On the Trail of Knights of Old

“The lunatic is easily recognized,” Umberto Eco wrote in his mystery novel “Foucault’s Pendulum.” “Sooner or later he brings up the Templars.”

Despite the risk to my sanity and reputation, I resolved to discover firsthand the elusive truth about these fabled knights recruited to protect pilgrims in the Holy Land during the Crusades. Depending on whom you believed, they were also magicians, Satanists, heretics, Druids, alchemists, cosmic architects, Freemasons, even blood descendants of Christ.

I had written one historical novel about the Knights Templar; a second was in progress. Yet I was no nearer to understanding them. Since the history on my pages had turned stale, I decided to climb castles, search tunnels and walk ancient paths.

Although the Templars’ reach extended from Syria to Scotland, I narrowed my quest to north and central France, in the five regions where the order was conceived and exterminated. During my 12-day journey last spring, I logged more than 1,000 miles on an itinerary that roughly circled and led back to Paris.

In Paris I met up with tour guide Peter Gravgaard, a former professor with expertise in medieval history, and two others. We drove 80 miles southeast across poppy-splashed fields to Clairvaux. I wanted to understand why, at the dawn of the 12th century, this rolling Champagne-Ardennes farmland fertilized an idea--the warrior monk--that ultimately would change the world.

Around 1118 a knight of Champagne led eight fellow barons to Jerusalem, where they set up headquarters at the site of the Temple of Solomon. Some believe their true purpose was not to protect pilgrims but to track down and recover precious relics.

The most powerful monk in Europe, Bernard of Clairvaux, who was canonized in 1174, championed the knights’ formation into a new military religious order with unprecedented powers. Recruits would take vows of poverty and chastity and were trained to spill infidel blood. They answered only to the pope. With their long beards, shorn hair and white mantles blazoned with splayed red crosses, the Templars came to be held in awe by both Muslims and Christians.

Only a vaulted cellar and a small section of the church remain of the Cistercian abbey at Clairvaux, where St. Bernard may have conceived the Templar order. To evoke his spirit, detour 120 miles south to the 12th century abbey of Noirlac, near Bourges.

Noirlac’s somber, ascetic stone church and houses, often visited by St. Bernard, are marvelously maintained. The afternoon we arrived, craftsmen in breeches and jerkins were demonstrating ironworks and glass blowing to several hundred spectators during a medieval arts festival.

North of Noirlac is Coulommiers, perhaps the region’s best-preserved Templar commanderie, or regional headquarters. More than 1,000 such compounds, with curtain-walled barracks and round chapels imitating the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem, were built in France during the 200 years of the order’s existence.

As Coulommiers’ high-beamed tithe barn proves, the Templars were as accomplished in agriculture and commerce as they were in war. At its height, the order numbered about 20,000 and held estates in Palestine, the Mediterranean and parts of Europe. With their unique network of storehouses and treasuries, the Templars soon became bankers for pilgrims and monarchs alike.

But their stunning success in garnering wealth contributed to their downfall. King Philip IV of France, who lusted after the Templar gold to finance his wars, connived with Pope Clement V to order the mass arrest of the knights on Oct. 13, 1307, a day now memorialized as Friday the 13th.

Standing in Coulommiers’ echoing chapel, I could envision the unsuspecting Templars kneeling in evening prayer, only to be burst upon by royal henchmen and dragged to prison on charges of sacrilege and heresy. Those who did not die under torture were executed. King Philip did not find the treasure he expected, and some historians have surmised that a few Templars escaped to hide their riches in underground stashes.

One suspected sanctuary is a legendary Templar lair with an alluring name: the Orient Forest, a modern wildlife preserve a few miles west of Troyes.

The next day at dusk, we drove through its isolated 173,000 acres. A Templar could have hidden among its dense pines for years. Now vacationing Parisians find refuge here, boating on the Lake of the Temple and on ponds dug by Templars for fisheries. If I had months to spare and scuba diving skills, I would look for the lost treasure here.

That evening we arrived at Aux Armes de Champagne hotel in L’Epine. After a marvelous dinner of lamb chops in the hotel’s restaurant, I strode across the quiet square to the lovely basilica of Notre Dame de L’Epine. Walking past its pillars, carved in the form of a Celtic cross, I came upon a tantalizing fresco near the altar depicting the Temple of Solomon.

It remains a mystery why this Gothic miniature of the cathedrals in Paris, Amiens and Reims was built in this isolated hamlet during the 15th century, long after the fall of the Templars. Some believe that anonymous Templar relatives completed a plan that placed the Notre Dame cathedrals across France in a pattern to mirror the stars in the constellation Virgo, in honor of the Blessed Virgin.

Our next day’s search led us to the walled hilltop city of Provins, 50 miles southwest of L’Epine. Eco describes Provins as “a magical place, still redolent of secrets.” Some Templars were rumored to have fled into its vast network of tunnels.

Provins is a medieval gem, inexplicably ignored by tourists. Hovering over all is Caesar’s Tower, a donjon whose thick turrets and octagonal shape evoke the traditional Templar design. Some of the walls of the city’s subterranean passages, which are open to the public, still contain occult markings.

In the upper part of town I came upon a sign nearly covered by vines: Rue des Templiers. I knew from experience that street names often provide the best clues for finding Templar remains. Following the alley, I reached an ancient two-story stone building. I peered into the basement and saw vaulting over what looked like a chapel undergoing excavation. Had I stumbled upon a Templar sanctum? A door plaque revealed it to be the residence of a “mason.” But no one was home to ask.

Our group next traveled 98 miles to Vezelay, the launching point for the Crusades. Built upon a crag blessed with curative salt springs, the town of clustered, rust-hued roofs is now starkly serene. As I climbed the cobblestone main street bordered by gift shops and artists’ galleries, I imagined it crowded with Templars, crusaders and pilgrims gathering courage for their dangerous journeys.

Today, Vezelay seems almost ashamed of its pivotal role in the Crusades. An occasional toy sword or crusader statuette sat in store windows, but there was little to remind me of the rabid spirit that once held sway here.

The Basilica of the Magdalene, which crowns Vezelay’s summit, is reputed to be an enchantress of dancing light. But on the day we visited, a ghostly mist enveloped its voluminous Romanesque nave.

Two images of Vezelay will remain with me. The first was a towering statue of St. Bernard at a side entrance to the basilica. Depicted preaching the Second Crusade, the saint thrusts his crucifix like an avenging sword toward heaven. On a single day in 1146, more than 100,000 souls crowded the north hillside to hear him promise eternal salvation in return for regaining Jerusalem from the Muslims.

The basilica’s cool, candle-lighted crypt offered an unexpected antidote to that imagined warlike scene. I descended the uneven stairs and found a white-robed nun frozen in pacific vigil near a reliquary that once held the bones of Mary Magdalene. The nun had knelt there for hours, without padding, on cold flagstones. Here, a few steps apart, were two irreconcilable manifestations of the same faith.

Our trip was fast coming to a close, and I still had not answered the question that most nagged me: What had the Templars discovered in the Holy Land?

The next day the spires of Chartres Cathedral appeared over the horizon. I had been warned that words could not capture this miracle of stone and stained glass. Still, I was breathless upon entering the nave. Perhaps I finally had found my answer, writ large in the language of architecture.

French scholar Louis Charpentier argued that Templar masons applied esoteric geometry learned in the East to create an alchemical vessel of light and space that transformed worshipers. Most of all, I looked forward to walking the legendary labyrinth at the center of Chartres’ nave. But the ancient map for spiritual discovery had been covered by chairs. I welled up with disappointment. Whatever secrets the Templars may have memorialized here, bureaucrats now prevented their revelation.

Two hundred miles north, in Normandy, the round Templar tower of Gisors sits upon a man-made hill. Here and in Chinon in the Loire Valley, the Templars’ last grand master, Jacques de Molay, and other jailed Templars left enigmatic graffiti and carvings. In 1946 a gardener reported finding an underground chapel with chests and odd statuettes, but his claim has never been corroborated.

Any pilgrimage to the memory of the Templars should save Paris as the finale. De Molay and many of his brethren met their grisly end here. Nothing remains of their once proud palace, which stood in the northern Marais district near the modern Square du Temple. The last stones were razed in 1854, and a peaceful garden and lake exist on the spot. Armed with maps, I strolled the cafe-lined Marais and tried to imagine the 14 towers and octagonal church.

I crossed the bridge to the Ile de la Cite and made my way to the most haunting of all Templar sites. At the island’s western apex, Pont Neuf, a plaque marks the spot where, on March 18, 1314, De Molay was burned at the stake. Standing there, I recalled a Latin inscription scrawled on Gisors’ dungeon wall: Tempus Edax Rerum. Time, the devourer of all things. Did De Molay write it? If so, his legacy has disproved his prophecy. Time, it seems, has met its equal. Fascination with the Templars and their mysteries has only grown with the passing centuries.

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Guidebook: Templars’ Tale in France

Getting there: Air France and AirLib fly nonstop from LAX to Paris; connecting service is on American, Delta, United, Continental, US Airways, British Airways, KLM and Lufthansa. AirLib and British Airways currently have sale fares of $299 and $455 respectively (purchase by Jan. 31). Other restricted round-trip fares begin at $646.

Telephones: To call the numbers below from the U.S., dial 011 (international dialing code), 33 (country code for France) and the local number.

Tours: I traveled with Plantagenet Tours, which is offering a “Templars and Cathedrals Tour to Medieval France” from May 27 to June 10; 85 The Grove, Moordown, Bournemouth BH9 2TY, England; tel./fax 011-44-1202-521-895, www.plantagenettours.com. Cost is $3,375 per person, double occupancy; single supplement $420.

Where to stay: Aux Armes de Champagne in L’Epine offers views of the cathedral; 51460 Place de la Basilique; 3-2669-3030, fax 3-2669-3026, www.aux-armes-de-champagne.com. Rooms $81-$135.

In Provins is a converted farmhouse, La Ferme du Chatel, 5 Rue de la Chapelle-St. Jean; 1-6400-1073, fax 1-6400-1099, www.provins.net/private/Fhebergement.htm. Doubles from $41.

In Vezelay, the Hotel de la Poste et du Lion d’Or overlooks the historic vineyards of Burgundy. Place du Champ de Foire; 3-8633-2123, fax 3-8632-3092. Doubles $59-$73.

In Pont de l’Arche, the Hotel de la Tour is a good launching point for Gisors and Rouen, and it overlooks the site where several Templars were burned. 41 Quai Foch; 2-3523-0099, fax 2-3523-4622. Doubles from $47.

In Paris’ Marais district, the Hotel de la Bretonnerie has a medieval flavor. 22 Rue Sainte-Croix de la Bretonnerie; 1-4887-7763, fax 1-4277-2678, www.bretonnerie.com. Doubles from $97.

Where to eat: In L’Epine, Aux Armes de Champagne is outstanding. Entrees from $25.

In Provins, La Boudiniere des Marais provides traditional French meals. 17 Rue Hugues-le-Grand; 1-6067-6489. Entrees from $10.

L’Esperance in St.-Pere-sous-Vezelay is renowned for its modern French cuisine; 3-8633-3910, fax 3-8633-2615. Entrees $44-$85.

In Paris, try Auberge Nicolas Flamel, 51 Rue Montmorency; 1-4271-7778. Entrees from $30.

For more information: French Government Tourist Office, 9454 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 715, Beverly Hills, CA 90212-2967; (310) 271-6665 or (410) 286-8310 (France-on-Call hotline), fax (310) 276-2835, www.francetourism.com.

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Glen Craney, a screenwriter and novelist, lives in Malibu.