Cold Fusion

  The Chamberlain stood before his King, and intoned, “My liege, Sir Hugues de Paynes, Knight of France, would seek an audience.”

  “Bid him enter.”, said the King.

  Sir Huges de Paynes, dressed simply in a white mantel with a red cross on the chest entered the court and approached the King. “Oh great, and gracious King. Please hear my supplication. Many Christian pilgrims travel here to visit the Holy Places. While your city is secure, outside the bandits abound, and pilgrims are routinely slaughtered as they attempt to make the journey from the coastline into the Holy Land.”

  The King contemplated the man before him. de Paynes was known to him as a good and pious man, and he was right, many had been killed and the roads were unsafe. “All that you say is true, but I do not have the men at arms to deal with the bandits. What is it that you propose, good sir?”

  “I propose a monastic order who's mission it would be to protect the travelers on the road from Jaffa, and into the Holy Land.”, said Sir de Paynes.

  The King contemplated the words of de Paynes, and finally spoke, “Sir, my men are too few to protect everywhere, and I have no money to spare you in this noble endeavor.”

  “I ask nothing more of you than a place in the palace were this order can meet. The order would take the vows of poverty, and all expenses would be met from the charity of those we protect. Nothing would come from the royal coffers.”, said de Paynes.

  The King looked at de Paynes, his eyes showed his gratitude. In truth, something needed to be done, and this appeared to be the answer. “How would you be known?”, asked the King, “What name have you chosen for this order?”

  “My liege, I would honor your kingdom by calling it the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon.”

  “A good name, sir Knight. By what symbol would you be known, how will you identify your order?”

  “If it pleases the King”, said de Paynes, “with an emblem of two knights riding on a single horse as the symbol of our poverty.”

  “So be it, sir Knight. Your request is granted.”, answered the King, “Go with God.”

  Returning to his lodgings, he gathered his small group together. “We have what we need. We will move our plans forward and protect our secrets under the blessing of the King. We will create a new power under the guise of a Holy Order. Has William finished the copy of the manuscript?”

  “Yes.”, said William, “Our secrets are will kept.”

  And so, nine Knights, including Godfrey de Sait-Omer and Andre de Montbard, became the Knights Templar. Officially endorsed by the Catholic church in 1129, the order became a favored charity throughout the Christian world, growing rapidly in membership and power. Templar Knights, in their distinctive white mantle with a red cross, became the most skilled fighting unit of the Crusades. They were given special freedom from laws of the land, and answered only to the pope.

  As to the dress of the Knights Templar, the following was established:

  “We command that all the brothers' habits should always be of one color that is white or black or brown. And we grant to all knight brothers in winter and in summer if possible, white cloaks; and none who does not belong to the aforementioned Knights of Christ is allowed to have a white cloak, so that those who have abandoned the life of darkness will recognize each other as being reconciled to their creator by the sign of the white habits; which signifies purity and complete chastity.”

  1305 April St. Lorraine, France

  Jacques de Molay, Grand Master of the Knights Templar, looked at the young man standing before him. His name was Raymond de Fere, the son of a nobleman of France, and 21 years of age. Tonight, de Fere would become one of them, part of a noble heritage of the men that fought for Christ; men who gave up themselves to serve a greater ideal, to protect those who could not protect themselves. “Are you ready?”, said de Molay, “would you make your vows, and join us, forsaking all in the name of your savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, and dedicate your life to this order?”

  The young man knelt before de Molay, “Yes, I am ready.”

  “Good. Now hear, all ye present, the promise given this night.”, intoned the Grand Master;

  We speak firstly to all those who secretly despise their own will and desire with a pure heart to serve the sovereign king as a knight and with studious care desire to wear, and wear permanently, the very noble armor of obedience. And therefore we admonish you, you who until now have led the life of a secular knight, in which Jesus Christ was not the cause, but which you embraced for human favor only, to follow those whom God has chosen from the mass of perdition and whom he has ordered through his gracious mercy to defend the Holy Church, and that you hasten to join them forever. Do you so swear, Raymond de Fere?”

  “I do so swear it.”, came the reply.

  “And, above all things, whosoever would be a knight of Christ, choosing such holy orders, you in your profession of faith must unite pure diligence and firm perseverance, which is so worthy and so holy, and is known to be so noble, that if it is preserved untainted forever, you will deserve to keep company with the martyrs who gave their souls for Jesus Christ. In this, religious order has flourished and is revitalized in the order of knighthood. This knighthood despised the love of justice that constitutes its duties and did not do what it should, that is defend the poor, widows, orphans and churches, but strove to plunder, despoil and kill. God works well with us and our savior Jesus Christ; He has sent his friends from the Holy City of Jerusalem to the marches of France and Burgundy, who for our salvation and the spread of the true faith do not cease to offer their souls to God, a welcome sacrifice. Do you wish this, Raymond de Fere?”

  “I do so wish it”

  “Then arise as a Knight Templar, in the service of our Lord, Jesus Christ.” The words, so spoken by Jacques de Molay, signified the solemn vow of the young man, and a life-time of service.

  1305 May Poitiers, France

  The old man was bent by age, but there was no doubting his stature among the group of men crowding into the room; he was the acknowledged leader. Opening the sealed letter, he began to read its contents in a voice loud enough that those in the back of the room would hear. It read, in part:

  ...To Jacques de Molay, Grand Master of the Knights Templar. Greetings from your pope Clement IV, vicar of Christ. Your attendance is requested for the purpose of discussing a new crusade to recapture the Holy Land...

  “Sir, what do you think it means?” The man speaking was Raymond de Fere, just 21 years old, and new to the Knights.

  “I do not know.”, he smiled at the young man, “Let us take it on faith, and go see our Pope.”

  That June, de Molay rode into Paris at the head of a column of his knights. He had with him a dozen horses weighted down with gold and silver. The money was to finance the new Crusade. For the next several months, King Phillip treated the aging Grand Master with diplomacy, and over the next two years, de Molay would travel between the pope and King Philip IV of France, negotiating with each in turn. While he had been drawn to Poitiers to discuss a crusade, he was now attempting to prevent his order from being forcibly joined with the Knights Hospitallers, another military order.

  Finally, de Molay grew disenchanted with what he viewed as an impasse. “I fear that we are in a position of grave danger”, said the Grand Master. He was speaking to a small council of those closest to him, and his voice betrayed the fear that he felt for his order.

  The young knight Raymond de Fere spoke, voicing the thought that was on everyone’s mind, “Do you believe that we are betrayed?”

  “I do so believe that to be true.” The old man's shoulders seemed to be bent under the burden of his sadness.

  “What must we do, then?”, Francis DeVare of biscayne spoke for all.

  “Some of us will survive this, but we must protect the knowledge of our people at all costs. Though all else be lost the manuscript must be saved. Francis, are you prepar
ed to do what you must?”, spoke the Grand Master.

  “Yes. I will leave for Italy and will take our secrets with me. I pledge my life to their safekeeping, and to avenge any wrong done to the order.”, came the reply.

  “Good. Go now, and may God speed you.”

  1307 AD Paris, France The court of King Philip IV

  He sat in a stiff-backed chair in the room next to the main hall. The walls of this room were covered in many tapestries, a vain attempt at keeping the cold of the stone at bay. A fire burned in the fireplace. Save for his chamberlain, he was alone. Tonight's work required that it be done away from prying eyes. King Philip read the arrest warrant for what seemed like the hundredth time - "Dieu n'est pas content, nous avons des ennemis de la foi dans le Royaume" [God is not pleased. We have enemies of the faith in the kingdom]

  “Has the order gone out?”, asked the King.

  “Yes, sire. The papers have been issued, and my men are arresting them as we speak. Templar Grand Master de Molay will be in custody before the night is out.” The King's chamberlain, a small and vicious man, was also very efficient. Few would escape the purge.

  “Good.” The arrest warrants, themselves, had gone out to his bailiffs a full month before, and had been accompanied by a personal letter from the king explaining that he was compelled to do his duty, while detailing the frightening accusations against the Templar’s. The Templar's were accused of blasphemy, idolatry, homosexuality, and other heinous crimes. In truth, the war with England had drained the royal coffers, and he'd borrowed heavily from them, so the King had set his sights on their fabled riches and pressured pope Clement into this move on them. He wanted to destroy the Order and confiscate all their money and land in France, but it had to be achieved legally, and the only way was to accuse them of crimes so horrible that no one would dare come to their rescue. It had to be against all of them, and he needed to make the charges hold. He also did not have much time for more knights, hardened in the battles of the crusades, were already returning to France. The King needed no more knights to cope with.

  The command was given. More than 600 members of the Order were arrested on that first night, including the Grand Master, the Visitor-General, the Preceptors of Normandy, Cyprus, and Aquitaine, and the Templar's Royal Treasurer.

  ***

  “Jailer, have these men confessed to their crimes?” The King's chamberlain had come to the prison where the Templar's had been confined and were being held in total isolation from each other. They were being tortured into admit their guilt. One technique used was strapaddo, and it always proved to be very effective in getting to the truth. It involved binding the victim's wrists behind his back, passing the rope over a high beam, pulling him off of the ground, then suddenly dropping him, snapping his arms and dislocating his shoulders.

  Failing in this method, another favored way was stretching the victim on the rack, a rectangular wooden frame, slightly raised from the ground with a roller at one end. The legs of the victim were attached to a fixed bar, and at the other end was a movable bar to which the hands were tied. As the interrogation progressed, a handle and ratchet attached to the top roller was used to very gradually increase the tension on the chains. By means of pulleys and levers this roller could be rotated on its own axis, thus straining the ropes until the sufferer's joints were dislocated, inducing excruciating pain. Loud popping noises often accompanied the snapping cartilage, ligaments, and bones. The majority of the knights confessed to every charge that was put to them.

  March 18, 1314 Paris, France

  The end would come soon, and De Molay believed that he was ready. “Has my request been granted?, he asked his jailer.

  “Yes”, came the reply.

  “Good.”, said de Molay, for his one request was that he be tied so that he might face the Notre Dame Cathedral, and that his hands might be free so that he could hold them together in prayer.

  They lead him to the stake, tying him securely. The wood was stacked at his feet, and the tall black- hooded executioner walked towards the pyre with a lighted torch. The wood caught quickly, and soon the old man was engulfed in flames. His hair blazed like a simmering halo around his head, and the hem of his robe burned brightly. With his last breath, he called out Dieu sait qui a tort et a pëché. Il va bientot arriver malheur à ceux qui nous ont condamnés à mort, meaning God knows who is wrong and has sinned. Soon a calamity will occur to those who have condemned us to death.

  Watching from a secluded window in a room across from the plaza a man one Francis DeVare of biscayne, made a vow, “I promise you, my brothers, that we will be avenged. The world will rue this day.”

  Calamity did follow, King Philip IV of France was killed in a regrettable hunting accident soon after, and within 2 months pope Clement IV was dead from undetermined causes.

  October 1347 Messina, Sicily

  The Genoese galleys made anchor that night. They had lost many of their crew to a mysterious sickness, but the rest quickly availed themselves of the ports various attractions. Many of the sailors drank and ate at the local inns, bought from the local market, and made love to the local women. By the end of the week, death had come to Sicily.

  “I have never seen anything like this.” The doctor stood at the bedside of the plague victim. The body was not pleasant to look at. Tumors grew in the groin and armpits, some of which were as large as an egg. Black spots appeared on the arm or the thigh, or elsewhere. In all cases, death came after a slow and painful period of time.

  “Is there no cure, doctor?”, asked the wife of the noblemen who lay on the bed.

  “None has been found”

  Two years before, rumors of a plague that had started in China and spread throughout Asia, Persia, Syria, Egypt, and India had reached Europe. It was rumored that the entire population of India had been wiped out. In three years, the deadly plague spread from Sicily to Europe. In a family of 6 only 2 would remain. The distinctive ring around a red mark on the skin was the sign of death. Flowers were placed with the bodies to cover the stench until they could be thrown into the fires that burned day and night.

  A child's nursery rhyme would someday tell the sad tale:

  Ring around the Rosie, a pocket full of posies,

  ashes, ashes, all fall down.

  It would not bring back those who had been burned alive by King Philip, but some justice had been served.

  Chapter 9

  Setting in his favorite recliner in the front room of the little ranch that he called home, Dylan reflected on what had happened over the last two days, and smiled to himself. It was all so crazy. He never made quick decisions, but he'd just committed to traveling to the other side of the world, to a country whose language he did not speak, for an indeterminate amount of time, and he had done all this without giving it a moment’s thought. It was just crazy. Fresh from the Airport after dropping off his visitors he remembered how he'd felt, like a physical punch to the gut, as he watched her enter the passenger terminal. She had stopped to wave good bye, and then strolled down the concourse and out of sight. His last vision was of her pony tail swinging from side to side, the blue jeans she wore conforming to her lithe body. He'd felt strangely empty ever since, and he kept asking himself 'How much of his decision was due to the desire to continue his work, and how much was due to the incredible attraction he felt for the positivity phenomenal Tomiko Samuelson?' (He could not think of her as Tommy.) He did not know, but he suspected that it was more the latter than the former. She had gotten to him right from the beginning and he could not stop thinking about her. He wanted to be around her, and he did not understand the way he was feeling for it was totally out of character, but that thought didn't change how he felt.

 

  He got up out of his chair, walked through the kitchen, and out to his back yard. There was about an hour before his friend Robert Fuller was due to arrive, so he took the time to enjoy one of his favorit
e pastimes, and maybe get his mind off of Tomiko. He entered his garden and surveyed the rows of romaine lettuce standing perfectly in line and at attention, tomato and pepper plant's staked in razor-straight rows, and succulent Kohl Rabi awaiting his loving touch. The raised bed garden was laid out in perfect rows, two feet separating each eight foot long growing bed. Each bed was either two or four feet wide. No more, for than he couldn't reach to the middle, and no less, for each plant needed its own defined space. Working in his little urban farm afforded Dylan many hours of peaceful reflection and enjoyment, and the fresh food perks weren't bad, either. He'd once read that the definition of a weed was any plant that you didn't want, so only things sown or planted here by his hand would live through this assault. The purpose of his mission was simple – to seek out and destroy any interlopers.