The Grail Murders

husband's name was Mortimer?' Lady Beatrice nodded. 'He came of a crusading line which has held the manor of Templecombe since time immemorial?' Again the nod.
    'And the Mortimer family motto is "Age Circumspecte" is it not?' Benjamin glanced at me. 'Shallot discovered that in the Book of Legends at Glastonbury Abbey.' 'Yes,' she whispered. 'What's that got to do with us?' Mandeville interrupted. 'Was your husband a member of the Templars?' Lady Beatrice's eyes, glassy with fright, stared down the hall.
    'I think he was,' Benjamin continued, whispering in her ear. 'When the Templars were dissolved some two hundred years ago, some escaped, assumed other identities, married and settled down. Your husband's ancestor was one of these. Nevertheless, the Templars continued meeting in secret, each coven acting like a small community, the mysteries of the Order being passed from one generation to another.' He moved slightly and rested a hand lightly on Rachel's shoulder. 'You were given these mysteries, weren't you, Rachel?'
    Do you know, the girl just smiled and played with the ring on her finger.
    'You are a Templar, aren't you?' Benjamin whispered. 'Your father passed the secrets on to you. In time you would have married and passed the mystery on to your first born. For generations,' Benjamin's voice rose, 'the lords of Templecombe have been members of the secret Templar organisation.' He paused. 'Oh no, not you, Sir John, nor Lady Beatrice, but I think you both had your suspicions.'
    'Impossible!' Mandeville shouted. 'She is a mere chit of a girl.'
    'She's eighteen summers old,' Benjamin retorted. 'And if you remain quiet, Sir Edmund, I will tell you what happened.'
    He went round the table, stepped off the dais and stood looking at all of us. Santerre and his wife were like waxen effigies but Rachel, her face slightly flushed, leaned forward as if without a care in the world.
    The Lords of Templecombe,' Benjamin began, 'were always Templars. They kept the Order's secrets and in dark covens met their helpers, probably in the sombre house on that Godforsaken island. Now in the main these Templars lay sleeping like seeds planted in the soil, though sometimes they would burgeon, quickening into life, particularly in any uprising or rebellion against our Tudor masters. Nevertheless, they were content to sit, watch and wait. Hopkins was one of these, though deranged in his wits.'
    Benjamin paused to collect his thoughts. "The Templars always coveted the great relics, the Grail and Arthur's Sword, Excalibur, but these remained hidden. They were content with that, provided no one else discovered them.' Benjamin stared at Mandeville. 'Hopkins began the drama. He had a passion for the relics and believed their discovery would strengthen the Order. My Lord of Buckingham, also a Templar, was drawn into the mystery. He received a message from Hopkins and came to Templecombe but then blundered into the trap My Lord Cardinal had laid for him. Hopkins and Buckingham were killed.' Benjamin glanced at Rachel. 'But I suspect the Templars have a code. No one strikes at their interests and walks away unharmed. Moreover, there was a greater danger: His Grace the King was now interested in these relics and was insisting on a thorough search for them. So the Templars struck.' Mandeville tapped the top of the table with his knuckles. 'You say Buckingham was a Templar?'
    Benjamin smiled thinly. 'Oh, come, Sir Edmund, he could have been a Cardinal of Rome and his fate would have been the same. Don't play games. Buckingham was baited, trapped and killed because my uncle hated him and because he had royal blood in his veins.' Benjamin glared at him. 'Hopkins was a traitor, perhaps deserved his death, but Buckingham was innocent. His death was murder made legal.' 'I will tell My Lord Cardinal your words!'
    Benjamin shrugged. 'Do so and dear Uncle will simply laugh and put it down to my youthful impetuosity. I only say what thousands think.'
    Mandeville glared down the table at Rachel who sat, hands joined, like some novice at prayer. She seemed fascinated by Benjamin as if he was telling some mysterious tale on a cold winter's night and she was a spectator, not a party to it.
    'I cannot believe,' Mandeville jibed, 'that this girl garrotted two experienced agents, Calcraft and Warnham.'
    'Oh come, Sir Edmund,' Benjamin replied. 'I have heard how in Spain there are beggar children so skilled with the garrotte they can kill a fully grown man in a