Part III: John goes to Sintra
One rainy morning in the winter of John’s 17th year, a man arrived at the family estate on horseback.
The man was wearing chainmail and a helmet of steel.
On his armor was very fine, white cloth with a red cross that covered his chest.
He wore on his hip, a long, steel sword in a brown leather sheath.
John’s father left the breakfast table immediately upon hearing of his arrival, and told his family to wait inside.
The man on the horse did not dismount before speaking to John’s father.
They talked for the better part of a half an hour, with grim, serious looks upon their faces.
The knight handed John’s father a scroll of parchment, wrapped in a red ribbon, and sealed with a red, wax stamp.
He rode off into the foggy morning without taking food or drink, as he was rushing to reach his next destination.
John’s father stepped back into his home and removed his soaked tunic and handed it to a manservant.
He took a blanket from the cupboard and went to sit by the fireplace, a noticeable frown on his face.
John and his mother had finished their breakfast porridge already, but John’s fathers’ porridge lay cold on the table.
Johns’ father gazed into the fire, contemplating what the messenger had shared with him.
Hours went by and the rain stopped.
The sun came out and illuminated the family estate, and everything was covered in bejeweled droplets of rainwater. Small rainbows diffracted through the droplets, and the yard was covered in the seven colors.
John knew not to disturb his father, so he went out into the courtyard to practice his swordsmanship.
He was swinging his sword in long fluid motions, trying to be graceful, as his father had taught him to be when handling a sword.
It was meditative for John, but something nagged at his mind.
He had only seen his father upset three or four times in his life, and they were all during extreme moments of grief.
He was halfway through a routine of stabbing and turning, spinning and swinging, when he saw his father standing in the doorway to the courtyard watching him.
His father held the opened parchment in his left hand, and motioned to John to approach him with his right.
When they were a few feet apart, John’s father asked him how his swordsmanship was and how he felt holding the blade.
“It feels like my arm has grown to twice it’s length, and I could cut off the head of a heathen with no sway!” John replied.
His father had a small chuckle and looked down to the ground for a moment.
He looked up, into his son’s eyes, which were blue like his mothers’, blue like the sky.
“You will need that confidence where we are going.” John’s father told him with a serious expression.
“Hopefully you will not need to behead any heathens on our way.”
“What do you mean, Father? ” John asked.
John’s father held up the parchment to his son.
“Do you know who this parchment is from? Did you recognize the Knight’s cross on his chest?” John’s father asked him.
“I know not who sent the parchment, but I do know the insignia of the Knights Templar. Was the knight a member of that blasphemous order? I heard from a manservant that they were all killed by King Philip decades ago,” John said.
“Not all of them. Not all of my brothers were murdered by the pope and his pawns,” John’s father said with a very serious expression.
John was quite surprised his Father had just said those words.
“Your Brothers? Father, are you a knight of that order!?” John said quite loudly.
“Quiet son, quiet…” John’s father said while motioning with his hands to lower their voices.
“You are a knight of the Templar order!?” John said with a whisper.
“Yes son, I am a knight of the temple, and so was your grandfather, and his father, and his father, and his father. Our family was given knighthood by the grace of the order, and you should respect that we are nobles now because your ancestor was a commander in the order during the beginning of the crusades to capture the Holy land.”
John’s father put his arm around his son’s shoulder and began walking towards the forest on the edge of the property.
“You must never speak of what I am about to tell you with anyone, not even your mother, understand?” John’s father said in a whisper with a look of serious contemplation on his forehead.
John nodded in agreement.
They were in the forest by the small creek that ran through the woods, about 100 meters from the river on their property.
“The knights Templar is no longer, we have King Philip to thank for that. In the year 1308, on October the 13th, which was a Friday, the Kings men arrested many of my brothers in France, and all over the kingdoms of Europe.”
“The kings men demanded my brothers hand over the gold and treasures of the order as well as the records and parchments from the vaults, and my brothers refused.”
“They were tortured, boiled in oil, pulled with ropes, cut with one thousand knives, and practically ripped apart in many unholy ways in the kings’ dungeons.”
“The king tried those who he captured, and killed them. He burned them at the stake, and he hung them, and he beheaded them. He killed my brothers after torturing them and holding false trials with no witness, no justice…”
John’s father stopped talking for a few moments, and looked solemnly at the creek.
“Your grandfather was killed at that time. The kings men came to our house and took him away while we supped dinner…”
“I never got the chance to say goodbye. They took him from his own doorstep with no word and no charge. They just took him away from here, and I never spoke to him again.”
“I have never taken you to his grave because even I know not where his body lay.”
John’s father stopped talking for a long while. He looked up at the sky, and listened to the birdsong in the small forest with no leaves on the trees.
John sat on a rock and held a small stick, which he ripped apart, piece-by-piece.
“Father, are you still a knight in the order?” John asked his father.
“Yes son, I am, and you will be someday as well should you decide it is what’s best for you.”
“I thought the order was no longer, just a distant memory,” said John.
“We have a new name now, and our holdings are much smaller, and much more secret than they once were. We are the Order of Jesus Christ, and our kingdom is no longer all across the continent, but mostly in Portugal, and Switzerland,” John’s father said.
“That’s where we’ll be going before the week is out- the kingdom of Portugal.”
John’s father looked at his son sternly and silently, and waited for his response.
John was very excited to hear he would ride with his father to a faraway land!
His imagination ran wild thinking of all the places they would see and the odd people whom he would meet!
A smile crept onto his face, and he looked at his father, who was frowning.
“When do we leave?” John asked his father.
His father smiled when he heard that, and told him that before the next Sunday they had to be on the road.
“It will be very cold in the mountain pass, there may even be snow falling from the sky, so you will need to bring your furs and four more blankets than you think you will need.”
“We will ride alone- just the two of us. No manservant will prepare your bed or start your fire or cook you dinner so you better be prepared- and tough my son. This will be no easy journey.”
“If we make good time, we will ride for three weeks, and if we are slow or get stuck in snow in the mountains than the journey will take double that time. Can you ride for weeks, everyday, with little sleep and no fun and games, my son?”
“Of course, Father. You taught me all I know and you taught me well. I will be ready to ride with you. But, Father, why must we go?” John asked his father.
“My Lord Commander has sent word to all of the knights still in Southern France, that we must report to him at his headquarters in Sintra, and it was asked of us to bring our first-born sons if they are strong enough. You are strong enough.” John’s father replied.
John was quite happy in that moment. He was filled with pride.
“I will speak with your mother later this evening about these matters, and I ask that you do not, is that clear?”
“Yes, Father.”
“It is settled then. Prepare your things and supplies and do not tell your friends where we are going. We ride in four days’ time.”
The next four days felt as if they lasted an age to John.
He was ready to leave the moment his father and him returned to the house from the forest, and was packed and ready to go later that evening.
He spent the next three days practicing with his sword and shooting arrows and eating fine food.
The servants of the house had heard that their masters were leaving for some time, perhaps they would not return until the springtime.
They prepared magnificent feasts that week for their masters.
Roast meats and vegetables every night, and sweet cakes and honey breads every morning.
The servants of the house did love their masters, and were saddened to hear of their mysterious departure.
They knew better than to ask the lord of the house where he and his son were going, so they quietly wondered to themselves about the unknown destination.
John was anxious to be on the road.
This would be his first long ride with his father beyond the horizon of his known world.
He had only heard a few stories of Portugal from the village gossip, and knew little about what he would find there.
He had heard many stories about the Knights Templar and their heroic and mysterious order.
His imagination cast visions of holy knights riding into Jerusalem, killing the heathen Muslim guards and claiming the city from their grasp.
In his minds’ eye, he saw golden light reflecting off the steel armor of the knights, and envisioned them in silent prayer surrounding a cross with Jesus bleeding from his divine wound from the spear thrust through his chest.
He thought of them as guardians of the holy pilgrims to the holy land, and slayer of devils who wore men’s’ clothing and didn’t follow Christ.
He thought about joining such a heroic, holy, and secretive order, and his heart beat furiously at the thought of becoming such a divine protector of the kingdom of Christ.
He wanted to become the Knight in his imagination, and radiate golden light, and slay the wicked, and protect the good in the world.
He already knew that he would ask to join the order before he set out from his home.
On the day of their departure, which was Saturday, the sun was shining on John and his family.
The horses were prepped and ready to go.
Both horses were stallions, one was black with white spots and the other was white with black and brown spots.
They had large bags on either side of the saddle, and skins filled with wine were slung onto their rumps.
John and his father wore brown, simple tunics and brown wool leggings. They wore no armor, but his father had his chainmail packed away with him.
They both wore swords at their hips, but expected the journey to be relatively safe.
No highwaymen or gangs of thieves were known to be on this road for hundreds of years.
As the manservants held the horses, John and his father said goodbye to John’s mother.
They embraced for a long while, and John’s mother cried as she saw her son, almost a man, preparing to leave her home.
“I will always love you, don’t ever forget that.” She told him as they embraced for a final time.
As the embrace ended, John noticed his mother’s eyes, filled with tears, and they reminded him of the color of the sky.
They were blue, and white, and somehow golden at the same time, like the sky in autumn.
John did not know that this would be the last time he would see her for many years.
John and his father mounted their horses, and rode in a few circles on the driveway, checking their gear and inspecting knots that held the saddlebags.
When they were ready, they waved goodbye to John’s mother and the servants who were assembled on the gravel driveway, and started to ride down the road.
When they were at the end of the property, John’s father told him to not look back.
“We’re not going that way.” John’s father said.
They rode for five days and camped for five nights before they arrived at the foot of the mountains.
They bundled their furs on their bodies as they rode up to the mountain pass, and they were certainly needed, as the cold was bitter high up in the mountains.
They rode for three long days in the mountains, not talking much.
It rained and snowed for two of those days, and John and his father were quite uncomfortable.
The horses didn’t like it either, as they were used to warm grass and sunny fields.
John and his father stayed the nights at small inns on the mountain road, and did not get comfortable, as they were in a hurry to be through the mountains.
They ate dried meats, and cheese, and fig jam on bread while they rode.
They drank wine from the skins, and occasionally had a handful of crystal clear mountain river water.
When they finally descended the last hillside, they were quite cheerful to be out of the mountains.
The weather was much warmer on the plain, and the sun was shining for many days, making their camps dry and comfortable.
They traveled through the Spanish countryside on roads patrolled by the king of Aragon’s men.
They kept quiet and did not talk to the soldiers of Aragon.
They were demanded a tax for traveling on the road several times by the soldiers, and John’s father gave them a gold piece, to which they were pleasantly surprised, as the tax was only one silver piece.
The soldiers left them alone, and the ride through Aragon was uneventful and pleasant.
They rode through the kingdom of Castille for ten days, enjoying the sunshine and drinking good Spanish wine.
During this part of the trip, John heard many stories from his father about his youth that he had never heard before.
They laughed regularly, and even shared a few jokes and limericks of the sexual and sensual variety.
They felt like good friends during the ride in the sun, and brothers.
John was captivated by the beauty of the Castilian countryside, and was very happy to see beautiful women with dark brown skin and black hair.
He was reminded of Tania almost every day while in Castile, and figured that she must have been from this land, as every woman he saw had similar features to her.
Every day they would rest for an hour while the sun was high, and slept under trees or next to creeks, and he soon learned that the locals called the practice “having a siesta.”
John and his Father soon arrived at the border with Portugal.
They made good time, and it was at the end of the fourth week of travel that they arrived in Lisboa.
They spent two nights at a large inn in the city, near the Tejo River waterfront, and ate a lot of sardines and bread.
They sat by the fire during the day, and took hot baths in their room, prepared by the innkeeper.
It was a good time, and they were both is high spirits.
The night before their final ride, John’s father asked him if he was prepared to meet the Lord Commander of the Order the next day.
John thought for a moment, and asked his father if he needed to bring anything or do anything special before the meeting.
“No, just be yourself and speak the truth. Say no lies, and speak only what you mean to say. That is important.” John’s father told him,
Early the next morning, they departed Lisboa and began their final ride to Sintra.
John saw that the farmland between Lisboa and Sintra particularly lush and green, and the farms were filled with crops even though it was winter.
He saw several knights on the road that day, all wearing the white tunic with the red cross on their chest, and none of them wore armor.
Upon turning a corner, one knight was riding towards them, wearing the white tunic, with a thick mustache on his face, and called out to John’s father.
“You bastard I thought you were dead!” He yelled at them in Portuguese.
“Son of a bitch is that you Ricardo!” yelled John’s father.
They dismounted and embraced, laughing with big grins on their faces.
“How many years has it been? Almost twenty I reckon!” said the knight with the mustache.
“Almost twenty years I believe…” said John’s father.
“Ricardo, this is my son John. John this is Ricardo, an old friend of mine. We haven’t seen each other since we were lads.”
“Pleased to meet you Senhor Ricardo.” John said with a smile and a small bow of his head.
“Pleased to meet the son of my legendary friend and brother,” Ricardo replied with a small bow.
“I think you are here to meet with the Lord Commander, No?” said Ricardo to John’s father.
“Yes, we were given word four weeks ago that a gathering was being held at the headquarters, and I was told to bring my son.” John’s father said.
“Yes that is right, I will not say more here but I will be in the circle at the gathering. I have no son to bring with me but I am happy you do!” said Ricardo.
“The order will meet in two weeks time from today, so enjoy your time in Sintra. I am sure you had a long ride from France.”
“See you again soon Brother, I am off to Lisbon to meet with a beautiful young lady at a brothel by the waterfront,” Ricardo said with a grin.
“See you again soon Brother,” said John’s father, and they had a short embrace before mounting their horses and riding in different directions.
After a few moments of riding, John and his father could see the Castle of the Moors on top of the Mountain of the Moon.
John found Sintra to be exceptionally beautiful.
The gardens were so colorful and fragrant.
Fruit trees hung heavy with fruit, and the trees were very large and robust.
Thick green moss and ferns covered the ground, and the forest was dense and thick.
They soon arrived at the main square in town, and dismounted their horses.
“That is the kings’ summer palace, and that is the Lord Commanders’ headquarters,” John’s father pointed out to his son.
“I will meet with the Lord Commander in private before you meet him, as he prefers to speak one-on-one when he can. In the meantime, you can wait here with the horses or get a drink at the pub. Do not worry about the horses being taken, because in Sintra, no one steals from a Knight of the Order.”
“ I will meet up with you later tonight, before sundown, and then we will go to our quarters,” John’s father said with a nod before hustling into the Lord Commanders’ house.
John sat on a stone bench for a while, and eventually lay down and pulled a cloth over his eyes, and fell asleep in the sun.
The Fire Within 