The Templar Magician

Epilogue

Melrose Abbey, Scotland

Autumn 1314

Brother Benedict watched as Domina de Payens put down the manuscript, then turned as if to stroke the vellum parchments strewn over the writing table beside him.

‘Is that how it ended?’ the young monk asked.

‘Perhaps,’ the old woman whispered. ‘You’ve read the letters, the memoranda, the chronicle of the monks at the Abbey of St Edmund? Some say that was written by de Payens himself.’ She smiled. ‘The good brothers certainly loved the stories, as did the forest folk.’ She blinked quickly. ‘Stories about a strange knight dressed in white who defended them against outlaws or any who tried to hurt them. Of the same knight appearing at tournaments to defend their rights or win purses of silver to better their lot.’

‘But King Stephen, Tremelai, the Assassins, Count Raymond?’

‘All true,’ the old woman half whispered.

‘And de Payens never returned to his order?’

‘Oh, I think he did. He kept his vows, the paladin, the Poor Knight of Christ! He observed his oath to protect the weak and defend the holy. He fought the good fight. He kept faith, and at the end of our lives, how many of us will be able to say that?’