"No," Gaspar said, "and that, too, gives me cause for grave concern. We're on trial without having seen the faces of our accusers."

They were approaching the market quarter of Les Halles. Though the streets were crowded, missing was the usual congenial uproar of city commerce. Instead, everywhere Arnault looked, he read sullen expressions of discontent and unrest-though the mood seemed not to have anything to do with their presence, riding through the streets in Templar habit.

"Is this a re?ection of the economic climate?" he asked, jutting his chin at a group of sour-looking merchants. "We heard about the latest tampering with the currency, on the way here. The good citizens of Paris don't appear any happier about it than their provincial cousins."

"And who can blame them?" Gaspar said. "When it comes to matters of money, the king's greed has no bounds. But there is a price to be paid for such dealings."

The sullen rumble of a discontented crowd had been growing as they approached the next corner, and both Templars instinctively reined in to listen, their escort closing ranks.

"I don't think I like the sound of that," Arnault said, with a glance at Gaspar.

"Nor do I."

The hubbub was coming from the direction of the marketplace. As they rode closer to investigate, one loud, angry voice rose above the din.

"How much more must we endure? This king of ours cares for nothing but his own luxury! In his eyes we are merely sheep to be ?eeced for his pro?t. And he will continue to ?eece us as long as we behave like sheep!"

This ?erce a.s.sertion drew an answering roar. Off to the side, Arnault noted other townspeople converging toward the square in twos and threes.

"Unless I'm greatly mistaken, this has all the earmarks of a riot in the making," he said to Gaspar.

"Aye, and it wouldn't be the ?rst time. We'd better see if we can't calm things down. If violence breaks out, it will end in bloodshed, and these folk will have in?nitely more to grieve about."

At a hand signal from Gaspar, the Templar party closed ranks and moved forward in a body, hands on sword hilts. The marketplace ahead was a jostling sea of humanity, though it parted reluctantly before the Templar phalanx pushing through it, along with a murmur of resentment. Toward the center of the crowd, just visible above it, a squat, squint-eyed man in threadbare clerical garb was haranguing the throng from the back of a produce wagon.

"What is it to the king if your children are crying from hunger, as long as he can still cram his belly with dainties?" he shouted hoa.r.s.ely, waving his ?sts in the air. "What does he care if we are cold, as long as he still sleeps warm in his silks and furs? This is no true shepherd, as the blessed Saint Louis his grandfather was. This is a wolf in shepherd's clothing, and we are fools to endure him!"

This declaration produced a swelling roar of agreement, punctuated then by a single voice that rose above the others like a clarion call.

"The king! The king himself is heading this way from the Place du Si?ge!"

"Do you hear?" the preacher shouted from the wagon. "G.o.d has delivered him into our hands! Let us not lose this chance to cast down the tyrant in his pride!"

Another ragged cheer answered this declaration as the crowd surged toward the south side of the square like a mighty wave. Just preparing to enter at the western edge, Gaspar and Arnault exchanged dismayed glances.

"I think we'd better see that this doesn't get out of hand," Gaspar said, sharply signaling the troop to follow as he kneed his horse around to the right.

In good order, the company clattered along an alternate route toward the Place du Si?ge. The crowd got there ahead of them, however, and already had the royal party backed up against a building on the east side of the square, hemmed in on three sides, with only a single line of royal men-at-arms holding them at bay with shields and spears at the ready.

Drawing rein, hand on the hilt of his sword, Arnault made a quick a.s.sessment of the odds, counting perhaps twenty men in the royal livery-all on foot, and clearly intended only as a guard of honor-and several hundred in a crowd that was starting to get ugly. Conspicuous in the scant clear s.p.a.ce behind the royal line was a richly painted but somewhat ungainly-looking conveyance on wheels, drawn by a single white horse with sumptuous caparisons. The shutters on the windows were drawn tight.

"Here's a salute to His Majesty!" a raucous voice skirled from the midst of the throng.

With that, an overripe melon came sailing out of the crowd and struck the door of the conveyance, obliterating the royal crest under a smear of pulp. The carriage gave a lurch as the horse tried to bolt, and the king's bodyguard tightened their ranks, glancing anxiously at the carriage they were meant to protect.

As more produce took ?ight, the driver leapt to the ground to try to calm the increasingly frightened horse. Jeering, the crowd began to close in.

"I think this has gone about far enough," Gaspar muttered, drawing his sword as Arnault did the same.

Behind them, the others followed suit.

The roar of abuse grew louder as the crowd began ?inging stones and garbage. Hefting their shields, the soldiers struggled to maintain their position as the townsfolk pressed closer still.

"To the king!" Gaspar ordered, signaling with his sword.

At once the Templar party started briskly forward, fanning into an arrowhead formation by the time the ?rst of them began bulling into the crowd. Startled by the suddenness of the attack, and now caught between royal guards and mounted Templars, the crowd began to give ground, their taunts giving way to cries of alarm and occasional yelps of pain as the Templars began laying about with the ?ats of their swords.

Leaving the others to break up the rioters and disperse them, Gaspar and Arnault pushed through to the king's conveyance. The driver was clinging desperately to the wild-eyed horse's headstall to keep it from bolting. Edging his own mount alongside, Arnault seized the animal's reins with a ?rm hand while Gaspar directed the driver to reclaim his seat.

"And you!" Gaspar said to the captain of the royal escort. "Stand your ground and cover the king's withdrawal!"

At that, one of the shutters of the conveyance popped open, and a lean, scholarly face appeared, taut with fury.

"What is the meaning of this?" a waspish voice demanded. "By what right do you presume to give orders to the king's own troops?"

Arnault caught only a glimpse of the speaker, but the imperious tone and Gaspar's taut expression suggested that it might be the king's chief minister, Guillaume de Nogaret. And the elder Templar's stiff bow con?rmed that the other occupant of the carriage was, indeed, the king.

"A thousand pardons, Sire," he said smoothly. "Please allow my men and me to conduct you to safety."

"And just where do you propose taking me?" a second voice demanded.

"To the Paris Temple," Gaspar called above the din of combat. "Your Majesty will be safe there."

Chapter Six.

June, 1306.

A CHUNK OF PAVING RUBBLE STRUCK THE DOOR OF THE king's carriage with a splintering crack, and both its occupants retreated behind a rapidly closing shutter. Quickly the king's foot soldiers regrouped around the royal carriage, while the mounted Templars took up ?anking positions on either side and ahead and behind. Several of them were sporting cuts and bruises from stones and other ?ying debris.

Arnault was still gentling the carriage horse. He swung up onto its back as the two extra serjeants clambered onto the carriage roof to fend off anyone who got past the riders and the men on foot. Seeing what Arnault had done, Gaspar motioned one of the serjeants down onto the extra horse before kneeing his own mount to the head of the new procession, to ride beside Arnault-who ?ashed a sour look at the carriage behind him as they started moving forward.

"I have a feeling we'll regret this," he said to Gaspar in a low voice. "Those aren't exactly friends of the Order."

"What else can we do?" Gaspar countered. "It's too far to the Louvre. We dare not risk it."

He stood brie?y in his stirrups to gaze ahead, where the knights in the vanguard were using their horses to force a path through the jostling crowd. The more belligerent continued to jeer and occasionally throw things, but they kept their distance, still muttering.

By dint of steady persistence, the whole company retired from the square in good order, followed in their wake by a goodly proportion of the rioters, who, unable to get at the king, vented their anger on their surroundings, smashing shutters and wrecking shop fronts. Behind them, Arnault caught glimpses of smoke pluming up among the tangled rooftops.

"This could still get ugly," he said aside to Gaspar.

"Aye, that mob is looking for a scapegoat. We'll just have to hope they won't ?nd one. For now, however, our ?rst concern is to get the king to safety."

They managed to do just that. At length, the tangled streets gave way to the turreted battlements of the Paris Temple, whose gates parted immediately to admit them, a dozen more mounted Templars streaming out through the gatehouse arch to cover their arrival. The men on foot broke into a jog as they surged through, the sortie party holding back as a buffer against the mob until king, carriage, and of?cial bodyguards had pa.s.sed inside. When the last horse had clattered through the entryway, the gates closed behind them with a sonorous clang, shutting the angry mob outside.

The king's party halted in the center of the courtyard, looking uncertain, and Arnault sprang down from the carriage horse to hold its head as the mounted sortie party continued on toward the stables in good order. One of the king's men hastened to open a carriage door and fold down a footstep, but it was the black-clad Guillaume de Nogaret who alighted ?rst from the carriage, turning then to a.s.sist his royal master, who leaned a gloved hand on his minister's offered forearm and stepped down daintily.

"I trust you have sustained no injury, Sire," Gaspar said, swinging down from his horse.

Philip twitched at a trailing sleeve and glared down his long nose as if he found the question offensive. He was tall and fair, with a heavy jaw and a peevish expression.

"I do not require any solicitude from you, Templar," he said coldly. "Sieur Nogaret, I shall expect you to make certain that this outrage does not go unpunished."

"Consider it done, Sire," Nogaret replied, inclining his head to the king.

During this exchange, servants and grooms had come running from all directions to take charge of the horses and see to the injured members of the king's escort. As this continued, Arnault joined Gaspar, taking the opportunity to study Nogaret covertly.

Seen at close range, the king's chief minister appeared singularly undistinguished, other than for the richness of his dress. Wiry and slight of build, with deceptively mild pale eyes, he had an elusive quality of containment about him that belied his submissive appearance. Glancing from Nogaret to the king and back again, Arnault found himself wondering who the real master was.

But he was given no time to re?ne this ?rst impression, for almost immediately, a delegation of senior Templars emerged into the yard to give of?cial welcome to their royal guest, led by Hugues de Paraud, the Visitor of France and the Temple in the West, who was second only to the Grand Master in the hierarchy of the Order. Among the others, and only recognized at second glance, was Fr?re Christoph de Clairvaux, one of the most senior members of le Cercle, tonsured and clean-shaven since Arnault last had seen him, having put aside his sword to answer a calling as a priest. Christoph's presence was rea.s.suring, for Arnault could think of few men more capable of dealing with the awkward situation that had just been thrust upon them all.

"Sire," Paraud said to the king, making him a spare bow, "I am very sorry to hear of your distressing experience. While the incident is, of course, deplorable, we are honored to have you and Monsieur de Nogaret as our guests. If you will be pleased to accompany me, I will show you to apartments where you can rest and refresh yourselves after your ordeal. I fear it may be necessary for you to remain here for some time. The city is very unsettled."

With a sour glance at Nogaret, Philip suffered himself to be led away without comment, his minister and several guards following, along with Christoph and several other senior Templars. Watching them depart, Arnault glanced at Gaspar with growing misgivings.

"The king was hardly effusive with his grat.i.tude, was he?" he noted quietly. "One might almost conclude that he is nearly as angry at us, for witnessing his discom?ture, as he is at the citizens of Paris for daring to vent their displeasure."

"I daresay you may be right," Gaspar agreed, though he kept his voice down. "I don't envy Hugues the task of soothing the king's ruf?ed feelings."

Once their unwelcome visitors had been installed in the Temple's best guest accommodation-and Brother Grigor had been dispatched to the refectory for a meal, his satchel entrusted to Gaspar for deposit in the treasury vaults- Christoph quietly summoned those members of le Cercle presently in residence at the Paris Temple. Several key members of that elite fraternity were currently on missions in Cyprus or in Scotland, but those who remained were acutely aware that the presence of the king and Nogaret within the walls of the Paris Temple was likely to prove awkward, at best.

"I fear we've bought ourselves nothing but trouble by letting the king and that beady-eyed Nogaret inside our defenses," said Oliver de Penne, Christoph's closest a.s.sociate within le Cercle. They were meeting in a tiny mural chamber adjoining Gaspar's of?ce, huddled around a small table lit by a single candle: only ?ve of them, to make decisions that possibly could determine the future safety of the Order.

"Philip already owes the Order substantial sums of money, thanks to the expense of his wars in Flanders.

We've saved his skin yet again, but he'll see this as simply another debt he owes us. You could see the resentment and hatred in his eyes."

"He did look less than happy," Christoph agreed, "but frankly, I'm just as worried about public opinion.

There's been a lot of muttering in the streets, even before this incident. It will not much help our reputation in the eyes of the people when it becomes known that we gave sanctuary to the king who has so often trampled on their rights. Those who hate us will hate us all the more. And even our friends will have trouble justifying our actions. I wish he were not here!"

"So do we all," Gaspar replied, "but what else would you have had us do? Leave him to the mob?"

Christoph shook his head. "Of course not. No one is faulting your decision. But you must admit that he and that toad Nogaret could hardly have picked a worse time to intrude on our affairs."

"From what I hear," Arnault said, "any time would have been a bad time."

All eyes turned his way as Oliver said, "You've heard correctly. And I gather, from your unannounced presence, that the news from Scotland may be no better. Perhaps you'd better bring us up to date."

In as few words as possible, Arnault reviewed the circ.u.mstances by which Robert the Bruce had come to his throne, and the dangers that now confronted Scotland and its new-crowned king.

"He wears the crown," he said, "but now he must earn the right to keep it, and to exercise its authority as a true king. The odds he can do that are not at all good-and getting worse by the day."

"I take it," said Hugues de Curzon, "that King Edward knows what he's done?"

"Aye, he's preparing for another invasion," Arnault replied. "While I was in Berwick, waiting for clearance to leave, I had a good opportunity to observe the preparations in progress. If numbers are any indication, Bruce is going to be at a serious disadvantage."

"But you saw him properly enthroned on the Stone of Destiny," Gaspar said. "You and Torquil and Luc."

"We did," Arnault agreed. "And all the signs suggest that it has enhanced all the personal qualities he needs to wage this war: strength, courage, and discernment. But those gifts may not be enough to enable him to win it without some additional a.s.sistance from us."

"What kind of help did you have in mind?" Oliver asked.

"Anything that might give him an edge," Arnault said. "At the very least, he could do with some protection beyond his own prowess at arms. Remember that his success ensures that Scotland can provide a foundation for the Fifth Temple. We owe him all the help we can give him-for our own sakes, as much as his own."

"Nothing would please me more than to lay the full ?ghting strength of the Order at his disposal,"

Christoph replied, with crooked regret. "Sadly, this is neither the time nor the place. Nor does this lie within our power." He sighed. "This request of yours will bear some thinking, Arnault. All I can promise you now is that we shall do all we can."

"It's doubtful we can do much of anything while the king and Nogaret are in our midst," Hughes warned.

"Philip probably already suspects us of a mult.i.tude of crimes-fed, no doubt, by Nogaret's poisonous tongue. We mustn't do anything that might lend credence to their suspicions-or to whatever fabrications Nogaret may be concocting."

"That's what worries me about this summons from the Holy Father," Gaspar said darkly. "It wouldn't surprise me to learn that Philip-or Nogaret, even more likely-was the one who persuaded His Holiness to summon the Grand Master back to France."

"Aye, and despite all advice to the contrary, de Molay almost certainly will come," Christoph replied.

"He's convinced the Holy Father will protect us."

Oliver shook his head. "I'll be very surprised if he doesn't come-but he can be one of the most pigheaded men I've ever met."

"Don't we have an advisor with him?" Arnault asked.

"Oh, yes, two full initiates: Father Anselmo and Armand Breville. It hasn't done much good."

"Well, they ought to come with him," Gaspar said. "And they should be advised of the changing circ.u.mstances before they leave Cyprus-though it isn't anything I particularly want to entrust to writing."

"We could place someone trustworthy among the members of the escort sent to bring him," Oliver said.

"Perhaps one of the younger knights being groomed for eventual initiation, someone who isn't known to de Molay."

"How about young Saint Clair?" Gaspar said thoughtfully. "He handled himself very well today-I've been pleased with his progress-and he can certainly deliver a ?rsthand account of what happened."

"Whoever we send will also need to carry news of the situation in Scotland, some of which is sensitive,"

Hugues pointed out. "Jauffre is still a probationer."

"Which is precisely why I suggested him," Gaspar replied, with a speaking glance at Arnault. "We can give him a report that carries meaning on several levels. Breville and Father Anselmo will understand."

Arnault smiled. "Jauffre probably will understand as well."

"My point, exactly," Hugues replied. "And if he understands it, he could betray it."