This first novel deals with the immediate consequences of that curse, which begins to work its poison with the discovery of the infidelity of Philip’s two daughters-in-law, Marguerite and Blanche of Burgundy. As the Grand Master Jacques de Molay prepares to burn, he unleashes a stinging curse against Philip and his heirs: ‘ Accursed! Accursed! You shall be accursed to the thirteenth generation!’ This decision will have tragic and unimaginable consequences. To do this, he allows his advisers to push him into an act which would once have seemed inconceivable: the arrest and execution of the Templars’ highest officials for heresy. As he struggles to build a strong modern state, Philip angles to arrogate the Templars’ treasures to the Crown for the greater glory of France. After having worked closely with the Order for many years, Philip’s friendship with the Grand Master has soured as he grows to resent the Knights’ political power and – more significantly – their rich properties and wealth. The historical setting promised a lot: opening in 1314, the book shows us the closing stages of Philip IV of France’s struggle against the Templars. It remains to be seen whether I’m going to carry on with the later books in the series – and perhaps, if I do, they’ll grow on me – but at the moment I feel rather lukewarm about it all. The fifth book in the series has now been translated (each instalment lovingly bearing that Martin quote on the cover), and so they’re obviously doing very well and there are lots of people who are itching to discover what happens to the Capetian royal family. Now, I was reconciled to the lack of direwolves, but I’m going to diverge slightly from Helen’s opinion in any case, because the book unfortunately didn’t impress me all that much. Martin (‘This is the original Game of Thrones‘) has actually worked against the book in some ways: some eager fantasy readers have ended up with rather more medieval intrigue and rather fewer direwolves than they’d counted on, and so some reviews have been critical because people have, fundamentally, just been expecting the wrong kind of book. As Helen mentioned, the quote blazoned on the cover from George R.R.

I’m fully aware that I’m late to the party: I remember that Helen read it, and liked it, in March last year. I imagine many of you will already have tackled this book, which was published in a new edition with much fanfare about a year ago.

The iron king maurice druon