Who was his father? What was he doing in the days before he died?
What was natural in him surely was so natural in many. How many who had come before him had wondered what he had wondered? How different his life would be if he could meet him one last time, ask just one more question. The abbot had told him that the memories of affection, the tenderness of current hurt, run deep in us all. He’d said that the memories never disappear, but that their hurt eventually withers, leaving only softness toward what was good. Until now it was a thought he had never had. Suddenly he found his thoughts confused. Somehow the images that he knew were true seemed older still, dating back to his former self. It was like a different life.
And that boy had died long ago.
The sound of a sliding door roused Matt’s attention. Jura appeared, carrying a glass of port and minus his bow tie.
‘You know, your father used to enjoy that same view,’ he said, smiling sombrely. ‘I remember the last time I saw him here. It was just before he went to Portugal.’
Matt nodded, remaining taciturn. He returned his attention to the river.
‘I expect all of this has come as something of a shock,’ Jura said. ‘I remember when my own father died. It seemed I had just started to grieve, only to discover that I was the owner of a bank.’
Matt continued to focus on the water. ‘It seems like something out of a dream.’
‘They’re never straightforward – families – are they?’ He laughed as he spoke. ‘I remember the first time I really began to investigate my own heritage; I was much older than you are now. For several years, I found the more I learned, the less I knew.’
Matt nodded, his focus on Jura’s eyes. His calm façade was reassuring, though perhaps disguising other feelings.
‘I hope you don’t mind me asking, but are you okay?’
Matt laughed involuntarily. ‘Honestly,’ he shrugged, ‘I can’t make up my mind.’
Jura laughed in the same tone.
‘It’s almost as though I’m learning new things about him every day; things I never could possibly have guessed.’
‘A man’s profession illustrates only one window into his true soul. A friend or a colleague might see a glimpse, perhaps only a gap in the curtain, over an occasional drink, even over a period of years.’ He shook his head. ‘But even such instances are misleading. The man behind the mask is revealed only to a select few, perhaps only at a select time. His parents, his wife – at least for the most part. A lot is seen of the true man from time spent with a son or daughter.’
Matt nodded, forcing a smile.
‘And believe me, Mr. Anson. The only real glimpse I got of the real man was when he spoke of you and your brother.’
‘Did you know my father well?’
‘No. Or at least not compared to you.’ He sipped his drink. ‘I’m sorry, did you want one of these?’
Matt shook his head.
Jura placed his drink down on the nearest table. ‘We met almost fifteen years ago. As a matter of fact, we met at this very building,’ he said, followed by another soft laugh. ‘Yes, I remember it well. Your father was friendly with a good client of mine, a Dr. Graham Bell. Some people said his father had been a German quisling, but we never knew for sure.’
Matt laughed. The comment was clearly not meant as a slur on either man’s integrity.
‘Dr. Bell was a great student of our two orders. That was one thing we all had in common: a passion for understanding the past.’
‘What happened to him?’
‘Bell? Passed away not three years ago,’ he said, his smile sombre.
‘Sorry.’
‘Until his last year he was still of good health. For over thirty years he was, in fact, a seneschal of the Knights of Arcadia. Good man, shame you never got to meet him.’
Matt nodded. He turned his attention briefly back inside the lodge, watching its members chatting quietly.
‘Forgive me, I know little of either order.’
‘The Order of the Ancient Star has many fundamental differences from its Scottish counterparts.’
The way the words came out suggested rivalry. Not only that but snobbery. Strangely, Matt found it funny.
‘Such as?’
Jura leaned against the rail, his attention on the water. The wind had picked up slightly, making ripples on the river, rising occasionally and making splashes against the concrete below. Occasionally a large wave would pound the bank and form puddles.
‘As you’re undoubtedly aware, the Knights of Arcadia is not the most straightforward of societies. According to some, their existence even goes back to 1307 and the dissolution of the Templars.’
Matt was surprised by the comment. This was the first time he had heard an admission from someone official.
‘Let me tell you a story,’ he said. ‘Historians may tell me that I’m a liar, but evidence exists that not all historians see.
‘When the King of France ordered the executions of the Templars in Paris, many of the order survived, fleeing in various directions.
‘Some of these men went to Scotland, a nation also under excommunication. According to legend, some of these knights even fought alongside Robert the Bruce at the Battle of Bannockburn in 1314.’
He picked up his drink and sipped it.
‘Some joined other orders: those in Spain, the Hospitallers; those in Prussia, the Teutonic Knights. In Portugal, nothing changed at all, only the name.’
Matt eyed him with interest. His voice suggested firm knowledge, the way to prove it.
He smiled. ‘But still this does not account for every member of the order – how can it?’ He shrugged as he spoke. ‘In central Europe, particularly southern France, the order was practically trapped.
‘According to some Swiss historians, it was at this time that my country underwent a period of significant change. The land at that time was isolated. Its cantons were small, practically microscopic. Its people were peasants, its laws nonexistent. The customs we celebrate today did not exist.’
Matt was interested. ‘The Swiss are famous for banking.’
Jura smiled and nodded. Yes, the boy had got it.
‘I certainly believe so.’ He patted Matt on the shoulder, leaving his arm there momentarily. ‘The history of the Swiss is far from straightforward; we love our secrecy.’ He laughed again. ‘But according to the Swiss historians, the signs exist that the riders in white did indeed settle in the mountains.’
‘You had a picture on your wall – downstairs. It looked like a battle scene.’
Jura hid his surprise. ‘You are so much like your father. He, too, had an incredible eye for seeing things that others never did.’
Matt returned a brief smile. ‘So who are you?’
‘The first official mention of the Order of the Ancient Star comes in 1521. A man named Handel, no relation to the composer, is recorded as a member. His family dated back years, and at least one of his ancestors was a Templar knight.’
Matt nodded.
‘But the signs are there that the order started earlier. According to legend, one Frederic Handel, an ancestor of the man, escaped to the Alpine region with over two hundred of his brethren. Within a year it was said that another three thousand had followed.’
He paused.
‘The Templar purge is one of the darkest aspects of European history,’ he said seriously. ‘It was like the witch-hunts that came after. Nothing in history, except perhaps the Holocaust, matches it for its level of cruelty.’ The man shook his head in disgust. ‘The King of France was evil, but more important than that, he had an agenda.’
Matt’s interest increased. ‘What kind of agenda?’
‘The Knights Templar were rich, but they possessed more than just wealth.’ He sighed deeply. ‘Over the years, many historians have tried to ascertain the exact identity of the Knights Templar’s lost treasure. Until recently I assumed the story was just a legend, a fragment of a small part of an exaggerated mistranslati
on.’
He finished his drink and placed the empty glass on the table.
‘Then, by chance, I stumbled across the find in Tomar. For the first time it offered true hope, a window into the secret life of the original Knights.’
‘Do you believe that the Templar treasure was taken to Scotland?’
The man’s eyes opened widely. ‘That is something that no historian can validate. However, the story goes that when the Crusades were over, the treasure of the Knights Templar was located in England. But word of their forthcoming arrests was leaked. The night before the arrests, four loyal knights fled Paris to the port of La Rochelle. There they went to England, collected the order’s greatest possession, and then headed north to Scotland.’
Matt nodded.
‘However, in the eyes of some of their brethren, these men were cowards. Why was it that they should flee while others should be caught?’
Another shake of the head.
‘Historians often speak of the brutality faced by the arrested Templars. The truth is that many trials were undocumented, their tortures great. Of those who were caught, some eventually escaped, finding sanctuary in Switzerland.’ He looked at Matt and smiled. ‘If the legend is correct, the Templars who fled were viewed by those who survived as cowards. The legend is largely unsubstantiated but for the briefest of records in the trials. There, some of the knights who talked to the inquisitors made reference to the departed: the Templi Desertores.’
Matt looked back with a lost expression. ‘The what?’
‘Templi Desertores,’ he replied calmly. ‘The deserters.’ He looked at Matt with interest. ‘Are you okay?’
Matt nodded, but his demeanour let him down. Who killed his father? Who killed Luke Bowden?
Apollo has returned to Arcadia.
He regained his composure. ‘So this feud you speak of, does it still exist?’
Jura looked back, confused.
‘My father was grandmaster of the Knights of Arcadia, Professor Bowden a seneschal. Surely they were members of the deserters.’ He paused, his expression like thunder. ‘Is that why my father is dead?’
Jura recoiled, moving his fingers through his hair. ‘Your father was a great man, as was Luke Bowden.’
Matt exhaled forcefully. ‘My father was murdered.’
Jura’s expression was stern. ‘I know.’
Matt eyed Jura with venom. He looked briefly to his left, his eye on the gathering. He felt control despite the hatred.
‘Until two weeks ago, I didn’t even know any of this existed. To me, the Knights of Arcadia were idiots. Overpaid, overweight, balding morons pretending they were crusaders, it’s ridiculous.’ His face reddened as he held his breath. ‘I saw Professor Bowden’s mansion. I saw the stab wounds to his wrists, I saw the puncture in his heart, I saw the skin torn from his body. I saw the look of anguish on his face.’
Apollo has returned to Arcadia.
He kept his words quiet. With control came emphasis. ‘I saw the photographs of my father.’ He looked at Jura. ‘Did you kill him?’
Jura was horrified. ‘Matthew, please.’
‘I saw Luke Bowden’s naked body across his chair with the words Templi Desertore across his chest. You just said yourself that was what the Templars in Switzerland believed.’
Jura was starting to worry. Beads of sweat had formed. Members from inside were looking at them.
‘Did you kill him?’
‘Matthew, no.’
‘You just said it yourself that he was murdered.’
‘He was – that I do know. The Order of the Ancient Star did not kill your father, nor Professor Bowden. I know who did, but it was not anyone here.’
‘Then who?’ The words pierced.
‘They were killed by the Knights of Arcadia.’
Matt was dumbstruck. ‘He was the Knights of Arcadia grandmaster.’
‘I know,’ Jura said seriously. ‘The Knights of Arcadia was who they were deserting.’
28
Matt looked back blankly at the banker. It was as if a million thoughts were entering his head, each one more sinister than the last.
‘You’re right not to trust me,’ Jura said calmly. ‘Nor should you trust anyone. To an outsider, the Knights of Arcadia and the Order of the Ancient Star are full of enigmas,’ he said, this time without any hint of laughter.
To Matt, the pause was infuriating. ‘Who are you?’
‘My name is Charles Alfred Jura III. My father was the second, and his grandfather…well, you get the picture.’
Matt remained vigilant. That wasn’t the question.
‘My own background is banking, and as I understand it, my family’s affiliation with the Order of the Ancient Star goes back many centuries. For a number of years now I have been interested, shall we say, in the order’s history. While most historians accept the links with our past, seldom do they investigate them. I wanted to know more, even if just to clarify what they weren’t.
‘What you must understand, Matthew, is that the world never looks kindly on things it knows little about. That, for me, was a purpose I could return. In many ways I should consider myself fortunate. My heritage fuelled and financed my endeavours. As a result, questions could at last finally be answered.’
Matt’s frustration was continuing to heighten. ‘What does any of this have to do with my father?’
‘Both your father and Professor Bowden deserve credit for their roles in investigating similar questions. Even to the present Knights of Arcadia, the legacy of their ancestors remains something of a mystery. The modern society is old, stuck in its ways. Its brothers have little if any affiliation with the past.’
He moved slightly closer to Matt. ‘What you must understand, Matthew, is that no leader is universally popular. In the past, the role of grandmaster was highly important; the wrong candidate could lead to significant disorder.’ Another shake of the head. ‘These days, to most people, the role is largely ceremonial. But even that doesn’t stop the opposition.
‘It is true, historically, that both the Order of the Ancient Star and the Knights of Arcadia have not looked upon one another as being entirely friendly. This works both ways. To certain members of the Knights of Arcadia, the Swiss are their enemy. They believe the Knights of Arcadia demonstrates the true importance of the sacred mysteries, whereas the same is true of the Swiss. As I say, in the early days, the French who stayed behind viewed the Scottish as deserters. Such views, though they may be irrelevant today, are deeply entrenched. You might compare them to the Protestants and Catholics.’
‘But you are the grandmaster of the Order of the Ancient Star?’
‘Just like your father, I am the latest in a long line of temporary caretakers. Your father was unlike most of his predecessors. Sadly in the past, the society has been plagued by the thoughts of idiots and egotists. The Templar grandmasters themselves were not always without flaw. But your father and I shared a common goal; it was for that reason we got on so well. Together we nurtured our passion for the past, and for my part, the result was a strong friendship.’
Matt saw the man’s lips wobble. Was this a gesture of sincerity or the sign of a guilty conscience?
‘That still doesn’t explain what happened to my father.’
‘The Knights of Arcadia is changing. What began as a society of men seeking refuge from oppression then flourished into a strong family-based fraternity, which then in turn sank into the modern-day organisation plagued by arrogance and nepotism. No offence intended, Mr. Anson.’
Matt’s features remained unflinching.
‘The Order of the Ancient Star is not without fault. But since my own election, following in the footsteps of my predecessor, I have found myself drawn to new opportunities to network. However, with change comes conflict. I cannot deny that some of my decisions have not been popular. The brothers accept them, as they are loyal, but some have not been slow to voice their discontent.
‘The Knights of Arcadia is di
fferent. Its roots are firmly entrenched, and its people narrow minded. Your father was unfortunate to have encountered such stupidity.’
Matt looked back with interest. ‘My father had been grandmaster of the Knights of Arcadia for twenty years; he’d been a member since his twenties. I don’t understand, I thought people liked him.’
‘And they did; your father was a charming, charismatic man. Do not misunderstand me, Matthew, we’re not talking about the man’s personality.’
Jura exhaled lengthily.
‘I do not deny that there is much of my own order I am still to understand, and likewise, there is much about the Knights of Arcadia I do not know – nor is it true I have liked all that I have seen.’ He paused briefly, his attention on the water. ‘The discoveries at Tomar have given great insight into the heritage of all three orders – the Scots, the Swiss and the Portuguese Knights of Christ. I, for one, was unaware that such affinities between the Scots and the Portuguese existed. For a time I felt saddened, I could not help feel my past brethren had been the victim of circumstance.’
Another shake of the head.
‘All of our orders share common past; today we serve common goals. But it is not good to live too much in the past. The future is unwritten, and if the decisions of the present are to be performed well, then the future could be much greater.’
Matt watched him with greater scrutiny. ‘Who killed my father?’
Jura took his time. Beads of sweat were starting to gather on his forehead, surprising given the cool temperature.
‘Your father and Professor Bowden agreed that the future of both orders lay in cooperation and affiliation. They agreed, like me, that the feuds of the past must be put behind us. They knew, as do I, such things need time,’ he said, his tone almost mournful. ‘However, many big egos die hard. The Knights of Arcadia is old; many of its brothers are now in their seventies if not older. I cannot begin to imagine how many of them would feel knowing that an Anson is here with me tonight, having a drink and a meal.’
Matt looked away. ‘I never really cared about the Knights of Arcadia.’
The Larmenius Inheritance Page 19
