Leone finished the sentence for him, pronouncing the painful words he knew nevertheless to be true:
‘… which we must already begin forging if we are to prevent the destruction of Christendom.’
These words applied equally to the sacred mission to which he had committed himself body and soul, and about which Arnaud de Viancourt knew nothing. About which no one must know.
‘The future, indeed. Benoît’s succession – if our desperate attempts of the last few weeks to prevent it fail.’
‘Are we hoping that an intervention on our part might influence events?’
‘Hope? There is always hope, brother. Hope is our main strength. But hope is not enough in this instance. We must be certain that King Philip IV’s plan fails. If his counsellors succeed, as I fear they will, in electing a puppet pope to the Vatican, they will be free to attack those whom they cannot control as they would wish – that is to say, the Order of the Knights Templar and our own, since we are considered to be the Pope’s personal guard, a wealthy guard – and you know as well as I do of the King’s need for money.’
‘In which case the Templars are first in the line of fire,’ observed Leone. ‘Their extreme power has become their failing. The wealth that passes through their hands incites greed in others. Their system of depositing and transferring funds from one side of the world to the other has greatly facilitated this. Crusaders and pilgrims to the Holy Land need no longer live in fear of being robbed. Additionally, they receive a stream of donations and alms from all over Christendom.’
‘We benefit from it as much as they, and I must remind you that we are almost certainly as wealthy,’ corrected Arnaud de Viancourt.
‘True, but the Templars are censured for their arrogance, their privileges, their wealth, even for being idle and uncharitable, whereas we are spared such criticism. There is no better way to fuel a fire than with jealousy and envy.’
‘That is no reason to think, or more precisely to make others think, that this money has yielded such profits that they are now sitting on a veritable fortune. Have you ever asked yourself, Francesco, why Philip the Fair withdrew the administration of the royal finances from the Paris Templars in 1295 and entrusted it to the Italian moneylenders?’
‘It was simpler for him to cancel his debt to the moneylenders by arresting them and confiscating their assets. The same strategy would have proved more risky if used against the Templars.’
‘Precisely. And yet strangely enough two years ago the King granted the same Templars the right to collect taxes. Is it not a contradiction?’
‘A measure which, when added to the rumours already circulating about the Templars, provoked the anger of the people.’ The scattered elements of the prior’s discourse had come together in Leone’s mind, and he continued, ‘So this is part of a long-term strategy thought up by the King in order to discredit the Templars permanently.’
‘Stoking the fire as you said just now.’
The prior’s words trailed off in a sigh. The prospect of the fate that awaited them had troubled him for so long now. Francesco de Leone finished his train of thought for him:
‘And so the fire is already blazing. A conflagration would suit the King of France’s purposes very well, and the other monarchs of Europe will not be displeased by the prospect of strengthening their power with regard to the Church. The defeat at Acre will only serve to kindle the flames. Their reasoning will be simple: why so much wealth and power for these military orders that lose us the Holy Land? In other words we cannot expect any help from outside. None will be forthcoming unless the other monarchs smell Philip the Fair’s possible defeat, in which case they would flock to the Pope’s side.’
‘What a curious monologue-for-two our discussion is turning out to be, brother,’ observed the prior. ‘Is it possible that we have foreseen the future since we refer to it in the same terms?’ A sudden sadness caused his pale features to stiffen. ‘I am old, Francesco. Every day I count the tasks I am no longer able to undertake. All the years of war, crusades, death and blood … All the years of obedience and self-denial. To what end?’
‘Do you doubt your commitment, the sincerity of our order, of our mission, or worse still of your faith?’
‘Nay, brother, certainly I do not doubt our order or my faith. I doubt only myself, my failing strength and ability. At times I feel like a frightened old woman whose only recourse is to tears.’
‘Self-doubt, when mastered, is a friend to all men except fools and simpletons. Self-doubt is the resounding proof that we are but an infinitesimal, troubled part of the divine understanding. We are aware of our failings, yet we progress.’
‘You are still young.’
‘Not so young any more. I shall be twenty-six this coming March.’
‘I am fifty-seven and nearing my end. It will be a glorious reward, I believe. I shall at last enter the Light. Until then my task is to continue to fight with you as my magnificent warrior, Francesco. Our enemies will use any means, including ignoble ones. It is a secret war, but a merciless one. And it has already begun.’
Leone sensed the prior’s hesitation. What was he holding back? Knowing that a direct question would be awkward, he tried to curb his impatience.
‘Are we to prevent Benoît’s murder and the election of a pope favourable to Philip?’
Arnaud de Viancourt looked down, as though searching for the right words, before replying:
‘What you do not yet know, brother, is that the old idea advocated twelve years ago by Pope Nicholas IV in his encyclical Dura nimis, of uniting the military orders, primarily those of the Templars and Hospitallers, is still alive.’
‘Yet our relations with the Templars are … strained,’ Leone argued.
Viancourt hesitated before deciding to keep quiet about the pace of negotiations between their Grand-Master, the Pope and the King of France. The union would benefit the Hospitallers who would take control of the other orders. A confrontation with the Templars, who would not willingly give up their autonomy, was imminent, all the more so as Jacques de Molay, the Templars’ Grand-Master, was a traditionalist. An out-standing soldier and man of faith, he was weakened by his political naivety and blinkered by pride.
‘Strained … That is putting it mildly. Philip the Fair is a fervent advocate of this union.’
Leone raised his eyebrows.
‘His position is most surprising. A single order under the Pope’s authority would represent an even greater threat to him.’
‘That is true. However, the situation would be reversed if the union took place under his authority. Philip plans to name one of his sons Grand-Master of the newly constituted order.’
‘The Pope will never agree to it.’
‘The question is whether he will be in a position to refuse,’ the prior clarified.
‘And so we return to the problem of preventing the election of a pope favourable to Philip,’ murmured Leone.
‘Indeed. But do we have the right to influence the history of Christendom? The question plagues me.’
‘Do we have the choice?’ the Knight corrected gently.
‘I am afraid the coming years will provide us with little room for manoeuvre. Therefore, no, we do not have the choice.’
The prior became engrossed in the study of a tuft of wild grass that had pushed its roots between two large blocks of stone. He murmured softly:
‘The sheer tenacity of life. What a supreme miracle.’
He continued in a firmer voice:
‘How should I put this? A fortuitous and unwitting intermediary will … assist