by Richard Reed
“Great idea, but no balls of thread handy, as far as I am aware.”
Rachel took off her loose-knit woollen jumper and unpicked a thread. “Here we go. It’s not red, but it will do.” She unravelled a good length of yarn, tied one end round a piece of rock, and set off down the right fork again, paying out the yarn as she went. They passed another fork, and this time the tunnel they entered appeared to have been created naturally by an underground stream, enlarged here and there where necessary.
“I don’t know where this leads, but we’ve gone way beyond the château,” said David’s voice behind her.
“We might as well find out where it goes – it may come out further down the hillside…” Rachel’s voice trailed off as the passage opened out into a vast underground chamber, and her heart faltered. In the middle of the cave stood what was clearly a stone altar, an iron spike driven into each corner; a goat’s skull placed at its centre, leering at her eerily. As the torch cut a path through the darkness, she could just make out what appeared to be bloodstains on the altar-stone. A palpable sense of evil pervaded the chamber, and panic surged inside her; she desperately wanted to scream as the blackness seeped into every fibre of her being. With a huge effort of will, she screwed up her courage and pushed the rising fear back down. “OK, I don’t know what this is, but I’m getting out of here,” she said, brushing past David and walking rapidly back up the passage.
He caught up with her at the next fork and grabbed her by the arm. She pushed him away fiercely and stumbled on, trying to keep the tears from her eyes. He grabbed her arms with both hands and shook her, forcoing her to look at him. “Hey, Rache, it’s me – don’t be scared. We mustn’t let this place get to us – we’ve got to keep our heads.” He paused as he felt her relax slightly. “If it’s any consolation, I felt that, too… whatever it was. It wasn’t something I’ve ever experienced before or want to again – it certainly wasn’t anything in my scientific lexicon.”
“Terribilis est locus iste,” said Rachel, struggling to keep her voice steady. “The quotation above the church door. It says it all. This place is evil, David; I’ve felt it ever since we went into the Secret Room. I don’t know what it’s got to do with Saunière or the tomb of Mary Magdalene – maybe it’s just a coincidence. But there was – or is – something terrible going on down here.”
“I agree – let’s find a way out of this place. You go on ahead.”
They went down the other branch of the fork, but after a short distance were met by a rock-fall.
“Let’s hope that wasn’t the way out,” said David grimly. They retraced their steps to the previous fork, then followed Rachel’s woollen thread back to where the passage had split. “OK, let’s hope this one gives us more luck,” he said. “We’re running out of time – it’s 5am.”
They had followed the passageway just a few yards when it veered sharply to the left and started to double-back on itself. After a few more twists and turns the tunnel ended in a smallish room, obviously man-made. A few odds and ends were scattered around the floor, while in the ceiling was a wooden trapdoor.
“We could be under the château,” said David. “That’s got to be the way out.”
“The castle is still inhabited,” said Rachel.
“Only partly – that wing round the back is in ruins. Anyway, inhabited or not, we don’t have much choice but to try it. If we’re discovered we’re no worse off than by giving ourselves up. Here, jump on my shoulders and let’s see if we can open it.”
David knelt down and Rachel put her legs around his neck while he heaved himself up. “My dad used to carry me like this when I was a kid,” she said, teasingly. “It was great fun.”
“I think you’ve grown a bit since then. Ow!”
“Serves you right. Now, let’s try this hatch.” Rachel reached up and pushed hard against the trapdoor, but try as she might, she could not get it to budge. “There must be something on top of it,” she said dejectedly, as David set her down on the floor. “Now what the hell do we do?”
David paused a moment, trying to gauge her state of mind. “I don’t know what your reaction is going to be to this, but there was another passage leading off the far side of that large cavern with the stone altar – and we had been going downhill. If it’s an old water-course, it should lead out somewhere.”
The same thought had already crossed Rachel’s mind. It was a terrifying prospect, but there seemed no alternative. “OK, let’s do it,” she said abruptly.
David was surprised, but said nothing. Rachel could be infuriating sometimes, but she was certainly plucky. They walked swiftly back towards the large cavern, David again letting Rachel lead the way. As they approached the chamber, Rachel could feel the fear rising in her throat. There was a presence here, something as old as time, something evil and remorseless. She marched into the middle of the room, walked straight past the stone altar without looking, and headed for the dark shape that marked the passage on the far side.
“Hang on a minute, Rachel,” called David. “Take a look at this.”
Rachel turned round, clenching her fists tightly. “What!” she exclaimed, her nerves jangling. “This had better not be one of your stupid jokes – I’m not in the mood.”
“No Rachel, it’s not,” said David gently. “I wouldn’t do that to you; not here. But look at those sarcophagi around the edge of the room.”
Rachel gazed around the chamber in astonishment. “Hell – why didn’t we see those before?”
“I think we were both a little freaked out,” said David diplomatically.
Seven or eight stone coffins were arranged around the edge of the chamber, lying parallel to the wall. Rachel walked over to the nearest one and knelt down in front of it. “Come and take a look at this,” she said, her fascination momentarily overcoming her fear. “It looks pre-Christian to me – what do you think?” she said as her knelt down beside her.
“I don’t recognise the language,” said David. “It’s certainly not Latin or Old French. I wonder if these could be Visigoth tombs? Cholet mentions that Rhedae was once a major Visigoth settlement. That would fit in with the bloodstains on the altar – we know from the Roman writer Tacitus that Germanic tribes carried out both animal and human sacrifices before their conversion to Christianity.”
Rachel shuddered. “It doesn’t bear thinking about,” she said. She walked across to the adjacent tomb, but finding nothing new, went on to the next. “Hey, come here,” she called. “Look at that,” she said, as David joined her. The tomb lid was split, and the corner had broken off and was lying on the floor. The yellowed, skeletal bones of a foot could clearly be seen in the light of her torch.
“That breakage doesn’t look like an accident,” said David. “Look at the marks on the edge. Someone has been at this with a hammer and chisel.”
“Saunière?” queried Rachel.
“Possibly, though these tombs have been here for nearly 2,000 years, so it could have been anyone. It does make you wonder, though…” He shone his torch into the coffin, and gasped. “Good grief – I think we may have found the source of Saunière’s wealth – or at least some of it.” He reached into the coffin as far as he could go. “Look at that!” he exclaimed, opening his hand to reveal a gold coin.
Rachel could not believe her eyes. “How much more of that stuff is in there?”
“A few more, though I can’t see much through this narrow opening. We’ll leave the rest in situ – this will do for dating purposes; I don’t want to disturb the archaeology any more than it already has been. This must have been some kind of royal burial chamber. In its way, this rivals the Valley of the Kings – if not in grandeur, at least in terms of historical importance. After all, the Visigoths sacked Rome. The world ought to know about this place.”
“But Saunière wanted it all to himself,” said Rachel, thinking out loud. “And even if he had wanted to reveal it, he couldn’t, because of the tomb of the pregnant Mary in the crypt above. It see
ms he didn’t want that to become public knowledge, even though he clearly venerated Mary very highly as a result of his discovery.”
“The gold seems to blow the theory about him blackmailing the church,” observed David.
“Not necessarily. For a start, it might not have been Saunière who took the rest of the gold. And don’t forget he was getting complaints from the villagers about digging up the churchyard – they even went to the bishop. Perhaps that’s when it all started. Maybe he just got greedy.”
“The pieces of the jigsaw are beginning to fall into place,” said David. “I’ll take a few pictures, and then we’ll get out of here. Here, take this, will you?” he said, holding out the coin.
Rachel froze. The hand proffered towards her seemed somehow tainted. It was almost as if she were being asked to take poison. “I’d rather not,” she said, speaking with difficulty. “Can’t you just stick it in your pocket?”
David shrugged, put the coin away and started to rattle off some pictures. Rachel hugged herself as the flashgun repeatedly lit up the dark chamber with an eerie brilliance. “Are we done?” she asked at length, as David previewed some of the pictures he had taken. “If so, can we get out of this place?”
“Yes, I guess so.”
“You do realise the treasure from this place hasn’t exactly brought people much luck,” commented Rachel, as they walked towards the opening on the far wall of the cavern. “That shepherd boy, Paris, was stoned to death when he turned up in the village with pockets full of gold. Then there are the deaths of Gelis and Saunière.”
“I’m afraid I’m not superstitious,” said David. “They obviously thought Paris was a thief, and while I agree about the deaths of Gelis and Saunière, I suspect it’s more to do with someone trying to cover up the truth about the Magdalene.”
They turned to enter the passage, which quickly started to run steeply downhill, and had to scramble their way over a number of rocky outcrops. This section of the old underground watercourse had clearly not been enhanced by human hand, and at one point it narrowed to such an extent that they were only able to squeeze through with great difficulty. David, who was now leading, wriggled through the gap and pushed forward, only for his foot to disappear beneath him, leaving him hanging precariously over a man-sized pothole, or ‘chimney’. Only his other foot, still wedged in the rock crevice, prevented him from falling.
Rachel saw David lose his balance and lunged forward to grab him, finding an unexpected strength as she hauled his body upright.
“Christ, that was a close call,” gasped David as he stepped back to her.
Rachel flung her arms around him and held him tightly, before eventually releasing her grip.
“The Cholet Report mentioned rumours of man-trap in the tunnels,” she said eventually, her heart beating like a steam hammer. “Like you, I dismissed a lot of that older stuff as bunkum, but these old stories often have a grain of truth in them. If you covered up that pothole with a few sticks and bracken, it would make the perfect weapon for deterring treasure hunters.”
“Well, we’ve got to get across it,” said David grimly, returning to the scene of his near-fatal accident. “It’s OK,” he called over his shoulder. “There’s a narrow ledge on one side of it. It’s only about 18 inches wide, and there’s an overhang, but we should be OK if we crouch.”
Rachel blanched at the prospect, but followed him as he stepped forward. The ledge would have been quite wide enough to cross safely but for the curved roof of the tunnel, which made it necessary to shuffle across on all fours. She tried hard not to look down into the looming pit just inches from her toes, fighting the vertigo, but by the time she reached the far side her legs had turned to jelly.
“Thank God that ordeal’s over,” she said.
“I’ll tell you what Rachel,” said David, look at her seriously. “Thank God you weren’t leading – you could have gone straight down.”
“Thanks for that, David. You certainly know how to cheer a girl up. Now come on, let’s get out. It will be dawn soon.”
She switched on her torch and pushed in front, as if to prove to David that she wasn’t afraid of the consequences. But an icy fear still gripped her, and it wasn’t until she saw a faint patch of starlight punctuating the gloom ahead that she felt herself physically relax. She waited for David to join her and switched off the torch. “We’re out,” she said, pointing at the window of sky a few yards ahead. “Thank God, we’re out.”
Chapter 16
Rachel and David stumbled out onto the hillside below Rennes-le-Château through a narrow fissure in the rock that was all but invisible from more than a few feet away.
Dawn had already broken in the eastern sky, and they trudged wearily hand in hand up the hillside to the narrow mountain road that led to the village. They had been up all night and were exhausted from the mental strain of the past few hours. But they were also elated at their discovery – near-certain proof that Mary Magdalene had not just been buried in the church, but had conceived a child. Proof, too, that below the crypt at Rennes-le-Château lay an ancient Visigoth burial chamber whose existence would stun the archaeological world.
As they turned off to cut up a goat track into the village, David stopped dead in his tracks. “I’ve just realised something,” he said, a shocked look on his face.
“What?”
“The Secret Room! We haven’t been able to cover our tracks. When the papal legate arrives on Wednesday, tonight’s little high jinks will be completely exposed – assuming Hélène doesn’t discover it first. We’ll be thrown off the dig.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, David. What were we supposed to do, anyway? We could hardly backfill the trench from underneath. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now after what we’ve found.”
“It most certainly does! I’ll have my credentials withdrawn by the French authorities – I would never be able to carry out a dig over here again. Come to that, the British authorities would take a pretty dim view of it, too. I could lose my licence.”
“I’m really sorry I’ve got you into this mess.”
“Don’t be daft, Rache – I wouldn’t change a thing. What we have just seen down there is something every archaeologist dreams about. It makes up for all the months of working ankle-deep in mud in the middle of winter, sifting through pottery shards with a trowel.”
“If the worst comes to the worst, I could probably get you some work as a resident expert on TV shows,” said Rachel. “Whatever you may say about the media, they understand the motivation in something like this – the drive to uncover the truth. Plus you’d be famous, which is a big plus-point.”
“Thanks, Rache, that’s sweet of you. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” David paused, his mind working overtime. “Hang on a minute – I’ve had a brainwave!”
She resisted the temptation to tease him. “Tell me!”
“The dig – we were hoping to break through into the crypt below the church – create a temporary hole in the stonework, since we had no idea where the original entrance was. But now we know where it is, I can divert the trench under the Secret Room and take it right up to the stairway. We’ll hit the hole we dug, and I can tidy up the room without anyone knowing. I’ll have to let Guy know – I can trust him to keep a secret. We’ve worked together for years. I’ll make sure there’s no-one else in there when we break through.”
“And Hélène?”
“We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it.”
“Won’t digging directly under the room undermine its foundations?”
“Not if we’re careful and shore it up. There’s not much weight on that outer wall – it’s only a small extension on the side of the church. I’m not going to ask anyone, I’m just going to do it – say our ground radar found a cavity that might be an entrance to the crypt, and we felt it would do less damage than burrowing through the church foundations. Hopefully the papal legate will buy it – I will certainly get into far less than trouble than
I would for our secret expedition last night.”
“Will you have time to extend the trench that far? You’ve only got till tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll go and talk to the team now. We can do it if we get a move on – we’ll work through the night if we have to, using arc lights. Again, if anyone questions us we can say we’re getting ready for the legate’s visit and hit a few last-minute snags.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Rachel. “I’ll come and give you a hand.”
“We can manage – there’s enough of us. You can only get so many people in a trench. Why don’t you go back to the hotel and get some sleep?”
“Hey, we’re in this together. I’m not going to swan off back to the hotel while you do all the hard work. I’m going to be there with you, every step of the way – even if it’s only making cups of coffee to keep you guys going.”
The next 24 hours were a frenzy of activity. David rounded up the dig team as soon as they arrived on site and told them about the new plan. There were a few raised eyebrows when he said he had new information about an entrance to the crypt, and the archaeological corner-cutting that would be needed with the new trench. But such was the level of anticipation about finally reaching their goal, there was little complaint.
There wasn’t much for Rachel to do, but she couldn’t leave them alone. In between ferrying supplies of baguettes and coffee, she tried to distract the museum staff as much as possible by idly chatting about the upcoming visit of the papal legate. No-one mentioned the unlocked door to the sacristy, and as far as she could tell, everyone was reacting quite normally. When she couldn’t distract them any longer, she started surfing the net, checking up on the history of the Visigoths. At one point she dozed off in her chair, and woke up with a start some half an hour later feeling guilty, but no-one seemed to have noticed.
