outside Edinburgh. “What can we do?” Will murmured, sitting back down.
“We must tread very carefully. Pope Gregory is a close friend of Edward’s.
We risk exposing ourselves if we anger the king. He could inform the pope of our aims, and I do not need to tell you what that would mean.”
Will didn’t speak. He knew full well what the consequences of any exposure of the Brethren’s aims would be. It was how he was able to live with their secrecy, how he bore their silence.
The foundations of the West, of their entire society, were built upon the rock of the Church. Any threat to that edifice could bring the whole structure tumbling down, which was why the Church took heresy so seriously. It wasn’t only Muslims and Jews, Will knew, who had felt the Church’s wrath in the form of a Crusade. Everard had told him of the Cathars: men and women from the south of France who were slaughtered in their thousands by the Church’s soldiers because they opposed orthodox doctrine and preached ideals that ran counter to those of Roman Christianity. What the Anima Templi proposed in the reconciliation of the faiths was anathema, was heresy. Were their aims to be discovered, the Church would destroy them and possibly the Temple if they believed the corruption had spread within its ranks. It wasn’t just a matter of religion; it was also a matter of geography. The Church, and many in the West, wanted to liberate Jerusalem from those they deemed the nonbelievers, a wish that had led Pope Urban II to preach the First Crusade two hundred years earlier. If Muslims and Jews were to become allies, Christendom would be forced to relinquish its desire to rule the Holy City. And, as Everard had once put it, there was room for only one faith in the Holy Land until such a time when more men embraced the Brethren’s ideals.
Everard slumped forward, looking suddenly exhausted. “I cannot believe that I have just finished reforming the Anima Templi after the schism that broke us apart, only to be faced with another menace. It seems that in each generation something rises up and threatens us: Armand de Périgord, the Knights of St. John and now possibly our own guardian.”
“Perhaps we are meant to face such threats,” said Will, after a pause. “The Anima Templi was born out of blood and strife. That was why Robert de Sablé created it.” He fought to recall how Everard once put it. “When Grand Master Gérard de Ridefort caused the Battle of Hattin through his own greed, de Sablé knew that the Temple had become too powerful. As an order we were beyond secular laws, we made and deposed kings, answered only to the pope and even to annoy us was an offense punishable by excommunication. We traded in the East and West, built castles and fleets, bought estates, towns even. As you once said, the Temple is Heaven’s sword and the grand master is the hand that wields it. De Sablé created the Anima Templi to safeguard that power, to hold that sword in check. Perhaps, in each generation, God needs to test us to make sure we don’t grow weak, unable to wield it.”
Everard chuckled softly, but it wasn’t a mocking laugh. “I’ve not often heard you speak so poetically, William.”
Will returned the smile, then sighed. “Listen, don’t pay Edward until we know for certain that he intends to launch a Crusade, which we obviously won’t want to fund if he does. Write and tell him you don’t have the funds at present. By the time the letter reaches him and he has a chance to reply, we may have found out more.”
“How can we find out more when he is all the way over in England?” Everard shrugged wearily. “I suppose Brother Matthew may be able to get closer to him somehow.”
“Why use Matthew when we already have an ally in Edward’s staff?”
Everard frowned. “Who do you . . . ?” Understanding dawned on his face. “No,” he said vehemently, “I’ll not have that ... traitor involved in this.”
“Garin was served
“We must tread very carefully. Pope Gregory is a close friend of Edward’s.
We risk exposing ourselves if we anger the king. He could inform the pope of our aims, and I do not need to tell you what that would mean.”
Will didn’t speak. He knew full well what the consequences of any exposure of the Brethren’s aims would be. It was how he was able to live with their secrecy, how he bore their silence.
The foundations of the West, of their entire society, were built upon the rock of the Church. Any threat to that edifice could bring the whole structure tumbling down, which was why the Church took heresy so seriously. It wasn’t only Muslims and Jews, Will knew, who had felt the Church’s wrath in the form of a Crusade. Everard had told him of the Cathars: men and women from the south of France who were slaughtered in their thousands by the Church’s soldiers because they opposed orthodox doctrine and preached ideals that ran counter to those of Roman Christianity. What the Anima Templi proposed in the reconciliation of the faiths was anathema, was heresy. Were their aims to be discovered, the Church would destroy them and possibly the Temple if they believed the corruption had spread within its ranks. It wasn’t just a matter of religion; it was also a matter of geography. The Church, and many in the West, wanted to liberate Jerusalem from those they deemed the nonbelievers, a wish that had led Pope Urban II to preach the First Crusade two hundred years earlier. If Muslims and Jews were to become allies, Christendom would be forced to relinquish its desire to rule the Holy City. And, as Everard had once put it, there was room for only one faith in the Holy Land until such a time when more men embraced the Brethren’s ideals.
Everard slumped forward, looking suddenly exhausted. “I cannot believe that I have just finished reforming the Anima Templi after the schism that broke us apart, only to be faced with another menace. It seems that in each generation something rises up and threatens us: Armand de Périgord, the Knights of St. John and now possibly our own guardian.”
“Perhaps we are meant to face such threats,” said Will, after a pause. “The Anima Templi was born out of blood and strife. That was why Robert de Sablé created it.” He fought to recall how Everard once put it. “When Grand Master Gérard de Ridefort caused the Battle of Hattin through his own greed, de Sablé knew that the Temple had become too powerful. As an order we were beyond secular laws, we made and deposed kings, answered only to the pope and even to annoy us was an offense punishable by excommunication. We traded in the East and West, built castles and fleets, bought estates, towns even. As you once said, the Temple is Heaven’s sword and the grand master is the hand that wields it. De Sablé created the Anima Templi to safeguard that power, to hold that sword in check. Perhaps, in each generation, God needs to test us to make sure we don’t grow weak, unable to wield it.”
Everard chuckled softly, but it wasn’t a mocking laugh. “I’ve not often heard you speak so poetically, William.”
Will returned the smile, then sighed. “Listen, don’t pay Edward until we know for certain that he intends to launch a Crusade, which we obviously won’t want to fund if he does. Write and tell him you don’t have the funds at present. By the time the letter reaches him and he has a chance to reply, we may have found out more.”
“How can we find out more when he is all the way over in England?” Everard shrugged wearily. “I suppose Brother Matthew may be able to get closer to him somehow.”
“Why use Matthew when we already have an ally in Edward’s staff?”
Everard frowned. “Who do you . . . ?” Understanding dawned on his face. “No,” he said vehemently, “I’ll not have that ... traitor involved in this.”
“Garin was served
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