The Wolves of Solomon (Wolves of Solomon Book One)

by R. L. Blackhurst

26th March 1310, Château de Chinon

  “Arrgghhhh!” De Nogaret screamed into the night jolting upright in his bed, his eyes peeling back in horror. The sweat streamed down his face and his temples pounded with a mind crunching pain but the real terror stared out at him from the corner of the room. The cold steel blue eyes watched unblinking and he could see the shape of its ears as it crouched in the darkness.

  “What do you want? What do you want?” he sobbed pitifully, as fear gripped every inch of his being. He raised his hands to hold his head as the pain intensified and he scrunched his eyes closed, as if to gain some relief by doing so. He sensed motion and opened them immediately. But there was nothing there in the dark corner, nothing but a cloak that had been flung over a chair with ruffles and a bend in its hood which could have been mistaken for the ears of a wolf. He blinked again and saw how he could have been mistaken. He rubbed his aching head and the door to his chamber flung open and his servant rushed in panting.

  “Forgive me, master.” He said as he waved the candle he was holding in the direction of De Nogaret’s bed. “I heard a terrible scream and . . .” he said out of breath.

  “Just a dream, Gaston.” De Nogaret snapped, feeling no better.

  “Can I bring you anything?” Gaston asked.

  “Some wine,” De Nogaret said. Gaston rushed off to do his bidding while De Nogaret stared back into the darkened corner.

  “A waking dream.” He said to himself and why should it not be of a wolf, considering he slept in a chamber within a grand château whose dungeons were bursting with imprisoned werewolves and its halls were littered with others who roamed free. Though the shadows seemed haunted to him these days, he doubted that De Floyran or any of his men were playing games with him. It was his own mind; it tormented him with uncertainty and fear. The King blew hot and cold and grew ever more irritable and nervous as time passed, fearful that the Temple would be absolved by the papacy. De Nogaret did not mind if Philip excluded him from daily matters or even if he had fallen in favour, the King’s moods were best avoided and better that De Plaisians and others bear the brunt of them. He knew the King would reward him for his service but beyond that De Nogaret saw no reason to stay within the King’s favoured circle of advisors. He would be happy to assume a more moderate post away from the King’s unstable temperament. It was his future with De Floyran that concerned him the most.

  He had become sickly and his frequent headaches crippled him and sometimes kept him locked in the darkness of his chamber for days on end. He put on a brave face for those around him, especially De Floyran, whom he needed to give him the gift. The Grand Master’s words often came back to haunt him; would De Floyran mark one whom he thought was weak? He was sure De Molay only meant to torment him in an attempt to relieve his own suffering, but sometimes De Floyran gave him reason to doubt his promise. He surrounded himself with his new minions and was wont to tease and belittle him in front of them. There was a modicum of camaraderie about it but it still infuriated De Nogaret. He hoped that De Molay’s son would soon make his foolish move and be rotting in a French dungeon before De Floyran found another reason to delay his marking.

  “Thank you,” De Nogaret said, taking the cup of wine from Gaston. “Leave it there.” He instructed and his servant obediently placed the flagon on the table beside him and left as De Nogaret waved him to do so. He found it hard to trust servants since Ourri’s betrayal, not knowing if he had another werewolf spy in his midst. De Floyran assured him that no werewolf would get within several leagues of the château without him or his men knowing it, but he could not root out human spies so easily.

  It was of course entirely possible that the werewolf knights had human spies loyal to their cause. They were, most probably, loyal to that of the Temple and were unaware of the truth. There was a rumour growing that there was indeed many that were loyal to their cause who were outside their diabolical circle. These were of course others who had served in the Order of the Temple, the servants and lower ranking members. These it was said were amassing slowly in Paris and had come, as De Nogaret had suspected, to defend the Order. It was, he supposed, good news. If the defence was gathering, then the English Templars may indeed strike as De Floyran had said and the sooner that occurred the sooner he’d become one of them. Whatever the case De Nogaret remained guarded, preferring to trust no-one. He drank back the wine and savoured its taste as it eased some of his suffering.

  The next morning, sandy eyed and shattered De Nogaret went in search of De Floyran but to his surprise found that the château was a bustling with activity. He grabbed a young squire by the arm as he went by.

  “What is going on?” De Nogaret demanded irritably.

  “They’re moving the dignitaries.” The young man answered, staring at De Nogaret’s hand which was still gripping his arm.

  “Who is?” De Nogaret asked, removing it.

  “De Floyran and his men. They are taking them to Gisors.” He said making to leave.

  “Gisors?” De Nogaret said incredulously.

  “Aye, to the château.” The squire added over his shoulder as he began to hasten away to continue with his duties.

  De Nogaret’s mouth curled angrily. What was De Floyran up to? How dare he not be informed of this! He saw one of De Floyran’s men crossing the hall and hobbled towards him.

  “Where is De Floyran?” he commanded when he reached the man.

  “Breaking his fast in the main hall.” He answered languidly.

  “Really,” De Nogaret said incensed and steadying himself with his walking stick turned and made his way to the main hall. De Floyran was indeed there, sat with Caradas, De Merle and Wardard laughing and enjoying the food that had been provided.

  “Why wasn’t I informed of this? Why was I not consulted?” De Nogaret said furiously as he approached the dais.

  “You look awful,” De Floyran said casually and rammed a hunk of bread into his mouth. “Join us.” He invited as he chewed on it.

  “I am not hungry!” De Nogaret snapped.

  “You look in need of a good meal.” De Floyran continued glibly, smiling to the others.

  De Nogaret felt a stab of pain enter his skull. “Answer my question!” he demanded.

  De Floyran sighed wearily. “It was a last minute decision. I came to see you last night but your servant told me you had a headache and had long retired.”

  “It was nothing,” De Nogaret said quickly, “I was just tired and didn’t want to be disturbed.”

  “Well then,” De Floyran said with justification.

  “You do this on whose authority? The King’s?”

  “No,” De Floyran answered. “I do it on my own.”

  “You have none!” De Nogaret cried, trembling with emotion.

  “Sit down Guillaume,” De Floyran said intolerantly, “before you fall down.” He folded his arms and waited for De Nogaret to comply. De Nogaret knew it was useless to get into a battle of wills with him and he wanted some answers. Sighing he went and sat at the dais table opposite De Floyran.

  “As captain of the King’s new guard I am charged with responsibility in all matters that concern the Templars, be it as no one knows a werewolf’s mind like I do. I must protect the King’s interests and at the moment that means moving the dignitaries to another location.”

  “But why? This is an impenetrable fortress! I thought you wanted to keep the majority of Templars in one place.”

  “Indeed, but Galeren de Massard is on the move.” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

  “How do you know?” De Nogaret asked, trying to keep the sudden excitement from his voice.

  “I still retain a link with Catherine.” He said clearing his throat. “It becomes stronger when he is away from her. I sense fear and uncertainty in her. It leads me to conclude that Galeren is on his way here. He will strike the château. My decision to move his father and the other masters is purely precautionary.”

  “You think he may have a chance of succes
s?” De Nogaret asked incredulously and then a thought struck him, again something De Molay had said.

  “No,” De Floyran said dismissively. “I said the move is a matter of precaution. Better to have the dignitaries closer to Paris for the defence and if any relapsed are to be burnt . . .” he paused and then shrugged his shoulders.

  That’s not the reason, De Nogaret thought but kept the sentiment to himself. “But you move them closer to the English coast. If De Massard finds out –”

  “He won’t. Besides, distance doesn’t concern wolves. Whether they are here or in Normandy bears no odds. The château at Gisors is as impenetrable, if not more so, than here. Believe me, this affair is coming to an end and the closer we all are to Paris the better.”

  “What about the other Templars here?”

  “They will stay here. When Galeren and his men arrive they will not suspect my men to be waiting for them. There will be no tricks, they will simply be overcome and imprisoned to await their fate.”

  “And where will you be when all this is happening?” De Nogaret asked.

  “Here, of course.”

  “What if something goes wrong?”

  “Nothing will go wrong. Have faith Guillaume!” De Floyran said jovially. “Your time is coming, a new future awaits you. I want you to wait at Gisors for me, until this is done.”

  “At Gisors! Why can I not remain here with you?”

  “The King may need you and you must assume charge over the rest of my men there. You will be responsible for the dignitaries. Who else can I trust?” De Floyran said with a sly smile.

  “But what if De Massard knows? What if he attacks the retinue like before?” De Nogaret said sounding worried; he did not easily forget the outcome of Galeren’s last surprise attack.

  “This move is made without the knowledge of the King, Pope or any of their advisors in Paris. Even if there are spies amongst us here, no one is to leave this château unless I say so. Your cortege will be made up of thirty of my men. Not a servant or squire will accompany you. It will just be you De Nogaret, the only human in the company of wolves.”

  De Nogaret inclined his head and nodded to show he was reasonably happy. To be escorted by thirty werewolves was comforting and De Floyran had assured him that the Templars who had fled to Scotland had no idea that De Floyran had amassed an army of their kind.

  “And when De Massard is behind bars?” De Nogaret prompted.

  De Floyran smiled. “Then I will give you the gift, if you are sure it is what you really want.”

  “Of course!” De Nogaret stressed.

  “Then so it will be my clever little councillor. Now you had better get yourself packed, you leave in the next hour. Botolf and Armin will help you.” He looked at his two men and they nodded their acknowledgment of his new instruction. “Don’t worry, Guillaume, nothing’s going to happen.”

  “Very well,” De Nogaret smiled. “I will be off then.” He nodded curtly and turned and limped out of the main hall.

  “It’s all going to work out perfectly,” De Floyran said and winked at Caradas who nodded astutely in agreement.

  4th April 1310, Aberdeenshire

  The grey wolf was dozing in the bushes when its nose caught scent of something that was both familiar and foreboding. Catherine was quick to get to her feet and shake herself rid of the lethargy that had overcome her. She knew that she was not supposed to venture out of Maryculter alone and that Bertrand would tan her hide if he found out and lock her in her room. However, she needed her freedom and had found the cool, calm quiet of the forest a place of refuge and somewhere she could connect with Galeren. Their bond had strengthened and though she could not converse with him, she could sense his rhythm, his movement and feel his life force.

  It had been enough these last days to doze in the sun and feel the comfort of their bond, but this morning it appeared weakened and now she sensed danger. Since Galeren had gone she was aware that De Floyran was trying to re-establish his connection with her. She feared that she had unwittingly betrayed Galeren’s movements to him, knowing as she did that De Floyran’s connection grew stronger with Galeren’s increasing distance from her.

  She quickly retraced her steps to the spot where she had changed and returning to human form, she dressed hastily and started to make her way back to Maryculter. The scent caught her again and now she knew she was being followed by another werewolf. She sped up trying to remain calm and recalling everything Galeren had taught her. Though the weaker sex in both the world of man and werewolf, she was strong in wolf spirit and that gave her an advantage. She knew it was not De Floyran who tailed her but it was the scent of one she knew and who was no friend. She was far from the preceptory and knowing that running would be to no avail she instead turned to face her would-be assailant. A shadowy figure, in human form, took cover behind a tree.

  “Show yourself coward!” Catherine screamed, her fear transmuting to anger in her voice.

  “I will, if you promise not to run.”

  “Do I have need to run?” she asked, as she tried to work out to whom the voice belonged. It was familiar but his identity was beyond her grasp.

  “No, and you have my word on that. I am not here to hurt you, only to bring you warning.”

  “I will not run, but if you break your word I will have out your throat.” She said keeping her voice steady and full of confidence. The figure emerged from his cover and took a few steps towards her. When his face left the shadow of the trees and the light hit it, Catherine gasped. It was Raymond Caradas. She wanted to run, she wanted to change but something about him made her hesitate and he raised his hands to reassure her.

  “Is he with you?” she asked though she sensed he was not, at least not in the near vicinity.

  “No, he is in France waiting for Galeren.” He answered as if concerned.

  “What are you doing here?” Catherine asked, standing her ground as he approached her.

  “To warn you that Galeren and the others are walking into a trap, they have no hope of rescuing the other Templars, they never did.”

  “Why are you telling me this? Why should I trust you? You are De Floyran’s man, what do you care?” Catherine was naturally suspicious, but something about his manner made her curious.

  “I didn’t expect it to be like this.” Caradas began. “A little revenge never hurt anyone but the things I have seen make me doubt that now.”

  “I find it hard to believe that you have had a sudden change of heart.” She said dubiously. “You were happy to have your own kind tortured not that long ago. Their suffering and death did not bother you then. You are as cruel as he is.”

  “No, I am not. I am no saint and will go to hell for the suffering I have caused but when he started burning them . . .” Caradas broke off.

  “Burning?” Catherine said in horror but she knew it was true. “When?”

  “It began shortly after your escape.”

  Catherine felt her stomach turn and pressed her hand against it. Caradas sighed heavily then continued,

  “De Floyran wanted to make sure nothing like that ever happened again. He proposed the acquisition of an army of Templars loyal to the King and requested that he be allowed to exhaust any means to achieve it. The King, having lost thirty of his guards, was happy to support him. Those imprisoned were offered a choice, either swear fealty to De Floyran and the King and forsake their brothers or face death at the stake.”

  Catherine covered her face with her hands remembering the dreams in all their gruesome clarity. “You helped him.” She said.

  “I had no choice. The aim was murder as well as recruitment. As I said before I am no saint but I cannot forgive what I did. No one should suffer like that.”

  “Why come now?” Catherine asked. “You could have left any time.”

  “I had nowhere to go. If I had come here before, Galeren would have killed me, even if he’d given me the chance to explain myself. I come now because I know that Galeren and his men
are making their strike and I can at least offer some help. They do not know that De Floyran has seventy odd Templars loyal to him. How many have gone?”

  “Nine,” Catherine said hopelessly.

  “It is a small number in any case but they stand no chance against their own kind.”

  “Why come to me?”

  “Because I know you have the good sense to hear me out before you make up your mind and you are the only one who can help them.”

  “We could tell the others at Maryculter.” Catherine suggested. “They could send more men to help them.”

  “You know they will not. The enemy is too many, you know they will not want to risk any more lives. If you go to tell them this they won’t let you out of their sight. Your only chance is to come with me now.”

  Catherine knew that what Caradas said was true and that she could not risk being locked up in her room for her own safety. Of course she must go to Galeren, of course she wanted to. But could she trust this man who had, so far, given her no reason to?

  “How do I know that this is not a trap in itself? Just a way to get me back into De Floyran’s hands. It is what he wants, isn’t it?”

  “You are his obsession. You do not know that this is not a trap. You just have to trust me. What do you sense?”

  Catherine thought about it. It was foolhardy to go with a man whom she only knew as cruel and wont to do his master’s bidding. Maybe De Floyran had sent him. It may be nothing but a cunning ploy. It would be much easier getting her into France by having her walk in willingly straight into a trap than trying to take her by force. On the other hand, his sentiment seemed genuine. Her visions had been harrowing and she could not imagine witnessing such horror in the flesh. Perhaps seeing his brethren burn at the stake had changed the brutal heart of Raymond Caradas. But all things considered, Galeren could be in danger. There was no room for hesitation on that score; she had to go now no matter what she risked.

  “I sense you are telling the truth, but even if you are lying I cannot let my mate walk into a trap. I’d rather die with him and the others.”

  “Then we should make haste.” Caradas said. “Galeren is already in France and preparing to strike the château at Chinon.”