The Templar Detective

by J. Robert Kennedy

  Marcus smiled to himself. That was what this was about. The assets. The King owed the Templars a massive amount, an amount he could never hope to repay, as his wars hadn’t been going to plan. By declaring the bankers criminals, he could seize their funds, and wipe out his debts with one stroke of the pen.

  And Marcus was having nothing to do with it.

  “Only if the lone piece of evidence is genuine.”

  The room turned toward Marcus, still on his knees, his eyes, once staring at the floor, now staring at King Philip, sitting on his ornate throne.

  “How dare you address His Majesty!” Bernard surged from his position to the side of the proceedings, his hand reaching for his sword.

  “Is the case against these men so weak, that it cannot stand a challenge?”

  King Philip raised a hand slightly, Valentin blocking Bernard with an arm. “Let him speak.”

  Marcus suppressed a sigh of relief, slightly surprised he was being given the opportunity, but with the room filled with the royal court, men and women alike turning red with bated breath, the King could hardly deny him his moment.

  For why would he? He would assume the document was genuine, unless he was in on this from the very beginning. And every fiber of his being was telling him that this was not so, that Bernard was the only one who knew the truth.

  “If I may?” Marcus stood after a nod from the King. He bowed deeply, there no point in disrespecting the man. “Your Majesty, I have information that is of critical importance to these proceedings, and I ask that you indulge me as I lay out the entire story. It may take a few minutes, some of it may even sound irrelevant at first, but you have my word as a Templar knight, and a man of God, that everything I am about to tell you is of importance, and is the truth as I know it to be.”

  Another wave of the hand.

  Marcus bowed again, quickly trying to piece together what he would say and how he would say it, so that he would be given a chance to relay everything necessary, and also delay things enough that Simon might reach them in time with the proof of what he was about to say.

  He stepped forward, putting Valentin out of his line of sight, but remaining far enough away from King Philip so as not to pose a threat. “Your Majesty, three days ago, a man and his wife, an auditor working for you, were murdered in Crécy-la-Chapelle. Mr. Fabron and his wife were murdered by men posing as Templar knights.”

  “Posing? All witnesses have identified them as Templars,” interrupted Valentin. “What proof do you have that they weren’t Templars?”

  Marcus bowed slightly to his side, acknowledging Valentin, but not looking at him, instead keeping his eyes focused on the King. “If you will please permit me to finish, all will be explained.”

  And another wave of the hand.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.” He turned enough to give Valentin a slight look, implying he shouldn’t interrupt what the King so obviously wanted to hear. He continued. “Two nights before these murders, myself and three of my men encountered three of your guard in a local tavern. One of them was Sir Valentin.” He spun toward the knight. “Do you deny this?”

  “I deny nothing.”

  Marcus bowed, smiling slightly. “Thank you.” He returned to the King. “Three men disguised as Templars committed the murders two days later. What they aren’t aware of”—he turned toward Valentin—“is that there was a witness to that crime, who saw the faces of two of the murderers, and can identify them.”

  Valentin appeared to pale slightly, and the court erupted with gasps and muttered surprise. Valentin squared his shoulders. “Then I demand this witness be brought forward!”

  An excellent recovery.

  Marcus turned back to the King. “Your Majesty, I can produce this witness, though it will take a day, as he is at my farm in Crécy-la-Chapelle. He saw the murder of his parents, and heard the conversation that took place before their deaths. These men were seeking a document, and we must assume it is this very document that has been presented to you, incriminating these men in a treasonous plot against you.”

  He turned to Valentin. “Without any accusation that you were the one who committed the murder, will you confirm that you have been seeking this document for at least the past several days?”

  Valentin appeared uncertain of what to say, glancing at his king, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Yes, I can confirm this.”

  “And why were you seeking it?”

  “I had heard that a clandestine meeting had occurred between the Templar delegation from the Holy Land, and several local Templars and members of the aristocracy known to be sympathetic to their cause. In questioning one of those who attended, I was informed of the existence of this treasonous document. I then took it upon myself to find it.”

  Marcus thanked God for the phrasing. “Then we can assume that His Majesty was not aware of this undertaking, nor any methods you may or may not have employed to find the document.”

  Valentin paused, apparently realizing he was being given an out to protect his king. The question was would he take it. If the King was involved in the conspiracy, then this was Valentin’s chance to protect him from any embarrassment. But if he solidly believed the document was real, then he might choose to include his king in the conspiracy, because in his mind, there was none, and his king would benefit from the success of the mission. But if he had doubts?

  “You are correct. His Majesty ordered me to seek the truth, whatever it may be.”

  Sighs and murmurs filled the court, everyone present realizing that should things go badly in the next few minutes, the King had just been removed from the equation, and any scandal would leave him unscathed.

  Marcus bowed slightly. “I thank you for your honesty, Sir Valentin. I believe you to be a man of honor, loyal to his king, who has zealously pursued the truth, and in finding it, successfully brought those accused to justice.”

  Valentin nodded in acknowledgment, though said nothing.

  “Now, let me explain what has occurred since those heinous murders, and please note, in case anyone has missed this point, Mr. Fabron, our first victim, is one of the signatories of this document. Another signatory is Sir Gilbert de St. Leger, commander of one of our outposts in Crèvecœur-en-Brie. I was asked to investigate these crimes by the local Bailiff’s Delegate, as well as Sir Raimond de Comps, commander of our Commandry in Coulommiers. I immediately set out to meet with Sir Gilbert, as Sir Raimond believed he had been at the meeting held with the delegation from the Holy Land, a delegation, I might add, that was missing at this point.” More surprised utterances from the onlookers. “When we arrived the next day in Crèvecœur-en-Brie, we were dismayed to discover that Sir Gilbert had been murdered in his chambers, the last to have seen him, two Templar knights who had paid him a visit late the night before.”

  “Again, Templar murderers!” interrupted Bernard, Valentin spinning and glaring at him.

  Marcus acknowledged him. “Yes, two men who appeared to be Templars, were last seen with him. It was at this time that we discovered a document in Sir Gilbert’s possession, which was an innocent summary of the meeting held the week before, with the same signatures at the bottom as you have seen on the treasonous document. We now suspected that these men were all to be murdered, and messengers were sent out to warn them. But what we didn’t know at the time, was that the most dastardly part of this conspiracy, for it was a conspiracy, even if all involved weren’t aware that it was, was to take place.”

  Even the King leaned forward for his next words.

  “Someone in this very room took it upon himself to ensure that these men here today were implicated in this most heinous crime, by providing false proof of their support in your overthrow, Your Majesty.”

  The court erupted as those watching the proceedings turned to look at those around them, all wondering who it could be that Marcus was accusing.

  Valentin stepped into his field of view. “You are accusing a loyal subject of His Majesty of a serious crime. W
e have entertained your musings long enough. Either provide us with proof of your allegations, or be silent, and accept your punishment.”

  Somebody shouted at the back of the room, panic in their voice. “We’re under attack!”

  Marcus smiled. “I believe the proof has just arrived.”

  51

  Approaching Palais de la Cité

  Paris, Kingdom of France

  Archers on horseback took down the guards rushing to close the mighty gates of the palace, their writhing forms replaced by more trying to finish the task, but it was too late. The first of the Templar knights forced their way past the gates, their heavy swords held out to their sides, mowing down any who stood in their path, the unprepared and inexperienced force ceremonially guarding the palace quickly breaking the lines and scattering in all directions.

  Simon glanced over his shoulder, urging Thomas to stay close, as the large force of Templars continued forward, several dozen taking control of the gate and closing it behind them to prevent any counterattack from having easy access.

  Though Simon doubted there would be any chance of that. This would be over quickly, and if they were to win the day, it wouldn’t be by force, but by whether the evidence they were about to deliver would be accepted.

  As they reached the main entrance to the palace, the massive force of Templar knights rushed up the steps, most still on horseback, the guards scattering, and the doors thrown open by several of the laymen now on foot.

  Simon led the charge through the doors, determined to find Marcus and David, and hopefully put an end to this travesty of justice.

  He only prayed he wasn’t too late.

  The sight before him caused his heart to sink. Over a dozen men, some in their Templar tunics, were on their knees at the head of the massive room, the King now on his feet, his Personal Guard surrounding him with swords drawn, and the elite of Paris, dressed unlike anything he had ever beheld, rushing to the sides of the massive room in fear as two dozen soldiers of the Knights Templar surged into the room.

  He brought his horse to a halt and leaped from the saddle, relieved to see Marcus standing before the King, a smile on his face, and if he weren’t mistaken, a distinct look of relief as well.

  The knights dismounted as more surged into the hall, rushing forward and encircling the accused, swords held on the nobles lining the walls, and the Personal Guard now shielding the King.

  Marcus held up his hand. “I’d like to welcome these new guests, who at my behest, are delivering the very proof that I have spoken of.” He walked over to Simon, shaking his hand and lowering his voice. “Please tell me you have it.”

  Simon smiled, producing the two documents. “And I brought the forger’s son.”

  Marcus grinned, slapping him on the shoulder. “Who’s the fool now?”

  “Sir?”

  Marcus shook his head. “I’ll explain later.” He turned to face the King. “Your Majesty, in my hand, I have the proof of the true crime committed here today, and once you read what is written, and hear the testimony of this young man, I trust you will agree that the guilt lies not with these men here before you today, but with another in this room, who has taken advantage of the events of the past several days, in order to further his position in this court.”

  King Philip sat back down, motioning for his guards to lower their weapons. Immediately, all the Templar knights sheathed their swords, an anticipatory silence spreading through the room.

  And the King finally spoke. “And who do you accuse, Sir Marcus?”

  Marcus bowed deeply at being addressed, an admission, however subtle, that his words were being given a fair hearing. He spun toward Sir Bernard, stabbing a finger in the air at him. “Sir Bernard de Claret!”

  Bernard nearly soiled himself, his jaw dropping as his heart hammered. He had suspected this moment was coming as soon as Marcus had begun to speak, and all doubt was removed when the Templar knights had invaded this sovereign chamber.

  So he had repeatedly coached himself as to what to do in that moment he was finally accused.

  Drop the jaw and appear shocked.

  Which he did, he thought, rather well.

  “This is an outrage!” he cried, striding forward to face his accuser. “I demand satisfaction!” It was the only thing he could think of to do. Kill the messenger, and perhaps the message might never be received.

  Valentin intervened, much to his dismay, blocking him with a hand to the chest. He glared at him, as if he were beginning to believe the story being laid out.

  And it terrified him.

  “You will keep your place, and your silence.”

  “But—!”

  Valentin pushed him back several paces, then turned toward Marcus. “Continue.”

  Marcus bowed. He now clearly had an ally, or at least someone willing to give him a chance to finish nailing shut the coffin Bernard now feared was his fate. He searched the aristocracy, desperate for a friendly face, and finally found his mother and father, on the opposite side of the room, and he knew it was all over.

  His father was glaring at him, and his mother had already turned her back.

  His life was over.

  He took a step backward, toward the entrance to the gardens, when several Templar knights surrounded him, swords drawn and pointed at his chest and back.

  Marcus ignored him. “Your Majesty, it is now time to reveal the entire truth, though if you’ll permit me one last interruption?”

  A flick of the wrist.

  Marcus whispered something into the ear of the man who had brought the documents about to be presented, and Bernard watched him hurry through the crowd toward the entrance.

  Marcus held up the documents. “This is an exact reproduction of the document before us today.” He handed it to Valentin. “Would you concur?”

  Valentin examined it, motioning for the original to be brought forward. He held them up, then nodded. “They appear to be the same.”

  “And the signatures?”

  He held them both up to the sunlight pouring in from the garden, then placed the pages back to back, lining up the signatures. He turned back toward the proceedings, apparently satisfied. “They do indeed appear to be exact matches.”

  “And does that surprise you?”

  Valentin’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not certain I understand the question.”

  “When you sign your name, does it always match exactly, every time?”

  Valentin’s head bobbed slightly. “I see what you mean. I would have to answer, no. There are always variations.”

  Marcus smiled. “Exactly.” He turned to the room, slowly spinning to address them. “As I am certain all these distinguished members of the court will agree, though their signature might appear the same every time, there are deviations. There are none in these.”

  Nods of assent circled the room, murmured agreement with his statement universal. Marcus held up the second document. “This is a confession from the forger who created both of the documents you now have before you. He has confessed to his crime, named the perpetrator as Sir Bernard, and also reproduced the signatures at the bottom of the document, to prove that it was he who forged the original.” He handed the second document to Valentin. “Sir, if you would?”

  Valentin again compared the signatures, and nodded, shooting a glare at Bernard that made him cringe. “They are exactly the same.”

  “Which I believe will prove that the document is a forgery.”

  Bernard stepped forward. “Then I too have been betrayed! This document may be a forgery, but I was not aware of it. Sir Everard de Charney confessed to its existence when I interrogated him, and it was he who gave me it. Whoever had the forgery created has betrayed us all.”

  Valentin shook the second document. “This names you, Sir Bernard. Not somebody else, not Sir Everard, but you!”

  “Then someone has posed as me in order to defame me, to implicate me in an unthinkable crime. This entire proceeding is outrageous! I deman
d to be heard!”

  Marcus held up a hand, cutting off Valentin from responding. “I agree you should be heard. But perhaps we should first hear from my final witness.” He held out his arm toward the throng of Templar knights. “May I present to His Majesty, Thomas Durant, the son of the forger, the boyhood friend of Sir Bernard, and to whom Sir Bernard confessed his entire plan to while drunk.”

  Bernard’s heart hammered and his ears pounded with rushing blood as he rose up on his toes, trying to spot his old friend, and the sealer of his fate.

  He almost cried out in dismay as Thomas emerged from the crowd of knights, his tiny, nearly emaciated frame, making him appear to be a mere boy compared to these soldiers.

  And as Thomas stepped forward, Bernard knew it was all over, a quick glance at his father, now leading his mother from the court, confirming that not even his family would stand behind him.

  Simon stepped back outside, the sun shining brightly on the stone courtyard, over one hundred Templars, many still on horseback, guarding the gate and walls, prepared for any attack that might come. But with the proceedings inside sounding like they might be taking a turn for the better, if all continued to go well, they might actually be out of here before any help might arrive.