Mathilde 01 - The Cup of Ghosts Read Online Free PDF

brought into the room. I was asked to stay outside on a bench. The chancery door was locked and bolted. I heard whispers, raised voices, cupboards, coffers and chests being opened as if the merchant had abruptly decided to make a full tally of what he was owed. The clerk was dispatched into the night. Only then did Monsieur Simon, at least an hour after I had arrived, join me on the bench. He gazed at me strangely, as if weighing my worth.
    ‘You’d best come with me.’
    The house was opulent, with a fine built-in staircase. He took me up past two furnished galleries to a fetid garret, very similar to the one at the tavern. He ushered me in and sat for a while on a stool staring sorrowfully at me.
    ‘What is the matter, monsieur?’ I asked.
    ‘What is your name?’ he replied.
    ‘Why, monsieur, you know my name. I am Mathilde, my uncle is—’
    De Vitry sprang up and poked me in the shoulder.
    ‘You are no longer Mathilde de Ferrers,’ he said, ‘but Mathilde de Clairebon. You are my distant cousin. You come from Poitiers. You have some knowledge of books and physic. Your mother died recently so you came to work in my house, isn’t that correct?’
    ‘Monsieur Simon,’ I gasped, ‘what is this about? Why is my name being changed?’
    He gestured vaguely towards the window.
    ‘Sit down, sit down, Mathilde.’ He went across, pulled the door firmly close and secured the bolts. He then brought his stool nearer, first placing a candle between us. He studied me with a mixture of anger and sadness, as if he wanted to help, yet resented my presence.
    ‘Mathilde, I will be like a bowman,’ he whispered. ‘I will fire the arrow as close as I can to the mark. There have been rumours for days, how King Philip of France wishes to move against the Order of the Temple—’
    ‘Impossible!’ I interrupted.
    ‘Listen, Mathilde.’ He tapped me gently on the cheek. ‘What your uncle discovered today is that tomorrow morning, every Templar in the Kingdom of France will be arrested on charges of practising sorcery, black magic, sodomy and God knows what else.’
    ‘Lies!’ I blustered back.
    ‘What the king wishes is what the king wants,’ Monsieur Simon replied. ‘There has been chatter amongst the bankers and the merchants for many a year about Philip’s treasuries being empty. He lusts after the gold and silver, the wealth, the lands, the granges, the barns, the pastures and the meadows of the Templars. He believes the order is a coven of witches and sorcerers, warlocks and wizards. He has petitioned Pope Clement V to suppress it, arrest its leaders, every knight, your uncle amongst them—’
    I would have jumped to my feet but Monsieur Simon pushed me back.
    ‘No. Listen, Mathilde, to what I say. If this is true, if Philip of France has decided to destroy the Temple, your uncle and his companions, anyone who has anything to do with the Temple and wears its insignia, be they knight, serjeant, page, squire or maid, is under suspicion. You cannot help your uncle. By tomorrow nightfall he will be arrested. He may try to flee but he’ll be captured. The charges the Templars face are hideous.’
    ‘Why?’ I asked.
    ‘Greed,’ Monsieur Simon replied. ‘Pure greed, the desire of a powerful king to plunder a rich order. Mathilde, about seven years ago, Philip of France wished to join the Temple order himself; he wished to become its Grand Master on the death of his wife.’ He lowered his voice. ‘They say Philip actually murdered his wife, Jeanne de Navarre, in order to secure this, to become a bachelor, a celibate, but the Templars refused him. Philip never forgives an injury or an insult. He also needs money. He doesn’t care how he obtains that money, or what lies he fashions.’
    ‘But the Pope?’ I gasped.
    ‘The Pope,’ Monsieur Simon grimaced, ‘the Pope, Bertrand De Got, Clement V, is Philip’s friend, sheltering in exile at Avignon! What do you think Clement V will say, especially when Philip