March 1314 A.D. – Paris

After the incarceration of de Molay and the others at Chinon, a fierce struggle had developed between Clement and Philip of how to resolve the Templar problem.

For six long years, the Master and his three closest colleagues had been languishing under Philip’s yoke. The fourth comrade had perished in captivity. The Templars had been kept in different cells, in various degrees of discomfort. But after the results of the papal commission, they had all believed it was just a matter of time until their freedom was given to them. Albeit, that Jacques had confessed to a sin he didn’t believe, namely, the basis of the initiation ceremony. During his darker periods, the Grand Master wondered if his very imprisonment was a divine punishment for his confession. But he consoled himself that this was the only way to eventually gain his freedom. So that he could start to repair the damage to his beloved Order.

But, by 1314, the reality of the situation was that King Philip had won. The Order of the Knights Templar was ancient history. All of its wealth had either been appropriated by European royalty or handed over to the Hospitallers. All of the knights had dispersed around the various Christian lands. The only thing that remained was to deal with the problem of the last Templar dignitaries.

And so the news had arrived on March 14th. The King’s Justice had delivered it. And it had hit the four men like a hammer on an anvil. They were not to be pardoned after all. The King had pronounced his sentence of life imprisonment. This was because of their confession of six years earlier.

The four men were by now being kept in the same room. The Grand Master had moved away from the others. A huge black cloud of depression enveloped him. After such a long wait, the judgement had burst upon him as a complete shock. He thought back to all his discussions with the papal representatives. Was there anything he could have said or done to make a difference? He would never know.

The four men were now faced with a difficult decision. They could accept their fate and resign themselves to life as confessed heretics. Or they could recant what they had said about their beliefs. Jacques knew that at the very least he would not give the King or Pope the satisfaction of believing they had destroyed his faith.

He sent out word, that he believed in that which he had confessed. That the worship of the cross he regarded as idolatry so that the act of spitting on the Church’s symbol was without sin. Geoffrey de Charney who had been commander of the Templars in Normandy joined him in his retraction.

King Philip reacted to the news swiftly, decisively and ferociously. He would put them to the flame that very day. The King made no attempt to clear the decision with Clement. Arrangements were made for the two men to be executed on a small island in the Seine, situated between the royal garden and the church of the Hermit Brothers.

De Molay was in despair. Not at the loss of his own life. Rather in the destruction of the Templars’ Revelation and all that might mean for the world. What would now happen if the Great Prophesy came to pass? But he knew he had devoted his life to the Order. And had strained every sinew in his being to avoid this outcome. He went to his death calmly, sure of his spiritual future. But he had final words, for those who had condemned him to this fate. His voice rang out, clear and strong in the chilly Parisian evening.

“God knows who is in the wrong and has sinned. Soon misfortune will come to those who have wrongly condemned us; God will avenge our death!”

With that the flames engulfed his body. And the last Grand Master of the Order of the Knights Templar passed from this world to the next.

The news was received with sadness by Clement. He was at heart a decent man, who bore heavy responsibility at a difficult time. It pained him to hear the curse that de Molay had lain upon him and the king. Not that he was worried about the words, but he could only imagine the suffering of the Templar. He had gone to a horrific death, believing that the mission of the Holy Order had failed. If the time came for someone to act, the Templars would no longer be there to fulfil what they had always viewed as their destiny.

De Molay would have believed that the information that had been revealed to them, and kept alive by the Grand Masters through the centuries, was lost. And the treasure hidden to secure the assistance that may be needed was also gone. The Pope regretted the Templar’s despair at this turn of events, all the more so, because it wasn’t true. The Templars had been destroyed, but their Revelation had not been. The Pope knew much more about the Templars than they suspected.

He was perfectly well aware of the reasons behind the spitting on the cross during their initiation ceremonies. They were only the latest of a long line of groups to believe that Christ had not really been born as a man, and could not therefore be crucified, or resurrected. And not the first set of people to argue that the cross was just a form of idol. It was a view that had been around since the time of Jesus Himself. But the view was counter to all of the rituals that surrounded the medieval Church.

In the harsh environment of fourteenth century Europe, most of the population clung to these traditions as to life itself. The prospect of a new eternal re-birth the only respite, from what was for most a miserable daily existence. It was no time for theological debate. So wherever such theories were espoused they had to be ruthlessly suppressed, as with the Cathars, a hundred years before.

But perhaps, the Pope mused, if the Templars had not grown so rich, or if their leader had been more politically agile, maybe events could have turned out differently. The warrior monks could have kept to fighting in the Holy Land. And kept their secrets.

Pope Clement picked up the ancient leather bound book. It was just one of many confidential documents that the papacy kept. It may or may not contain a true Revelation. Just as other ancient documents he had seen, may or may not detail fundamental spiritual truths. But the Church believed in keeping its options open. He had decided it would be better to keep the Templars treasure safe, just in case it might be required for the task they believed might come. He summoned a scribe and began a missive to Abbot John Comsbrook.

Having sealed the letter, the Pope arranged for it to be despatched to the Abbey at Furness. He rubbed his eyes, ran his hands through his thinning hair and sank back deeply into his chair. He wondered if the King had heard of Jacques’ words at the stake, or if he was concerned.

Clement and Philip should both have been. The two men were dead within a year.