The Seal (Adriana Koulias) by Adriana Koulias

Author:Adriana Koulias
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Zuriel Press Pty Ltd
Published: 2012-12-17T06:00:00+00:00

31

THE POPE AND CHARLES OF VALOIS

This is a slight unmeritable man, Meet to be sent on errands.

William Shakespeare, JULIUS CAESAR

Poitiers, June 1308

The evening was cool and pleasant, but Clement paced his apartment wearing a frown and fondling his rosary, recalling de Plaisians’ words during a second meeting of the public consistory. In a nutshell he had suggested that the Pope was to become another Anastasius – that pontiff struck down by God and repulsed by the clergy for condoning heresy – if he did not move on the Templars.

Clement longed to be away from Poitiers and the King’s long shadow. Soon he and a small number of cardinals would flee, firstly to Bordeaux and then hopefully to Avignon – a city bought by Pope Gregory for the use of the papacy. He was putting his tail between his legs and running, he knew that much, but he hoped the distance between France and his curia might ease the King’s hold on his testicles.

In Poitiers things had become intolerable: Philip had his troops everywhere and his influence on the French cardinals had caused them to despise Clement for not being loyal to the French Crown. On the other hand, the other cardinals, the Italians, the Germans, the Spaniards, hated him for the opposite.

He would have left long before, but there remained a piece of unfinished business he must attend to.

He gave a belch; his stomach was distended and there was a fullness between his legs. Eventually he would do what he had promised the King, he would exterminate that Order of prideful monks. But how to stall Philip long enough to give the astrologer time to find out where the spiritual treasures of the Order were hidden? The Order’s extinction and its goods were his currency. He would have to wave that in Philip’s face and hope for the best.

He shook his head, sighed sighs, and let loose a tempest of flatulence. At that moment an attendant announced a visitor. Immediately Clement assumed a stance that he hoped would affect a perception of power and magnanimity, of charity and generosity: one hand upon his pectoral cross and the other at his side, with his chin slightly raised and his plucked brows arched affably in inquiry.

A man entered the room incognito, followed by the King’s men disguised. Below a lowered cowl the man ordered them out and, taking off his robe, stood before the pontiff.

‘Charles of Valois,’ the Pope said the words sweetly but in his mind they came spitting out as if they were flies, ‘you have been on a long journey.’ He found his chair and sat down.

Charles of Valois went down upon the tessellated marble and kissed the golden cross embroidered over the Pope’s white chamois shoes, and then his pontifical ring. His balding head bent, awaiting permission to speak.

‘Welcome,’ said the Pope. He put a hand over the balding head and gave a fleeting blessing. ‘How is his Royal Highness, I hope he is well?’

Charles of Valois remained

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