28th October 1307, Château de Montlhéry, Montlhéry, France
“Brother!” De Nogaret cried, raising his arms enthusiastically as the cortege rode into the bailey of the château de Montlhéry. De Floyran winced at De Nogaret’s familiar address but nevertheless dismounted and greeted the swarthy councillor with a brief but firm embrace.
“The King thought you would never return, but I knew you would!” De Nogaret said fervently.
“Trust.” De Floyran said, removing his gloves and flexing his hands which felt cramped from the ride.
“Absolutely.” De Nogaret agreed casting his eye over the group that was with De Floyran. “Your men?” he said stopping short as his eyes fell on the woman that sat in front of one of them.
Catherine looked at De Nogaret blankly, vaguely aware of her surroundings having only recently awoken from her last drugging. He was struck dumb momentarily by her beauty. She had the face of an angel, the face of innocence.
“Who is the woman?” he said, rubbing his hands together eagerly.
“A surprise.” De Floyran said furtively.
“A surprise?” De Nogaret said enthralled, “For me?” he added in a manner that repulsed De Floyran.
“No,” he asserted angrily. “She is the lover of Galeren de Massard.”
“Galeren de Massard?” De Nogaret shrugged none the wiser.
“Jacques de Molay’s son.” De Floyran said unemotionally.
“What?” De Nogaret said, taking his eyes off Catherine for the first time since sighting her. De Floyran nodded slowly and rolled his aching shoulders.
“Jacques de Molay has a son?”
“Yes,” De Floyran said, “and he is on his way here for her.” He pointed at Catherine. “Now, Christ on the Cross let us inside to the warmth! My arse nearly froze to my saddle. I hope you have laid on some hospitality for my efforts.”
“Of course,” De Nogaret stuttered, flicking his eyes over Catherine once more. “De Molay is here.” He said, leading De Floyran across the bailey towards the entrance.
“Perfect.” He said, clapping the councillor heartily across the back.
It was indeed warmer in the château and De Floyran rubbed his hands together to heat the blood in them while he waited for the rest of his men to assemble. De Nogaret ushered them into the main hall where a fire was roaring ferociously and had spiced wine brought to them. He watched keenly as Raymond Caradas brought the woman within and she too was offered wine which she took with her bound hands and eyed suspiciously.
“It is just wine this time Catherine, I promise.” De Floyran said with a wink. She looked at him scornfully and then drank down the warming liquid eagerly, for she too felt frozen to the bone. Hot pastries were brought out on platters from the kitchen and bowls of mutton pottage. De Floyran nodded contently as he made short work of one of the pastries and motioned for more wine.
“Catherine?” De Nogaret said contemplatively to De Floyran. He sipped his wine slowly and watched her take the pastry that Raymond Caradas offered her. “She is beautiful.”
“She is indeed.” De Floyran agreed, sliding his eyes askance so that he could look at her. “Remember the novice I told you about?” De Floyran said playfully, enjoying the effects of the wine.
“’Tis her?” De Nogaret said, licking his lower lip.
“Yes. She bears my mark.”
“You bit her?” De Nogaret said, engrossed in the unfolding tale.
“On the night I came across her. When I went back to find her I discovered that Galeren was protecting her.”
De Nogaret once again raised his eyebrows quizzically at the mention of this Galeren whom, until today, he had never heard of. De Floyran rolled his eyes impatiently. “He is a hated enemy of mine, it is a long story I may bore you with one day, but she is or was his mate,” he corrected.
“What do you plan to do with her?”
“She is bait for him. He is the sentimental sort, so will race gallantly to her rescue. He loves her.” De Floyran said uncomfortably.
“And after?”
De Floyran shrugged draining his wine, “I’ll see.” He said evasively.
“Can I have her?” De Nogaret said without hesitation. The suggestion turned De Floyran’s stomach. “She’s mine.” He said possessively, but De Nogaret persisted.
“Come brother, are we not to share our desires?”
De Floyran grabbed De Nogaret by the arm viciously and pulled him close to him. “I said she is mine. If you so much as touch her, I will rip your heart out and eat it while it still beats, is that understood . . . brother?”
De Nogaret winced at the force of De Floyran’s fingers as they bit viciously into his upper arm. He nodded quickly, “of course.”
“Good.” De Floyran pushed him away with a smile. “More wine?” he tilted his cup, “and then I want to see De Molay.”
“Where are you going to put her?” De Nogaret said, rubbing his sore arm.
“With De Molay for now.” He shrugged. “They should meet. They have something in common.”
“Whatever you want.” De Nogaret said disgruntled. “But we need to discuss things later. Philip has grown impatient with you.”
De Floyran waved his hand dismissively. “He will get what he wants and not without time. Relax,” he said, noting the look of concern that crossed De Nogaret’s face, “things have gone well for you. You will have everything you desire, fret not.”
De Nogaret looked at De Floyran with eager eyes but did not press him further. It was good advice though and he should take it and relax. He was in Philip’s favour and though De Floyran was tardy, he had delivered on all his promises so far. He had no reason to doubt him. After more wine and pastries were devoured, De Floyran took Catherine gently by the arm and looked at De Nogaret.
“Lead the way brother.” He smiled and gestured to his men to stay and enjoy the hospitality.
De Nogaret led them away from the main hall and down a passage that passed the kitchens from which delightful smells were emanating. Catherine felt her stomach ache as she smelt the food. She had tried to consume what she’d been offered as she knew she needed her strength. However, it had been difficult to eat in the company of the smug De Floyran and his cheery men, knowing her own miserable predicament. She was relieved and at the same time disappointed that she wasn’t drugged. On the one hand ignorance was bliss but on the other she wanted to know what was going on.
They followed a corridor that veered round to the left, away from the kitchens. As they progressed, it gradually snaked into a narrow, dimly lit passageway. Few torches lit the way here and as they neared the end Catherine could see a large iron barred gate, outside which sat a brawny man leaning on the handle of an axe.
“Open it up De Vere!” De Nogaret commanded and the man quickly got to his feet and jumbling with a ring of keys he placed the largest one in the lock and opened the gate. He raised a curious eyebrow as De Nogaret approached with the others.
“A visitor,” De Nogaret said and then motioned to Catherine, “and another prisoner.” The guard grunted and looked over Catherine approvingly.
De Nogaret caught sight of the dark cloud that descended across De Floyran’s face and quickly said, “Consider the worth of the skin on your back before you entertain such thoughts,” he warned, “do not even think to touch her or you will find yourself on the other side of this gate and in grisly circumstances.”
The guard nodded quickly that he understood and handed De Nogaret the keys and looking down respectfully as they passed, he closed the gate behind them. They descended a winding flight of steps and it was then that the smell hit Catherine. The horror of it brought back memory of the nightmare she had already had in De Floyran’s presence. She gasped as she realised it and looked at De Floyran in horror. He had brought her to this diabolical place in her dreams. She had smelt the blood, the pain and fear before but now could hear the groans of the victims as they fought for respite from their torment. They were Templars and they had
been tortured in these dungeons. She pulled away from De Floyran and he looked at her with surprise.
“You monster!” she said miserably.
“Don’t worry little flower, I don’t see the necessity for you to share their fate. I have better uses for you.” He pulled her close to him. “Come, it’s easy.” He said and pulled her along with him.
At the bottom of the steps they entered an enormous room which was bordered by numerous dungeons constructed from iron bars so that the prisoners within could all be seen from without. In the centre of the room was a large cylindrical stone wall with an iron gate in its side. It was another dungeon, but the structure rose all the way up to join the low ceiling.
“An oubliette!” De Floyran said, recognising the edifice. He suddenly sounded excited.
De Nogaret laughed. “Yes. You can view within it from the guard room above. Handy, if you wish to see the suffering of its occupants.”
“Is anyone in it?”
“No,” De Nogaret said.
“Well, we’ll have to change that.” He looked at Catherine and chuckled, “what a delightful surprise!”
On the other side of the oubliette was a long table. A couple of guards sat at it, drinking and playing cards. They all looked up to see who had entered but resumed their activity when they recognised De Nogaret, who indicated to them that they were not required. Willing herself not to, Catherine could not help but look into each dungeon cell that they passed. She saw men, strewn in various positions upon their floors, naked and bleeding. Some were dead. She could smell it and she could sense the suffering of the others.
“Galeren will be here soon.” De Floyran whispered to her cruelly. “Where is la chambre de la question?” he asked eagerly.
“Over there,” De Nogaret said. “Those doors.” He pointed to a set of wooden doors that formed the entrance to a stonewalled dungeon at the far end of the room. It was a private room, explicitly for the exercise of torture. The other prisoners could not see within, but could only hear the suffering that would resonate from it. Next to it was a single door, another entrance to a private dungeon.
“De Molay is in there.” De Nogaret pointed to the door.
“Tortured, the Grand Master?” De Floyran said surprised.
“No, he didn’t have to be. His brethren’s suffering was enough to secure a confession. I wanted to keep him away from the others in solitary confinement.” De Nogaret said, sliding one of the keys into the lock of the door. He opened the door and allowed De Floyran to step inside, pushing Catherine in before him. He squinted in the dimness of the candle lit room and strained to make out the figure of the Grand Master sat in the corner on some straw.
“De Floyran,” De Molay said, “I thought I could smell your stench approaching.”
“Always a pleasure, Jacques. It’s a bit dark in here,” De Floyran commented lightly, “I’ll have some more candles brought down for you, if you like.” He turned and looked at De Nogaret as if giving him the instruction. De Nogaret made a face at him.
“I need to speak to the Grand Master alone for a moment. For old times sake.” De Floyran said evenly.
De Nogaret conceded reluctantly, feeling sidelined once again. Nevertheless, he left De Floyran to his business, knowing as he did that he had a short temper and that challenging him ignited it. When he was gone De Floyran smiled, “It is good to see you thus, Jacques. It has been a long time coming.”
“Where is my son you bastard?”
“Ah, well that is why I brought the beautiful Catherine here to see you. I thought you could become acquainted and she would tell you about Galeren. He is alive though, I’ll tell you that.”
Catherine looked first at De Floyran in shock and then over to De Molay. Was he really Galeren’s father?
De Molay looked at Catherine. “Who is this poor creature, another one of your victims?”
“Not yet. She is the reason that your son is going to rush here to his death. After that, who knows?”
“How the hell did he not finish you?” De Molay said raging inside.
“Only he can answer that. I think it is fate though. Just think, you can tell yourself at the end of all this that the fault lies entirely with him. If he had made a proper job of it…” De Floyran trailed off. “Who knows? Philip may have still been hell bent on the destruction of the Temple, but they would not have known the truth.”
“And you? You are prepared to see the destruction of your kind?”
“I am prepared to see the destruction of the Templars, a soiled and arrogant group of my kind, that’s all you are. There are plenty that have had nothing to do with the Temple. I think it may have started out having some purpose but it has since become a conceited group of half-breeds and bastards. I am more than happy to see the Temple and all whom reside in it burn to ashes.”
“You are so deluded De Floyran. You were happy to use the Temple as a shield while you wreaked havoc and destroyed whomever you wanted. We were right to condemn you. We are a force for good, not evil.”
“Good . . . evil,” he laughed, “it matters not to me, just revenge and my reward. Catherine here may well become part of that reward. We’ll see how things turn out. Now, you must excuse me. I must meet with De Nogaret. We have things to discuss, besides you two have much to talk about.”
“He thinks you are going to initiate him.” De Molay said, as De Floyran turned to leave.
“That’s what I let him think. Come on Jacques, do you think I would pollute the race further with a slimy little bastard like him? You know how I feel about bastards.” He looked at Catherine and smiled at her reassuringly. “The lovely Catherine is the only exception I am willing to make.”
He bowed courteously at her and then left the room, closing the door and turning the key within the lock. Catherine waited until she heard his footsteps recede into nothingness and then sunk down onto the floor.
“Are you hurt?” De Molay said, getting to his feet and going over to her.
“Please don’t trouble yourself, you have been through enough.” She said.
“And you have not?” he said astutely.
“Yes, I have been through something, but I cannot imagine your torment here. I am uninjured, just tired and afraid.”
“There is nothing but fear here.” He said sombrely, sinking down to his knees beside her. He took in the scent of her and said, “You and Galeren?” He could smell the scent of his son on her. However, he could also sense that of De Floyran.
She nodded confirmation and he smiled. “Tell me about my son. Tell me what happened.”
“De Floyran and his men attacked us. He wounded Galeren in the leg, grievously. We were surrounded and De Floyran had me, Galeren could do nothing.”
“And De Floyran bit you?”
“De Floyran had bitten me before that.”
De Molay raised his eyebrows in interest.
“De Floyran attacked me one night when I was foolishly wandering home alone. Someone intervened to their detriment and I managed to escape, save for his mark. I was a novice and Galeren came to the convent to find out what happened. He came back for me a few nights later and took me with him and helped me through the transition.”
“So he found you finally.” De Molay smiled, “I wondered if he would ever find a mate. Cruel that De Floyran found you first.” He shook his head.
“But that matters not.” He said assuredly. “Galeren goes into nothing lightly. His will is as ferocious as his temper,” he laughed. “Not even De Floyran’s mark could quash it.”
“And it will destroy him. He will come here and fall into this trap and he knows it.”
“But he will still come.” De Molay said. “It is his way. Nothing you could say would stop him.”
“But I must, I cannot see him here. I cannot bear it!”
“And Galeren can bear to have you here? He cares not for consequence. He has ridden into danger before and for those he did not know.”
Catherine gro
aned hopelessly.
“And De Floyran, has he touched you?” De Molay asked.
“No,” She shook her head.
“When did he assail you?”
“I have lost track of time. He has drugged me since he took me, but I think it was the second Friday of October.”
“The thirteenth,” De Molay said. “The same day as the arrests, of course. I should expect nothing but purposeful timing from De Floyran.”
“How many Templars were arrested?”
“Some four hundred,” De Molay sighed. “Many however, left before the thirteenth on galleys to England, for temporary sanctuary and other parts of Europe to plan for an uncertain future. We were not sure of the severity of the situation, but now it seems we are in very serious trouble.”
“Your men out there,” Catherine said sorrowfully, “some are dead.”
“I know.” De Molay said swallowing his anger. “They resisted to their ends, stubborn fools, honourable fools, despite my instruction for them to confess to the pack of lies De Nogaret and the King concocted. Not one of them changed, not willing to reveal our secret, despite the torture. Even that was in vain, as De Floyran means for the King and Pope to know the truth of the Templars.”
“But why? Surely he is destroying himself too.” Catherine said bewildered.
“I am sure he has struck a bargain, but while the knights of the Temple are all werewolves, not all werewolves are Templars. He sees us as one sect that he can afford to destroy as we tried to destroy him once.”
“What did he do? Galeren would not tell me. He avoided the subject of De Floyran like a scourge.”
“That does not surprise me. De Floyran is a despicable man. He preys on the weak, the defenceless and cares nothing of the devastation he wreaks. He cares only for himself and what he can gain. But there was a time when they were friends.”
“Really?”
“In Acre when he was just fifteen. De Floyran was about five years older and full of Templar confidence and arrogance. Galeren’s childhood had not been good and he had not long learned the true identity of his father, me.”
De Molay shrugged. “Galeren made no bones over the way he felt about me. He was angry and rebellious. He broke the rules, drank too much and his temper was easily ignited. He was always in trouble with his superiors.”
He smiled and shook his head, “I could not even speak to him. But Esquin de Floyran seemed to connect with him and took him under his wing and Galeren was drawn to him as others were.
De Floyran had the respect and favour of many and I suppose Galeren longed for the temperance and self-assurance that he had. However, the more time he spent with him he discovered that he had a brutal side and realised that the people he was surrounded with, didn’t respect him, they feared him. Galeren sensed the evil within De Floyran and so started to create distance between them.”
De Molay coughed and cleared his throat. “This angered De Floyran and they fought. I don’t know what exactly occurred but young Galeren flattened him and they never spoke again. De Floyran laughed it off but was enraged that he, of pure breed, had been put down by an inexperienced half breed.”
“Pure breed and half breed, does it make a difference?” Catherine asked curiously. She recalled Galeren explaining the different kinds of werewolf but not whether or not it made a difference.
“Yes, it does.” De Molay began, “Pure breeds are, as a general rule, the strongest as they have an undiluted bloodline. Those who can trace their bloodlines back the farthest are the purest of our kind and should therefore be the best of us. Half breeds have a mix of human and werewolf blood, they are still of the race but are not so pure.”
“And what about me?” Catherine asked, “I guess I am a bastard.”
“That is a term sometimes used for it,” De Molay said, “but crude. You are marked.”
“And bound to my initiator.” She said miserably.
“That is the unfortunate case. But that is the bond that was forced upon you. You know you have another, stronger, natural bond.” De Molay raised his eyebrows and then continued. “Those who are marked are as werewolf as the rest, but will never be as strong as those born of it, especially the pure breeds. But there are always exceptions.”
“Exceptions?”
“Yes.” De Molay said and smiled at Catherine. “Galeren is stronger than De Floyran.”
“How is he stronger?”
“Nature has rules but she doesn’t always stick to them. Whether marked, pure or half breed, the wolf and human elements usually have equal standing but in some that is not the case. While De Floyran is purebred, he is dominated by his human half and ’tis where his evil comes from. Although Galeren is a half breed he is dominated by his wolf half. The wolf is stronger than the man. It is the wolf that gives us our strength. Galeren could live as a wolf and not crave his human life.”
“Really?” Catherine said transfixed. De Molay nodded.
“De Floyran is only brave when he has his minions around him or knows you are weaker than him. Galeren humiliated him in front of his peers. It was the beginning of their new relationship.”
“Why was Galeren sent to kill him?”
De Molay sighed. “At that time in Acre there had been a series of brutal attacks on women. They were sporadic but the Temple got involved, determined to find and put pay to the perpetrator. Many in Acre put blame on the Saracens or someone from the Genoese quarter; they never expected it to be Templars.”
“Esquin de Floyran.” Catherine said.
“Aye,” De Molay confirmed, “and his band of savages. They prowled the poorer quarters of the city. It was like some kind of game to them; they would pick their quarry and watch them for days, their routine, who they knew. They would pick the most vulnerable and those few would miss. Then Galeren came upon them.”
De Molay shook his head. “Their victim was young, thirteen at most and they surrounded her, jeering as one took his turn. Galeren flew at them in rage, not thinking or caring for the fact that he was outnumbered. He managed to get the girl away from them and nobody tried to stop him. De Floyran himself merely laughed, as if he had enjoyed being discovered. Galeren brought the girl to us.”
“What did you do?” Catherine asked.
“Well, she had been bitten by one of them, not De Floyran, so she was given to our women to care for. The Templar council in Acre decided that De Floyran and his men should be executed for their crimes, but we didn’t want the whole city knowing. Acre was on the verge of a siege and our city walls surrounded by the Mamluk army. We decided that justice would be served after the threat to Acre had been eliminated. It was not to be.
Acre fell and we sent Galeren to dispatch De Floyran and his men for fear that they would escape in the mêlée. In the chaos of the fleeing city, De Floyran and his men went on a rampage cutting down all who crossed their paths, it didn’t matter, Saracen, Frank, man, woman, child, all were attacked. Galeren found them and killed three of De Floyran’s men. The others, who travel with him now, had already fled. Galeren and De Floyran fought and Galeren killed him, or so we all thought.” De Molay shook his head regretfully.
“Afterwards, Galeren stayed to help people escape. We had some galleys, but not enough. Even when the Mamluk army swarmed the city, a few Templars stayed to protect the fleeing people, including Galeren.
It was a hopeless situation. They were outnumbered and there were just so many people trying to escape. The others had to drag Galeren out of there, he was young and it was his first experience of battle. He was skilled with the sword and was loath to abandon those fleeing for their lives.” De Molay said.
“He was devastated by the carnage. It was this which set him on his path for the pursuit of knowledge. He desires to pull the Temple away from battle and wars and towards something greater.”
“You are proud of him.” Catherine said.
De Molay nodded. “Of course, but he has no idea. He thinks I despair of his ideas. In trut
h I don’t. I just had a different vision for our future. Now we suffer because of it.”
De Molay sighed. “It is difficult to break from a sanctuary you have known for so long. I share Galeren’s vision but had my own idea of how to realise it. Galeren’s way seemed hasty, forcing us to start again with nothing, whereas I saw a more gradual approach through the Temple. Galeren has been desperate to cast off the cloak of God. Now it appears our hand has been forced. In this chaos, and if the Pope does not help us, all will look to Galeren for guidance.”
“But he is heading into a trap.” Catherine said hopelessly.
“Don’t worry,” De Molay shook his head, “he will have a plan. Galeren is no fool.” He said assuredly.
But what he didn’t say was that Galeren was fearless and driven by emotion, something he had tried to control over the years. As De Molay looked at Catherine, he knew that Galeren would ride straight into the mouth of hell for her.
Chapter Sixteen