Temporality

Times are hard, my brother. We remain undermanned and undersupplied, and all the while there are people questioning the order. Yesterday I received letter from the Seneschal himself. He told me that I was to answer only to The Grand Master, and to ignore any papal commands. My loyalties are split. My mind tells me to follow the Church, yet my heart yearns to obey my lord. Yet I hear word from France, and tears form in my eyes at such news. Edward succeeds his father on an unsteady throne, and our Archbishop lies in exile. I know not what to do.

Thomas laid his pen and gave a gentle sigh. A dull ache was beginning to form behind his eyes. Standing, he walked over to his sword, and fastened it tightly to his belt. The serjeants should be returning soon, and Thomas thought it good to greet them personally. He began his walk to the courtyard. Tales had begun spreading about the atrocities in France, and there was a sense of panic among the Knights. If truth were told, Thomas himself was rather scared. King Philip, last month, had all the French Templars arrested on grounds of heresy. Thomas knew the truth. The war against England was not going well for the French, and money and lands were needed, what better way to get both than to confiscate the lands from the Templars. It was idiocy! King Edward had written to the Grand Master, telling him only that the French will suffer for their defiling of the order. Before long Thomas found himself in the courtyard and thought that autumn was beginning to show, green leaves lay scattered across the green lawn, and decaying plants lay where once were vibrant colours. There was a chill to the air that promised worse yet to come. Thomas could not help but long for the forgotten days in summer when he would walk among the gardens, thinking only about philosophy. With him thoughts came a sigh. The great archways that lead to the outer walls looked magnificent with the setting sun peering from behind them. Groups of Knights walked from here to there, and occasionally Thomas could spot a Chaplin. Although nothing seemed wrong on first sight, there was an almost supernatural feel of chaos outside the preciptories' gates. It must have been nearly half a day now since the Serjeants had gone; yet there was still no sign. When Thomas turned to return to his chambers, he found Chaplin Gerfen standing close simply watching Thomas.

'Good Eve, to you Gerfen,' said Thomas in what he thought of as a warm tone, 'It seems as though summer has finally yielded to autumn'. There was a rather uncomfortable silence as Gerfen contemplated what Thomas had said.

'Aye my lord, there is a certain feel to the air that makes my heart weep' The Chaplin looked into Thomas' eyes, and gave what could only be described as a worn smile. Abruptly thought, Gerfen seemed to change his mood completely and said: ' but I am sure before long, we will be thinking of this as a rather sad memory.'

Thomas was about to reply when he heard the faint sound of horse hooves. He took only a moment to appreciate the noble sights the cavalry made as they cantered into the courtyard, with the sun gleaming behind their backs. The commander reined his horse up before Thomas. Dismounting, he swiftly bowed.

'My lord, the rumours are true. I myself saw it.