The Lafayette Sword Read Online Free PDF

horrible crimes. They wan ted blood.

11
    Grand Orient Masonic Hall
    Evening of the initiation
    T he thirty brothers, all in black suits and bow ties that matched the belts of their ceremonial aprons, were gathered in the hallway. The grand secretary was pacing. Before tonight, no murder had ever been committed in this sacred Freemason building.
    Marcas had shifted into police mode. He had shut the chamber door, run up the stairs, and told the tyler to close the temple, inform the worshipful master, and group the brothers together. Then he hurried to the entrance of the building to tell the guard, who hadn’t seen any one leave.
    The killer was still in the building.
    Marcas elbowed his way through the group and took the worshipful master aside. “I’ll have to call this in, of course,” he whispered in the man’s ear. “But I think our killer’s still here, and we don’t have much time. We should split into small groups and search the building. I need to see the bl ueprints.”
    â€œThe grand secretary has a copy in his office. I remember seeing them when we put in a wheelch air ramp.”
    Marcas gasped. “Wher e’s Paul?”
    â€œHe must still be in th e temple.”
    â€œHe’s in there all by himself? With a murderer on t he loose?”
    Marcas rushed into Lafayette temple. The room was silent and dark, but he could make out the w heelchair.
    â€œPaul, you should come join us.”
    Paul didn’t answe r or move.
    Marcas felt his scalp prickle. He approached the chair. Then he saw it: a pool of blood on the black and wh ite floor.
    â€œPaul!”
    His brother’s chest was drenched in blood. And his eyes, full of terror, were fixed on the star-covere d ceiling.

12
    The banks of the Seine
    March 13, 1355
    T he wheel was the most spectacular form of torture. It was used on rare occasions for those accused of the most heinous crimes. It always drew a crowd of fascinated and horrified Parisians.
    The scribe and manuscript seller from the Rue Saint Jacques shivered. Gossips still talked about the Aulnay brothers, who in 1314 were attached to the wheels of a cart. Their limbs were broken one by one. Then they were skinn ed alive.
    Master Maillard grabbed Flamel’s arm and pointed to some people who were throwing stones. A riot wa s brewing.
    â€œYou see, the good people want vengeance for th eir king.”
    â€œLet’s just hope that their love for our sovereign doesn’t cause them to pillage and burn our shops,” Fl amel said.
    The furrier’s face filled with worry. “Do you think the crowd would do that? But we’re not Jews!”
    â€œWe’re tradesmen. And thus profiteers. Haven’t you heard the talk at the market?” Flamel was getting annoyed with Maillard’s ignorance.
    â€œNow, now, neighbor Flamel, you’re trying to scare me. I’m just a humble commoner like these goo d people.”
    â€œA humble commoner who has a fine home, a cellar full of choice f urs, and…”
    Maillard turned away from the pyre and scanned Temple Quarter. The city’s beggars and criminals had been squatting in those dark alleys ever since the Templars had been wiped out. They would certainly be keen on joining the rabble -rousers.
    â€œâ€¦a very beauti ful wife.”
    The furrier sai d nothing.
    Flamel couldn’t stop. He wanted to lash out at this ignor ant bigot.
    â€œRumor has it that when the poor attack a bourgeois house, they take pleasure with the lady before they plunder the goods. What do you think of that?”
    Maillard didn’t have time to answer before a joyful clamor rose from the crowd.
    The henchman had grabbed a torch and was inspecting the pyre, making sure that all the branches and logs were dry and that different kinds of wood had been used. These measures would make for adequate combustion. Vine shoots from the Montmartre hillside, chosen for their length, were piled at