The Parchment (24 page)

“I must act for the good of the Templars, Holiness.”

“If you do not honor your vow of obedience, damnation awaits your immortal soul, de Molay.”

The grand master stood firm. “Holiness, I require your answer.”

Clement sat silent for a moment. “I need more time to consider what you have said.”

“Three days is all the time I can give, Your Holiness. I will return then for your answer.”

The grand master bowed stiffly to the pope and Cardinal de Saone and walked out of the room. As he left, de Molay did not kiss Clement's ring.

When the grand master returned to his quarters, he scribbled several lines on a piece of parchment and then summoned Gerard de Montelambert.

“Gerard, I have an important mission for you.”

“Does it involve the parchment, Grand Master?”

“Yes. I have just come from an audience with Pope Clement. I asked him to preach a new crusade to retake Jerusalem. I threatened to reveal the contents of the manuscript if he refused.”

“What did he say?”

De Molay looked upset. “He stalled for time. I do not trust him. Either the pope or his sponsor King Philip may try to have me arrested and the parchment destroyed. Until their intentions become clear, take the parchment out of Avignon.”

“Yes, Grand Master. If Clement or Philip tries to harm you or members of our order, I will give the parchment to their enemies.”

De Molay shook his head. “No. I will not act to harm the Church.”

“Not even to save the Templars?”

“Not even to save the Templars. Remember your story about the two bars on the Cross. In the end, a Christian must follow the vertical bar.”

“But, Grand Master...!”

“Enough, Gerard. Speak no more of this! Take the parchment and leave Avignon tonight. I fear we have little time.”

“I will do as you say, Grand Master.”

Jacques de Molay walked to a window and looked across the Rhone to the narrow streets of Avignon. In the withdrawing light of the day, river glowed a bright orange. “What of your faith,
Gerard? Would it matter if Jesus and the Magdalene lived as man and wife?”

“Palestine taught me that the real Jerusalem was different from the Jerusalem I had imagined as a child. Perhaps the real Jesus is different from the Jesus the priests have taught us.”

“‘I am not who I appear to be.’”

Gerard looked at de Molay. “Grand Master, you spoke those words at the initiation ceremony.”

“Yes, I know. Go now, Gerard. Take these words I have written you. God has chosen you to protect this parchment for a future age.”

As Gerard was about to leave, Jacques de Molay put his hand on the young Templar's shoulder. “You have been a courageous and loyal Templar, Gerard de Montelambert. I hope we meet again.”

They never did.

A
FTER DE
M
OLAY
had left, Pope Clement fell back into his chair as if a great weight had collapsed on him. “De Saone, this manuscript must be a forgery. There could be no truth to it.”

“Sometimes what is important, Holiness, is not truth, but what people perceive to be the truth. We both know that if the parchment is revealed, there will be great scandal among the faithful. Many will question the divinity of Jesus. Some will abandon the sacraments altogether. No matter what the cost, the parchment must be destroyed.”

“But how can I do that? I have no army to take it away from the Templars.”

“You must speak with Philip. What alternative do you have? To save the Templars, de Molay would destroy the Church.”

King Philip was visibly annoyed as he entered Pope Clement's apartment in the Palais des Papes. The pope extended his hand to the king but Philip angrily brushed it aside.

Philip IV was a tall and muscular man with blond curly hair and a fair complexion. His good looks and regal bearing had earned him the sobriquet Philip the Fair. Yet his princely demeanor was marred by one feature—his eyes. They were the hard metallic color of steel. They displayed no warmth, only the cold and pitiless inhumanity of a predator. Philip's father, King Philip III, once cautioned his chief minister: ‘If you live to serve my son Philip, be on your guard. He is as rapacious as the wolf and as wily as the serpent. Worse still he trusts no one, not even his father.’”

“Clement, what is this urgent matter about the Templars and de Molay? Your courier interrupted a most pleasant ride in the countryside with Mademoiselle Heurbon.”

“De Molay has a manuscript that purports to show the existence of a bloodline of Jesus Christ.”

“Clement, are you mad? Is this why you called me here?”

“De Molay must be taken seriously. Unless I agree to preach a new Crusade, he threatens to reveal the contents of the document.”

“So what! No one will believe him. Those who credit such things are excommunicated from the Church.”

“I told de Molay that. No scriptural text, no Father of the Church, nothing in the entire Christian canon mentions such a thing. But....”

“But what?”

“You know, Philip, there have been legends about the Magdalene's coming to France.”

“Yes, I have heard them all. My nurse was very devout. Her favorite was the tale of the three Marys — how they were put to sea in a boat without oar or sail.”

“Some say there were others in the boat — the Egyptian slave Sarah and the two children, David and Tamar.”

“Yes, and some say Joseph of Arimathea as well, or was it Nicodemus? Maybe in the end, Pontius Pilate came along for the ride.” Philip snickered. “Legends about these two children are just that—legends.”

“Do not dismiss them so quickly, Philip. Look at this.” Clement handed the king a round piece of bronze.

“What is it?”

“A medal struck in the town of Saintes Maries-de-la-Mer not far from here. Look carefully at the picture and the inscription.”

“It says ‘St. David and Ste. Tamar,
Liberi Christi
.’”

“Yes, ‘the children of Christ.’ People here in Provence believe in a divine bloodline.”

Philip laughed. “What do I care about the beliefs of fishermen in Saintes Maries-de-la-Mer!”

“The Templars are admired for their honesty and courage. They also have a network of lay
confratres
all over France, some even in your own household.”

“What is your point, Clement?”

“If the Templars say the contents of the parchment are true, many will believe them.”

“This is your problem, not mine.” Philip got up to leave.

“Not so. The legend of these children threatens not only the papacy; it threatens your throne as well.”

Philip stopped at the door of the pope's chamber.

“What the fishermen in Provence believe does not threaten the throne of France.”

“But it does. You are a Capetian. Your ancestors have ruled France for over three hundred years. But the Merovingians ruled these lands long before your family.”

Philip was becoming visibly angry. “Do not lecture me on the history of the French monarchy!”

“Majesty, I do so to make a point. The Merovingians trace their lineage far back in history—to the time when the Magdalene came to France with these two children. There are legends....”

“Ah, more legends.”

“Yes, more legends! For a king, legends can be more dangerous than enemy armies.”

“I grow impatient with all this.”

“Legends say that the children of Jesus married into Merovingian families. Many believe that, because they are of the holy bloodline, the Merovingians are therefore the rightful kings of France.”

“Clement, Jacques de Molay is a clever man. Now that Palestine is gone, his order is hemorrhaging. To stop the hemorrhaging, he needs you to preach a Crusade. He hangs the census record over your head like the sword of Damocles.”

“And over yours!”

“No one threatens the king of France with impunity. How many Templars know about this parchment?”

“Only two. De Molay and the Templar who discovered it.”

“Good. If we are to succeed, we will have to act quickly. De Molay and this other Templar must be arrested. We know that de Molay brought the parchment here to Avignon. I am sure the Templar who found it is here with him. When does de Molay expect an answer about a new Crusade?”

“In three days.”

“There is time then. Summon de Molay to your apartment tomorrow morning. Have him and his entourage arrested. I am sure we will find this young Templar among them. A little persuasion from the inquisitors should uncover the parchment.”

“But you forget one thing. There are many hundreds of Templars here in France. Do you think they will all sit idly by and watch their grand master and a fellow Templar arrested and tortured, even if the command comes from the pope himself?”

“You are right. We must strike more boldly.”

“More boldly?”

“Yes, all the Templars in France must be imprisoned. We cannot flinch from our purpose. As you have said yourself, at stake here is the Throne of Peter and the throne of France.”

“What charges will you bring against the Templars?”

“Heresy, of course. Accuse de Molay and the others of committing sacrilegious practices.”

“What sacrilegious practices?”

“Accuse them of spitting on the Cross and trampling on the consecrated bread and wine. Some say they worship an idol — add that to your list. More charges can be brought later.”

“This goes too far, Majesty, much too far. No one will believe these lies about the Templars.”

“You are wrong, Clement. If the Templars are respected in some quarters, they are envied and resented in others. Envy and resentment are powerful weapons. Christians, even devout Christians, will believe whatever we say about the order.”

Philip turned to leave. “Before I go, there is one thing more. What will be done with the Templars' properties once they are arrested?”

“I will appoint custodians to administer them.”

Philip shook his head. “No, Clement. All Templar properties must be confiscated and turned over to the king of France.”

The pope blanched. “Impossible! How can I justify such a thing?”

“Many call France the eldest daughter of the Church. Say it is a reward for her long and steadfast support of the papacy.”

“Philip, this will effectively destroy the Templars!”

“So be it. But why should we kill the bees and not enjoy the honey?”

A short while after the king had left, Cardinal de Saone entered the pope's library. “Your Holiness sent for me.”

“Yes, Pierre. To find the parchment, Philip would have me arrest de Molay and every Templar in France on charges of heresy.”

“Every Templar in France?”

“Yes, Philip cares little about protecting the Church. He uses the threat of the parchment to confiscate Templar property.”

“What do you mean?”

“Once the Templars are arrested, Philip would have me transfer their property to him.”

“Confiscating the Templars' wealth is his price for destroying the parchment?”

“Yes.”

De Saone delivered his judgment without any hesitation. “Holiness, the Templars have done much for Christendom. But that was in the past. Now they must be sacrificed for the good of the Church.”

“This is too high a price, Pierre.”

“Clement, a doctor must often amputate a limb to save the body.”

“But the limb you would have me amputate is the Order of the Temple, the right arm of the Church.”

“Holiness, right or left makes little difference in such a serious situation.”

“So you would have me do what Philip asks?”

“You have no choice. A pope's responsibility is to the Church as a whole, not to any one part of it. If de Molay seeks to harm the whole of the Church, then you must act against him.”

“But, except for de Molay, the Templars have done nothing to harm the Church.”

“If a man threatens to attack you, Holiness, must you wait for the attack before you strike?”

“No.”

The morning dawned dark and overcast in Avignon. Cold mistral winds blew down the Rhone Valley with a ferocity not felt in months. Despite the weather, Jacques de Molay and senior members of the order arrived promptly at the Palais des Papes just after eight o'clock in the morning. Pope Clement had summoned de Molay to a meeting at 8:15. A contingent of French soldiers suddenly confronted the grand master and his entourage.

“Captain, stand aside. You block the way of the grand master of the Order of the Temple. Out of the way!”

“Grand Master, my orders are to arrest you and your men on charges of heresy.”

“Heresy! The grand master of the Temple! This is laughable. Out of the way. Pope Clement expects us in a few minutes.”

“I am not here to debate, Grand Master. My orders are to arrest you and your retinue. If you resist, I will have to use force.”

“The Templar oath requires us to fight against the Saracen, not fellow Christians. We will not unsheathe our swords. But tell Pope Clement one thing; what he seeks will not be found.”

At first light, a contingent of French cavalry sought entrance to the Templar commanderie in Villeneuve. Roused from a deep sleep, the old castellan unlatched the front gate to the courtyard. Although it was earlier than usual, the arrival of the French military patrol did not arouse the gatekeeper's suspicions. French patrols often came to the commanderie to buy food and drink.

“Who's in charge here?” The French Captain spoke brusquely to the old man.

“Brother Michael. If you wish to see him, you must wait. He is in chapel for matins.”

“Good, this will make our task easier.”

“What task?”

“Out of the way, old man!” The French officer drew his sword.

“You cannot enter the chapel with weapons drawn, Captain. It would be a sacrilege.

“I said out of the way!” The Captain spurred his horse past the gatekeeper, knocking him to the ground.

At a signal from the Captain, the French soldiers dismounted and entered the chapel. The Templars knelt around the altar reciting the Holy Office.

The Captain spoke in a loud voice that echoed throughout the chapel. “By order of King Philip, you are all under arrest.”