Echoes of a Legend

Chapter SEVEN: Maven's Mission

"His name is not important but his information is incredible!" Hugues de Paynes

In 950BC King Solomon built a temple in the city of Jerusalem on a site recognised as the very spot where Abraham had been ready to sacrifice his son Ishmael. It is said that God ordered him to stop, but for showing such loyalty, he gave recompense by vowing to heap praise on his decedents, the Jews. It is now January 1120 the Order was almost two years old and on that very site sits the palace of King Baldwin II.

Baldwin may have been new to the throne and all the responsibilities that the office prevails, but he was wise enough to realise that the new allegiance with a small band of warrior monks appeared to be working.

There were just nine of them but they helped patrol the areas beyond the city walls with gusto and great proficiency. Warmed with the dutiful lifestyle, military dedication and animated by the inviolability of the cause to which they had devoted themselves, the Poor Knights of the Temple of Solomon (The Knights Templar) were formed and whether it was through strategic discussion, or brute force, this band of Christ's men always managed to see that the Christian pilgrims arrived through the city gates safely and besides, they were certainly more trustworthy and steadfast than the normal glory hunting folk that Baldwin had previously dealt with. Therefore following a vow of poverty, chastity and obedience sworn before the King by Hugues de Paynes and Geoffrey de St Omer's on Christmas Day 1119, the Knights were given one wing of the palace which was enough to house them all and their horses.

Maven De Godefroy sleeps soundly in that wing, and it has been just over two years since he completed his initiation ceremony, took an oath of allegiance to the Templar's and he had not been home since.

'Brother, Brother Maven,' Rossal whispered as he tried to wake the sleeping monk.

Maven shuffled under the light bed linen and turned to look up at his fellow Templar.

'Rossal?-, what time is it?' Maven asked rubbing one eye with his fist.

De Godefroy had only been asleep for two hours and this following a fourteen hour vigil at the main gates following the trouble with Saracen soldiers the day before last. In that fracas, two Christians had been killed and Maven was left nursing a two inch cut on his cheek and now with the smell of vinegar and the yarrow poultice wafting under his nose from time to time.

'Midnight Brother. How's the cheek?' asked the thin faced Rossal.

Maven touched it gently through his thicken black beard, before pulling himself up into a seating position, 'getting better,' he said with a weary grown.

Rossal placed the candle he was holding on the small table by the side of Maven's bed; he was careful not to leave it too near the small bible that was in situ.

The room was plain, cold and empty and aside from that small table it only contained a stand with a wash basin, a chair, bed and chest for the Brothers clothes, which did not amount to much either. For every day dress, each Monk was allowed two habits, both white and plain barring a small cloth cross on their upper right arm and a cloak of white. The heat during the hotter periods of the year allowed them to extend to the wearing of linen shirts between Easter and All Saints.

'Why the need to wake me at this hour Brother,' said De Godefroy as he looked at his fellow Templar.

Rossal was the smallest of the group but certainly the feistiest when it came to combat. It was only last night that Maven recalled a story with Gondamer in which he remembers trying to stagger to his feet to aid Rossal who had four Muslims surrounding him. One clubbed Rossal on the back of the head which only served to 'annoy' the Brother who in turn went through them all like a tornado!