The gates were wide open, various numbers of people moving through them, the courtyard a bustling hub of activity. Carts lined the walls, some of the tiny shops extending into the rooms built into the brick behind them. Delicious smells wafted to us from some, while other tables held beautiful paintings and other types of artwork. There also appeared to be a large church built into the Temple, where several people sat praying or begging; I couldn’t tell which.
The towers themselves appeared occupied more or less by the same things, people leisurely strolling through the large, heavy looking doors. The shoppers themselves amazed me as well; they were from all classes of income, come to buy and look at what was offered here. It was astounding to me that anything secret existed in these walls with the number of individuals who entered the space with such ease.
The cart stopped in the middle of the yard, much to the displeasure of some of the patrons, and we exited, Tristan taking my hand and leading me to the nearest table. It was covered in silks and pearls, the seller’s eyes almost bugging out of his head when he saw us coming.
“Pretty necklace for your Mademoiselle, Monsieur?” He held out a string of the stones, eagerly nodding as Tristan slowed to examine it.
“I don’t need anything,” I told him, smiling uncomfortably. “Thank you.”
“Hold on, lass,” Tristan said, halting completely and taking the strand from him. “Ye may not need it, but I’d like for ye to have it.”
“It’s a good man who buys gifts for his lady,” the merchant encouraged him, observing as Tristan clasped the strand around my neck.
“It suits ye. Will ye take it, for me?” Taking my hand, he raised my fingers to his lips and kissed them, smiling as he waited for a reply.
“If you really want to get it for me, I guess.” Blushing, I watched as he turned back to the table and worked out a price for the jewelry. I hadn’t worn a necklace today to begin with because I’d been trying to draw attention away from the low neckline of my dress. The lace edging of the jacket had done little to hide the enormous amount of cleavage I was showing off. Still, I was pleased that Tristan had wanted to buy me something. Our relationship wasn’t one built on material things, which made such gifts even more of a surprise.
“Come this way,” Tristan said once he’d paid the man, taking my arm.
We strolled through the courtyard, eyeing items the vendors were displaying, before we finally stopped at a table that apparently had some significance to it. Tristan examined the contents laid out before us intently, tapping his finger on the stand, but saying nothing. When the seller finished with the woman he’d been assisting, he smiled widely at the two of us.
“Monsieur O’Rourke, I was not expecting you back for at least another day.” His voice was high and most definitely English, though he used a French greeting.
“Aye, my wife wanted to come see the place when I told her about it,” Tristan replied, laughing. “I thought it would be best to humor her sooner, rather than later.”
“A woman is not to be trifled with,” he agreed. “But where are my manners? Jacob Williams at your service, Madame O’Rourke.” Bowing to me, he swept his hat off his head and held the pose for a moment before standing straight again. “I have just acquired a marvelous painting that I think you would be interested in. Would you care to come inside?”
“Thank you, Mister Williams.” Tristan towed me along behind him and into the room in the wall directly behind the table.
“Feel free to handle anything you’d like,” Mister Williams called, his skinny form disappearing back through the door and outside.
There was no one else inside, the piles of merchandise left lonely. It looked like many things hadn’t been touched in some time.
“This way,” Tristan murmured, nodding to the back of the room.
I followed him, watching as he tapped on one brick, the same rhythm he’d been tapping on the table outside. Slowly, a portion of the wall before us began to move, revealing the hidden door that had been there all along. Stifling my surprised gasp, I glanced back at Tristan, who was grinning his boyish smile at me.
“Welcome to the headquarters of The Order of the Knights Templar, Sam,” he said smoothly.
The long, brick hall stretched on for what felt like forever, torches lighting the way every few feet. I felt more like I was lost in a dungeon, rather than moving through a hidden passageway to long forgotten chambers.
The man who had opened the secret door for us—Jacob Smith, he’d said—led the way in silence, a flaming stick held in his own hand. Silently, I wondered why we’d need a guide in the first place; there weren’t any options but straight.
“A little further,” Tristan murmured to me, still holding onto my arm.
Nodding, I kept my budding questions to myself. There would be time enough later to ask them, I was sure.
After a few more minutes, we finally were getting somewhere. Hallways started branching off in various directions, a maze of sorts that made me envision being stuck in here for eternity. The building hadn’t looked this large from the outside, making me wonder if we had moved underground sometime during the trip.
We turned down the third passageway on the right, moving past a gloomy set of stairs leading even further down, before we finally stopped in front of a plain door. It was only wood and metal, no ornate designs, no secret symbols, no anything.
Knocking on the door, Jacob waited for a reply before speaking.
“Who is calling?” a gruff voice on the other side inquired.
“Jacob Smith. Tristan O’Rourke and his wife are here.” He smiled at me in what I assumed was an encouraging manner.
“Enter,” the voice on the other side said.
Our guide opened the door and bowed slightly, ushering us in before securing it with a muffled click. Tristan, leading me into the space, took his time, watching as I glanced around.
The area was at least three times larger than I’d been expecting, with high ceilings and four beautiful pillars twisting up into the brick. Carved into them was what appeared to be a history of the Templars. Battles, treasures, and scenes that must have had to do with their undisclosed rituals covered every inch of the surface. Feeling like I couldn’t tear my eyes away from them, I gaped at the artwork, until something in the corner of my gaze caught my attention.
The walls were painted with various acts as well, but accent pieces covered the work in places. There was a beautiful, gold shield in one spot, and in another an extraordinary carving that had to be made of diamonds. Other treasures sat here and there, their splendor almost causing me to miss the designs in the floor, laid into the brick.
“It’s something, isn’t it?” Jumping back to the moment at hand, I turned and took in the old man seated behind the wooden desk before us, his white hair shining in the firelight. He was wearing the customary French fashion, a large, golden cross hanging around his neck over the purple cloth. Pale skin, extra wrinkled, made me think he must be very old. His eyes instantly drew me in, though, their deep gray gaze seeming to speak to me as much as the room around him.
“It was part of the treasure vault. The old Knights made no secret of their riches, as you well know. While the Temple was built to be a fortress on the outside, the inside was created to be as beautiful as the treasures she held.”
Standing, he wiped a napkin over his mouth and I suddenly realized we’d interrupted his meal, the silver tray of meat and bread resting just within his reach.
“I’m sorry we disturbed you while you were eating,” I said, suddenly remembering my manners and curtseying.
“It’s no trouble.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “How often does one get to meet a time traveler? I can eat any day. Besides, we have places to go.” Smiling, he stood and bowed, coughing slightly before he straightened. “I am the Grand Master, Augustine Bevard.”
“Samantha O’Rourke.” Feeling awkward, I curtseyed again, elbowing Tristan in the side when he chuckled softly.
“Captain Abel told me you were beautiful, Madame, and your husband assured me of the same, but I find myself somewhat surprised by your looks still.” He made his way around the desk slowly, making my guess at his age rise considerably. The man looked as if he could topple over at any minute and be gone from this life.
“You are very kind,” I replied, blushing.
“Ye should see her in a pair of trousers,” Tristan said easily, eliciting an embarrassed gasp from me and a laugh from the Grand Master.
“I have been told in detail of your exploits as a pirate as well, oui. You are very brave, Madame. Tell me, are all women in your time that way?”
“Um, I guess they could be, if they wanted. We tend to do what we want in my time, no man required.”
“I’ve always thought women were just as capable as men,” Grand Master Bevard continued, finally arriving beside the two of us. “But less . . .” He paused for a moment, searching for the word he wanted. “Extreme. They seem to trifle over daily things, with no real concern for what goes on outside their lives. I have often pondered what they could do, given the right power and circumstances.”
“Ye’ve spent too much time with yer own wife.” Tristan chortled.
“Perhaps,” he agreed humorously. “Today we had a crisis because her dress for the ball is half an inch too short. I suppose it will be fixed by the time I return home.”
“Isn’t stuff like that really important in this era, though?” I asked, trying to remember all the things I’d been taught about high society.
“It can be.” Bevard shrugged. “But I sincerely doubt a half an inch would have been noticed by many. Aren’t you attending the ball as well?”
“We are,” Tristan replied, smiling when I looked at him in surprise. “We plan to ride to the palace in two days.”
“Wonderful. Perhaps you would like to share my wife’s carriage? I do admit, I would enjoy the company.”
“That is very kind of you.” Trying not to laugh, I flinched as Tristan elbowed, his own eyes sparkling.
“It would be an honor to accompany ye,” he said, bowing.
“Very well then. I will let the driver know as soon as I return home tonight.” He motioned for the door, adding some speed to his step. “Would you like to see the rest of the Temple?”
“I would love to! Is there much more besides what I’ve been through already?”
“The Temple may have been over run and our legacy destroyed, lass, but there’s much to this place ye’ve yet to see,” Tristan answered, nodding for me to go ahead of him and follow the old man.
“I’ve been wondering about that,” I said to the both of them. “Why did you reestablish your headquarters here, after everything that happened? Wouldn’t you go somewhere else, somewhere that was safer and more secret?”
“The Temple of Paris is the best stronghold the Knights Templar ever built,” Bevard replied. “It was the only one really made to withstand a siege. Even when the Black Knights fell, they were imprisoned here, because of how strong the fortress was. When the whole ordeal was over, we silently crept back in; it’s still the strongest holding point we have.”
“Much of the Temple is hidden, lass,” Tristan continued, closing the door behind us as we entered the hall again. “Initiation was always private and hidden away. The bank vaults were kept out of sight and guarded, to protect the money. While the world may think they know what this place is, they’ve barely scratched the surface of it.”
The Grand Master led us back the way we’d come before, but instead of turning down the main hall we’d traveled down, he kept going straight, pointing out bricks that had things carved on them and doors that led to other treasure rooms.
“Of course, they’re all empty now,” he said conversationally, stopping at the bottom of some stairs. “The treasure is long gone—we are all aware of that fact.”
“Do you know where El Dorado is?” I asked, the question popping out as soon as I’d thought of it.
Surprised, the man turned and looked at me, his gaze studying my face. “You were right,” he said to Tristan. “She wastes no time, does she?”
“No, Monsieur.” Smiling, he took my hand, squeezing it gently.
“Sorry,” I said quickly, blushing. “I didn’t mean to be so blunt.”
“Of course you did. Thomas Randall tried to kill you and murdered your friend in front of you. He got away with the blood of the gods—you want to know if you can stop him. It’s a natural reaction, dear.” He waved his hand at me and began to ascend the steps, coughing one more after the first one. “As for your question, no. I do not know where the City of Gold is. I’m more prone to believe it doesn’t exist, but there is truth in all things. The men who took their eighth of the treasure to that part of the world never returned. The riches of the Knights could be sitting on top of a golden pyramid, for all we know.”
“Eighth of the treasure?” I questioned as we followed, suddenly remembering the voice of the priestess on Madagascar.
Eight is a magic number.
“Oui. When we fled with the treasure in the thirteen hundreds, it was split into eight parts. One was on Oak Isle. Another was taken to the new world by a few of the Spaniards among our numbers. However, they didn’t return and their ship was never found. We can only guess what happened to them and the riches they carried. That’s where we’re going now, actually. We’ve been searching for the treasure there for centuries. Now that Randall is a threat to it, I’ve called in our man in charge of the hunt there to speak with the two of you.”
“Do you think Randall is privy to information we don’t have?” Tristan asked, surprised. “Surely he wouldn’t know more about it than the Order. He would be operating on guess work only.”
“These are trying times, Monsieur O’Rourke,” he said, stopping just above us and turning to look. “Half of our number betrayed their oath and became Black Knights when Randall arrived and burned their city. I am not so sure that we don’t have enemies among us even now.” He watched us expectantly and then moved, heading on his way again.
“Did he mean us?” I whispered to Tristan, falling back somewhat to talk to him.
“I don’t think so,” he answered, frowning. “Perhaps he is worried the man we are going to meet is the traitor?”
“I guess we’ll find out.”
“Be careful, Sam,” he cautioned me. “I’ve never met this man, and I’m sure he won’t be happy that I’ve been asking into his business. This is supposed to be something secret. Not even the other Knights are to know where the treasure is hidden. They only know the one they are assigned to. He may be upset to see you.”
“Why?”
“Everyone knows about Oak Isle now, lass. A good number of them know what ye are, too. They fear the unknown, but hunger for the knowledge ye possess. Watch what ye say and be wary of anyone trying to use ye, savvy? Even the Grand Master. Remember, when the Order fell the first time, the Grand Master himself had joined the Black Knights. Do not consider anyone safe.”
“I understand,” I replied, surprised at his sudden caution. “I’ll do my best to make sure I’m paying attention.”
“This is no different than the ship, lass,” he murmured even softer. “They may look nice and wear fancy clothes, but these men are pirates at heart, in every way. Never forget.”
Nodding, I tried to keep my eyes from widening even more as we finished our trek up the stairs and joined the Grand Master in front of another doorway.
“This way,” he said, opening it for us and nodding. “Lomas is waiting.”
Lomas turned out to be a Spanish man not much older than Tristan, with dark, tanned skin and black hair that was so short it almost resembled what was known as a buzz cut in my time. His face, while handsome, seemed severe, aided in part by a scar stretched across one cheek, reaching from under his ear to the corner of his mouth. It made him look like some sort of horror film creation when he spoke, as if the rest of his face was going to split open
at any moment. Of course, it didn’t, but as he bowed to us, the blue of his sailor’s coat standing out against the red of the room, I felt a sudden uneasiness.
“Adrian Lomas, Captain O’Rourke,” he said, introducing himself as we came to stand by the table with him.
“Captain of what?” Tristan laughed, tightening his grip on my hand slightly. “I have no ship, as I’m sure ye’re aware.”
“Regardless, you are still a captain in this organization and I will address you as such, as I would expect if my ship had also been lost.” Despite the fearsome look he had while speaking, Lomas’ voice was very proper sounding, the accent of his country strong in every word.
“I thank ye,” Tristan replied, his own tone mimicking the politeness being displayed. “I hope we can work together in this endeavor without much conflict.”
“I highly doubt that.” For the first time, Lomas seemed to sneer at us, catching me by surprise.
Trying to avoid the awkward stare the two men were now giving each other, I turned to examining the room. It wasn’t large by any means, but the high ceiling made it feel enormous. There were no windows, leaving me clueless as to whether or not we were finally above ground again. There were, however, large tapestries that hung down, displaying magnificent portrayals of more of the Knight’s accomplishments. Some of the images seemed outlandish, men speaking with mythological creatures and battling dragons, but the fabrics gave the room a lightness that was missing without the sunlight. A large chandelier, filled with candles, was displayed over the centerpiece of the room—the table at which we all now stood.
It was almost too much for the space, leaving only a narrow walkway around its circular edge. For an instant, I thought of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, seated together as they ruled a nation. Were the Knights Templar that same kind of organization—a group that worked together and held respect for all, regardless of their title?
Of course, the main focus of the table, itself, was the beautiful world map carved into it. Whoever had completed the task was a master at their craft, though I did notice a few things that were off, such as the shape of the Americas, which were somewhat squashed together. For the most part, though, it looked like any other map I’d seen in this time. Sea monsters were placed off in the ocean every so often, carvings of ships appeared as if they were traversing across the waters with ease, and the landmasses had their own markings, showing civilizations and other points of interest.
Carried Away (The Swept Away Saga, Book Two) Page 9
