The Brotherhood Of The Holy Shroud

31

c. A.D. 1250

My lord, a messenger has just arrived from your uncle." The emperor of Byzantium stirred at the sound of his servant's voice and then sat up slowly, blinking sleepily. As he came fully awake and realized Louis's long-awaited response was at last at hand, Balduino leapt out of bed and ordered his manservant to send the messenger in.

"You should dress, my lord," murmured Balduino's chief adviser, who had also entered the chamber. "You are the emperor, and the envoy is a nobleman from the court of France."

"Pascal, if you did not remind me, I would happily forget that I am emperor. Help me, then. Is there an ermine cape I've not yet sold or pawned?"

Pascal de Molesmes, himself a noble sent by the king of France to serve the king's disgraced nephew, remained silent.

Indeed, however, there was no ermine cape. Not long ago the emperor of Byzantium had even ordered the lead stripped from the roof tiles of his palace in order to sell it off to the Venetians, who were making enormous profits off Balduino's financial straits.

By the time the emperor was seated in the throne room, his courtiers were whispering nervously as they awaited the news from the French king.

Robert de Dijon touched his knee to the floor and bowed his head before the emperor. Balduino gestured for him to rise.

"So, my lord, what news bring you from my uncle?"

"His Majesty the king is in fierce battle in the Holy Land, attempting to liberate the sepulcher of our Lord. I bring you the good news of the conquest of Damietta. The king advances and shall conquer the lands of the Nile on his way to Jerusalem. Thus at present he cannot aid you as he would wish, for the cost of his expedition far exceeds the Crown's annual levies. He recommends that you have patience and faith in the Lord. Soon you will be called to his side as the faithful and most beloved nephew that you are, and he will aid you then in overcoming the tribulations that you now suffer."

Balduino's eyes filled with tears at the devastating message. A harsh look from Pascal de Molesmes steadied him.

"I have also brought you a letter from His Majesty."

Dijon took from his belt a document bearing the seal of the king and held it out to the emperor, who took it limply and passed it to de Molesmes. Balduino then extended his hand to the noble messenger, who bowed once more and kissed the emperor's ring. "Shall there be a reply to His Majesty's letter?" "You are returning to the Holy Land?" "First I am to journey to the court of Blanca de Castilla; I am taking her a letter from her son, my good King Louis. One of the knights who accompanies me is burning to return to the king's side to battle the infidels, and he shall bear whatever message Your Majesty might wish to send your uncle."

Balduino nodded and stood up. He left the throne room without looking back.

"What am I to do now, Pascal?" he cried to de Molesmes when they were alone.

"What you have done on other occasions, my lord." "Go to the courts of my relatives, who seem unable to grasp how vital it is that Constantinople be saved for Christianity? I do not ask these things for myself! We are the last Christian bastion between them and the Muslims-but the Venetians are an avaricious people, who are forging an alliance with the Ottomans behind my back; all the Genovese care about is the profits from their trade; and my cousins in Flanders complain of not having enough resources to help me. Lies! Am I to prostrate myself again before those princelings, beg them to help me preserve the empire? Do you think God will forgive me for pawning the crown of thorns worn by His crucified son?

"I have no money to pay the soldiers, or the people of the castle, or my nobles. I have nothing, nothing. From the moment I became emperor at twenty-one, I have dreamed of restoring the empire's splendor, recovering the lands it has lost, and what have I done? Nothing! Since the Crusaders divided the empire and sacked Constantinople, I have barely been able to maintain the kingdom, and good Pope Innocent is deaf to my pleas."

"Calm yourself, my lord. Your uncle will not abandon you."

"Did you not hear the message?"

"Yes, and in it he tells you that he will send for you when he defeats the Saracens."

The majestic chair in which the emperor was seated had been stripped of its gold leaf some time ago. Balduino stroked his beard reflectively, his left foot beating a nervous staccato on the tiles.

"My lord, you must read the king's letter."

De Molesmes handed Balduino the sealed scroll Dijon had presented.

'Ah! Yes, my uncle no doubt recommends that I be a good Christian and not lose faith in our Lord."

Breaking the king's scarlet seal, the emperor scanned the missive, a look of growing astonishment suffusing his face.

"My God! My uncle does not know what he is asking for!"

"The king makes a demand of you, my lord?"

"Louis assures me that despite the difficulties he is experiencing with the cost of the Crusade, he is willing to advance me a certain amount of gold if I deliver the Mandylion to him. He dreams of showing it to his mother, the most Christian lady Doiia Blanca. He bids me sell him the relic or allow him to hold it for a number of years. He says that he has met a man who assures him that the Mandylion has miraculous qualities, that it has already healed a king of Edessa of leprosy, and that the man who possesses it shall never suffer. He says that if I agree to his request, I can negotiate the details with the Comte de Dijon."

'And what will you do?"

"What a question, Pascal! You know that the Mandylion is not mine to give. Even if I wanted to deliver it over to my uncle, I could not. It belongs to the Church."

"My lord, the Mandylion is all that remains to bargain with. If you could convince the bishop to give it into your keeping-"

"Impossible! He will never do that.".

"Have you asked?"

"He guards it most zealously. The shroud miraculously survived the Crusaders' sacking of the city. It was entrusted to the bishop by his predecessor, and he swore to protect it with his life."

"You are the emperor."

'And he is the bishop."

"He is your subject. If he fails to obey, there are measures you can take. He would not wish to lose his ears or his nose."

"My God, Pascal!"

"You will lose the empire. The cloth is sacred; the man who possesses it has nothing to fear. Try."

The emperor wrung his hands. He feared a confrontation with the bishop. What could he tell him that would convince him to turn over the Mandylion?

"Very well, speak with the bishop," he said at last. "Tell him you go in my name."

"I will, my lord, but he will not treat with me about this. You must speak with him yourself."

Balduino took a sip of pomegranate-colored wine, and then with a wave of his hand he shooed de Molesmes from the room. He needed to think.

The knight walked along the beach, his mind and spirit lulled by the washing of the waves against the pebbles on the shore. His horse stood by patiently, un-tethered, like the faithful friend it had been in so many battles.

The evening light illuminated the Bosphorus, and Bartolome dos Capelos felt in the beauty of the moment the breath of God.

His horse whinnied and pricked up its ears, and Bartolome turned to see a figure on horseback approaching through the dust of the road. He put his hand on his sword, a gesture more instinctive than defensive, and waited to see whether the man riding toward him was the person he was expecting.

The rider clambered awkwardly from his horse and strode swiftly along the shoreline to where the Portuguese knight stood waiting.

"You are late," said dos Capelos.

"I was attending the emperor until he dined. It was only then that I could slip out of the palace."

"Very well. What is it you have to tell me, and why here?"

The olive-skinned man was short and stocky. His rat's eyes weighed the Templar knight. He had to tread carefully with this one.

"Sire, the emperor is going to ask the bishop to turn the Mandylion over to him."

Bartolome dos Capelos didn't move a muscle, as though the information meant nothing to him.

'And how did you come to know this?"

"I overheard the emperor talking with de Molesmes."

"What would the emperor do with the Mandylion?"

"It is the last valuable relic remaining to him; he will pawn it. You know that the empire has no money. He will sell it to his uncle, the king of France."

'And what more have you heard?" the knight asked.

"Nothing, sire."

"Very well. Here. Now begone."

Dos Capelos put a few coins into the outstretched palm of the man, who rode off congratulating himself on his good fortune. The knight had paid him well for the information.

For several years he had been spying in the palace for the Templars. He knew that the knights of the red cross had other spies in the palace, but he did not know who they were. The Templars were the only ones in the impoverished empire who had good hard coin and there were many, even noblemen, who lent them their services.

The Portuguese knight had shown no emotion when he'd told him that the emperor was planning to sell or pawn the Mandylion. It might be, he thought, that the Templars already had the news from another of their spies. But no matter. It was not his problem. He patted the gold in his pouch.

Bartolome dos Capelos rode to the chapter house the Templars kept in Constantinople, a walled castle near the sea, where more than fifty knights lived with their servants and the grooms for their horses.

He made his way to the chapter hall, where at that hour his brothers would be praying. Andre de Saint-Remy, their superior, made a sign to him to join the prayers. It was not until an hour after his arrival that Saint-Remy sent for him. By then, the superior was in his study.

"Have a seat, my brother. Tell me what the emperor's cupbearer has told you."

"He confirms the information from the captain of the royal guard: The emperor wishes to pawn the Mandylion."

"The shroud of Christ…"

"He has already pawned the crown of thorns."

"There are so many false relics… But the Mandylion is not false. On that cloth is the blood of Christ, the true visage of the Savior. I await permission from the Grand Master, Guillaume de Sonnac, to purchase it. Weeks ago I sent a message explaining that the Mandylion is now the only true relic that remains in Constantinople, and the most precious. We must get hold of it, to protect it."

"But what if the Grand Master's reply does not come in time?"

"Then I shall make the decision and hope that he will accept it."

"What about the bishop?"

"We know that Pascal de Molesmes has been to see him and asked him to turn it over. The bishop refused. The emperor will now go in person to make his request."

"When?"

"Within the week. We will ask to meet with the bishop, and I will go to see the emperor. Tomorrow I will give you your instructions. For now, go and rest."

The sun had not yet risen when the knights completed their first prayers of the day. Andre de Saint-Remy was absorbed in a letter he was writing to the emperor, requesting an audience.

The Eastern Orthodox empire was in its death throes. Balduino de Courtenay II was the emperor of Constantinople and the surrounding lands, but little else, and the Templars' relationship with him, the balance of power in the empire, was sometimes difficult, given his frequent demands for credit. The superior had managed the delicate relationship with skill. He was an austere man who had kept himself untainted by the glitter of decadent Constantinople and prevented any concupiscence or comfort from penetrating the walls of the fortress chapter.

Saint-Rimy had not finished putting away his writing instruments when one of the brother knights, Guy de Beaujeu, rushed into the room.

"My lord, there is a Muslim here asking to speak with you. Three others are with him…"

The Templar superior's expression did not change.

He finished putting away his pen and ink and the documents he had written.

"Do we know them?"

"I know not, my lord; his face is covered, and the knights guarding the entrance have preferred not to ask him to reveal himself. He has given them this arrow, made from the branch of a tree, and he says that with these notches you will recognize him."

Guy de Beaujeu handed the arrow to Saint-Remy, whose face changed as he examined the rudely cut missile and the five notches in its shaft.

"Have him sent to me."

A few minutes later a tall, strong-looking man entered the room where Saint-Remy awaited him. He was dressed simply, but in clothes that denoted nobility.

Saint-Remy made a gesture to the two Templar knights accompanying the Muslim, and with slight bows they wordlessly left the chamber.

When they were alone, the two men embraced and burst out laughing.

"But Robert, what is this disguise?"

"Would you have recognized me had you not seen the arrow?"

"Of course I would have-do you think me incapable of recognizing my own blood brother?"

"You were to see only a Saracen. My disguise is not as effective as I had hoped."

"The brothers have not recognized you."

"Perhaps not. At any rate, I have managed to ride for weeks across the lands of our enemies without anyone suspecting and thought to maintain the mask until I knew your mind. I knew you would remember the arrows we made as children, mine with five notches, yours with three."

"Have you encountered difficulties, my brother?"

"None that I have not been able to solve with the help of young brother Francois de Charney."

"How many men have you journeyed with?"

"Just two Muslim scouts. It is easier for a small party to pass unnoticed."

"Tell me, what news bring you from the Grand Master?"

"Guillaume de Sonnac is dead."

"Dead! How?"

"The Temple was fighting alongside the king of France, and the help we gave was both much needed and well received, as you know from the success of the conquest of Damietta. But the king burned to attack Al-Mansurah, although the Grand Master counseled prudence and careful planning unclouded by the taste of triumph. But the king is headstrong and would not pause in pursuit of his vow to recover the Holy Land. He insisted on entering Jerusalem."

"I sense you bring worse news."

"I do, I fear. The king's strategy consisted of surrounding the Saracens in Al-Mansurah and attacking them from the rear. But Robert d'Artois, Louis's brother, moved precipitously, wiping out a small encampment before the king's troops were in position and alerting the Ayubis. The battle was bloody."

Robert de Saint-Remy wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, as though to erase the memory of the dead that thronged his mind. He once more saw the crimson-colored earth, wet with the blood of Saracen and Crusader both, and his companions-at-arms fighting furiously, without quarter, their swords like extensions of their arms, piercing the bowels of Saracens on every side. He could still feel the weariness in his bones and the horror in his soul.

"Many of our brothers died. The Grand Master was gravely wounded, but we saved him, at least for a time."

Andre remained silent, watching a tempest of emotions sweep across the face of his younger brother.

"The knights Yves de Payens and Beltran de Aragon and I picked de Sonnac up off the field of battle after a treacherous arrow found him, and we carried him as far as we could. But the effort was in vain; he died in the retreat, of a fever."

"What about the king?"

"We won the batde. The losses were terrible; thousands of men lay dead or wounded on the ground, but Louis said that God was with him and that he would triumph. With that battle cry he rallied the soldiers, and he was right-we won, but never was a victory so fragile. The Christian troops marched off then toward Damietta, but the king was sick with dysentery and the soldiers were starving, exhausted. I know not how it happened, all I know is that the army capitulated and Louis has been taken prisoner."

A heavy silence fell over the room, and the two brothers, lost in their own thoughts, hardly moved for long minutes.

Through the window came the echo of knights doing military exercises on the glacis before the fortifications, amid the creaking of wagons and the ringing of the blacksmith's anvil.

At last Andre broke the silence.

"Who has been elected Grand Master?"

"Our new Grand Master is Renaud de Vichiers, preceptor of France, marichal of the order. You know him."

"I do. Renaud de Vichiers is a prudent and pious man."

"He has been sent from Acre in the Holy Land to negotiate with the Saracens for Louis's return. The king's nobles also sent emissaries, with instructions to ask the Saracens to put a price on the king's freedom. Louis is suffering terribly, although he is being attended by the Saracen physicians and receiving good treatment. When I left, the negotiations were making no headway, but the Grand Master trusts he will be able to secure the king's release."

"What shall the price be?"

"The Saracens are asking that the soldiers of the Crusade return Damietta."

'And are Louis's nobles willing to withdraw their troops from Damietta?"

"They will do as the king bids them-he alone can capitulate. De Vichiers has sent a message to him, advising him to agree."

"What orders do you bring me from the Grand Master?"

"I bring you sealed documents and other messages that I have been asked to speak in your ear."

"Then speak."

"We must secure the Mandylion for the order. The Grand Master says that the cloth is the only relic whose authenticity is certain. When you have it, I am to take it to him in our fortress of Saint-Jean d'Acre. No one must know that it is in our power. You may buy it or do whatever you believe necessary, but no one must know that the purchase is for the Temple. The Christian kings are capable of killing for the Mandylion. The pope will also demand it for himself. We have lent him many of the relics that you have been buying from Balduino all these years, and others are in the power of Louis of France, sold or given to him by his nephew.

"We know that Louis wants the Mandylion," Robert continued. 'After the victory at Damietta he sent a delegation with a message for the emperor. The delegation also carried documents with his orders to France."

"Yes, I know. A few days ago the Comte de Dijon arrived with a letter for the emperor. Louis asked his nephew for the Mandylion in exchange for aid to Constantinople."

Robert produced several sealed rolls of documents, which Andre laid on the table.

"Tell me, Andre, what do you know of our parents?"

His brother's lips tightened and he lowered his eyes to the floor. At last, he replied. "Our mother is dead. Our sister Casilda likewise. She died during the birth of her fifth child. Our father, though old and ailing with gout, was still alive last winter. He spends his hours sitting in the great hall; he can hardly walk for the terrible swelling in his feet. Our elder brother, Umberto, administers the inheritance-our lands are prosperous and God has given him four healthy children. It has been so long since we left Saint-Remy…"

"But I still remember the allee of poplars that leads to the castle, and the smell of baking bread, and our mother singing."

"Robert, we chose to become Templars, and we cannot and must not cling to the things of the past."

"Oh, my brother! You have always been too severe with yourself!"

'And you, tell me, how is it you have a Saracen squire?"

"I have come to know the Saracens and respect them. There are wise men among them, men of nobility, and chivalry, and honor. They are formidable enemies, whom one must respect. I confess, I have friends among them. It is impossible not to, when we share lands and there is need to have quiet dealings with them. The Grand Master has asked us all to learn their language and has asked some of us, who have an appearance suitable for it, to learn their customs so that we may live in their territory, in their cities, to spy, observe, or carry out missions for the greater glory of the Temple and Christianity. My skin has become yet darker in the sun of the East, and the black of my hair also helps me disguise my true nature. As for their language, I must confess that it has not been hard for me to understand it and write it. I had a good teacher, the squire who accompanies me. Remember, brother, I joined the Temple at an early age, and it was Guillaume de Sonnac who ordered the youngest of us to learn from the Saracens so we might mingle freely with them.

"But you ask about Ali, my squire. He is not the only Muslim who has dealings with the Temple. His town was destroyed by the Crusaders. He and two other children managed to survive. Guillaume de Sonnac found them wandering several days' journey on horseback from Acre. Ali, the youngest of them, was exhausted and delirious from fever. The Grand Master took them to our fortress, where they recovered. And there they remained."

'And they have been loyal to you?"

"Guillaume de Sonnac would allow them to pray to Allah and use them as intermediaries. They have never betrayed us."

"What about Renaud de Vichiers?"

"I do not know, but he made no objection to our traveling here alone with Ali and Said."

"Well, brother, you must rest, and send me Francois de Charney, the brother who has come with you."

"I shall."

Once Andre de Saint-Remy was alone he unrolled the scrolls given him by his brother, and he studied the orders sent by Renaud de Vichiers, the new Grand Master of the Order of the Temple.

The large bedroom resembled a small throne room. The scarlet curtains, the soft cushions, the carved table, the crucifix of pure gold, and other objects of hammered silver spoke eloquently of the wealth in which their occupant lived.

On a small table to one side, several decanters of carved crystal held spiced wine, and on an enormous tray were arranged a colorful variety of sweets from the kitchen of a nearby monastery.

The bishop listened impassively, almost aloofly, to Pascal de Molesmes, who had come again in lieu of Balduino. For an hour the French nobleman had wielded every argument at his command in an attempt to convince the bishop to turn the Mandylion over to the emperor.

The bishop had great love for Balduino; he knew there was kindness in his heart, even though his reign had been marked by a long succession of misadventures. But he was lost in his own thoughts.

Pascal de Molesmes paused in his plea when he realized that the bishop had stopped listening. The sudden silence broke the bishop's reverie.

"I have listened to you and I understand your reasoning, but the king of France cannot barter the fate of Constantinople for possession of the Mandylion," he told the nobleman.

"Our most Christian king has promised the emperor aid; if it is not possible to purchase the Mandylion, he wishes, at least, to hold it for some time. Louis is desirous that his Christian mother, Dona Blanca de Castilla, contemplate the true visage of our Lord Jesus Christ. The Church will not lose possession of the Mandylion, and it could profit by this agreement, Your Excellency, in addition to helping relieve Constantinople from the penury that it now suffers. Believe me, your interests and those of the emperor are the same."

"No, my son, they are not. It is the emperor who needs gold in order to save what remains of the empire."

"Constantinople is dying; the empire is more fiction than reality-someday Christians will weep over its loss."

"Seigneur de Molesmes, I know you to be too intelligent to try to convince me that only the Mandylion can save Constantinople. How much has King Louis offered just to hold it-how much to possess it? It would take great amounts of gold to save this kingdom, and the king of France is rich, but he will not ruin his own kingdom financially, no matter how much he loves his nephew or desires the Mandylion."

De Molesmes's throat was parched. He had not even tasted the glass of no doubt superb Rhodes wine that the bishop had offered him. But such were the sacrifices of diplomacy.

"If the amount was considerable enough, would Your Excellency consent to its sale or lending?"

"No. Tell the emperor that I will not surrender it to him. That is my final word. Pope Innocent would excommunicate me. For many years the pope has desired to possess the Mandylion, and I have always put him off by arguing against exposing the shroud to the perils of such a journey. I would need the Holy Father's permission, and even in the unlikely event he were to consider granting it, you know that he would name a high | price-a price that, even should Louis be able to pay, i would be for the Church, not for his nephew the emperor.

Pascal de Molesmes decided to play his last card. "I remind you, Your Excellency, that the Mandylion does not belong to you. It was the troops of the emperor Romanus Lecapenus who brought it to Constantinople, and the empire has never renounced its ownership of the cloth. The Church is but a repository for the Mandylion. Balduino bids you turn it over voluntarily, and he shall be generous with you and with the Church."

De Molesmes's words fell like lead on the bishop's spirit.

'Are you threatening me, Seigneur de Molesmes? Is the emperor threatening the Church?"

"Balduino, as you well know, is a most loving and beloved son of the Church, which he would defend with his own life if need be. The Mandylion is part of the empire's legacy, and the emperor is claiming it. I urge you to do your duty"

"My duty is to defend the image of Christ and preserve it for all Christianity."

"You did not oppose the sale of the crown of thorns, which was kept in the monastery of Pantocrator, to the king of France."

'Ah, Seigneur de Molesmes. Do you honestly believe that that was Jesus' crown of thorns?"

"You do not?"

A look of fury came into the bishop's blue eyes. The tension between the two men was rising, and both knew that at any moment the bonds of civility might break

"Seigneur de Molesmes, nothing you have said has changed my mind. You may tell that to the emperor."

Pascal de Molesmes bowed his head. The duel had ended for the moment, but both men knew that neither victory nor defeat could be declared on either side.

At the gate of the bishop's palace, de Molesmes's servants were waiting beside his horse, a stallion as black as night, his most trusted companion in turbulent Constantinople.

Would he advise Balduino to go with his soldiers to the bishop's palace and force him to turn over the Mandylion? There was no other choice, it seemed. Innocent would never dare excommunicate Balduino, much less when he knew that the Mandylion would be in the keeping of the most Christian king Louis IX of France. They would lend it to Louis and they would put a high price on it, so that the empire might recover at least part of its lost glory.

The evening breeze was warm and soft, and the emperor's counselor decided to ride down by the shore of the Bosphorus before returning to the imperial palace. From time to time he liked to escape the oppressive walls of the palace, where intrigues, betrayal, and death lay behind every door, at every turning of the stair, and where it was not easy to know who your friends were and who wished you ill, given the refined art of dissembling practiced by the knights and ladies of the court. He trusted only Balduino, for whom, with the passing of the years, he had come to feel true affection, as in earlier days he had felt for good King Louis.

It had been many winters now since the king of France sent him to the court of the emperor to protect the gold the king had sent as payment for the valuable relics Balduino had sold him along with the lands of Namur. Louis had charged de Molesmes with remaining at the court and keeping him informed of all that happened in Constantinople. In a letter that de Molesmes himself had delivered to the emperor, Louis had commended Pascal de Molesmes to his nephew as a good Christian man who, the letter said, looked only to Balduino's good.

Balduino and he had felt a current of sympathy from the first moment, and there he was now, fifteen years later, the emperor's chancellor and friend. De Molesmes greatly admired Balduino's efforts to maintain the dignity of the empire, to preserve Constantinople, to resist the Bulgar pressure on the one side and the encroachments of the Saracens on the other.

If he had not pledged undying loyalty to King Louis and Balduino, he would have asked to join the Order of Templars years ago, so that he might do battle in the Holy Land. But fate had sent him to the heart of the court in Constantinople, where there were as many dangers to negotiate as on the field of battle.

The sun was beginning to drop below the horizon when he realized that he had ridden almost to the gate of the Temple's castle. He had great respect for Andre de Saint-Remy, the superior of the order, an austere and upright man who had chosen the cross and sword as his life. Both men were Frenchmen and nobles, and both had found their destiny in Constantinople.

De Molesmes felt a sudden desire to speak with his compatriot, but the shadows of night were falling and the knights would be at prayer. It would be better to wait until tomorrow to send a message to Saint-Remy and arrange a meeting, he thought.

Balduino slammed his fist into the wall. Fortunately, a tapestry softened the blow to his knuckles.

Pascal de Molesmes had told him in detail of his conversation with the bishop and the bishop's refusal to hand over the Mandylion.

The emperor had known that it was most unlikely that the bishop would voluntarily agree to his request, but he had prayed for that success most fervendy to God, prayed for a miracle to save the empire.

The Frenchman, unable to disguise his irritation at the emperor's display of emotion, looked at him reproachfully.

"Don't look at me like that! I am the most wretched of men!"

"My lord, be calm. The bishop will have no choice but to deliver the Mandylion over to us."

'And just how will that come about? Do you propose that I go and take it from him by force? Can you imagine the scandal that would cause? My subjects would never forgive me for taking the shroud from them-the shroud they consider to have miraculous properties-and Innocent would excommunicate me. And you tell me to be calm, as though there were a solution to this, when you know there is not."

"Kings must make difficult decisions, my lord, to save their kingdoms. You are now in that position. You must stop lamenting your fate and act."

The emperor sat in his regal chair, unable to hide the weariness that was upon him. It was bitter gall that he had tasted as emperor, and now the latest test with which his stewardship of the empire was presenting him was this unthinkable confrontation with the Church.

"Think of another solution."

"Do you really see another way out?"

"You are my chancellor-think!"

"My lord, the Mandylion belongs to you-claim what is yours, for the good of the empire. That is my counsel."

"Withdraw."

De Molesmes left the room and made his way to his study. There, to his surprise, he found Bartolome dos Capelos.

He greeted the Templar warmly, then asked about the superior and the other brothers he knew. After a few minutes of polite conversation, he asked what had brought dos Capelos to the palace.

"My superior, Andre de Saint-Remy, desires an audience with the emperor," the Portuguese Templar said gravely.

"What is happening, my good friend? Is there bad news?"

Dos Capelos had orders not to speak a word more. Clearly the palace had heard nothing of the delicate condition of Louis of France, for when the Comte de Dijon left Damietta, the city was still in the hands of the Franks and the army was advancing victoriously.

"It has been some time since Andre de Saint-Remy has met with the emperor, and many things have happened in those months. The audience will be of interest to both men," dos Capelos replied, sidestepping the question.

De Molesmes realized that the Portuguese would tell him nothing more, but the importance of the audience the Templar superior was requesting was obvious.

"I note your petition, my brother. As soon as the emperor determines the day and hour for the audience, I will inform Andre de Saint-Remy, in person if I may, thereby to enjoy a few minutes' conversation with him." • "I would beg that the audience be held as soon as possible."

"I will see to it-you know I am a friend of the Temple. May God be with you."

"And with you, my lord."

Pascal de Molesmes was pensive after the meeting with the Templar. The inscrutable expression on dos Capelos's face indicated that the Temple knew something of vital importance that it could tell only the emperor. What would it want in exchange?

The Templars were the only ones in that convulsed world who had money and information always at their disposal. And the two commodities-money and information-gave them a special power, more than that of any king, or even the pope himself.

The relationship between Balduino and Saint-Remy was one of mutual respect. The superior of the Temple's chapter in Constantinople shared Balduino's anguish at the increasingly grave situation of the impoverished empire. On more than one occasion the Temple had lent him generous amounts of gold- money he had not been able to repay, but in return for which he had put down as deposit certain relics, which had thus become possessions of the Templars. There were other objects, too, which would never return to the empire until the emperor had repaid the debt he had contracted, and that was a most unlikely possibility.

But de Molesmes put those thoughts aside and set about preparing for Balduino's visit to the bishop. He should go in the company of soldiers in armor and bearing weapons, enough to surround the bishop's palace and the Church of St. Mary of Blachernae, where the Mandylion was kept.

No one was to know what the emperor was proposing to do, so as not to alert the people, or the bishop himself, who took Balduino to be a good Christian who would never raise his hand against the Church.

The chancellor sent for the Comte de Dijon, to go over with him the details of the shroud's delivery. The king of France had given the count precise instructions as to what to do when his nephew turned over the shroud and how to arrange payment for it.

Robert de Dijon was around thirty, a powerfully built man of medium height, aquiline nose and blue eyes. The count's beauty had awakened the interest of the ladies at Balduino's court in the short time since his arrival. It was not easy for the servant sent by de Molesmes to find him; he had to bribe several servants in the palace before he discovered him, at last, in the apartment of Dona Maria, the emperor's recendy widowed cousin.

When the Comte de Dijon presented himself in the chancellor's study he still bore traces of the musky perfume the noble lady left always in her wake.

"Tell me, de Molesmes, what the reason is for such great hurry?"

"My lord, I must know the instructions you have been given by good King Louis, so that I may please him."

"You know that the king wishes the emperor to hand over the Mandylion."

"Forgive my coming straight to the point: What price is Louis willing to pay for the shroud?"

"Will the emperor accede to his uncle's request, then?"

"My lord, allow me to ask the questions."

"Before answering them I must know whether Balduino has made a decision."

In two long strides, de Molesmes planted himself before the count and glared into his eyes, measuring the sort of man he had before him. The Frenchman did not flinch; indeed, he hardly moved a muscle. Unwavering, he held the counselor's gaze.

"The emperor is meditating upon his uncle's offer. But he must know how much the king of France is prepared to pay him for the Mandylion, where it will be taken, and who is to warrant its safety. Without knowing these and other details, the emperor can hardly be expected to make such a weighty decision."

"My orders are to await the emperor's answer, and if Balduino agrees to deliver the Mandylion to Louis, to take it myself to France and deliver it into the hands of the king's mother, Dona Blanca, who will look after it until the king returns from the Crusade. If the emperor would like to sell the Mandylion, then Louis would give his nephew two sacks of gold, each the weight of a man, and return the lands of Namur to him. He would also make a gift to him of certain lands in France, which he might lease at a good yearly rent. If, on the contrary, the emperor wishes only to lend the shroud for a certain time, the king would likewise give him two sacks of gold, which Balduino would be pledged to repay in order to recover the Mandylion. If by a certain date, to be mutually agreed upon, the emperor did not repay his pledge, then the relic would-be-come the property of the king of France."

"Louis always wins," de Molesmes said irritably.

"It is a fair offer."

"No, it is not. You know as well as I that the Mandylion is the only authentic relic possessed by Christianity."

"The king's offer is a generous one. Two sacks of gold would allow Balduino to repay his many debts."

"It is not enough."

"We are both aware, sir, that two sacks of gold, each the weight of a man, would solve many of the empire's problems. The offer is more than generous if the emperor sells the Mandylion outright, since he would also enjoy the rents of his lands in France for the rest of his days, while if he but pawns it… well, I am not certain he would be able to repay such an amount."

"Yes, you are certain. You know very well he would never be able to recover the shroud. So, tell me, have you journeyed here with two sacks of gold?"

"I have brought a document signed by Louis pledging the payment. I also have a quantity of gold as a guarantee of the king's good faith."

'And what assurance can you give us that the relic will arrive safely in France?"

'As you know, I journey with a numerous escort, and I am willing to accept in addition as many men as you think necessary to ensure the shroud's safety. My life and my honor are pledged to see the Mandylion safe in France. If the emperor agrees, we will send a message to the king."

"How much gold do you have with you now?"

"Twenty pounds in weight."

"I will send for you when the emperor has made his decision."

"I will be waiting. I confess that I will not mind lingering in Constantinople a few days more."

Francois de Charney was practicing his archery with the other Templars, as Andre de Saint-Remy watched from the window of the great hall. Young de Charney, like Andre's brother Robert, looked much like a Muslim. Both had insisted on the necessity of taking on that appearance in order to cross enemy territory without undue contretemps. They trusted in their Saracen squires, whom they treated as close comrades.

After so many years in the East, the Temple had changed. Its knights had come to appreciate the values of its enemies-the Templars had not been content to engage them only in battle but also in their daily lives, and out of that had grown the mutual respect between the Templar knights and the Saracens.

Guillaume de Sonnac had been a prudent Grand Master, and he had seen something remarkable in Robert and Francois, qualities that would allow them to be the perfect spies-for thus they were.

The two knights spoke Arabic fluently, and when they were with their squires they comported themselves as true Arabs. With their skin browned by the sun and their vestments of Saracen nobility, it was difficult to see them as the Christian gentlemen they were.

They had told Andre of their countless adventures in the Holy Land, of the enchantments of the desert where they had learned to live, of writings by the Greek philosophers of antiquity recovered by the wisdom of the Saracens, of the arts of medicine learned from them.

The young men could not conceal their admiration for the enemies they had battled, which would have worried Andre de Saint-Remy had he not seen with his own eyes the young men's devotion and commitment to the honor of the Temple.

They would remain in Constantinople until Andre gave them the Mandylion to take to the Grand Master. He shared with them his hesitation to allow them to journey alone with such a precious relic, but they assured him it was only in that way that the shroud would arrive safe at its destination, the Templar fortress of Saint-Jean d'Acre, where most of the Temple's treasures were held. Of course, Saint-Remy had to first secure the shroud of Christ, and for that he needed patience and diplomacy, not to mention cunning-all qualities that the superior of the Constantinople chapter of the Temple possessed in no small amount.