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June, 1306
A CHUNK OF PAVING RUBBLE STRUCK THE DOOR OF THE king's carriage with a splintering
crack, and both its occupants retreated behind a rapidly closing shutter. Quickly the king's foot soldiers
regrouped around the royal carriage, while the mounted Templars took up ?anking positions on either
side and ahead and behind. Several of them were sporting cuts and bruises from stones and other ?ying
debris.
Arnault was still gentling the carriage horse. He swung up onto its back as the two extra serjeants
clambered onto the carriage roof to fend off anyone who got past the riders and the men on foot. Seeing
what Arnault had done, Gaspar motioned one of the serjeants down onto the extra horse before kneeing
his own mount to the head of the new procession, to ride beside Arnault-who ?ashed a sour look at the
carriage behind him as they started moving forward.
"I have a feeling we'll regret this," he said to Gaspar in a low voice. "Those aren't exactly friends of the
Order."
"What else can we do?" Gaspar countered. "It's too far to the Louvre. We dare not risk it."
He stood brie?y in his stirrups to gaze ahead, where the knights in the vanguard were using their horses to
force a path through the jostling crowd. The more belligerent continued to jeer and occasionally throw
things, but they kept their distance, still muttering.
By dint of steady persistence, the whole company retired from the square in good order, followed in their
wake by a goodly proportion of the rioters, who, unable to get at the king, vented their anger on their
surroundings, smashing shutters and wrecking shop fronts. Behind them, Arnault caught glimpses of
smoke pluming up among the tangled rooftops.
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"This could still get ugly," he said aside to Gaspar.
"Aye, that mob is looking for a scapegoat. We'll just have to hope they won't ?nd one. For now,
however, our ?rst concern is to get the king to safety."
They managed to do just that. At length, the tangled streets gave way to the turreted battlements of the
Paris Temple, whose gates parted immediately to admit them, a dozen more mounted Templars
streaming out through the gatehouse arch to cover their arrival. The men on foot broke into a jog as they
surged through, the sortie party holding back as a buffer against the mob until king, carriage, and of?cial
bodyguards had passed inside. When the last horse had clattered through the entryway, the gates closed
behind them with a sonorous clang, shutting the angry mob outside.
The king's party halted in the center of the courtyard, looking uncertain, and Arnault sprang down from
the carriage horse to hold its head as the mounted sortie party continued on toward the stables in good
order. One of the king's men hastened to open a carriage door and fold down a footstep, but it was the
black-clad Guillaume de Nogaret who alighted ?rst from the carriage, turning then to assist his royal
master, who leaned a gloved hand on his minister's offered forearm and stepped down daintily.
"I trust you have sustained no injury, Sire," Gaspar said, swinging down from his horse.
Philip twitched at a trailing sleeve and glared down his long nose as if he found the question offensive. He
was tall and fair, with a heavy jaw and a peevish expression.
"I do not require any solicitude from you, Templar," he said coldly. "Sieur Nogaret, I shall expect you to
make certain that this outrage does not go unpunished."
"Consider it done, Sire," Nogaret replied, inclining his head to the king.
During this exchange, servants and grooms had come running from all directions to take charge of the
horses and see to the injured members of the king's escort. As this continued, Arnault joined Gaspar,
taking the opportunity to study Nogaret covertly.
Seen at close range, the king's chief minister appeared singularly undistinguished, other than for the
richness of his dress. Wiry and slight of build, with deceptively mild pale eyes, he had an elusive quality of
containment about him that belied his submissive appearance. Glancing from Nogaret to the king and
back again, Arnault found himself wondering who the real master was.
But he was given no time to re?ne this ?rst impression, for almost immediately, a delegation of senior
Templars emerged into the yard to give of?cial welcome to their royal guest, led by Hugues de Paraud,
the Visitor of France and the Temple in the West, who was second only to the Grand Master in the
hierarchy of the Order. Among the others, and only recognized at second glance, was Fr`re Christoph
de Clairvaux, one of the most senior members of le Cercle, tonsured and clean-shaven since Arnault last
had seen him, having put aside his sword to answer a calling as a priest. Christoph's presence was
reassuring, for Arnault could think of few men more capable of dealing with the awkward situation that
had just been thrust upon them all.
"Sire," Paraud said to the king, making him a spare bow, "I am very sorry to hear of your distressing
experience. While the incident is, of course, deplorable, we are honored to have you and Monsieur de
Nogaret as our guests. If you will be pleased to accompany me, I will show you to apartments where you
can rest and refresh yourselves after your ordeal. I fear it may be necessary for you to remain here for
some time. The city is very unsettled."
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With a sour glance at Nogaret, Philip suffered himself to be led away without comment, his minister and
several guards following, along with Christoph and several other senior Templars. Watching them depart,
Arnault glanced at Gaspar with growing misgivings.
"The king was hardly effusive with his gratitude, was he?" he noted quietly. "One might almost conclude
that he is nearly as angry at us, for witnessing his discom?ture, as he is at the citizens of Paris for daring to
vent their displeasure."
"I daresay you may be right," Gaspar agreed, though he kept his voice down. "I don't envy Hugues the
task of soothing the king's ruf?ed feelings."
Once their unwelcome visitors had been installed in the Temple's best guest accommodation-and Brother
Grigor had been dispatched to the refectory for a meal, his satchel entrusted to Gaspar for deposit in the
treasury vaults- Christoph quietly summoned those members of le Cercle presently in residence at the
Paris Temple. Several key members of that elite fraternity were currently on missions in Cyprus or in
Scotland, but those who remained were acutely aware that the presence of the king and Nogaret within
the walls of the Paris Temple was likely to prove awkward, at best.
"I fear we've bought ourselves nothing but trouble by letting the king and that beady-eyed Nogaret inside
our defenses," said Oliver de Penne, Christoph's closest associate within le Cercle. They were meeting in
a tiny mural chamber adjoining Gaspar's of?ce, huddled around a small table lit by a single candle: only
?ve of them, to make decisions that possibly could determine the future safety of the Order.
"Philip already owes the Order substantial sums of money, thanks to the expense of his wars in Flanders.
We've saved his skin yet again, but he'll see this as simply another debt he owes us. You could see the
resentment and hatred in his eyes."
"He did look less than happy," Christoph agreed, "but frankly, I'm just as worried about public opinion.
There's been a lot of muttering in the streets, even before this incident. It will not much help our reputation
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