Greetings and apologies yet again for the erratic uploading. Life continues to be very hectic as I live in the midst of a building site. I discovered to my cost last week that I really cannot write when a few feet away there are the sounds of electric saws, hammering, music and chatter. I've learned that whilst I don't always write in absolute silence, I obviously have a limit to my noise tolerance! (lol)

As I've made you wait again, you have a double length chapter here. I just hope I've got rid of all the errors now.

Willoughby has a lot of information for Athos!

CHAPTER 15

Fitzwilliam knew nothing more and Athos, intrigued and more than a little perturbed, resumed his position beside the Englishman and glanced across at the intelligencer. This time, as if he knew he had been the subject of their conversation, Willoughby looked directly at the Musketeer and gave a barely perceptible nod.

Dinner was announced and the guests moved into the hall to take up their places at the long table that ran down the centre of the space. At its furthest end was another table almost as long as and at right angles to the first; it was reserved for the Earl, Tanquerel, the Dean and other high-ranking guests. Without hesitation, Fitzwilliam led the French soldiers to the bottom of the table, as far removed from Suffolk as was possible.

"Athos, leave the seat free at the end, then you sit. Aramis and Porthos, you seat yourselves opposite," Fitzwilliam instructed as he took the place to Athos' left.

They had just settled when a figure appeared by them and spoke in flawless French. "May I join you, gentlemen?"

Athos looked up into a face that exuded calm and indicated the vacant place beside him.

"I presume Fitzwilliam has told you who I am, but you have me at a disadvantage," the intelligencer said, opening the conversation once he had taken his seat.

Porthos, puzzled, shook his head emphatically, not knowing anything of the newcomer as Athos had not had the opportunity to explain.

"This is Thomas Willoughby," Athos told his brothers. "He wishes to speak with me." He turned to the young Englishman who must have been of a similar age to d'Artagnan. The unexpected thought brought a stab of concern to him as he wondered if his friend were recovering well back in Paris. "I am Athos of the King's Musketeers, and these are my brothers, Aramis and Porthos."

Willoughby nodded a greeting to each of them. "Athos, you are in command here?"

"I am, but we work as a close unit. You may speak freely; it saves me from having to repeat what you tell me."

"I hope that the information is two-way," Willoughby responded as a file of servants entered and proceeded to set platters down the centre of the table in front of the guests.

Aramis' eyes narrowed as he absorbed the potential significance of what was unfolding whilst Porthos began to heap a choice of meats and vegetables upon his plate and eyed the tray of steaming pies.

"Take one," Fitzwilliam urged. "It contains a fine venison stew."

"A whole one?" Porthos could not quite believe what he was hearing.

"Of course," the Englishman grinned. "You eat the contents and leave the coffin."

All three Frenchmen looked confused.

"The pastry outer," Fitzwilliam explained.

"If it's as good as it looks, that'd be a waste," Porthos said, wincing at the thought of deliberately leaving food. He could never forget growing up in abject poverty in Paris' Court of Miracles, where he was never sure when or where his next meal was coming from; every morsel found or stolen was too precious to be wantonly discarded.

"If you don't leave it, you will have no room for the next two courses."

"Two?" Porthos' eyes widened in delight at the prospect.

"The second is poultry and fish whilst the third will be the sweets: cake, marchepane and other confections.

Aramis chuckled softly at Porthos' reaction as the big man breathed 'a banquet!" The pair had stood guard at many such occasions within the palace but had never had the opportunity to experience such rich fare for themselves.

Athos took a deep breath and wondered how he might cope with the food that was set before them. His stomach had still not settled, yet he knew he needed to eat something, if only to keep Aramis happy for he could feel his brother's eyes upon him.

"We will attempt to reciprocate," Athos went on in response to Willoughby's comment, "but it depends upon what it is that you have to tell me first."

"What do you know of the de Ricart family and Hubert in particular?" the intelligencer asked.

Athos frowned. "Is it wise to speak openly at a table when so close to others? Do they know what your work is?"

Willoughby leaned forward so that he could see who was sitting on the other side of Fitzwilliam and the Frenchmen.

"It is perfectly safe," he assured them. "The men closest to us do not understand French and few here are aware of what it is that I do for the King. It is less conspicuous if we exchange apparently relaxed conversation over the meal than try to slip away from proceedings to speak elsewhere. Our absence would be noted, not least by your emissary."

There was no missing the disdain in Willoughby's voice when he mentioned Tanquerel and Athos' heart leaped when he thought he might be about to hear the proof he needed against the man.

Athos quickly explained what they knew, before concluding, "It is woefully little, I know."

"Do not worry. I am not surprised that you have been so ill-prepared for this venture. Those that desire possession of the reliquary would prefer others not to know of its possible significance."

"And what would be that significance?" Athos asked casually as he helped himself to one slice of beef and another of some dark fleshed game in a rich sauce that he thought might be pheasant.

"Hubert owned the title and estate in Normandy in the late thirteenth century and stood aside for his brother Guiscard in order to become a Templar Knight," Willoughby began.

Porthos gave a low whistle of surprise as Athos and Aramis both frowned for none of them had anticipated this piece of information.

"You did not know he was in the Templars?" Willoughby asked on seeing their reaction.

Athos shook his head. "We know nothing of de Ricart's past at all, save for him coming to England, founding a religious house, and being canonised after his death. His bones went missing some hundred years ago during the dissolution off the monasteries ordered by Cromwell on behalf of Henry Tudor and then some remains were discovered recently. It is at your Queen's request that they are being returned to France."

"And that's it," Willoughby said flatly. "You have been kept in the dark."

Athos was painfully aware of that by now. As he picked at the food before him and sipped the wine, his head ached and he was desperately tired, all of which did little to still his rising temper.

"So you know nothing of the supposed link between de Ricart and the Templar treasure?" Willoughby continued.

"Treasure? What treasure?" Porthos' interest was piqued.

"The treasure amassed by the Templars that mysteriously disappeared when the order was disbanded by the Pope over three hundred years ago," Athos explained.

"You know the Order's history?" the intelligencer asked.

"Not much more," Athos admitted, "apart from the fact that many relocated to France when their base was lost in the Holy Land, but that sanctuary was short-lived."

Porthos shook his head. "I don't understand any o' this."

"Have you heard of the Templars at all?" Aramis said quietly, conscious of how frustrated Porthos could become when his lack of knowledge on some issues came to the fore.

"I've heard of 'em. They were some sort of warrior monks, weren't they? They were Christians who fought in the Crusades."

Aramis nodded, "Then you have the gist of it, my friend."

"So where does de Ricart fit into all this?" Porthos said.

"To make it clear, I need to give you some of the background," and Willoughby looked to Athos as if seeking permission to continue.

"Go on," the Musketeer urged.

Willoughby took a deep breath and launched into his tale.

"Hubert was just twenty when his father prematurely died, leaving him the title and estate in Normandy, but it was not what he wanted. He felt he had another calling, and less than three years later, he gave it all up to his younger brother and headed off to seek acceptance into the Templar Order. He must have been very impressive to be admitted at such a tender age."

Tender age indeed, Athos could not help thinking, for the intelligencer could not have been any older himself. He wondered how long the young Englishman had wielded such responsibility and trust in the employment of the King. It also did not escape his notice that there were similarities between his own life and that of the Templar, such as when they both inherited their titles and land, and the fact that they both walked away from their privileged lives to pursue military careers. One stark difference, though, was that he no longer had a younger brother to whom he could leave the estate.

"I have delved into as many records as I can, both here and in France, but there are, understandably, gaps where documentation has gone missing or been destroyed. I know that, aged twenty-eight, he was injured during the siege of Acre in 1291, the same attack that killed William of Beaujeu, Grand Master of the Templars.

"Acre had become the capital of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, after the city of Jerusalem had been lost to Saladin over a century before. It was a major trading hub and crucial to the Crusader presence in the region, their last stronghold, but it became the target of an attack by the Mamluk Sultanate who had taken Tripoli a couple of years before.

"The Mamluks, descended from warrior slaves, were fearsome aggressors and they began a relentless, co-ordinated siege. As many citizens as possible left the city from the harbour as the Crusaders, who included the Knights Hospitallers, Teutonic and Templar knights bravely defended the city. The Templars were in the south-west of the city and fought to the death."

"So how did de Ricart survive?" Porthos asked.

"His injuries were such that he and presumably other wounded Templars were put on vessels before their brothers were over-run." He paused. "It is thought that was when the treasure that they had amassed over decades was also moved." He gave a wry grin. "God's warriors were also astute businessmen and financiers. Even now, there are those who believe that it is still in the Holy Land, hidden in tunnels and caves dug by the Templars themselves. Others think that it is secreted across Europe as the Knights headed westwards via a new base they established in Cyprus. Many others are convinced that it was divided up between Templar Knights who became custodians of the treasure wherever they settled."

"And de Ricart is thought to be one of these custodians," Athos suddenly added, seeing where the story was heading.

Willoughby nodded in agreement. "Never proven, of course. Such information was never put in writing - or so we have been led to believe – and those details were only shared orally with the chosen few in subsequent generations. The Templars mainly headed to France where they began to experience persecution." His gaze swept from one Musketeer to another. "Forgive me if you know what I am going to say next and I mean no offence, but it is what I have read."

"Say what you have to," Aramis encouraged him.

"Your King, Philip IV, had bankrupted the country with his wars and was fully aware of the Templar wealth. He needed money and turned first to the Catholic church. I have seen reports that suggest he was responsible for the deaths of two popes before having his own man installed – Pope Clement V. Philip gave him influence and power over the church and even moved the papacy from Rome to Avignon."

Athos looked to Aramis for confirmation of this, but his brother merely gave a slight shrug for he was not acquainted with the entire history and machinations of the church. It took all their time and effort to deal with the current Cardinal's intrigues and that was only the ones they knew about!

"When Philip was not getting the full financial support he expected, he turned his attention to the Jews, having them all arrested in a single day and their property and monies seized before banishing them from France. The next step was the Templars and appropriating their wealth.

"Philip invited Grand Master de Molay to his sister-in-law's funeral but on Friday the thirteenth of October, 1307, he ordered the arrest of all known Templars in France on the charge of heresy. Over fifty were declared guilty and burned at the stake, including de Molay.

"We know that de Ricart escaped to England and, along with others, enjoyed relative safety for about four months but Philip and Pope Clement put pressure on our King Edward so that he was obliged to make a few paltry arrests, including Hubert. Most were forced to admit to heresy but, officially, they were reconciled to the church and released. Many of them entered conventional monastic orders."

"Including Hubert?" Aramis added.

"Yes," Willoughby continued. "He became a Cistercian monk where he remained until 1322 when, at the age of sixty, he founded another house about twenty miles away. He was abbot there until his death in 1334. In all that time, he has established a reputation as a fair and Godly man, intent on helping the poor. It was later that century when he was declared a saint."

"Did he use Templar treasure to establish the house?" Athos suddenly asked.

"I can find no evidence of that. He had nothing when he arrived in England or when he was arrested so I don't see how or where he could have hidden it for later collection. Sadly, monastic records were destroyed but I did find a report amongst Cromwell's papers that said some wealthy benefactors had contributed to establishing the house."

Athos was thoughtful. "Any anonymous ones that might have been Hubert himself using his own resources?"

"None that I could discover," Willloughby sighed, "but it is not impossible."

"Your investigations have been thorough," Athos said, impressed by the younger man, "especially if your work brought you to France as well."

"I thank you, but my efforts have not all been successful. There are two years in France that are unaccounted for in terms of where Hubert was. He arrived from the Holy Land in 1293 and was involved in the setting up of at least two Templar bases in the country. His name appears on some legal documents, so it is clear that he was climbing the ranks within the Order but then, suddenly, he disappeared. I cannot find anything for over a year prior to his fleeing to England."

"That gives 'im a lot of time to go movin' some treasure," Porthos said, spooning the last of his stew out of its pastry casing and sitting back with a contented sigh.

"Did he return to Normandy?" Aramis wanted to know.

"It's the logical explanation but if he did, the family kept very quiet about it. Again, there is nothing on paper."

Athos turned his head, his eyes meeting Willoughby's. "But you think it is possible."

"Anything is possible, especially when there is so much apparent interest in the reliquary amongst his descendants."

"But what interest, other than gold and precious stones?" Athos asked.

"Isn't the value enough reason for interest?" Porthos insisted.

"Not if there's more at stake," Willoughby said with a knowing smile. "You haven't had the opportunity to look closely at the reliquary yet, but it has some interesting and elaborate etchings in its surface."

Athos frowned, his headache forgotten and his mind racing. "Have you seen it?"

"Only briefly so I have been unable to study it in detail, but I saw enough to recognise some Templar symbols," the young Englishman answered.

"Let me guess," Athos began slowly as an extraordinary idea came to mind. "The etchings are thought to be clues as to the location of the treasure."

"Exactly so," Willoughby replied, dark eyes gleaming with amusement at the Musketeer's accurate assessment

"But the current estate owner has sold the reliquary to Louis for the King to add to his collection of religious artefacts," Aramis said. "Does he not know of the possibility of it leading to more wealth?"

"Would it be 'is if 'e found it?" Porthos asked. "It didn't belong to the family to start with."

All light-heartedness drained from the intelligencer. "I heard that Philippe de Ricart did not put much credence on the story that has grown up around his ancestor and the Templar treasure; he obviously thinks that selling it is the only way to acquire some financial benefit."

"But what of the bones?" Aramis wanted to know. "Tanquerel's comment about them being retained by the family and buried on the estate is news to us. We thought it was going straight to the King's collection."

"Perhaps your monarch does not desire the bones as well and is therefore happy to release them for burial."

"Or Tanquerel made the statement for appearance's sake," Athos cut in. "Perhaps he thought it inappropriate if it were known that Louis was going to possess the bones as well and have the reliquary on display."

"Well, if de Ricart does not want the reliquary, perhaps he does not really want its contents either," Willoughby added. "How can he – or anyone for that matter – determine that these really are Hubert's remains?"

"You suspect that they are not?" Athos had not expected to hear his long-held doubts spoken aloud and by someone else.

Willoughby waited as a servant paused, refilled their goblets with red wine and moved on. "Let us be realistic; we have no way of knowing for certain. We have the reliquary which bears Hubert's name and the fact that it was discovered quite by accident buried within another plain, wooden box less than two miles from the ruins of his monastery."

"There was nothin' else with it?" Porthos said, momentarily distracted as his plate was removed by another servant and replaced with a clean one.

"No," Willoughby answered, "and there is the question as to what really happened to de Ricart's remains."

"What do you mean? If Cromwell's men disturbed his final resting place, it's more than likely that bones were lost at the time or mixed up with others and these are the only ones thought to actually belong to Ricart," Aramis reasoned.

"Or is that what we are supposed to think?" Willoughby continued cryptically. "Something is not right here. Cromwell's men desecrated a tomb that was of a size to house an entire corpse put there and left, apparently undisturbed, shortly after death, not a few paltry bones."

"And if the tomb were ransacked and this was within it, it would have been seized as a worthy prize," Athos stated.

"Or added to Henry's coffers," Fitzwilliam offered.

"So are you thinkin' this was buried with Hubert an' removed before the tomb was destroyed an' a few odd bits of bone were put in it?" Porthos said, his attention turning to the steaming plates of fish and poultry that were being added to the table. He put a little of both on a plate, such a paltry helping that Aramis eyed him oddly, but then he handed the plate to Athos. "Try an' eat some of that."

"Was the food not to your liking?" Fitzwilliam asked, having seen a servant already remove the half-filled plate from the first course.

"I apologise. The food is excellent; it is my appetite that is wanting," Athos replied, taking a mouthful of wine instead.

Aramis smiled at Fitzwilliam. "Unfortunately, Athos did not have a comfortable crossing."

"Ah," the Englishman grinned and clapped Athos on the shoulder with a heavy hand. "I sympathise. The Channel has a cruel way with her when she is unhappy, and I have seen many a strong man felled by the effect of her unforgiving waves."

"Granted," Aramis admitted and then glared at his friend, " and this 'strong man' needs to remember that he has a return journey tomorrow. You might not be interested in food, brother, but you would do well to get something inside your stomach tonight besides wine."

Athos was not going to permit the conversation to dwell on his humiliating sea sickness and deliberately ignored Aramis by physically turning in his seat towards Willoughby.

"Is that what you're thinking?"

"It is but it begs the question as to what was buried in the box – for it would not have been a reliquary then – and what has happened to it since." Willoughby turned his attention to filling his plate and the group of men ate in silence for a few minutes, contemplating what they had heard.

Something stirred in Athos' memory.

"It might have contained a document." Four pairs of eyes settled on him. "We collected documents from de Ricart's estate," and when Willoughby raised a questioning eyebrow, Athos launched into his own account of the Musketeers' journey to near Falaise and the attack on the group that saw d'Artagnan injured.

"When I delivered them to the palace, it transpired that one was a letter declaring that Louis was the new owner of the reliquary and at least one other document that was much older and written in Latin."

"Latin? Do you know what it was about?" In poorly veiled excitement, Willoughby leaned forward in his chair.

Athos shook his head. "It was not for any of us to open the documents, but when I accompanied our Captain to the palace and handed them over, Richelieu kept the original and had it copied for Tanquerel to bring with …" He suddenly stopped.

"What is it? What's the matter?" Aramis asked, knowing immediately from the way Athos stiffened that something was amiss.

" Tanquerel said something that I thought was odd at the time but then, with everything that has happened since, I had forgotten about it." He looked around at the expectant faces that were focused upon him. "He insisted that when the Cardinal had it copied, it was done so exactly, even down to any crossings out."

The five men looked at each other.

"Do you think it could have anything to do with the treasure?" Fitzwilliam said softly. "Hubert did not want anyone to know and so he had the evidence buried with him?"

"Someone must have known to remove the box from the tomb when the monasteries first came under threat in order to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands," Willoughby surmised.

"An' we come to a dead end," Porthos groaned. "'Ow are we supposed to find out after all this time who took it and where it is now."

"I do not know about who took it, but we have an idea as to where it is now," Athos added. "Tanquerel was intent upon having a copy and must be carrying it with him. It was not, as he claimed, necessary at all for the exchange."

Aramis frowned. "He wanted time on the return journey to study the document in conjunction with the symbols on the reliquary, thereby having an advantage in working out where the treasure may be before …" His voice trailed off.

"Before Richelieu receives it and does the same," Athos finished for him.

"You think Louis an' the Cardinal 'ave known about this Templar treasure all along?" Porthos asked.

Athos sighed. "I do not know what to think. It could be totally circumstantial. The English have made a genuine offer to return the Saint's bones and Louis has accepted them, not knowing what other secrets might be involved."

"So let me see if I have this right," Aramis said. "Henrietta Maria makes this gesture of returning the discovered Saint's bones to his homeland. She sends them to her brother Louis, and he just happens to want to add it to his collection of religious artefacts and therefore pays the current descendants for that privilege. Yet the box could contain vital clues as to an even greater wealth, but Philippe de Ricart isn't interested, although we know his cousin definitely is, so we can assume he knows all about its importance.

"We can hope that Louis is ignorant of all this but we're not sure about Richelieu, especially as he employs Tanquerel, and we know Athos hasn't trusted him from the start. But what does this Sir Roger have to do with things if he is the one who has been following us? And who is Tanquerel really working for if he did know about the men following us?"

"You were followed?" Willoughby looked concerned so Athos gave the intelligencer a succinct account of what had happened on the return journey from Falaise and all that they had experienced on their way to England, including admitting his misgivings about Tanquerel.

Willoughby's hands tightened into clenched fists. "I have been tasked by His Majesty to watch Sir Roger Chesman for some time now. I had occasion to follow him to France three months ago and I witnessed him meeting with your Tanquerel, which is why I am not having this discussion with him." His face creased into a smile. "His Majesty said I could trust his brother-in-law's Musketeers though. Anyway, Chesman disappeared less than three weeks ago, and I now know, from what you have just said, that he was back in France and following you in recent days. He may even have been involved in the attack on your group."

"But that still does not explain who he is and how he has an interest in the reliquary," Aramis persisted.

"Oh but it does." Willoughby was serious again. "Sir Roger Chesman has de Ricart blood through his maternal grandmother and what's more, when I went through documents relating to the dissolution of the monasteries, I found and read the papers relating to de Ricart's foundation and a list of those clerics not acceding to the Oath of Supremacy. One of them was a Tanquerel."

A/N

At this point, I will confess that Thomas Willoughby is the protagonist in my book and I have had fun introducing him here. This is five years on from when the reader will first meet him so I have had to think about how he will have developed. Here, he is far more confident and comfortable in his role.