Requiem: The Fall of the Templars Read Online Free PDF Page A

from the Saracens to save their own wealth, leaving women and children to rape and slaughter!”
    “Ignore him, my lord,” said one of the Templar officials, as Jacques stepped forward. “He does not know of what he speaks.”
    “Then I will correct him,” growled Jacques, pushing past.
    “With me,” said the official, gesturing worriedly to Will and Robert.
    “With respect, sir,” said Robert quickly, as the man went to unsheathe his sword, “I think that might be unnecessary.” All the knights had stopped now.
    Those near the back were craning their heads, trying to see what the disturbance was. “These people are unarmed,” continued Robert, as the offi cial hesitated. “We will only cause a panic.”
    “Who are you?” demanded Jacques, striding up to the friar, the crowd parting like water before him. He was a huge figure among them, the large red cross on his back outlined in gold: a blaze of color amid their drab grays and browns. “Why do you harangue my men?”
    “I am a speaker of truth,” replied the friar defiantly, coming down the steps to confront Jacques. The crowd was stirring with excitement, expecting some drama. “Every day I come here, telling the people of this city what they need to know.”
    “And what is that?”
    “That in the final hour, you and your men abandoned the Holy Land.”
    The friar turned to his audience, his voice rising. “For two hundred years the mighty Temple has taken not only the money of kings and princes, but also alms from generous, good people such as yourselves, proclaiming it is protecting Christian pilgrims in the East. But these men abandoned those same pilgrims to butchery at the hands of the Saracens, concerned with saving their own lives, their own riches.” He looked back at Jacques. “Maybe once the Temple did good works, maybe once it served Christendom, but pride and greed and arrogance are your masters now. Your wealth is poured into comfortable lodgings, fine clothing, meat and wine for your tables. Your vows of poverty mean nothing, for even if men are made to give up everything they own to join your order, they enter lives of luxury.”

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    Some of the knights started forward, their faces darkening with anger.
    “You are a spreader of vicious rumor,” said Jacques. “That is all. Thousands of knights from this order lost their lives in the defense of the Holy Land.”
    Will, watching the grand master address the friar, was struck by an image.
    He saw himself standing on a platform in a church beside another grand master, who was trying to convince a belligerent throng to agree to a peace with the Muslims. The people of Acre hadn’t listened; had called that man a traitor, then paid the price in the massacre that followed.
    “We could no more hope to hold back the Saracens than we could hope to stop the tide coming in,” continued Jacques, turning his forceful gaze on the crowd. “When the walls of Acre were breached we gave sanctuary to thousands of Christians, conveying as many as we could to Cyprus and safety.” His voice thickened. “Our last ship set sail shortly before the Temple fell with more than one hundred refugees, leaving many of our men to death.”
    In his mind, Will saw the Mamluk Army pouring in over Acre’s broken walls. Above the seething mass of men, the sky was black with smoke and the air thick with arrows. Around him his comrades screamed, cut down in the rubble- and corpse-strewn street, flesh and hair burning as pots of naphtha exploded. There was chaos and slaughter, and there was fire. Will closed his eyes. Terrible fi re.
    “Are these the actions of arrogant men? Of cowards?” When no one spoke, Jacques roared at them. “ Are they? ” People began to move away, unable to face the grand master’s steel gaze. Jacques turned on the friar. “If I hear your lies spoken again, I’ll have you whipped through these streets. My men have been protecting the dream of Christians for decades,