'In Search of the Knights Templar' by Simon Brighton13th Dec 2006 As I was growing up in Lincolnshire, I would often go past an ancient solitary tower standing within a farm in Temple Bruer, about a mile to the north of my family’s house just outside the village of Brauncewell. I had heard it was built by people called ‘the Templars’, but initially knew nothing more. I had heard them mentioned in general conversation and remember placing them with the other big landowning families. Like most young boys, I was intrigued by castles and ruins – and the tower doubly so, because even at a young age I was aware that it was a mysterious place. I don’t remember any specific ghost stories or scary anecdotes but I do recall the eerie fascination the old ruin held for me. By the time I was fourteen, in 1973, I wanted to know more about this unique ruin, and visited the library in nearby Sleaford. The librarian couldn’t have been more helpful, digging out some dusty volumes – none of them less than a century old – and leaving me to read. I learnt of the travels of William Stukeley, who in the seventeenth century described the Roman road of Ermine Street running just to the west of Brauncewell. This, he said, was the main road from London to York, and at the crossroads near the tower he saw an ancient standing stone on which the Templars had carved their distinctive cross. And I read nineteenth-century accounts of the history of Lincolnshire, with references to the Templars’ history – how they established themselves in the county, making their lands here some of their most productive, but had then been extinguished by the pope and the French king. Their properties outlasted them and were pressed into the service of others. Henry VIII had stayed at the Temple Bruer tower, though it was in a ruinous state even then, and his staff had to erect huge marquees to keep him comfortable. Finally, I read of the survey of the tower undertaken in 1841 by a Reverend Oliver. In the ‘preceptory of the knights Templar’ he found walled-up bodies and evidence of dark practices in secret chambers, along with tunnels built by the Templars leading under the fields to nearby villages – in short, just the sort of gothic information I was looking for! Thirty years ago, there was little general information on the Templars to redress what I had read, so I was allowed to reflect on the lurid details, and cheerfully relate them to anyone who would listen. Our house, secluded and ancient itself, was on a hill, and without electricity. So visiting friends could be scared half to death by my embellished stories of the sinister Templars, before they were given an oil lamp and directed to their bedroom. But within this youthful research I had also learnt historical facts: why so many of the local villages had French names; how the Templars farmed the land, and had their headquarters in London; about the crusades and an order of knights who crossed the line and said they would be willing to die rather than abandon God’s work. These knights had lived close to my house, owned property in my village and trained their cavalry in the field next door. To me these knights seemed far more ‘real’ than the history I was learning at school. And I began to comprehend that the lone tower just up the road was really an outpost of Jerusalem, built to sustain a conflict over a thousand miles away. Later, in 1982, a book called The Holy Blood and the Holy Grail would augment my knowledge with more sensational details of the knights, and their alleged secret ambitions to secure one of the holiest relics of Christendom. During the 1980s I started to visit ancient prehistoric sites with my friend Tekh, taking a kind of trainspotterish approach, ticking off stone circles and burial chambers as we travelled the length and breadth of the country. But soon I began to supplement the stone circles with Templar sites and, with a growing interest in photography, started to record my travels. So I had a ready supply of photographs when the Templar expert and web pioneer Tim Staniland put out a request for pictures for his ‘Templars in Britain’ site. Through this site many people started getting in contact with me and asking if I knew about sites they had discovered. The advent of digital photography allowed photography in previously almost impossible conditions, such as near dark crypts. I could then study these photos back at home, often discovering features I hadn’t noticed, which I could investigate further on a repeat visit to the site. In 2000 George Tull’s ground-breaking book Traces of the Templars, a guide to the sites in England, was published; a couple of years later, along came Evelyn Lord’s The Knights Templar in Britain, a valuable source of information not available elsewhere at that time. With these two books permanently in the glove compartment of my car, I spent as much time visiting the sites as I could, and soon had enough photos and local information to make the idea of a book a real possibility. This book is essentially observational, the images and text generated by the individual sites. As each location is unique, I could emphasise a particular theme related within the text, so for example Templecombe with its painting of the ‘Head’ is related to the Templars’ alleged worship of heads, while Temple Bruer is concerned with their agricultural achievements, and a Templar hostel such as Strood provides the opportunity to consider the ‘travel agency’ services the order provided. I am not a historian and have no particular ‘angle’ on the Templars, other than finding them endlessly fascinating. I do not wish to denigrate the work of others, whether orthodox, academic or speculative. Nor do I take sides in any controversy. If the Templars were indeed after the Holy Grail, that pursuit should not detract from their achievements within medieval society and their place in military history. And conversely, that they were wealthy and became the elite of their day in various secular matters does not mean they were similarly ‘orthodox’ in spiritual practice. A final note: recently, along with my friend Tekh and his dog 'Turner', I walked northwards along Ermine Street, to visit the tower at Temple Bruer using the old Templar route. As we were walking, the dog – young and boisterous – seemed not to have a care in the world, running and jumping with abandon. But, once we got near the tower, it was a different story. He refused to enter the ruin, and when either of us went in he yelped for us to come out. And all at once I remembered the stories of walled-up bodies, satanic practices and secret tunnels that the Reverend Oliver had described and that had so engrossed my young self… I don’t pretend to have an answer to this phenomenon. As I say, I simply describe what I have seen. But perhaps, for all the research and analysis of modern studies, it is a pointer to the enduring mystery of the Knights Templar. Simon Brighton – Hanwell - Spring 2006  Simon Brighton’s book In Search of the Knights Templar – A Guide to the Sites in Britain’ published byWeidenfeld & Nicholson is now available from all good bookshops. |
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