The Fabric of Sin

Hardly for the illiterate.’

‘Yeah, maybe one kind of magic, but, like, what about all the hedge witches and the local conjurers? You’re saying they were intellectuals? I mean, there was always like an instinctive element, surely. Like, something that was passed down?’

‘An oral tradition. Perhaps. I’m merely saying that the ornate web of mythology woven around the Templars was precisely that.’

‘But you don’t know that. You don’t know that they hadn’t—’

‘They’ve became a very convenient repository for ludicrous conspiracy theories, and you need to remember that I—’

‘But you don’t know that they didn’t develop some instinctive spiritual feel for—’

‘—teach history, Jane, not New-Age theology.’

‘OK, history.’ Jane focused. ‘The Templars were linked to the Cistercians, right?’

‘That’s one theory.’

‘And the Cistercians were known for being close to the earth, in like a pagan way? Always settled in remote places where they could be self-sufficient. And they studied the stars and they were well into landscape patterns and stuff.’

‘To an extent.’

‘And that wouldn’t’ve been written down in Latin, would it? And … OK, if the Templars weren’t into magic, what about all the charges that were proved against them? Secret rituals at night?’

‘The charges were not proved, Jane. The Pope, Clement V, actually declared that they were un proven, but decided to dissolve the Templar order anyway because these accusations had brought it very much into disrepute.’

‘But if you—’

‘Ah, Jane …’ Robbie Williams sat back, arms folded, smiling almost fondly and shaking his head. ‘You really are a most unusual girl. Hard to think of anyone else in your year who displays the smallest curiosity about anything not actually involved with achieving the necessary qualifications. And I’m not being very helpful, am I? Why don’t you tell me where you’re going with this? Or hoping to go.’

For the first time, Jane felt her engine stall. Couldn’t tell him that. Stick to questions. Teachers always liked questions.

‘There’s only one pub left in Garway, right?’

‘The Moon.’ Robbie patted his comfortable stomach. ‘I do know my hostelries.’

‘Did you know there used to be another three, called The Sun, The Stars and The Globe?’

‘I didn’t know that. How interesting. Do you know how far those names go back?’

‘Well, I … haven’t had a chance to check it all out yet. But it does suggest there’s some astrological tradition in the area, doesn’t it?’

‘Astronomical, anyway. Then again, it may be simply that some chap opened a pub called The Moon, and another chap set up in opposition and called his The Sun. And so on.’

‘Yeah. I suppose.’

‘Sorry, Jane. What else have you found? The dovecote with 666 compartments? Your guess is as good as mine on that one. Could be a coincidence, could be someone’s idea of a joke or it could be rather sinister. Who knows?’

‘How about the green man?’

‘Ah,’ Robbie said.

A bell at the end of the passage signalled the end of break-time.

‘The stone face carved into the chancel arch,’ Jane said quickly. ‘And nobody knows what it really means … even though they’re fairly common in churches.’

‘Yes. Is the green man of Celtic origin or early medieval? And does this one even qualify for the title?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘A green man is, by definition, a foliate face — leaves and vines coming out of his mouth and his nose and whatnot.’

‘Yes.’

Jane had a picture of it in her head, from one of the websites. The blank eyes, the stubby horns …

‘But what’s interesting,’ Robbie said, ‘is that the specimen inside the chancel arch at Garway appears to have no foliate embellishments whatsoever. No representation of greenery emerging from its mouth — instead, what, on closer scrutiny, is quite obviously a thick, studded cord with tassels at either end. I admit that’s puzzled me, too.’

‘What could it mean?’

‘Well now …’ Robbie leaned forward in his chair; he smelled quite strongly of mints. ‘If we return to the list of charges against the Templars, they were, if you recall, accused of worshipping an idol. In the form of a bearded male head.’

‘Yeah! Of course … It was supposed to have powers?’

‘It was also said to have a cord wound around it,’ Robbie said.

‘Holy sh—’ Jane slid to the edge of her chair. ‘So that face could be—’

‘Baphomet.’ Robbie raised both arms and joined his hands behind his head. ‘It came to be known as Baphomet. A name for which there seem to be several explanations, the most common of which is that it’s a corruption of Muhammad. And the Templars, during the Crusades, would obviously have been much exposed to Islam.’

‘The Templars could’ve been secret Muslims? This could be a kind of Islamic idol?’

‘The Muslims don’t have idols, Jane. And if we pursue that theory, we also tend to stumble over the word “worship”. While the Muslims afford their prophet the very greatest respect, they only worship Allah.’

‘Maybe the Pope or somebody put a spin on that. Because, like, messing with Muhammad, that would be serious heresy, right?’

‘Obviously, it would. However, since those days — in the West anyway — Baphomet seems to have acquired a rather darker image. Satanic, even. Demonic, anyway. Which is where it rather departs from the medieval historian’s sphere of expertise, so you’d need to research that at the library.’

‘But, like, the fact that the head’s set into the chancel arch, the entrance to the holiest part of the church …’

‘If that is Baphomet …’ Robbie put on a slightly twisted, conspiratorial smile ‘… is he guarding the altar? Or is he drawing attention away from it? Think, for instance, which side it’s on.’

‘Well, erm …’ Obviously she hadn’t seen the actual thing, only the picture, which was close-up. ‘I suppose that would depend which side you’re approaching it from.’

‘It’s only visible from one side Jane. The side facing you as you walk in. Putting it very firmly on the left.’

‘Oh.’

‘Sinistral, as it were. The left-hand path. Hah! Now I’m getting carried away. And my coffee will be completely cold.’ Robbie rose from his chair. ‘I do so hate cold coffee.’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Williams. But you’ve been really helpful …’

‘I suppose I really ought to have asked you why you’re so interested in all this.’

‘Maybe I’ll tell you sometime.’

‘Might, on the other hand, be better if I never knew, Jane.’

She watched him plodding across to the door, his battered briefcase under an arm, and couldn’t believe how, after rubbishing all her other ideas and dismissing the Templars as some kind of thick thugs, he’d suddenly come out with something as weird and disturbing as this. She came to her feet.

‘Oh …’

Robbie stopped, neck hunched into his shoulders as if she’d thrown something at him.