, Maryculter, Aberdeenshire

  Catherine caught her tongue and tried to remain silent as she watched Parsifal kick the dirt repeatedly and curse Galeren.

  “It isn’t fair!” he cried furiously. “He does this to me time and again. I am eighteen now. I should be knighted! I should be going with him! Why does he hold me back? He says he trusts me, why won’t he let me prove myself?”

  Catherine sighed and clasped her hands together. She understood well Parsifal’s frustrations but had resolved herself to support Galeren’s decision, instead of battling against it. The seven who were going with Galeren included Richard de Gosbeck, Gerard de Villiers, John St Clair, Guy Auvrey, Hugo de Chalons and two other knights whom Catherine did not know that well. When Parsifal had found out that he was not among the eight he had been devastated. By all accounts Galeren had been curt in his reasoning and probably not in the mood to undergo another ear bashing like the one he had received from her.

  Parsifal looked at Catherine and shook his head. “He wants me to stay here to protect you, but you don’t need protecting, do you? I told him this and that you would rather come too.”

  Catherine wi
nced, imagining Galeren’s reaction but Parsifal soon told her of it. “He said he would lock me in a dungeon if I mentioned it again!”

  Catherine smiled. “It is because he loves us.” She offered and it was the truth.

  “It’s alright for you. You’ve been there! You ripped out Huguard Parry’s throat! Where was I? Here, waiting as usual!”

  “It’s not alright for me, not when I fear for Galeren. Do you think I took his decision well? But I would hate to be a burden to him when he needs to have a clear head. This mission is not about glory Parsifal, men will die, maybe even Galeren. We will serve him best by staying here, no matter how hard that is. He doesn’t mean to hurt you, but he would rather that than worse to happen.”

  “You don’t understand.” Parsifal said bitterly and walked away from her. Catherine sighed heavily and bit down on her bottom lip. She did understand but if she conveyed that to Parsifal then he was like to do something rash. She had promised Galeren, when they had made up after their fight, that she would try to make Parsifal see sense and support his decision, but it was hard. Like Parsifal, she too had faith in her own abilities. She understood Galeren’s sentiment, but she was different now. She was changed from the confused, newly marked girl she had been two years before. Back then, in little over a few weeks she had been attacked, marked, and abducted by De Floyran. All scars had faded and she had emerged stronger.

  She was a werewolf like De Floyran and also not, for she was stronger in her wolf-half. Why could she not face him? Why could she not face De Nogaret and others? The Templar men may argue that they viewed their women with equality, but where were their women now; waiting in safe places for their men to collect them for their future. None were going to France that was for sure.

  20th March 1310, Maryculter

  Galeren broke from his troubled thoughts at the sound of a rapping on the door. He was gathering his things and preparing for the journey ahead.

  “Come,” he said a little irritably. It was Gerard and he smiled sheepishly as he entered and was met by Galeren’s stony expression.

  “Is this a bad time?” he asked.

  “’Tis as good or bad as any,” Galeren shrugged, “but you are always welcome brother.” Gerard entered the room.

  “What is it?” Gerard asked.

  “The usual,” Galeren answered laconically.

  “I am sure Parsifal will come round, in time he will understand.”

  “Will he?” Galeren said not sounding sure. “This may be the most important mission of our time and I have once again excluded him.”

  “And now you are not sure it is the right thing to do?”

  “What do I know?” Galeren remarked pessimistically. “Only that I want him to have a future and not throw his life away on –”

  “A foolhardy mission of honour and brotherhood?” Gerard finished poignantly.

  Galeren looked up and frowned. “It is for the best, do you not think?”

  “I do the same for Ourri, but remember he has had his adventure and played his part. Parsifal has long waited in the wings, patiently, for his time to come. You have to ask whose benefit you really do this for, his or your own.”

  “Hmm,” Galeren mused and stared at his sword that lay on the bench before him. Honour was important to men, their hearts full of the love and courage that each sacrifice was made for and their valour passed down in tales of history. Parsifal had grown up with such tales, knew of his own father’s heroic demise and pestered every knight of age and wisdom for stories of fearlessness on crusade, even Galeren’s own past he had yearned to know about. He was a man now and wanted to carve out his own legacy, not that of a pioneer but that of a warrior. How could he deny Parsifal his chance, how could he deny him his very nature?

  “I am sure you have not come to discuss Parsifal’s future with me, Gerard. What is on your mind?” Galeren said changing the subject and putting on his sword belt.

  “Merely, the answer to a simple question.” He shrugged and then said: “Will this work?”

  “It will work,” Galeren said, picking up and sheathing his sword.

  “You are certain?”

  “No one can ever be certain. We may all yet burn in the King’s fires, but I have to believe that we will prevail. We are werewolves and we will not hide in the hills and wait for them to come with sword and flame to be buried forever in the darkness of history. We will show our enemies that they should have left us alone and we will leave them uncertain and wary of shadows and moon light.” Galeren turned to Gerard and smiled. “Does that answer your question?”

  “Oh yes, my friend it does.”

  Both men turned as the door opened and Catherine entered, “I am sorry, I –”

  “It is alright. I was just leaving.” Gerard said.

  “If you see Parsifal, then tell him to come and find me in the stables.”

  “Aye,” he said and bowing courteously to Catherine left the room.

  Galeren turned to Catherine and rolling his shoulders, as he tried to get comfortable in the armour he was wearing, he straightened up to his full height.

  “Do you need such armour if you are going to storm the château of Chinon as wolves?”

  “We still have to cross the narrow sea as men remember, we leave nothing to chance.”

  She nodded. “You look very handsome.” She remarked but cast her eyes downward to hide her fear, for she knew he was leaving in a few hours.

  “It will be alright, I promise.” He said raising her chin so he could meet her gaze.

  “Yes, I know.” She said trying to sound confident. “But it is still dangerous, you cannot deny it.”

  Galeren picked up the leather satchel he had packed and swung it over his shoulder. “It is like before and carries the same risks.” He said taking her hand and leading her from the room.

  “Is that supposed to comfort me?” she said discontented.

  “Nothing would comfort you this hour, my love.” He tilted his head perceptively but Catherine merely shrugged.

  “Bertrand has said you can stay here while we are away. You will be safe and so will I in that knowledge.”

  She nodded and then said. “What do you wish to speak to Parsifal about?” she asked as they crossed the bailey and headed towards the stables. “He is hopping mad at you and doubt he will meet with you.”

  “Well if he doesn’t, it will be to his regret.”

  “You’ve changed you mind about letting him go?”

  “Perhaps,” Galeren answered reticently.

  “And you won’t change your mind about letting me go?” she said stopping and folding her arms.

  “Catherine,” Galeren said wearily, “it is different and you know it.”

  “Because I am a woman!” she said angrily.

  “No, I do not doubt your strength but you bear De Floyran’s mark. He will sense you and he will come for you. Now let that be the end to this. You will stay here in safety. Please Catherine I do not wish to quarrel when . . .” he broke off and shook his head.

  “When what? You might not see me again?” her eyes filled with dread.

  “When we are to be parted,” he corrected and smiled slowly. “Don’t make it any harder for me, please.”

  She nodded and offered him a thin smile.

  “That’s better,” he said and looked up to see Parsifal making his way towards them, he was dragging his feet like a petulant child and Galeren shook his head.

  “Where is your sword?”

  “What need have I for a sword? I don’t know why you bothered teaching me how to use one as I will never have to.” He said bitterly.

  “Come here fool!” Galeren said but the tone of his voice was not stern. Catherine stood aside and gave them room.

  “How old are you?” Galeren said.

  “I have eighteen winters.” Parsifal answered.

  “You think you are a man, do you?”

  “Yes, I do.” Parsifal answered assuredly.

  “
Then you will have to prove it. Kneel before me sergeant.”

  A spark ignited in Parsifal’s eyes as they darted towards Catherine who nodded at him encouragingly. He looked back at Galeren.

  “Come on, we haven’t got all day!” he snapped.

  Parsifal quickly fell to his knees before his master. Galeren unsheathed his sword and said: “I am afraid we don’t have time for proper ceremony, but we have no need for it. Sergeants of the Temple have been knighted amidst the chaos of battle before.” He placed the blade upon Parsifal’s left shoulder.

  “You do not need my protection because you have had my instruction and it will serve you well.” He lifted the blade and crossed it to his right shoulder. “You have a duty to your brethren and as a knight of the Temple you will honour that duty. I dub thee Knight of the Order of the Temple of Solomon.” Galeren said and re-sheathed his sword and then slapped Parsifal hard across the face as was customary. “Now, arise! Sir Parsifal Bondeville.” Galeren said with genuine pride in his voice.

  Parsifal got to his feet albeit awkwardly, his eyes glistened with tears though he did not let one drop.

  “Thank you,” he said, his voice was choked with emotion. “Does this mean . . . ?” he began but Galeren nodded his head before he finished his question.

  “Now we are nine.” Galeren confirmed. “Now hasten and gather your things, we leave in a few hours.”

  Parsifal nodded and looked at Catherine who smiled and bowed her head respectfully. She rejoined Galeren and squeezed his arm and they both watched Parsifal race back across the bailey, excitement replacing the lead that had been in his boots only moments earlier.

  “I hope I have done the right thing.” Galeren said and took a deep breath.

  Chapter Thirty One