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shining pipes of the organ.
'Ten years after their establishment, their fame had spread,' James continued. 'No lesser an authority than Saint Bernard, the abbot of Clairvaux, wrote a tract declaring the Templars to be the epitome and apotheosis of Christian values. They were soon officially recognised and incorporated as a religious-military order, Christ's militia, if you will, soldier-mystics, warrior-monks, combining the spirituality of the Church with a fighting ability that struck terror into Christianity's enemies.'
'Until the God-fearing royals of Europe had the Church brand them heretics,' Mallory noted wryly, 'because they had the misfortune to become too successful, right? Too rich and powerful ... a challenge to the established order. Had their leader slowly roasted alive in the square of some French city . . . nice . . . had the knights hunted down and slaughtered, launched a propaganda assault to completely destroy their reputation.'
'You're obviously an educated man. But don't confuse the Church with the people who claim to administer God's Word,' James cautioned. 'Humans are fallible.'
'Pardon me for pointing it out, but you seem to have had your fair share of the fallible in your history,' Mallory countered, unmoved.
'We are all fallible.' James turned his attention to the high altar at the focal point of the cathedral. 'The decision to re-establish the Knights Templar was taken for practical reasons, and for symbolic ones. The new Knights Templar will protect our missionaries as they move out across the country. It's a dangerous land out there . . . worldly threats, supernatural threats, spiritual threats . . .'
'That's a tough job,' Mallory said. 'You'll need tough men.'
'Tough, yes. Not just physically or psychologically, but spiritually. It will be demanding, with little reward in this world.' There was pity in his smile. 'Many who wish to join will not be suitable. You need to understand that. But there will always be a role here for people willing to carry out God's Word.'
'Not many perks, though,' Mallory said.
James laughed. 'Sorry, no company cars! On the plus side, the Council decided not to continue with the strict rules under which the original Templars existed - shaven heads, beards, poverty, chastity and obedience - though we have adopted a distinctive dress for our knights so that everyone will know them when they see them coming.'
Mallory pointed to James' habit. 'You've got your own strict dress code as well.'
'Indeed. It was felt, with the various . . . strands ... of the Church coming together, that a uniformity was necessary to bind everyone here into a single community.' He was choosing his words carefully, Mallory noted.
'You had some friction, then? A little local rivalry?'
'There was a danger of that, yes. So it was decided that we adopt elements of the Rule of Saint Benedict, which was written in the sixth century as a guide to the spiritual and administrative life of a monastery. Although we are not a monastic order - we are a chapter of canons - it was agreed that a certain level of . . . discipline was necessary.' He didn't appear wholly to agree with this, although he attempted to mask it with a smile. 'But you'll find out all about that later.'
As they turned to leave the quire, they were confronted by two men who had been making their way towards the altar. One of them was very old, possibly in his eighties, Mallory estimated. Hunched over his walking stick, he resembled a crane, both awkward and frail; he didn't appear to have the strength to walk any distance at all. Helping him along was a man in his late twenties with shoulder-length black hair and a long, pointed nose that reminded Mallory of some forest animal.
James knelt and formally kissed the hand of the old man. 'Our bishop,' he said, when he rose.
The old man smiled; his eyes were uncannily bright and sharp. 'Cornelius,' he amended in a rural Scottish accent. 'New arrivals?'
'More recruits for the knights,' James said.