Tales of the Knights Templar by Katherine Kurtz

Author:Katherine Kurtz [KURTZ, KATHERINE]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780446561228
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2009-05-30T04:00:00+00:00

“I don’t believe in signs.” Pat threw the box down onto the bed and the medallion spilled out. She paced across the room and back. “I don’t believe in you, either. You’re a fairy tale, just like Mrs. Neal said. The delusions of a dying old man. I should have sold you. I will sell you.”

But she left both box and medallion on the bed and spent the afternoon staring at soccer on television. When the game ended, she ordered room service and spent the evening watching programs she didn’t understand.

At eleven, Pat put the medallion back in the box, wrapped the box in a shirt, and stuffed the bundle into the deepest corner of her suitcase.

“I’m going back there tomorrow,” she announced defiantly as she turned off the light.

“Tomorrow, His Majesty intends to arrest the entire Order.”

What’s going on? I don’t even remember going to sleep! Pat fought against opening her eyes but they opened anyway. Bernard?

The young sergeant was on one knee at her feet, his expression anger, disbelief, and awe about equally mixed.

I don’t want any part of this! Pat could feel the weight of the medallion and knew the old man who wore it as Jacques de Molay, the Grand Master of the Knights Templar.

Last Grand Master, she corrected, but like all the others, he couldn’t hear her. She could feel his anger as he told Bernard what would happen at dawn and gave him the message to pass on to the Preceptor of France—who with fifty knights had all but emptied the Paris Temple five days before. She touched de Molay’s decision to stay behind lest the king be warned by his absence.

“There will be horses for you between Paris and Harfleur. You must arrive before dawn, do you understand?”

“Yes, Worshipful Master.”

De Molay’s hands went to the chain about his neck and he lifted the medallion over his head. He closed his eyes and raised it to his lips, much as Bernard had done—would do, Pat amended.

“Take this also to the Preceptor; tell him I give it into his charge.” He gazed down into the young sergeant’s eyes. “In the crystal is a sliver from the Cross of our Lord. I would not have it fall into the hands of that jackal—” Biting off what would have become an extensive tirade against the king, he held out the medallion. “It will protect you as you ride.”

Bernard leaned forward and pressed his lips against the gold. As the Grand Master settled the chain over his head, Pat—who settled into his head—thought he was going to pass out. “Worshipful Master, I am not worthy—”

“I will say who is worthy,” de Molay snapped.

“Yes, Worshipful Master.” Looking up into de Molay’s face, Pat was reminded of her grandfather.

He’s a stubborn old man: certain he’s right, regardless of the evidence. And he was going to die. And there was nothing she could do about it. Because he died over six hundred years ago, she told herself. Get a grip.

Given the

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