"Katherine Kurtz - Knights Templar 01 - Temple and the Stone" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kurtz Katherine)

The battle-weary core of the Templar high command- what remained of it-had adopted the preceptory at
Nicosia as their new headquarters. It was late afternoon of the following day when Arnault and Torquil
rode into the shadow of the preceptory's castellated walls. The young knight who met them at the gate
was a new recruit whose white habit had yet to show the rigors of life in the East, and who spoke
Norman French with a strong German accent. After Arnault and Torquil had identified themselves and
their mission, the man looked down his long nose and informed them that the Grand Master was most
probably to be found in his personal quarters.
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"But he does not welcome interruptions," the man declared with a somewhat officious air. "He is busy
laying plans for a new crusade. Perhaps I should send a serjeant ahead to announce your arrival."

"Thank you, that won't be necessary," Arnault said, already heading in that direction. "The information
that Brother Torquil and I have to impart is directly relevant to the Master's designs."

The Grand Master and his household staff were lodged in a tall stone tower in the northwest corner of
the preceptory enceinte, set apart from the other residential buildings by a cobbled courtyard. Arnault
and Torquil were admitted by a deferential lay servant, who conducted them to a set of chambers on the
upper floor, which served as both living and working quarters for the present incumbent, FrтАЪre Jacques
de Molay.

A knight of the old school, the Grand Master was far more inclined to sword than to pen, though he
could read well enough to understand dispatches, and was competent at basic ciphering. When Arnault
and Torquil were ushered into Molay's office, they found him dictating notes to one scribal brother while
a second read aloud from a scroll bearing several pendant seals. At the sight of his visitors, Molay
signaled a halt to his secretaries' labors.

"Leave us," he told them curtly. "I will speak with these brothers in private."

The two clerks quickly retired from the room. As the door closed behind them, Molay pulled himself
erect in his chair and surveyed his two subordinates across a table piled high with maps, dispatches, and
requisition orders.

"Welcome back to Nicosia, brothers," he greeted them. "Since you have returned, and appear relatively
unscathed, I trust that your recent labors have been fruitful. While we are detained here in exile, away
from the fray, the image of the Order is being besmirched by scandal."

From among the clutter of documents in front of him he plucked a small, thick volume bound in scarlet
calfskin. This he passed across to Arnault, who turned it over in his hands. The cover page bore the title
Historia de Desolacione, ascribed to someone styling himself Thaddeus de Napoli.

"This was sent to me by one of our brethren at the papal court in Rome," Molay said. "It purports to be a
historical account of the fall of Acre, but seldom have I been confronted with a stronger example of the
evils that can be wrought on the basis of a little learning. You were there; you know what really
happened. Sit, sit," he instructed, gesturing toward the stools his secretaries had vacated.