Brethren: An Epic Adventure of the Knights Templar Read Online Free PDF Page B

right rose the chapel, a tall, graceful structure built with a round nave in imitation of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. Will made his way toward the knights’ quarters, which lay at the far end of the courtyard near the chapel, dodging groups of sergeants, squires leading horses and servants moving purposefully about their various errands. New Temple, the principal English preceptory, was also the largest in the kingdom. As well as extensive domestic and official quarters, the compound contained a training field, armory, stables and its own private wharf on the Thames. Commonly, up to one hundred knights were in residence, as well as several hundred sergeants and general laborers.

    Reaching the doors of the two-story building that was set around a cloister, Will slipped inside and ran down the vaulted passage, his footsteps echoing. Upstairs, he halted before a heavy oak door, breathing hard, and rapped his knuckles on the wood. Glancing down, he saw that his black tunic was smudged with dust from the storeroom floor. He brushed at it with his sleeve as the door swung inward, revealing the imposing figure of Owein ap Gwyn.

    The knight gestured sharply. “Inside.”

    The solar, a room that some of the more high-ranking Templars shared, was cool and dark. There was an armoire against one wall, several stools in a shadowy corner that was partially concealed by a wooden screen, and a table and bench beneath the window, which looked out over the cloisters onto a square of well-kept grass. A small piece of colored glass in the trefoil cast a green glow across the piles of scrolls and sheaves of parchment on the table. Will held his head high, keeping his gaze fixed on the view outside the window as the door banged shut behind him. He had no idea why his master had summoned him, but hoped he wouldn’t be kept too long. If he managed to polish Owein’s armor before Nones, then he might be able to spend an hour on the field before the training session later that afternoon. There wasn’t that much time left available in which to practice: The tournament was fast approaching. Owein came to stand before him. Will saw displeasure etched in the furrows of the knight’s brow and his steel-gray eyes. His hope sank. “I was told you wanted to see me, sir.”

    “Do you comprehend how fortunate you are, sergeant?” questioned Owein, the accent of his birthplace, Powys, thick with anger.

    “Fortunate, sir?”

    “To be in your position? A position denied to so many of your rank that grants you tutelage under a knight-master?”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “Then why do you disobey my commands, betraying both myself and your eminent station?”

    Will said nothing.

    “Mute, are you?”

    “No, sir. But I cannot reply when I don’t know what I’ve done to displease you.”

    “You don’t know what you’ve done to displease me?” Owein’s tone roughened further. “Then perhaps it’s your memory and not your mouth that is deficient. What is your first duty after Matins, sergeant?”

    “To see to your horse, sir,” replied Will, realizing what must have happened.

    “Then why, when I passed the stables, did I find the hayrack empty and my horse not groomed?”

    Following Matins, the first office, Will had forsaken this chore to investigate the hole he’d discovered in the storeroom wall in readiness for the initiation. Last night, he had asked one of the sergeants with whom he shared quarters to feed Owein’s horse for him. The sergeant must have forgotten. “I am sorry, sir,” said Will in his most contrite voice. “I overslept.”

    Owein’s eyes narrowed. He strode around the table and seated himself on the bench behind it. Resting his arms on the table, he laced his hands together. “How many times have I heard that excuse? And countless others? You seem incapable of following the simplest orders. The Rule of the Temple isn’t here to be broken and I will not tolerate it any longer!”

    Will was