Lifting a Corner of the Curtain

Louis made a rough calculation. Though the Church had only acknowledged the existence of werewolves and vampires around 1414, that did not mean dark creatures had not been moving through the surface world before then. The Church's saints had records reaching back to 54 BC. In other words, those people—whether or not they truly possessed extraordinary powers—had been concealed within dark and brutal battles for a thousand years. Perhaps, in the beginning, they had indeed been devout and diligent souls who labored only for the Lord. But even wise King Solomon had become muddleheaded and foolish in his old age, let alone a group of mortals who, however great their powers, still had to eat, drink, live, and travel.

Moreover, the King quickly thought of a question. "By your account, did these ascetics and black-robed judges choose disciples from among ordinary people, or from among their own kin?"

The question made Abbot La Rivière glance at him in surprise. This was not something an eleven-year-old child, one who had received no specialized education, ought to have been able to say—even when he himself had been eleven, he had known only bread, sparrows, and the skirts of maidservants. "Yes, Your Majesty. Though they also selected disciples among ordinary people who had received the Holy Spirit's calling, most came from their own relatives."

Louis nodded. He understood. At first, there were probably not many people with extraordinary abilities. When their numbers were few, preserving traditions or obeying rules was simple enough. But later, perhaps to face the swiftly spreading darkness, perhaps because worldly feelings had shaken their faith, some monks returned to secular life and took wives. Their children inherited their understanding of the Holy Spirit and thus became the main force in combating heresy.

That immediately made him think of something else. "Then do the Knights Templar have anything to do with this?"

"The Knights Templar were a branch separated from these monks." While admiring the young King's perceptiveness, Abbot La Rivière said, "Well, to put it plainly, Your Majesty, they were an experiment conducted by the Church."

That was it, Louis thought. If it had been him, he would not have stood by and watched such a force remain beyond his control. One could only say that before then, the Church had the will but lacked the strength. Before the Roman Empire split in 395, the Church's development had been arduous at every step. Never mind ordinary believers—even bishops and popes had been martyred. It was not until 756, when Pepin, King of the Franks, donated land, that the Church finally laid its foundations. During the following centuries, internal struggles never ceased, and it even split into the Eastern and Western Churches.

The Knights Templar had been founded in 1119 and formally recognized by the Church ten years later. It was within a century after the Church's division, when Catholicism had only just stabilized, that it reached for the extraordinary powers it had coveted for so long. With that, the Knights Templar Order's strange strength and speed of expansion had a reasonable explanation—as did the Knights Templar Order's various bizarre rituals and rules. At this point, even Louis could not resist a little gossip. Leaning toward Abbot La Rivière, he asked in a low voice, "I heard that in 1307, the Fair King, Philip IV, declared the Knights Templar Order heretical. Afterward, following their interrogations, they were found guilty of many terrible crimes. Um... but what I want to know is, did the Knights Templar truly do some exceedingly blasphemous... and improper things during their initiation ceremonies and training?"

Abbot La Rivière swallowed. He—ah—knew, because of certain rather special circumstances, but he... He carefully studied the King's expression and found that those beautiful blue eyes held only a child's curiosity. Besides, within the Church, these matters could only be called open secrets. And Philip IV was, unfortunately, this King's ancestor. Even if he said nothing now, this King would still learn of them once he took power. The abbot also yearned to win the favor of those above him, hoping that one day he might climb to a position like Richelieu's or Mazarin's. So after weighing the matter again and again, he moved his footstool closer to the King, leaned forward as well, and lowered his voice as much as possible. "I can tell you, but Your Majesty, you absolutely must not repeat it—speaking of which, these matters also have an indelible connection to your ancestor, Philip III of the Capetian Dynasty."

Louis raised one eyebrow, signaling for him to continue.

Seeing that the King had not become angry at his presumptuousness, but instead looked even more interested, he became more animated. "Your Majesty, have you ever heard this saying? 'If they are truly innocent, why not let them be judged as gold is melted in blazing fire, to prove their purity?'"

Louis pondered it, then shook his head.

"Philip IV wrote those words in that secret letter. It was this very letter that made his officials arrest every member of the Knights Templar Order without hesitation and immediately subject them to harsh torture." Abbot La Rivière lowered his voice. "Though the punishments of that time were still quite crude—I mean, Your Majesty, they bound criminals to iron racks, smeared grease over their feet and bodies, and roasted them over fire. Those being tortured all screamed miserably and answered every question put to them."

"But would such conduct not create wrongful convictions?" Louis asked.

"For that, Jacques de Molay, Grand Master of the Knights Templar Order at the time, must bear the blame. After taking office, he foolishly revealed certain internal matters of the Order to Pope Clement V. They concerned the former Pope Boniface VIII and Philip IV's father, Philip III. The details astonished Clement V, and he handed the matter over to Philip IV. That was precisely why that dreadful secret letter came to be."

"Were those two involved as well?"

"Indeed they were," La Rivière said. "You may not know this, but Boniface VIII and Philip III had both once been secret members of the Knights Templar Order. Yet Philip III's initiation took place later than Boniface VIII's. The problem was that Philip III's initiation happened shortly before the death of his eldest son, Louis. At that time, there was a prophecy claiming that Philip III had committed 'a sin against nature,' and that unless he repented, one of his princes would die within six months. Your Majesty, the Capetians have always possessed sacred family traditions. Every King considered himself the most devout of monarchs. Beginning with Louis VII, this family declared that it had dedicated itself to the cause of the Crusades—and that was indeed what they did. By all rights, then, they should have received God's blessing, but..." La Rivière spread his hands. "Philip III instead seemed to have suffered some curse. His father died of dysentery during battle, unable even to return to his own court. His eldest son died the same way, and so did he himself. Was that not a harsh punishment?"

"Some also say Philip III's second wife poisoned his eldest son so that her own son could inherit the throne," Louis said.

"Would having a wife who was a witch not be an even greater curse?" La Rivière said. "And Philip IV clearly believed the other explanation more. One could tell how furious he had been from the sheer viciousness of that secret letter."

"So..."

"Yes. Every accusation was true, especially the filthy parts... Ah, Your Majesty, I truly should not say them. They would surely soil your ears."

"Stop keeping me in suspense," the King said. He personally poured the plump gossipmonger a cup of tea and added a great deal of sugar.

"Very well. Since you command me to speak, I shall tell you a little. They, cough, cough... truly did things beyond all blasphemy."

Abbot La Rivière made several furtive gestures. "Your Majesty, you are still a child. In any case, first the newly inducted knight kissed his senior, then his senior kissed the newly inducted knight. After that, they brought out a cross, placed it beneath their feet to trample upon it, spat on it, urinated on it..."

"That is madness. Madness, Abbot—utterly heartless and deranged."

"No, Your Majesty. That was exactly what they did."

"Mm-mm-mm-mm-mm," Louis sighed. "That truly was rather wicked."

"There was worse to come," Abbot La Rivière said. "There were parts that were never made public—Your Majesty, they even treated... as Communion, drinking it in turn from a holy chalice... and did many mad things before the cross..."

"Were those not things only heretics would do?"

"Exactly." Abbot La Rivière said, "Philip IV greatly worshipped his grandfather, Louis IX. During his reign, Louis IX was even made a saint. He blamed both his grandfather's death and his elder brother's death upon the wicked rites his father had carried out when secretly joining the Order. Even though Clement V pleaded desperately for mercy, he still insisted on executing most members of the Knights Templar Order."

"How could anyone still plead for mercy?"

"Because according to the Knights Templar Order," Abbot La Rivière said, "they had fought infidels for a long time. Therefore, to avoid humiliation and torture-induced confessions should they be captured by infidels, they... devised this set of initiation rites and training practices..."

Louis laughed and leaned back in his chair. "Ah, should they not have preserved their steadfastness under any circumstances?"

"Your answer is exactly the same as that Fair King's," Abbot La Rivière said. "Yes, that was what he said as well." His eyes slanted to one side. "Not only did he say it, he also threatened Pope Clement V. Your Majesty, he said that if the Pope could not act impartially, he would make the Knights Templar's confessions public. You must understand, at the very least, Boniface VIII, Clement V's predecessor, had been a secret member of the Knights Templar Order. If those confessions were made public, the Church's face would sink into the mud. So..." He shrugged. "What followed was no longer interesting, Your Majesty. If your theology teacher reaches this point, he will tell you how they were abolished and repudiated."

Louis savored this piece of gossip with great relish. Compared to his current theology teacher, Father Poitiers, the tutor beside Queen Mother Anne, La Rivière was bolder and knew far more. He looked at this man, who was so eager to gain power. "You are much more interesting than my theology teacher," Louis said in the innocent tone unique to children. "I would quite like to have you as my teacher."

An excited flush immediately appeared on La Rivière's fat face, making him look even more like the saint children admired most.

"It would be... an immense honor!" He even began to stammer. "I would be most willing, Your Majesty. Most willing."

"I will still need to speak with His Eminence the Bishop and my mother, but I think they will agree," Louis said. If La Rivière had been a minister, or someone clever like Mazarin, Queen Mother Anne might have needed to consider it. But La Rivière—every Parisian knew he was an overreaching clown who dared compete with the Coadjutor Archbishop of Reims and Prince of Conti. Bishop Mazarin had handed him over to Louis merely to amuse the King.

"Then tell me more," Louis continued. "Since the Church supported the Knights Templar Order in 1129, how did it come to establish the Inquisition in 1231, and then form the Inquisition?"

"That is why I said earlier that it was the obstinacy of Holy Father Pope Gregory IX," La Rivière said. "He did not much like the Knights Templar Order of that time, because they associated too closely with infidels, were skilled at gathering wealth, and also..." He paused. "There were crimes such as drunkenness and gluttony. That was why he worked to establish an extraordinary organization belonging exclusively to the Church. At that time—I mean, the monks of the hidden world and their descendants—had also been shaken by the affair of the Knights Templar Order." He gave the King a knowing look. "Some lived like King Solomon, while others still lived from hand to mouth, tightening their belts and scrimping on every bite. Even the most devout monks could not hold back the surging tide... Once they showed such a tendency, and with Gregory IX's promises added to it... well, you have seen it too. In the following decades, they did no worse than the Knights Templar Order, perhaps even surpassed them. And unlike the Knights Templar Order, they did not deeply involve themselves in secular struggles for power. Thus the minds at the Church's helm gradually favored them. Jacques de Molay had indeed done something foolish, but if the Church had not already intended to abandon them, these matters should have been stopped with Holy Father Clement V."

"Does the Church still hold a unified view toward those wielders of extraordinary powers?" Louis asked.

"Not entirely." La Rivière said, "It is not precisely the Church's problem, but a problem between the Inquisition's black-robed judges and ascetics. The monks are indeed the main fighting force, but the judges are clearly more favored by those in high places. Mainly because... well, monks must be more devout. Naturally, there is nothing wrong with being more devout, but it becomes wrong when they are not sufficiently respectful toward the Church of Rome. Though I must admit that those fellows sometimes have little worth respecting, you must understand..." La Rivière tried hard to find the right words.

"The tree that stands above the forest will be shattered by the wind," Louis said.

"Ah, exactly so!" La Rivière seized the chance to flatter him. "What a philosophical saying. It deserves to be copied into the Bible. Your Majesty, please allow me to repeat it... The tree that stands above the forest will be shattered by the wind. O God, what precise and elegant words! I want to tell everyone at once."

Louis could not help laughing. "No, Abbot. Perhaps the saying is not entirely appropriate here. I would guess they dislike those ascetics because their piety throws certain people's lack of piety into sharp relief."

"Precisely," Abbot La Rivière said meaningfully. "That is the most fatal thing of all."

"And those black-robed judges?"

"They are doing well. To tell the truth, they are much like those people in the Church of Rome. After all, they have wives who have not yet been made public, and children as well. They must make plans for themselves."

"Then has the Church never wished to treat those monks as it treated the Knights Templar Order?"

"That would be difficult." La Rivière said solemnly, "Only the most devout ascetics can become sharp swords capable of restraining dark creatures. If they indulge in worldly pleasures, even the most gifted children will vanish among ordinary mortals... What the Church needs is their power. Without power, they have no reason to exist."

"It seems the Church has quite a headache," Louis said. "Without sufficient piety, there is no power. But with sufficient piety, the Church's conduct will be questioned."

La Rivière gave a hearty laugh. "Exactly so, Your Majesty. But it is impossible for them to give them up. Whether it is the Inquisition or Rome, the Church's gradual rise in On the Powers of the Clerical Princes has been closely connected to these monks. Yet the Church's circumstances have lately become far worse than before, because..."

"Because secular power is growing stronger as well."

"Yes." La Rivière sighed. "Especially after things like muskets appeared, ordinary mortals were no longer without means to strike back against dark creatures."

"That requires enough guns and ammunition, as well as enough soldiers," Louis said. "Brave soldiers." Like his musketeers: they also needed superiority in both numbers and firepower. Otherwise, ordinary people would ultimately still be unable to contend with those dark creatures.

La Rivière thought for a moment and said nothing. The present King did not even possess an army of his own, so why bring up something that would grieve His Majesty?

Yet his gaze could not help falling upon the King's red shoulder sash.

At this time, every power in Paris had its own troops. To distinguish friend from foe, officers tied sashes of various colors around their shoulders. The royalists wore white, Prince of Condé's men light chestnut, Duke of Orléans Gaston's dark blue, and Mazarin's... ah, this Bishop actually possessed troops of his own as well, and their shoulder sashes were green. Yet the rightful ruler of the kingdom, His Majesty the King, had only a handful of musketeers and young attendants at his side. It was said that many had been lost in the previous assassination attempt.

Just as Abbot La Rivière was considering whether he ought to offer a sum of livres as a display of loyalty, the King suddenly called his name kindly. "Monsieur La Rivière," he said, "if you are willing, I have something I would like to entrust to you now."

"Please tell me." La Rivière hurriedly said with eager attentiveness, "What would you have me do, Your Majesty? Even if you asked me to dance face-to-face with the Devil, I would go."

Louis smiled. "No, I have no such interest for the moment, Abbot. I merely wish to renovate the small chapel at Tuileries Palace."

"Ah, that is a good deed performed for the Lord," Monsieur La Rivière said. "You will receive a fine reward, Your Majesty."

"I will give you ten thousand gold louis to spend as you see fit," Louis said. "But I have one request."

"I am listening."

"Please hire as many Parisians as possible to do the work. Do not pay them directly in money; compensate them with bread and small beer. One day of work, one day's payment. Men are naturally welcome, but children and women are acceptable too. So long as they can work, hire them."

Abbot La Rivière lifted his head and blinked. Then he understood. "Rest assured, Your Majesty, I will hire as many people as possible."

"This is work for the Lord," Louis said. "There is no such thing as too many people. If the funds prove insufficient, you may come and speak to me at any time."

La Rivière had already decided to make up part of the expense himself, but gaining the right to seek an audience with the King whenever necessary was enough to satisfy him. Sharply noticing the tiredness on the young King's face, he respectfully backed away and prepared to leave.

"There is one more thing," Louis called after him. "If it is no inconvenience, can you tell me how you came to know these things?"

La Rivière hesitated for a moment. "I was a small mistake made by the venerable Holy Father Urban VIII in his youth." After saying this, he bowed repeatedly and withdrew.

That explained it.

Louis said inwardly that Urban VIII had stepped down in 1644. During his reign, Richelieu had held great power. To restrain Richelieu, Urban VIII had specifically promoted Mazarin, bringing a poor-born cleric to Louis XIII's notice. Thus, even though Mazarin had later become Richelieu's successor through a series of twists and accidents, he still owed Urban VIII gratitude for his favor. Therefore, although La Rivière was merely an abbot and not even loved by Urban VIII, he could still be recommended before the King.