This short/small story is actually a homework given to me whilst working on my IB (International Baccalaureat) diploma, and so far I have completed 2 chapters on which I got maximum grade.
Enjoy, and I will continue it, as probably I will get an extra grade each marking period for some creative writing. :beam:
The Tale of a Templar - Chapter I
In the dark looms of medieval Paris, drenched in a storm which started weeks ago, a Templar Knight carefully places his blood stained sword against a brick wall, looking on either side of the narrow street for curious onlookers.
His name was Hugues, just as the founder of the Order, and he was a respected knight in the ranks of the French branch of the Templar Knights, a powerful religious military order. Hours ago he received a short message from the grandmaster of the Order, telling him to guard a small caravan on its way outside Paris, and after the mission was completed, to flee France as soon as possible, due to the persecutions against the Templars, directed by King Philip the IV th. Guarding the caravan was a bloody affair. The two gashes under his knee were painful but for the moment he could not afford to lose time and have them properly treated. He needed to get out of the side streets and get lost in the crowd.
Hugues took his sword, sheathed it in its shiny steel case and started walking towards the gates of the city, hoping to catch a caravan heading south to the Kingdom of Castille-Leon or eastwards to the Holy Roman Empire. With his wounds he could not ride a horse effectively, so a forgotten caravan was actually his only escape. The side streets were completely empty as nobody had the courage to walk on them, especially in the current weather conditions. The overfilled gutters were spewing out sewage on the pavement making an image too grim to contemplate even for a hardened warrior like Hugues. Although outside it was very cold, he was adequately covered with a silk cloak he purchased while crusading in the Holy Land, and beneath it he wore steel plated armour, which kept him warm at all times, even if he had the cloak or not. Unfortunately for him, the sheer weight of the armour made him limp visibly and lose a lot of time but he tried to forget about the pain and strutted forward, gritting his teeth at every step he took. He carefully covered the signs and symbols of the Order to conceal his identity, but he was wondering how long will it last before the militias patrolling will discover who he really is.
At the end of the street he could see people slowly walking on the main streets, not caring about the heavy rain, but also battalions of militias gathering together and patrolling up and down the soaked street. Forced by the danger, Hugues ran limping but unseen towards the nearest church, hiding behind the grey tombstones in the churchyard. For now he was safe, but he had to leave quickly as strong military presence in the city meant that the gates were strictly guarded and with every minute the night was approaching, leaving him without no choice but to stay another night in the city. With danger lurking close, Hugues left the churchyard and slowly went on the dark side streets again, trying to find his way to the southern gate of Paris.
The knight limped heavily, pain increasing, until he reached a brick house which had a small opening to its backyard, which he decided to go through, discovering to his sheer amazement that it gave directly to the south gate of Paris. He looked around, seeing an entire battalion strictly guarding the entrance and controlling everyone who wanted to get in or out of the city. There was no effective way of getting around them, except by dressing up completely as someone else, but he would not give up his armour and sword, which could prove vital in his quest to escape from France as soon as possible. Luck struck him quickly, as a grand caravan was about to exit the city. Hugues decided to act fast and went on the main street, carefully walking in order to conceal his limping as much as he could but fast enough to melt between the people who were walking near the packed caravan. Judging by the smell, the caravan was packed with dried, salted meat and lots of spices, most of them being from the Oriental East. It did matter to Hugues as he could guess the caravan was heading for a major city where to sell the goods, so this could be his chance to get out of the city unscathed and head out for an important center from where to go even farther.
The caravan master and people who were walking around did not notice Hugues as he was approaching and hid behind the caravan, but it didn't take long for them to notice him as he was questioned by the militias immediately once they all got closer to the gate. The officer thought something was unusual about this stranger, and his doubts were confirmed as the sunlight shined against his steel sword case. Hugues could not oppose a small army of militias, especially in his precarious condition, so he had no other choice but to surrender and be forcefully dragged to the prison. Once there, he was identified as a Templar but the judge understood he was a high ranking night so he sent him directly to the court to be judged by the highly ranked people in the government, instead of being beaten or tortured to confess.
His sword and armor taken away, his hands tied with a spiked rope, he was shoved by the guard up the stairs and into a large courtroom, where the closest people to King Philip the IV were judging other Templars. Once Hugues entered, all commotion and speaking stopped and everyone started staring at this relatively unknown knight but who caught everyone's eye. Nobody could explain why, but there was a sort of mysteriousness in his appearance that made the people around him examine him closely. Slowly walking on the red silk carpet laid out in the room, Hugues only looked forward towards the people who would question him and saw nothing interesting in their appearances. He came close to 2 other brothers which were already there, in their knees, with their hands and feet tied together and whispered to them:
“Have faith. God will repay your courage for resisting.”
They both looked at him with their lost, grieving faces filled with the sorrow and pain they had just experienced. Their eyes were nearly popping out of their sockets, and for Hugues it was the sign that he did not hope to receive: despair. He started praying for himself, to beg for mercy, to survive the following days in order to at least escape the dark and dirty prisons of Paris, which he visited before. Clearing his thoughts, all of a sudden the the strong masculine voice of the high judge starts speaking to him:
“Hugues de Payerne, you know why we wanted you here so fast. And if you don't, we will tell you again why: You hold a secret. You hold the key to what our beloved king needs. Tell us, and spare your brothers from further suffering. And yourself too...”
“Don't do it brother! The Order will survive even if we die!” begged one of the chained brothers.
“Don't be a fool. Spare your brothers and tell us the secret we are all waiting for.”
“I wish to spare my brothers, and thus I will comply to your desires.”
“Don't do it brother! Save the Order!” wailed the fallen knights.
“The key to what you are looking for is under the Templar church in Rennes-le-Chateau. There you will find everything that your king desires. Everything.”
A blatant lie from Hugues, but it had maximum effect. A silent hush fell over the entire room, followed by a swift rush of excitement and joy, especially from the high judge, whose eyes were gleaming. Satisfied, he nods to the other judges and then yells to the guards:
“Take them all away and chain them in the dungeons!”
The brothers kept wailing even when they realised that Hugues shared a lie that everyone in the Order knew, but almost nobody from outside knew about it. The guards took them from the court without any sort of respect, and chained them in the dark, cool dungeons. All alone in the dungeon, one of the brothers starts speaking:
“Thank you for sharing that. Let us hope for the moment we are saved.”
“For the moment yes. But also for the moment, we need to get out of here, and I know the way... Just have faith in me, I will get you out of here. For the moment try to get some sleep, a long day will await us tomorrow... I will deal with the problem.”
“Brother, we cannot do that. It must be a collective work, as a brother helps another brother. I insist we help you.”
“Very well. Make sure no one is on the corridor leading to our quarter, we don't want any guard looking at us.”
After the brothers checked, Hugues uncovered a small but sharp knife with a wide blade from under his cloak and began digging in the cell. The cells were at the lowest level of the castle, but there was no pavement in the dungeon so a determined prisoner could easily escape by just digging. They slowly dug in their cell, with one of the brothers keeping a constant watch, to make sure they were not seen in their attempts to escape from the deadly dungeons. The hours passed slowly for them but the hole they dug was getting bigger by every minute until they reached the end of the walls of the dungeon, which indicated that they could create a tunnel underneath and escape. Slowly but surely, the tunnel was beginning to shape itself but with a price. Their arms were hurting badly and Hugues's fingers were bleeding due to the digging but pain was the last thing on their mind, as they were very close to freedom, but most of all, sending the message of the Order's troubles...
The next morning, they were all on their way to their brothers in the Spanish kingdoms of Aragon and Leon-Castille...
The Tale of a Templar
Chapter II
Darkness began to creep in as the 3 brothers of the order rode stout horses towards the south of the French kingdom. Hugues was in deep pain due to his leg gashes he obtained while guarding the Parisian caravan, but as a warrior, he did not care or even notice his bloody wound that was spewing out blood incessantly. He just kept striding on towards the Kingdom of Leon-Castille, where the Order brothers, the Knights of Calatrava and the Knights of Santiago de Compostella were based, who he thought would help him in his quest to settle down and continue his life, perhaps as a warrior too. Occasionally he looked back to see if anyone was following them but nobody ever traveled behind them, leaving Hugues calm and concentrated on the difficult road ahead.
After leaving Paris, they headed south on the Dijon-Toulouse road, not a very frequented road by caravans but it had plenty of traffic, in which the 3 brothers decided to meddle with as the chances of them being discovered by the militias was lower. The first night they could not progress much so they just stopped in the first big forest that came up in their path, and slept for the night. They woke up early the next morning, galloping at full speed in order to leave the French Kingdom as soon as possible, to avoid any further incessant persecution. Later that day, as they passed Dijon, they could see militias and people swarming around the gates, as the soldiers controlled everyone who came in and out of the city. Lucky for the fugitives, there were alternate roads which were going around the city and back onto the main road, which were not guarded by any of the king's forces. They stopped shortly at a local inn after leaving Dijon behind for a cup of ale and some meat, as the strain of the long road started to show its effects on 3 tired, hungry and wounded soldiers. (all of them fought in the Holy Lands before) They reluctantly continued their journey until they got to a big inn near Strasbourg, in which they camped in for the night.
The morning of third day after the judgement in Paris found the brothers resting beside an oak tree on the side of an unused road, talking about their fortunes, the fate each of them had. The younger brother of the order, Henry, was 22 years old and he recently joined the Order from a noble family from the north of France. Since the family wealth would all go to the oldest brother, he sought his fortunes elsewhere and ended up fighting for the Templar Knights in the Holy Land when he was just 17 years old as a knight. After his return from Palestine he settled down and started participating in jousts and became a trainer for future knights of the Templars. He was a well built man, with a child like expression, slightly Asian eyes (his mother was a Cuman princess, very unusual for a Catholic to marry), high cheekbones and full lips, with a visible scar from his left cheek down to his neck, a battle mark from the curved sword of a Saracen Mamluk. The other brother was significantly older than both Hugues and Henry, being 36 years old and in the service of the Order for more than 15 years, making him one of the most respected brothers in the entire French part of the temple. He barely fought in Palestine, returning rapidly, in order to take care of the financial part of the Order, which attracted him like a magnet, a trait he inherited from his father. A powerful warrior, he was skilled in the handling of the sword but preferred to fight on foot rather than on horseback, which made him even more admired. Of English origin, Edward was the youngest son of a wealthy merchant, which admired his last progeny the most, but still abided by the old law of succession. In compensation, he awarded Edward a considerable amount of gold, which he donated it to the temple, thus enabling him to join the ranks of the Templar Knights. Scarred but still powerful despite his age, he was the wisest of all, as he was a scholar also, taking care of the documents regarding the monetary affairs of the Order.
The three brothers continued their long journey to the Spanish kingdom but first of all they had to stop in a little town called Avignon, where the Papacy was recently established after constant fights with the kings of France. Avignon was an old Roman city but it gradually developed until Pope Clement the Vth bought it or 80000 florins from Queen Joanna I of Sicily, the countess of Provence. The same Pope ordered the arrest of all Templars, but it was time for Edward and especially Hugues to gather the remaining brothers in the city and join up with the Spanish brothers. The Order base in Avignon was, unfortunately, very close to the Palace of the Popes, which in turn was heavily guarded by the Swiss Papal regiment, bad news for the three brothers. They had no choice but to go in and see what they could do as they knew their fellow mates were chained in the dungeons.
Arriving in Avignon, the brothers went without a problem past the gates and the militias, although they were under the constant stress for the fear of being discovered. They moved on to the center of the town, where the Palace of the Popes resided, a magnificent piece of Gothic architecture, which was admired by Catholics from around the world due to its intricate design and countless towers and battlements, making the Palace a fortress rather than a place for worship and leadership. Arriving near the Palace, the soldiers went on a small and dirty side street which led to the back exit of the Order castle, which was something like a big stone house with a Templar flag at the entrance and low stone walls creating a small garden. They entered slowly, without being noticed, and guided by Edward, who already has been in the Avignon command center before, they arrived at the dark and cool dungeons. Their discovery shocked them – nobody was chained in the dungeons. They were completely empty. However, they were not alone...
“We thought some of you lot might come in here, in search for the masters from your disgusting union.”
The words came from the leader of a regiment of 5 urban militias, armed with poles and armoured with chain mail, which were able to kill the brothers in front of their eyes without any problem. However, they chose to chain them and send them to the Pope directly, as they was very close to the Palace, and recently he gave an order to send directly any Templar caught to him personally.
The same scenario repeated as 3 days earlier – but this time, the brothers, altogether, went into a small, spartan chamber were they found a short but stocky man, dressed in Papal attire, in his late 40s, with grey eyes sitting on an oak chair looking at the big yew cross he had in his office. They were all alone in the chamber, as the Pope disliked armed men within his personal spaces, which included his personal office. In a manly voice, Pope Clement the Vth went directly to the subject:
“I know what you have done. I know you are part of the Temple. However, it is my personal wish to inform you of 2 letters I have received, one from the King of France, one from the King of Leon-Castille, in Iberia. I let one of you read them both.”
Edward, being the oldest, stepped forward and collected the 2 rolled parchments and with the help of Henry he unrolled them so that every one of them could see the letter of the French king.
“My respected liege,
As I previously reported from the opening inquiry letter of the Templar judgement, I urge you to keep your stance firm and do not let yourself bribed by the massive amount of money these outlaws still hold. It is in the interests of Catholicism, the Papacy and the kingdom of France too, to contain these men which do nothing but pray to another God and reject anything that is holy for us.
King Philip V”
The letter from the Spanish king read:
“Your Holiness,
News brought to my ears tells me that you are making a grave mistake of putting the pure Templar Knights to the sword. If they have done something wrong, as you and his Majesty the King of France suggest, I propose a ceasefire between all parties – their assests in France are confiscated but the men are spared of the sword. Sire, I urge you to keep your mind clear of any foreign interests and do what is best for Catholicism. I would certainly love to have the Templar Knights in my domain, as recently the Arab caliphates of Algeria have resumed their attacks against us, and all reports indicate that they are preparing a massive attack on our islands and coastlines, determined to secure their long lost posessions once again.
Please reconsider,
King Alfonso I”
After the brothers read the second letter, they all looked up to Pope Clement in despair. Suppressing a grim, his Holiness replied:
“Which one should I believe then?”
I hope you enjoyed the first 2 paragraphs. ~:)
