The Templar lifted his arm shoulder-high and stretched out his hand. De Bracineaux drew his sword and touched the keen-edged blade to the man's wrist. He then raised the sword high overhead and prepared to strike off the soldier's hand. Without a quiver of fear, the Templar gazed impassively at the archbishop.
'Do you think maiming this unfortunate soldier will sway my opinion in any way?' said Bertrano coldly. 'I tell you it will not.'
The commander slowly lowered the blade. 'Perhaps you are right,' he conceded. 'What is a man's hand when the fate of the most valuable relic in all Christendom even now hangs in the balance?'
Handing the naked blade to Gislebert, he dismounted and stepped before the waiting Templar. 'Have you been shriven?' he asked simply. The man nodded once. 'Then, as your superior in Christ, I command you to kneel before me and stretch out your neck.'
Without hesitation the Templar dropped to his knees and, placing his hands behind him, he lowered his head and stretched out his neck before the commander. Meanwhile, Gislebert, having dismounted, brought his commander's sword; taking his place beside the commander, he held the sword across his palms.
A body of monks from the nearby monastery arrived in the square just then and, seeing what was happening, raced to prevent the impending slaughter. 'Keep them back,' the commander ordered, and six mounted Templars broke ranks and rode to head off the onrushing monks.
Indicating the man kneeling before him, de Bracineaux said, 'As you, a prince of the church, wield power over the priests beneath you, likewise does the commander wield power over those who serve under him. For, I ask you, my lord archbishop: who but the rightful lord holds the power of life and death for those beneath his authority?'
The archbishop glared furiously at the Templar, but held his tongue.
'Very well,' concluded de Bracineaux. 'What I do before you now, I do to prove my authority.'
Taking the sword from Gislebert, he grasped it in both hands and made an elaborate sign of the cross above the kneeling soldier. Then, slowly raising the blade above his head, he cried, 'For the glory of God and his Kingdom!'
The blade hovered in the air, and the archbishop rushed forward like an attacking bull. 'Your authority!' charged the archbishop, his voice ringing in the restless silence of the square. 'Your authority! You wicked and perverse whoreson!'
The blade faltered and halted in its downward stroke. The Templar turned to face the oncoming archbishop.
'For the glory of God?' roared the angry cleric. 'Get thee behind me, thou Satan! It is for your glory, not God's, and I will not stand aside and watch you spill the blood of the innocent for your vain amusement.'
Genuinely taken aback by the indictment, de Bracineaux lowered the sword. 'You accuse me of vanity, priest,' he growled. 'How many men have you killed in the raising of this monument to your vanity?' He waved a hand airily at the curtain wall and tower of the unfinished cathedral.
'It is a temple to the Everlasting God, sir,' replied the archbishop. 'Four men have died, and five hundred have laboured long to establish an altar which will last forever-their lives and labour an honourable sacrifice to the Author and Redeemer of Life.'
The archbishop bent down, raised the kneeling soldier to his feet, and pushed him out of the way before turning on the Templar once more. 'Do not presume to elevate your wicked exercise by comparing it to the exalted and holy obedience of my faithful labourers. I know you for what you are, sir, and I condemn your arrogance and pride.'
De Bracineaux bristled at the cleric's heated accusations. 'Why you bloated old goat,' he said, his voice strangled with rage, 'no man talks to me this way. I am the Master of Jerusalem! Do you hear?'
'Were you the very emperor himself, I would speak,' declared the irate archbishop. 'For when vile pride usurps a man's humility and true affection it is the duty of a priest to speak, to name the sin and call the sinner to account.'
The Templar's eyes narrowed dangerously; his hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. 'I came before you in friendship and humility,' he said, forcing the words between clenched teeth, 'and I was shunned. Now, as I stand before this crowd of witnesses, I am reviled.'
His jaw muscles worked, grinding his teeth with suppressed rage. 'I command armies and ships, fortresses and cities; I have but to lift my hand and kingdoms are overthrown; I speak and heathen nations tremble. And I swear before Almighty God, were it not for the sake of the Holy Cup, you would be kneeling before the Throne of Heaven even now, proud priest.'
Archbishop Bertrano raised a triumphant finger. 'Now do I truly believe you are the Master and Commander of the Knights of the Temple. For who else but a man long accustomed to the wicked conceits of high position could stand in the presence of God and boast as you do? Your pride, sir, is a stink in the nostrils of God Almighty, and unless you repent on bended knee, it will drag you down to hell.'
De Bracineaux, livid and shaking, reached out and snatched hold of the archbishop's robe and pulled him close. 'Tell me where the Mystic Rose is to be found, or I swear by my right hand that before you draw another breath I will carve that devious tongue from your lying mouth.'
The archbishop, his lips pressed into a firm, defiant frown, glowered at the Templar with smoldering indignation.
'Well, priest?' de Bracineaux said, his breath hot in the cleric's face. 'It was your letter that brought me here, and I have not come this far to fail. I ask but once more.' He tightened his grip on the archbishop's robe. 'Where is the Holy Cup?'
'As God is my witness, I tell you I do not know where the relic is to be found,' answered the archbishop. 'That knowledge resides with the monk Matthias; he alone knows the whereabouts of the Sacred Vessel, and he is not here. He is in Aragon.'
'Then you will tell me where this brother is to be found,' the commander said. Even as he spoke, his eyes took on a sly gleam. 'Better still, so that no further misunderstandings threaten the harmony between us, you will show me the way. Considering that this singular opportunity has come about through your interfering offices, I think it is the least you can do.'
Releasing the cleric, he called to Gislebert. 'Ready a horse for our friend. His highness the archbishop is joining our pilgrimage.'
'You cannot command me,' the archbishop spluttered. 'I have work to do.'
'Then I suggest you make haste to discharge your obligations without delay.' He turned on his heel, and gestured to the Templars looking on. 'Bring him.'
One of the pack mules was hastily saddled and made ready for the archbishop, who, protesting the outrage being practised upon him, was forcibly manhandled on to the back of the beast. Then, at the sergeant's signal, the ranks of Templars moved slowly off.
The monks gave out a loud cry of dismay, pushed past the mounted soldiers and ran after their beloved archbishop, clamouring for his release. The soldiers paid them no heed-until some of them ran up to the churchman's mule and tried to haul him from the saddle. At a word from the Master, Gislebert called a command and the last rank of Templars wheeled their horses, raised their shields and lowered their lances, instantly blocking the street and preventing the townsfolk and monks from impeding their retreat.
Meanwhile, the rest of the cavalcade rode on. Archbishop Bertrano, realizing there was no rescue forthcoming, called to his monks for building work to continue in his absence. He was still shouting instructions when his listeners disappeared from sight.
CHAPTER TWENTY
'Impossible!' cried Carlo de la Coruna. 'Holy Mother of God, bear witness! I cannot allow it.'
Surprised by the magistrate's sudden vehemence, Cait glanced at Thea, who rolled her shoulders in a shrug of perplexed resignation. 'Why ever not?' wondered Cait, somewhat more innocently than she felt.
'You will certainly be killed, all of you. The bandits are very fierce. They are brigands. Cut-throats!' Carlo's wicker chair creaked as he squirmed with agitation. 'No, it is impossible. My conscience would give me not a
