(Power, Betrayal, and Wealth in the Flow of History)
March 18 has always held a special significance for me. On this day in 1314, Jacques de Molay, the last Grand Master of the Knights Templar, stepped onto a pyre in the heart of Paris, by the banks of the Seine. The flames rose, consuming not only a man but also a legacy—an order, an idea, and the final act of a grand political game.
As a lover of history and a writer of historical fiction, I cannot ignore the bitter taste of betrayal in this story. King Philip IV of France, once an ally of the Templars, was the very man who orchestrated their downfall. He was not driven by religious zeal or a sense of justice, but by an insatiable hunger for power and wealth.
The Rise and Fall of the Templars
The Knights Templar became one of the most powerful and wealthy organizations of the medieval world. Founded during the Crusades, they quickly amassed vast riches—not only through their military successes but also through financial dealings. They were bankers, lending money to rulers, including Philip IV himself. But when the king's debts grew too heavy and the Templars' wealth became too tempting, an ally turned into an enemy.
On Friday, October 13, 1307—an ominous day that may have given rise to the superstition of "unlucky Friday the 13th"—Philip ordered the arrest of the Templars. Jacques de Molay and his brethren were subjected to years of torture, forced confessions, and sham trials. Finally, they were burned at the stake.
Legend has it that as De Molay faced the flames, he cursed both Philip IV and Pope Clement V, declaring that within a year, they would answer for their crimes before God. True or not, history recorded that both men died within the year. As a historian at heart, I can't help but appreciate such tragic yet poetic justice.
Power and Betrayal Throughout History
Reflecting on De Molay’s fate, I realize that his story is far from unique. Time and again, history has seen rulers dispose of those who were once their greatest supporters when they were no longer useful—or when their wealth became too desirable.
Take Thomas Wolsey, the powerful minister of Henry VIII of England. As long as he served the king's interests, he was untouchable. But when he failed to secure Henry’s divorce from Catherine of Aragon, his downfall was swift. His wealth was seized, his power stripped away, and though he was not executed, he died in disgrace, a man who had once been as powerful as a king himself.
Or consider Seneca, the Roman philosopher who once guided Emperor Nero. At first, he was Nero’s most trusted advisor, but as the emperor’s rule grew more despotic, Seneca’s influence became a liability. Nero forced him to take his own life—a chilling reminder that in politics, loyalty is often a death sentence.
History is full of such cases. Even the infamous witch hunts of the late Middle Ages and early modern period were often not about actual sorcery, but rather about power and greed. A wealthy widow, a successful merchant—both could become convenient targets for those who wished to seize their assets under the guise of religious purity.
History Repeats Itself: Modern Parallels
If we believe these stories belong only to the past, we are mistaken. The nature of power has hardly changed over the centuries.
Look at modern-day Russia, where Vladimir Putin has systematically removed former allies who became inconvenient. Boris Berezovsky, once one of the richest men in Russia and a key supporter of Putin’s rise, was later forced into exile and died under mysterious circumstances. Mikhail Khodorkovsky, a powerful oil tycoon, found himself in prison when he dared to challenge the Kremlin, his fortune absorbed by the state.
The methods may have changed, but the principle remains the same. Kings no longer burn their enemies at the stake, but political exiles, fabricated charges, and mysterious disappearances serve much the same purpose.
The Lesson of History
To me, Jacques de Molay is more than just a historical figure—his story is a warning. Power is not loyal, alliances are rarely eternal, and wealth always attracts hungry eyes.
As a writer and a lover of history, I often reflect on how patterns repeat themselves. Perhaps our role as readers is not just to see the stories but to recognize the lessons within them. If we understand the past, maybe we can better recognize the nature of power in the present. And perhaps—just perhaps—we can be less vulnerable to it.