December 1307 A.D. – News from France

The horses raced down the last few hundred yards of the valley, through the entrance arch and into the grounds of the monastery itself. They sped past the mill, which was already at work. The two men dismounted with a leap, leaving their horses sweating and breathing heavily. The peasant gardener hunched by the wall looked up in alarm.

“Where’s your Abbot?”

The question was barked by the taller of the two. The response didn’t come quickly enough for him, so he repeated himself.

“Abbot John Comsbrook. Where is he?”

The layman deferentially indicated the direction of the Abbot’s house and the two men hurried round the back of the church. They could see the dwelling they sought nestled halfway up the slope behind.

The Abbot received them into his house, and sat them down at the table, whilst he selected a seat opposite. It was unusual to get armed visitors at the Abbey and he was anxious to see what business had brought them here.

The two men made an odd pair. The first man was a head taller than the second, and much younger as well. The second shorter man, made up for his lack of height with his girth. He could barely fit his stomach between the bench and the wooden table. But evidently he was the more senior of the two, for it was he who opened the conversation.

“Brother Abbot, Are you aware of the troubles that beset the Order of the Knights Templar?”

The monk shook his head.

“I am afraid little news of political significance, ripples the waters of our isolated existence.”

The portly knight frowned. This may make the conversation more difficult.

“Mmm… You are though aware, of a certain Templar deposit that was made with your predecessors?”

The Abbot started a little. So this visit was about the Templars’ chests. Interesting. He had wondered ever since his appointment if this day might arrive. The Abbot willed his expression to remain impassive. And gave a little nod to his visitor who continued.

“Very well then. We have been sent personally by the Grand Master of the Knights Templar, Jacques de Molay, to remove this deposit. He resides at present in Paris. We have a sealed letter with his personal authority.”

He opened a leather bag he had placed on the floor and removed a small package. It was placed on the table, directly in front of the Abbot. He picked it up delicately, removed the seal and began to read it. What he wondered, could have caused the Templars to come for their hoard, after the best part of a hundred years?

The letter gave no real purpose for his visitors’ trip. It was however crystal clear about one thing. It instructed the Abbot to hand over the contents of the Templars’ deposit to the bearer of the document. Unfortunately, Abbot John had strict instructions of his own, from a higher authority. He cleared his throat and explained.

“It is I’m afraid, with the deepest regret, that I must graciously refuse your request. My instructions on this matter are clear. I can only release the document with either a letter from His Holiness himself, or by a deputation of Templars, with a document in the exact format required. It would appear you have no such document?”

“I am afraid not Sir. As I have stated, the Order is under much pressure. All of our repositories are not at present easily accessible.”

“Well then …..”

The Templar had taken enough. His travels from Paris had wearied him immensely. And although he had been warned there might be trouble at the Abbey, he was determined not to let down his Grand Master. He stood up abruptly and drew his battle-sword.

“I am afraid Brother Abbot, I must insist!”

Abbot John remained calm, his face impassive.

“Pray calm yourself Sir. You can achieve nothing here by force. I am sworn to provide no help without the appropriate documentation. And as a man of God I cannot break that oath. And as you do not know where the deposit is located……”

The knight sheathed his blade. He saw the logic of the monk’s argument. But it did nothing to improve his mood. He turned and stormed angrily from the room followed by his companion. He would not look forward to the next meeting with the Grand Master in France.

Abbot John breathed a sigh of relief at their exit. His bravado had concealed his nerves. He would need to inform Pope Clement of this visit. He summoned one of his monks to act as a scribe and marshalled his thoughts.