The English Templar - Sir Percival de Lacy, a Poor Knight of the Temple of Solomon in Jerusalem
The principal (and epinominous) protagonist in the novel Tale of the English Templar is Sir Percival "Percy" de Lacy. When the novel opens, he is 25 years old and has been a Templar roughly six years. He is assigned to a commandery in Cyprus, but has carried dispatches from the Seneschal of the Order on Cyprus to the Master, who is temporarily in France at the invitation of the French King. To his great misfortune, he is still in France on Friday 13th of October 1307. He is arrested, imprisoned, abused and tortured along with the other Templar prisoners. The experience transforms him.
The excerpt below describes the new Percy, the man he is after being rescued from the clutches of the Inquisition and is gradually regaining his strength. This is a period of transition. He has not yet become the resistance leader he will be, but it the scene in which he commits to fighting back against injustice. It takes place in the Leper Hospital where he has been hidden after his escape, and the other protagonists are the French nobleman who rescued him, the nun who nursed him back to health and his squire, and a Templar sergeant to escaped arrest.
Theysat around [Madeleine's] oak table late into the night, drunk half on Commandaria andhalf on hope. They went through Madeleine’s reserves of candles, discussingdrugs that make men sleep and drugs that simulate death itself. They drew thedungeon of Chauvigny in the sand of the garden, using pebbles for guards, andthey discussed every danger on the road from Chauvigny to Lys-Saint-Georges.
Nikinodded off to sleep sometime after matins, and not long after that Brother Gilesdropped his heavy head on his arms and started snoring. Madeleine blew out thelast of her candles and started clearing the table. Percy disappeared out ofthe door to the river, and Geoffrey stretched and yawned contentedly. After amoment, pushing himself to his feet, he carried his pottery mug to the basinwhere Madeleine was collecting the dirty things and told her, “We can sleep inthe loft, Sister. You should have more privacy here, not share this cottagewith four rude men.”
“Youare like a father to me, Monsieur,” Madeleine answered, without looking at him,her tongue loosened from too much wine. “While the others are my brothersbecause they are Jean’s.”
Geoffreylaid a hand on her shoulder in thanks and then glanced towards the door throughwhich Percy had disappeared. He seemed to be taking a long time. He hoped thatthe younger man hadn’t fallen. His legs must be even more unsteady than hisown!
Hewent to the door and discreetly looked out. He did not see Percy. He steppedout into the cool night. The heavens were studded with stars, and the Milky Waywas a dirty smudge across it. He identified Orion and Cassiopeia and thenbrought his eyes back down. Now, his eyes better adjusted to the dark, he couldsee Percy standing on the bank of the river some ten yards away.
Hemade his way somewhat unsteadily down the worn path to the river. “Are you allright?” he asked.
Percylooked over and gave Geoffrey his close-lipped smile. Then he looked backtowards the river. This whole night they had talked and planned. Percy did notknow how much was wishful thinking and how much was meant in earnest. For hispart, he did not believe they could achieve anything. The odds were againstthem, and he could not — not even under the influence of the Commandaria —believethat they would be successful in freeing a single captive Templars. More likelythey would themselves be captured or killed. Pray God it would be the latter!
Buthe knew too that he owed this old man his life. He was naked but for what thisman had given him. He would do whatever Geoffrey wanted of him because he couldnot do otherwise. He owed him more than he could ever repay. Except by dyingwith him for the sake of his dream.
“Ihave no right to expect your assistance, sir.” Geoffrey remarked cautiously,sensing Percy’s scepticism. “Your duty is to return to Limassol and report toyour commander.”
Notingthat Percy recoiled, he added, “King Henry of Cyprus dismissed the chargesagainst the Order as absurd and categorically refused to arrest a singleTemplar. You need not fear persecution there.”
Percyunconsciously shook his head. He had heard from Madeleine that his brothers inCyprus were untouched by the events in France. But that was precisely thereason he could not bear the thought of returning. He could not face thepristine world of a Templar commandery where no one could imagine or understandwhat Philip of France had done. Percy pictured the regularised life with itsstrict rules, the monotony of training at arms punctuated by mass. He thoughtof the tedious chapter sessions in which infractions of the Rule were confessedand punished — crimes such as talking at meals or failing to properly tend one’sstallion or coveting another man’s newer equipment. How could he ever againtake such ‘crimes’ seriously? Worse still, how could he take the nonsensicalplans of recapturing the Holy Land seriously? Even before his arrest he hadbeen conscious of how out of touch with reality his Order in Cyprus had become.They were living in a dream world. He could not return there and pretend thatthey were still a powerful, rich Order destined to fulfil a sacred mission. Hecouldn’t stand the lies any longer.
Geoffreyresponded to the shake of Percy’s head and the subsequent silence with, “I canunderstand if you prefer to return to your family in England. The English Kingis prepared to turn a blind eye to Templars still at large.”
Again,Percy shook his head. He could go home even less than he could return toCyprus. He could not face his family after what he had become. They werepowerful border lords who had never seen the inside of a dungeon, much lessfelt the bite of shackles around their wrists and ankles. They would look athim askance and wonder if he hadn’t really been guilty of some crime. Theywould be repelled by his scars.
“Thedecision must be yours,” Geoffrey said helplessly in the face of the enigmaticsilence of the younger man. At moments like this, Geoffrey felt no superiorityof age. On the contrary, he became acutely aware that he had been carried awayby his own enthusiasm. He had been babbling crazy ideas like a green youth. Suddenly,he felt as if he were a boy awaiting the judgement of an elder brother orfather. But Percy said nothing.
Geoffreysighed, then looked sidelong at the gaunt man towering beside him. Percy wasdressed in some of Niki’s cast off clothes. The wool was darned, stained andpatched in places, and it stank of horse sweat from the afternoon’s barebackexercises. Geoffrey had seen apprentices who looked less shabby but none whostood with shoulders so proudly squared. They were still thin, Geoffrey notedwith a stab of pity, but they were starting to fill out again. If he gotregular exercise with sword and lance he would regain the stature of a knight.
Geoffreydrew a breath. “Whatever you decide, you will be outfitted as befits your birthand rank with destrier and palfrey, arms and armour, decent tack, cloak andclothes.”
“Thatwould cost a small fortune,” Percy protested. To fully outfit a knight cost morethan the annual income of a prosperous farmer or tradesman.
“Iam not a pauper.” Geoffrey replied. “Better you are well-outfitted than that mygrandson should lavish yet more finery upon himself when I die.”
“Andyour granddaughter?” The words tumbled out without thought, and Percy regrettedthem at once. He did not rightly know what he meant. Geoffrey need not buydestrier and armour for his granddaughter.
“Feliceis at the mercy of my despicable daughter-in-law at present, and there islittle I can do about it,” Geoffrey admitted with a sigh.
Percynodded, ashamed he had raised the subject. The girl was not his affair. “I willhelp you, Monsieur, in as much as I am able. But I beg you to understand onething: I will not let myself be taken again. I will kill myself first...” If Ihave the chance, he added mentally, his stomach turning over as he rememberedthe night of his capture.
“Iwill give you my sword,” Geoffrey answered, as if this would solve everything.
“Youcan’t!” Percy protested. The sword a man received when knighted by a king wasnot a weapon one gave to virtual strangers. “It was—”
“Itis yours,” Geoffrey told him, and then he turned and retreated to the cottage.
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An escaped Templar,an intrepid, old crusader, and a discarded brideembark on a quest for justice inthe face of tyranny. Find out more at on my website Buy paperback on amazon.com Pre-Order ebook on amazon.com
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