The labourers were already at work; their fires and iron braziers were scattered around the site at places where they could warm themselves from time to time and cook their meals. The dull morning rang with the sound of heavy hammers on wood and stone, the creak of wooden wheels, and the braying of donkeys as the timber scaffolding and stacks of cut stone rose slowly higher, and ever higher.

Archbishop Bertrano stood at the broad base of the tower, shouting at one of the masons who gazed down at him from the unfinished wall high above. The mason pointed beyond him into the town square, whereupon the churchman turned and beheld the mounted Templars and their entourage of townsfolk. Hands on hips, he waited for the knights to draw near.

'You again,' he growled. 'I told you I wanted nothing more to do with you.'

'Good morning to you, too, archbishop,' answered de Bracineaux cordially. 'I hope you passed a pleasant night.'

'It is none of your concern,' snapped the archbishop, eyeing the mounted ranks of armed soldiers.

'I myself did not sleep so well,' the commander confessed.

'Guilty conscience, no doubt,' remarked the cleric.

'On the contrary,' said de Bracineaux. 'I could not sleep for thinking how I might prove myself to you.'

'Then you have forfeited a good night's sleep for nothing,' the archbishop told him. 'Be gone, and let me return to my work.'

'And then, as I was at my prayers, the answer came to me,' continued the commander, speaking evenly and slowly so any of the many onlookers who understood Latin might understand. 'The example of Our Lord Christ himself provided the way to verify the truth of my claims/

'That I very much doubt, sir,' sniffed the archbishop. 'More likely it was the Devil you were listening to.'

'Diligent churchman that you are,' the Templar continued, as if he had not heard a word the archbishop said, 'you will certainly recall the incident recorded in the holy text where the Lord Jesu is approached by a centurion of the Roman army.'

Bertrano frowned. Drawn by the crowd and commotion, more people were streaming into the square. 'I know the text,' he said. 'Do not think to instruct me.'

'This Roman soldier, as you will recall,' continued de Bracineaux blithely, 'had a trusted servant for whom he had developed a certain affection.1

'Yes, yes,' snapped the archbishop impatiently. 'I know the story.'

'Do you?' remarked the Templar. 'I wonder.'

'The servant had fallen ill,' said the archbishop, his irritation growing, 'so the Roman sought out the Lord Christ and asked him to heal the man.'

'Indeed, yes,' replied de Bracineaux, smiling, 'the Lord said he would come to his house and perform the necessary healing at once.' He paused, his smile becoming fierce. 'And do you remember what the soldier replied?'

'Of course!' snapped the archbishop. 'Stop this mummery. I see what you are doing.'

'The Roman soldier stood before Jesu and said, "My lord, I would not presume to have you set foot in my house. But just say the word, and my servant will be healed." The Lord marvelled at the man's faith, and the centurion explained; he said, "I myself am -'"

Not to be outdone before his own flock, the archbishop took up the recitation, 'He said, "For I myself am a man under authority, with many soldiers under me. I tell this one 'Go!' and he goes. To another, I say, 'Come here,' and he comes to me. To my servant, I say, 'Do this!' and he does it."' He regarded the Templar shrewdly. 'Am I supposed to be impressed by a small recital of holy writ? Well, then, I am not impressed in the least. Even the Devil can quote scripture – as we all know.'

'My dear archbishop,' coaxed de Bracineaux, 'you miss the point of the lesson. You see, like that centurion, I am a man under authority, with many soldiers under me. Arrayed behind me are but a few of them. I say to this one: come -' he turned and summoned the first soldier from his place behind him, 'and, behold!-He comes.'

The soldier dismounted and ran to the commander's side. 'I say to him: stretch forth your hand!'

The Templar lifted his arm shoulder-high and stretched out his hand. De Bracineaux drew his sword and touched the keen-edged blade to the man's wrist. He then raised the sword high overhead and prepared to strike off the soldier's hand. Without a quiver of fear, the Templar gazed impassively at the archbishop.

'Do you think maiming this unfortunate soldier will sway my opinion in any way?' said Bertrano coldly. 'I tell you it will not.'

The commander slowly lowered the blade. 'Perhaps you are right,' he conceded. 'What is a man's hand when the fate of the most valuable relic in all Christendom even now hangs in the balance?'

Handing the naked blade to Gislebert, he dismounted and stepped before the waiting Templar. 'Have you been shriven?' he asked simply. The man nodded once. 'Then, as your superior in Christ, I command you to kneel before me and stretch out your neck.'

Without hesitation the Templar dropped to his knees and, placing his hands behind him, he lowered his head and stretched out his neck before the commander. Meanwhile, Gislebert, having dismounted, brought his commander's sword; taking his place beside the commander, he held the sword across his palms.

A body of monks from the nearby monastery arrived in the square just then and, seeing what was happening, raced to prevent the impending slaughter. 'Keep them back,' the commander ordered, and six mounted Templars broke ranks and rode to head off the onrushing monks.

Indicating the man kneeling before him, de Bracineaux said, 'As you, a prince of the church, wield power over the priests beneath you, likewise does the commander wield power over those who serve under him. For, I ask you, my lord archbishop: who but the rightful lord holds the power of life and death for those beneath his authority?'

The archbishop glared furiously at the Templar, but held his tongue.

'Very well,' concluded de Bracineaux. 'What I do before you now, I do to prove my authority.'

Taking the sword from Gislebert, he grasped it in both hands and made an elaborate sign of the cross above the kneeling soldier. Then, slowly raising the blade above his head, he cried, 'For the glory of God and his Kingdom!'

The blade hovered in the air, and the archbishop rushed forward like an attacking bull. 'Your authority!' charged the archbishop, his voice ringing in the restless silence of the square. 'Your authority! You wicked and perverse whoreson!'

The blade faltered and halted in its downward stroke. The Templar turned to face the oncoming archbishop.

'For the glory of God?' roared the angry cleric. 'Get thee behind me, thou Satan! It is for your glory, not God's, and I will not stand aside and watch you spill the blood of the innocent for your vain amusement.'

Genuinely taken aback by the indictment, de Bracineaux lowered the sword. 'You accuse me of vanity, priest,' he growled. 'How many men have you killed in the raising of this monument to your vanity?' He waved a hand airily at the curtain wall and tower of the unfinished cathedral.

'It is a temple to the Everlasting God, sir,' replied the archbishop. 'Four men have died, and five hundred have laboured long to establish an altar which will last forever-their lives and labour an honourable sacrifice to the Author and Redeemer of Life.'

The archbishop bent down, raised the kneeling soldier to his feet, and pushed him out of the way before turning on the Templar once more. 'Do not presume to elevate your wicked exercise by comparing it to the exalted and holy obedience of my faithful labourers. I know you for what you are, sir, and I condemn your arrogance and pride.'

De Bracineaux bristled at the cleric's heated accusations. 'Why you bloated old goat,' he said, his voice strangled with rage, 'no man talks to me this way. I am the Master of Jerusalem! Do you hear?'