Anarchy

by Stewart Binns

  When the vows had been spoken, the Master addressed us in turn, concluding this solemn initiation.

  Be a truly fearless knight, secure in every way, for your soul is protected by the armour of faith, just as your body is protected by the armour of steel. You are thus doubly armed and need fear neither demons nor men. Be at one with your Maker, for He will make you worthy men.

  So, in a simple ceremony, I had become a founding knight of the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ of the Temple of Solomon. Little did I know then how powerful our Order would become in the affairs of the Holy Land, how influential it would be in the affairs of the Church of Rome, and how far it would reach into communities across the whole of Europe.

  13. Succubae and Sodomites

  Life as a Templar passed quickly. The daily routine was like that of a monk, but also similar to the discipline of a professional soldier, so neither Eadmer nor I found it too demanding. The constant liturgy of mass and prayers was tedious, but it gave me time to reflect on recent events and to come to terms with Livia’s death. I came to think of it as a time of cleansing.

  By the turn of the year, we had recruited over 150 knights and had more than 500 men in various squadrons and specialist militias. There were occasional skirmishes with Muslim raiding parties, but we dealt with them effectively, adding considerably to our reputation. By January of 1120, knights began to arrive from all over Europe, swelling our numbers to the scale of a significant army.

  The mood within the Order remained brotherly, but Master Hugh was becoming an increasingly potent force within the Christian states. Some of the brothers thought his authority was beginning to be autocratic and even cruel. Disobedience was punished severely, as was dissent. Solitary confinement for days on end within our headquarters was one of the milder penalties. Floggings were commonplace, as were public humiliations – such as being required to do multiple Stations of the Cross around the Temple walls in the heat of the day, wearing no more than a loincloth.

  Master Hugh continued to smile benignly, but some younger recruits began to say that the fixed smile disguised a troubled man.

  My own serious reservations emerged after Godfrey de Saint-Omer began to give impassioned sermons about the temptation of women. He said that one of the new recruits had come to him to confess that he had been seduced by a succubus in his sleep and that she visited him every night to repeat the torture. ‘Lucky boy’ was Eadmer’s sardonic reaction, a sentiment I shared. But two days later, Godfrey declared that he had been unable to cleanse the demon from the young knight’s soul and that he would have to have it flogged out of him.

  He was given thirty brutal lashes, which was a punishment so severe that he had to be taken to the monks at the nearby Hospital of St John of Jerusalem. Sadly, his wounds became infected and he died of a fever a week later.

  Although the disquiet in the Order grew, most brothers accepted that the Christian States had been made weak through sin and that rigid discipline and the cleansing of the soul was the only way to redemption. Thus Hugh’s authority remained largely unchallenged.

  Nevertheless, after a couple of days of thought, I decided to talk to our leader.

  ‘Master, may I raise an issue with you?’

  ‘Of course, Brother Hal.’

  ‘Brother Godfrey is preaching about the temptations of women, which is all well and good. But on the matter of the young monk who said he was visited by a succubus, is it not to be expected that young men bound by vows of chastity should dream of women?’

  For a moment, Hugh’s smiled wavered. There was a sudden flash of anger across his face, before he resumed his benign grin.

  ‘My son, his dream was not about a woman. It was the Devil defiling him in his masquerade as a woman.’

  ‘But, Master, what sin did the boy commit that led to him being flogged?’

  ‘His sin was obvious; he let the Devil into his soul.’

  I realized that our Master had a totally closed view on the matter and that further discussion would only provoke his anger. He looked at me imploringly with his piercing eyes.

  ‘Are you troubled, my son? If you are, you can talk to me or to Brother Godfrey. Because of his wisdom and total devotion to God, I am going to appoint Godfrey as Grand Chaplain of the Order, to be responsible for our spiritual well-being. You know, succubae can be very persistent – having been driven out of one member, they can easily attack another.’

  There was something unnerving, even threatening, in Hugh’s question.

  ‘Master, I am only troubled by the death of a young Brother who had dreams about women.’

  This time, Hugh de Payens’ mask of benevolent charm disappeared for more than a moment.

  ‘Do you question my absolute authority on all matters, spiritual or temporal?’

  ‘No, Master.’

  I had no choice but to back down, although I did not like to be bullied and despised his blatant abuse of power. Hugh’s compassionate countenance returned, and I took my leave of him.

  I had realized two things: those who thought that Hugh’s charm was superficial were right; and in the long term, my future did not belong with the Knights Templar. However, it soon became clear that once the Oath of the Templars had been taken, there was no turning back. Leaving the Order was not permitted. This was clearly a concern that Eadmer and I would have to address when the time was right.

  In the middle of January 1120, our Master led the nine founding members of the Order to Nablus, a Samaritan city forty miles north of Jerusalem. A Great Council had been called for all the Christian States of the Holy Land to discuss their existing problems and produce an agreement for the future. Hugh intended to speak to the Council about his vision for the security and prosperity of the ‘Outremer’ – the name the Franks gave to the Holy Land.

  The Council of Nablus was a sight to behold. The entire Christian ecclesiastical and secular nobility of the Holy Land was there, supported by their military and personal entourages. The fields around the city were covered in row after row of tents and pavilions, each topped by the pennon of a knight or gonfalon of a lord. Hundreds of horses were tethered in long picket-lines, their bay coats glistening in the sun, lending straight lines to the patchwork of colourful canvas.

  Long trestle tables had been made to feed the hordes, and food and drink were being consumed on a scale reminiscent of the baronial banquets of our European homelands. In fact, had it not been for the arid surroundings of Palestine, the scene could easily have been in Normandy or England. There were hawkers and minstrels, jugglers and jesters, artisans of every trade and merchants selling any product you could wish for.

  The serious business of the Council began the next day – on 15 January 1120, a day that changed the history of the Holy Land – presided over by Garmond, Patriarch of Jerusalem, and Baldwin II, King of Jerusalem. The great and the good of the Holy Land were assembled: Ehremar, Archbishop of Caesarea; Bernard, Bishop of Nazareth; Ansquitinus, Bishop of Bethlehem; Roger, Bishop of Ramla; Achardus, Prior of the Temple; Arnaldus, Prior of Mount Sion; Girardus, Prior of the Holy Sepulchre; Pagan, Chancellor of Jerusalem; Eustace Grenier, Lord of Caesarea and Sidon; and Baldwin, Lord of Ramla. I had never seen so many fine robes and glittering insignia of office.

  They met in the an-Nasr, an ancient Byzantine church which the Muslims had converted into a mosque and which, in turn, King Baldwin was in the throes of transforming into a Christian church once again. Reputedly built on the exact spot where Jacob, son of Isaac and grandson of Abraham, was brought the bloody and tattered coat of Joseph by his sons, it was one of the holiest of all places for Jews, Christians and Muslims. Its scale reminded me of Norwich and the stories my mother had told me about how she and my grandmother had b
een inspired by the wonders of antiquity.

  Garmond opened proceedings by outlining what he thought was the extent of the decline in Christian values and behaviour.

  ‘My Lords, the sins of our people are reaping a bitter harvest. Our cities are plagued by mice and rats, our granaries are diseased, our wells foul. Locusts come every year and strip our fields bare. The infidels attack us on our roads and storm the gates of our citadels. Like beasts, they smell our weakness. Our domains are only twenty years old; if they are to survive for our children and grandchildren, we must act now, or the Almighty will turn his face against us and we will be cast into the wilderness. Remember, the Lord said he will “give us as meat to the beasts of the field and to the fowls of the heaven”.’

  The Patriarch’s impassioned words brought a rapturous response from the audience. Many knights thumped their shields with their swords and maces. All the speakers at the Council kept to the same theme: wholesale sin in the Christian community was turning God against the Christian States, and their punishment was nigh. Immorality and adultery were the worst crimes. Many spoke about the increasing fetish for young Arab boys, claiming that sodomy was widespread in the garrisons of soldiers – and even among knights and priests.

  When it was time for Hugh de Payens to speak, he rose deliberately and paused to look slowly around the entire gathering before uttering a word. He was greeted by total silence; although his station as a mere knight from a modest region of Champagne was far below the status enjoyed by most of his audience, his reputation and bearing stilled the gathering.

  ‘Your Majesty, Eminence, Lords, fellow knights, we all know what ails us. But I want to talk to you about redemption.’

  His voice rose and rose as his oratory blossomed, until he had the entire gathering on the edge of their seats.

  ‘My order of brothers, the Knights Templar, will drive sin from our domains. No stone will be left unturned, no dark hiding place of evil will remain in shadow. All sinners will be exposed and face the wrath of God.’

  He then turned to the theme of safety and security.

  ‘As you all have been witness to, our roads are now much more secure since the patrols of my Knights Templar began. We will maintain our vigilance on behalf of all Christians in the Holy Land and will show no mercy to any infidel who dares harm even a single hair of our Christian brothers and sisters.’

  More cheers and cries ensued as the Grand Master reached his crescendo.

  ‘But I want to rekindle the flame of the Great Crusade, a flame that burned in the hearts of our fathers and grandfathers with an intensity that swept all before it. As you know, the city of Tyre is still in the hands of the Fatimid Caliph of Cairo, al-Amir, and is the only Muslim port in the Holy Land. From there, the Muslims who harass our cities and roads get their weapons and supplies. Now that His Majesty King Baldwin has control of Sinai as far as Aqaba, if we can capture Tyre, we will cut the umbilical cord of the Muslim brigands. Give me an army and I will give you Tyre!’

  The roars from the audience meant that there was little doubt about the answer to the Grand Master’s request. I looked at Eadmer, who was standing right behind me. He nodded his head; he knew as well as I did that we would soon be preparing an army for war. It had been a charismatic performance from Hugh de Payens, who had caught the mood of the Christians of the Holy Land perfectly and in a massive leap had elevated himself to the front rank of the hierarchy of the Latin Princes.

  The rest of the Council’s business involved setting new laws for the Holy Land in a series of canons – something that had been neglected since the Great Crusade – the tone of which was as severe as any I had ever heard. Canon 23 referred to theft and decreed that any theft of a value more than one bezant would cost the perpetrator an eye or a hand. Canon 4 dealt with adultery, which was punishable by branding with a hot iron and repeat offences by emasculation, while adulterous women would have their noses removed. Canon 12 required the same fate for any man who had sexual intercourse with a Muslim woman. Canons 8 to 11 addressed the growing problem of sodomites. ‘An abomination that is desecrating God’s most beautiful creation’ declared Arnaldus, Prior of Sidon. But whether he was referring to the whole of the human body, or just one part of it, was a source of amusing conjecture between Eadmer and myself when we reflected on the proceedings that evening. More importantly, for those indulging in sodomy Canon 8 stated that they ‘be burned at the stake, so that their evil be extinguished as in the fires of Hell’.

  Two days later, we joined our Grand Master in a council of war with King Baldwin, to begin the planning for an attack on Tyre.

  The King had his senior commanders with him, all of whom were visibly furious that Hugh de Payens had been given command of the attacking forces. Baldwin was a man of medium build, with a thick head of hair and dark beard. He had only been King for eighteen months but already had an air of easy authority about him. He had restored the security of Antioch and defeated Il-Ghazi’s army decisively.

  ‘Tyre is a mighty fortress with a high, easily defended position and with its back to the sea. It will be a long siege.’

  Hugh de Payens then went through the tactics he intended to use in detail. It was an impressive plan, which partly won over the King’s senior men. The King, who was clearly in awe of Hugh, as were many people, then put in a word of caution.

  ‘In order to have the money and resources required for success, we’re going to need help. I am told that an agreement was struck between Roger, Prince of Antioch, and the Venetians immediately before he was killed at the Battle of Sarmada.’

  ‘That is true, Your Majesty –’

  I had spoken without thinking, forgetting that I should not have spoken without being invited to. Hugh made to speak, but the King raised his hand to stop him.

  ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘Forgive me, Your Majesty; I am Harold of Hereford, an English knight and a Knight Commander of Venice before I joined Master Hugh’s Templars. I was there at Sarmada, as escort to her Serenity, Princess Livia of Venice. She told me on the eve of the battle that Prince Roger had agreed to the pact with Venice.’

  ‘It is true. I remember the knight.’

  The voice came from a dark corner of the King’s tent, from Hodierna – his sister, and wife of Prince Roger – the woman I had met in Antioch with Livia. I had not noticed she was there.

  ‘So you are the knight who managed to get her away during the battle. Is it true that the Prince had raped her?’

  ‘Yes, sire.’

  ‘You see, Gentlemen, such is the evil that besets this realm …’

  He paused and looked at Hugh. My words had added weight to the plan that had already formed in his mind.

  ‘This man could be very useful to our cause.’

  He then turned to me.

  ‘Do you speak their language?’

  ‘Yes, Your Majesty, well enough.’

  ‘Hugh, I am going to send Eustace Grenier – Lord of Caesarea and Sidon, and my Constable of Jerusalem – to the Venetians. He is an excellent soldier and wise counsel. We need the Venetian navy and a mountain of silver for the siege. I want your young Templar, Harold here, to go with him to help him negotiate with the Doge.’

  For obvious reasons, I was worried about accepting such a commission.

  ‘Sire, forgive me, but when I returned to Venice, the Doge declined to see me. I fear he believes I should have done more to protect the Lady Livia.’

  ‘He will have had time to reflect on that, I’m sure it will be different when you return. You did all you could – to get her away from the slaughter at Sarmada was a miracle. Besides, you will be in Venice with a very lucrative proposal from me. Venetians never miss an opportunity to
strike a profitable deal.’

  And so, in a turn of events that I could never have foreseen, by the middle of 1120, we were back in Venice. Only a day after our arrival, we had an audience with Domenico Michele, the Doge of Venice. It was a meeting I was not looking forward to. The last time I had been in the Doge’s palace was on the day when I first saw Livia – a moment of rapture still vivid in my memory.

  When we were introduced, the Doge acknowledged me with only a perfunctory nod. But at least he had not refused to allow me to accompany Eustace Grenier. The Constable had brought a very generous offer from the King, which made the negotiations go well.

  The trading agreement with Antioch was confirmed by Baldwin as Regent and extended to the whole of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. Venice would be granted one third of the Lordship of Tyre upon its capture and an annual payment of 300 gold bezants from the royal treasury at Acre. The Venetians would also be exempt from all taxation on their holdings in the Holy Land and be granted a parcel of land in every town or city in the realm, which would be made up of one street, one market square, one church, a bakery and a bathhouse. It was an offering that made the Doge’s eyes visibly widen as he heard it.

  In exchange, he promised to build a navy of eighty ships, fully manned by newly recruited and trained marines, which would remain in Tyre as a standing navy to protect Venice’s interests in perpetuity. Although it would take two years to build, he was true to his word. The fleet would be ready by the end of 1122, and we planned to sail for the Levant at the beginning of January 1123.

  Eadmer and I spent the long months while the ships were being built helping with the training of the new marines. In the company of earnest young men from all over the Mediterranean, we enjoyed our time in the familiar surroundings of the Arsenale watching the Holy Land’s Grand Fleet being built.