The Knights Templar, shrouded in both reverence and suspicion, have long been a subject of intrigue. While the accusations of Satanism are among the most dramatic charges levied against them, claims of treachery and betrayal have also left an indelible mark on their legacy.
By Steve Tibble
Satanism was dramatic, but it was not the only accusation made against the order, nor was it the only basis of the ‘Templar myth.’ Another charge, more vague but more easily recognised, was that of aiding and abetting the enemy.
This was ostensibly one of the most plausible areas in which to attack the order. The underlying idea was that the Templars had become so immersed in the politics of the Middle East that they conspired with the local Muslim authorities to further their own interests at the expense of Christendom as a whole—that the order had lost its way and somehow become ‘traitors to Christendom.’
Traitors to Christendom?
The origins of this claim date back to the middle of the twelfth century, not long after the full militarisation of the order. There were always tensions between those who visited the Holy Land as crusaders and those westerners who lived there. The latter, frequently of mixed backgrounds, were often dismissively referred to by crusaders as ‘pulani.’
Crusaders came seeking action and glory. Western settlers, on the other hand, had a far better understanding of the local situation. They were often more measured and cautious in their approach—they knew what was realistic and what might lead to disaster. As a result, they were often seen as cowardly and ‘effeminate’ by their comrades from the West. Similarly, crusaders were essentially military tourists, and like all tourists, they occasionally behaved extremely badly. When they left, the local Franks had to pick up the pieces and face the prospect of retaliation.
Under these circumstances, relations between the two groups were often difficult. This was particularly true when things went wrong and a scapegoat needed to be found. The Templars, as the military elite of the Crusader States, were often caught in the middle of such tensions. Although they had a provincial network back in Europe, they were fully embedded within the military and political life of the Middle East. They even had their own extensive networks of spies and diplomatic contacts.
Under normal circumstances, this was a great advantage for the crusader states. When campaigns began to unravel, however, as was frequently the case with the outnumbered crusader armies, they often took the blame. It was easy to throw accusations at the all-too-fully acclimatised Templars and their suspiciously sophisticated relationships with the local Muslim states.
As the siege of Damascus ground to a potentially disastrous conclusion in 1148, for instance, the Templars and the local nobility worked hard to extricate the crusader army from a situation in which they faced almost certain annihilation. Gratitude for their actions, however, came only in the form of outlandish accusations of treachery. The face-saving device of choice for a failed expedition to the Holy Land was to return home and blame the Templars and the local ‘pulani’ for their perfidy.
Siege of Damascus, miniature by Jean Colombe from Sébastien Mamerot’s book “Passages d’outremer” (1474)
Having a sophisticated approach to dealing with the enemy did not always endear the Templars to bluff military visitors—men profoundly unencumbered by any insight into the nuances of eastern politics or warfare. But the claims of grand ‘treachery’ made against the order are relatively easily countered.
Muslim sources inevitably revelled in any act that revealed signs of Christian disunity. They were quick to boast of instances of treachery or apostasy. With the Templars, however, there were no such stories. Far from being seen as collaborators by their enemies, thirteenth-century Muslim historians used the word ‘Templar’ as a touchstone for loyalty and fanatical military excellence. When the Mamluks defeated the crusader armies of King Louis IX, the victors were described as being so fierce that they could be called the ‘Templars of Islam’ (‘Dawiyat al-Islam’).
The reputation of the military orders in Muslim chronicles was that of being strong and consistent in their fighting capabilities. In their eyes, the Templars were the foremost enemies of Islam, soldiers in charge of the most threatening castles, and men to be butchered when captured. Visiting crusaders may have sought solace for their failures, but the Muslim enemy knew exactly who their most dangerous and incorruptible foes were.
Insidious Claims of Treachery
One of the criticisms levelled against the Templars in England was that their leaders had deliberately sent awkward men overseas to die—men who did not want to become part of a satanic cult, for instance, but who were presumably too shy to mention it to their friends and relatives. The accusations were made by four witnesses, but it is telling that these extraordinary charges were only made by non-Templars, and it is clear that these accusers suffered from a fundamental (and possibly wilful) misunderstanding of the nature of the order.
One of the witnesses, a Carmelite friar named Robert of Maidenesford, said he had been told by a servant, who remained conveniently anonymous, that because a brother ‘did not agree to their cursed profession, he was sent secretly to overseas regions and there was killed by those to whom he was sent.’ But Robert was no ordinary cleric—he was clearly a disreputable character and was later outlawed in Towcester for his role in a murder conspiracy. The imaginative Carmelite was allegedly party to a plot to burn a man to death in an oven.
Two jealous Dominican friars testified that troublesome British Templars were given sealed letters to take out to the East. Highly dramatically, the contents of these letters were later found to include instructions that the recipient should kill the bearer. But this hearsay was just a variation on an old trope, common in medieval romantic literature. It eventually found a suitably dramatic and equally factual home in Shakespeare’s Hamlet.
Finally, a Franciscan friar from London, John of Bercia, made a similar accusation. He claimed that he ‘knew a certain knight called Walter le Sauvage of the household of the late Earl Warenne [John de Warenne, who died in 1304] …who, having entered the Order of the Templars, was banished and carried away so far within two years that neither the Earl, although he inquired, nor his other friends could find what had been done with him.’
A Lack of Evidence
Evidentially, this was extremely slim pickings. But there were two germs of truth that may have led to such tales being circulated.
Some British criminals had indeed been sent out to the East as part of their punishment or penance—but this was not specific to the Templars and does not seem to be what the order was accused of at the trials. And it is certainly true that the fate of some of the brothers who had gone to the Holy Land on active service remained unknown.
Across such distances and in an era of rudimentary communication, this was inevitable. Men who were taken prisoner might be executed, sold into slavery, or languish in captivity for decades. In the absence of any equivalent of the Red Cross, they might, from a practical perspective, just ‘disappear.’ This must have been extremely painful for the men’s families. Their grief and resentment are entirely understandable.
But the nature of these witnesses is telling. As far as we know, none of them had ever set foot in the East, and their accounts were based on rumours and hearsay. Significantly, those warriors who had fought alongside the Templars in the Holy Land and who would have been able to provide credible testimony against the order were absent. Veteran crusaders or men such as their arch-rivals, the Hospitallers, refused to do so.
Of course, British Templars were sent abroad, very possibly to die in defence of Christendom—that is, after all, what they had signed up to do. Far from being a ‘crime,’ maintaining the flow of reinforcements to the Holy Land was a major part of the function of the western provinces of the order. The need for such reinforcements was unremitting.
The levels of overseas service are hard to determine, but it is certainly not surprising that many men did not return. Most brothers were not questioned about it during their interrogation and did not spontaneously raise it as a subject. Of the 27 Templars across Western Europe who did mention it, however, almost all had served abroad, perhaps indicating, unsurprisingly for a military order, that being transferred to the East was commonplace.
Many British Templars died in the East. Each death was a tragedy for them and their families—but they were volunteers, and that was their job. The British houses were entirely correct to send their men to the crusader states to help fill the ranks. The fact that eccentric accusations such as this were made at all, and ostensibly taken seriously, shows the depths to which their inquisitors were reduced.
In the absence of real evidence or real crimes, they were just scraping the barrel.
Dr Steve Tibble is a graduate of Jesus College, Cambridge and London University. He is an Honorary Research Associate at Royal Holloway College, University of London. Steve is a leading authority on warfare and violence in the crusading era.
The Knights Templar, shrouded in both reverence and suspicion, have long been a subject of intrigue. While the accusations of Satanism are among the most dramatic charges levied against them, claims of treachery and betrayal have also left an indelible mark on their legacy.
By Steve Tibble
Satanism was dramatic, but it was not the only accusation made against the order, nor was it the only basis of the ‘Templar myth.’ Another charge, more vague but more easily recognised, was that of aiding and abetting the enemy.
This was ostensibly one of the most plausible areas in which to attack the order. The underlying idea was that the Templars had become so immersed in the politics of the Middle East that they conspired with the local Muslim authorities to further their own interests at the expense of Christendom as a whole—that the order had lost its way and somehow become ‘traitors to Christendom.’
Traitors to Christendom?
The origins of this claim date back to the middle of the twelfth century, not long after the full militarisation of the order. There were always tensions between those who visited the Holy Land as crusaders and those westerners who lived there. The latter, frequently of mixed backgrounds, were often dismissively referred to by crusaders as ‘pulani.’
Crusaders came seeking action and glory. Western settlers, on the other hand, had a far better understanding of the local situation. They were often more measured and cautious in their approach—they knew what was realistic and what might lead to disaster. As a result, they were often seen as cowardly and ‘effeminate’ by their comrades from the West. Similarly, crusaders were essentially military tourists, and like all tourists, they occasionally behaved extremely badly. When they left, the local Franks had to pick up the pieces and face the prospect of retaliation.
Under these circumstances, relations between the two groups were often difficult. This was particularly true when things went wrong and a scapegoat needed to be found. The Templars, as the military elite of the Crusader States, were often caught in the middle of such tensions. Although they had a provincial network back in Europe, they were fully embedded within the military and political life of the Middle East. They even had their own extensive networks of spies and diplomatic contacts.
Under normal circumstances, this was a great advantage for the crusader states. When campaigns began to unravel, however, as was frequently the case with the outnumbered crusader armies, they often took the blame. It was easy to throw accusations at the all-too-fully acclimatised Templars and their suspiciously sophisticated relationships with the local Muslim states.
As the siege of Damascus ground to a potentially disastrous conclusion in 1148, for instance, the Templars and the local nobility worked hard to extricate the crusader army from a situation in which they faced almost certain annihilation. Gratitude for their actions, however, came only in the form of outlandish accusations of treachery. The face-saving device of choice for a failed expedition to the Holy Land was to return home and blame the Templars and the local ‘pulani’ for their perfidy.
Having a sophisticated approach to dealing with the enemy did not always endear the Templars to bluff military visitors—men profoundly unencumbered by any insight into the nuances of eastern politics or warfare. But the claims of grand ‘treachery’ made against the order are relatively easily countered.
Muslim sources inevitably revelled in any act that revealed signs of Christian disunity. They were quick to boast of instances of treachery or apostasy. With the Templars, however, there were no such stories. Far from being seen as collaborators by their enemies, thirteenth-century Muslim historians used the word ‘Templar’ as a touchstone for loyalty and fanatical military excellence. When the Mamluks defeated the crusader armies of King Louis IX, the victors were described as being so fierce that they could be called the ‘Templars of Islam’ (‘Dawiyat al-Islam’).
The reputation of the military orders in Muslim chronicles was that of being strong and consistent in their fighting capabilities. In their eyes, the Templars were the foremost enemies of Islam, soldiers in charge of the most threatening castles, and men to be butchered when captured. Visiting crusaders may have sought solace for their failures, but the Muslim enemy knew exactly who their most dangerous and incorruptible foes were.
Insidious Claims of Treachery
One of the criticisms levelled against the Templars in England was that their leaders had deliberately sent awkward men overseas to die—men who did not want to become part of a satanic cult, for instance, but who were presumably too shy to mention it to their friends and relatives. The accusations were made by four witnesses, but it is telling that these extraordinary charges were only made by non-Templars, and it is clear that these accusers suffered from a fundamental (and possibly wilful) misunderstanding of the nature of the order.
One of the witnesses, a Carmelite friar named Robert of Maidenesford, said he had been told by a servant, who remained conveniently anonymous, that because a brother ‘did not agree to their cursed profession, he was sent secretly to overseas regions and there was killed by those to whom he was sent.’ But Robert was no ordinary cleric—he was clearly a disreputable character and was later outlawed in Towcester for his role in a murder conspiracy. The imaginative Carmelite was allegedly party to a plot to burn a man to death in an oven.
Two jealous Dominican friars testified that troublesome British Templars were given sealed letters to take out to the East. Highly dramatically, the contents of these letters were later found to include instructions that the recipient should kill the bearer. But this hearsay was just a variation on an old trope, common in medieval romantic literature. It eventually found a suitably dramatic and equally factual home in Shakespeare’s Hamlet.
Finally, a Franciscan friar from London, John of Bercia, made a similar accusation. He claimed that he ‘knew a certain knight called Walter le Sauvage of the household of the late Earl Warenne [John de Warenne, who died in 1304] …who, having entered the Order of the Templars, was banished and carried away so far within two years that neither the Earl, although he inquired, nor his other friends could find what had been done with him.’
A Lack of Evidence
Evidentially, this was extremely slim pickings. But there were two germs of truth that may have led to such tales being circulated.
Some British criminals had indeed been sent out to the East as part of their punishment or penance—but this was not specific to the Templars and does not seem to be what the order was accused of at the trials. And it is certainly true that the fate of some of the brothers who had gone to the Holy Land on active service remained unknown.
Across such distances and in an era of rudimentary communication, this was inevitable. Men who were taken prisoner might be executed, sold into slavery, or languish in captivity for decades. In the absence of any equivalent of the Red Cross, they might, from a practical perspective, just ‘disappear.’ This must have been extremely painful for the men’s families. Their grief and resentment are entirely understandable.
But the nature of these witnesses is telling. As far as we know, none of them had ever set foot in the East, and their accounts were based on rumours and hearsay. Significantly, those warriors who had fought alongside the Templars in the Holy Land and who would have been able to provide credible testimony against the order were absent. Veteran crusaders or men such as their arch-rivals, the Hospitallers, refused to do so.
Of course, British Templars were sent abroad, very possibly to die in defence of Christendom—that is, after all, what they had signed up to do. Far from being a ‘crime,’ maintaining the flow of reinforcements to the Holy Land was a major part of the function of the western provinces of the order. The need for such reinforcements was unremitting.
The levels of overseas service are hard to determine, but it is certainly not surprising that many men did not return. Most brothers were not questioned about it during their interrogation and did not spontaneously raise it as a subject. Of the 27 Templars across Western Europe who did mention it, however, almost all had served abroad, perhaps indicating, unsurprisingly for a military order, that being transferred to the East was commonplace.
Many British Templars died in the East. Each death was a tragedy for them and their families—but they were volunteers, and that was their job. The British houses were entirely correct to send their men to the crusader states to help fill the ranks. The fact that eccentric accusations such as this were made at all, and ostensibly taken seriously, shows the depths to which their inquisitors were reduced.
In the absence of real evidence or real crimes, they were just scraping the barrel.
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Dr Steve Tibble is a graduate of Jesus College, Cambridge and London University. He is an Honorary Research Associate at Royal Holloway College, University of London. Steve is a leading authority on warfare and violence in the crusading era.
You can check out Steve’s other books: Crusader Criminals, The Crusader Armies and The Crusader Strategy
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