She smiled and raised one brow. ‘As it happens, her confessor, Abbé Bigou, was himself affiliated with a circle, a brotherhood that had inherited the knowledge of a secret. To be precise, they were called the Compagnie du Saint Sacrament. The order was formed in Toulouse sometime around 1630 but was based at Saint Sulpice whose feast day is—’
‘The seventeenth of January,’ Rahn said.
She sat forward. ‘Saint Vincent de Paul was a member of this order, as was Richelieu, who was not only a cardinal of the Church but also King Louis XIII’s prime minister. Now, after Marie de Nègre died in 1781, we find that the old Abbé Bigou, a member of the Compagnie, which now calls itself Association Angelica, is in possession of the information that relates to the whereabouts of the inheritance of the Hautpoul-Blancheforts – not the treasure itself, but the information pertaining to where it had been hidden by the family Perillos. Of course he had a sense for its significance in relation to the secret, but he couldn’t take it to anyone more senior, since the order by now consisted of a network of provincial branches that were forbidden contact with one another. Moreover, France was erupting in a revolution inspired by the Freemasons and everything was falling into chaos; he did not know whom he could trust.
‘It was a difficult time for the Catholic Church. Many priests were killed and their churches ransacked or put to the torch. This meant that Association Angelica was in disarray and those clergy who did survive chose to leave the country rather than swear an oath of fidelity to the revolutionaries. Abbé Bigou and a certain Abbé Caunielle, of Rennes-les-Bains, decided to head for exile in Spain together. But before Bigou left for Spain he hid the information somewhere in the church here at Rennes-le-Château, as he’d been told to do by Marie Blanchefort before she died. Fearing for his own health and to ensure that it would not be forgotten, he confided that he had hidden it, but not its whereabouts, to the younger Abbé Caunielle of Rennes-les-Bains. He encouraged him to tell his successors what he had done if ever the young abbé returned to France. When Abbé Caunielle finally made his way back to Rennes-les-Bains some years later, he mentioned it to his successor and the information came, finally, to the attention of Abbé Boudet – who became a friend of Abbé Saunière’s.’
‘This Boudet is on the list,’ Rahn said, under his breath.
‘Of course! Abbé Boudet was a very knowledgeable man, a historian of the Celtic past of this area. It was Boudet who encouraged Saunière to begin his modest renovations. He even supplied him with the funds he needed from donations made by the Countess of Chambord and others. These renovations bore fruit with the discovery of that parchment that Marie de Blanchefort had given to Bigou before she died. Bigou had hidden it inside the baluster that supported the pulpit.’
Madame Dénarnaud took out a small, weathered parchment from inside the pages of the bible and gave it to Rahn.
He looked at it:
Jevousle gue cetindice dutres or qui apparti entaux seign eursderen nes etce stlam ort. Lefeur evele
EWOWSZZKQGKAQBEWZHCSOZVX
XOTDQTKWZIGSDGZPQUCAESJ
MQTGYDCAFZVYMFUAQBUWPNDGZRLEURZ
MQTGYDCAXSXSDRZWZRLVQAFFPSDAPW
POEKXSXDUGVVQXLKFSVLXSSWLI
PSIJUSIWXSMGUZVVQZRVQSJKQQYWDQYWL
‘It’s a cipher!’ Rahn said.
‘It was a simple cipher, at least the first part of the parchment. Still, it took Saunière some months to work it out, but once he found one word, seigneur, the rest began to form a recognisable pattern, and each word he picked out revealed other words in French, until he had deciphered the entire first part. It read: I bequeath to my successor this clue to the treasure that belongs to the lords of Rennes. It is death. Fire reveals it.
‘Saunière was an ambitious man, and the thought of treasure was enticing, but he could not understand the jumble of letters in the rest of the cipher. It vexed him terribly and he became obsessed with decoding it, without luck. Finally, he resolved to ignore the cipher entirely, convinced that the treasure had to be hidden somewhere else in the church. He took note of the words “It is death” and searched in the niche created at the foot of the altar wherein he suspected were buried relics as was customary in churches. When the niche was opened, he was emboldened by the fact that on the underside of the stone cap there was a depiction of the knightly lords of Rennes, however he found nothing except a few scraps hardly worth his trouble. He then took to the altar itself because altars are traditionally places of sacrifice. He looked in the pillars that held it up and again he found nothing, so he began to tear the church apart, under the guise of renovation.
‘Despite months of searching he failed to find anything, and yet he continued, for he had come too far. He then turned his attention to the ancient crypt, which he knew held the sepulchre of the lords of Rennes. Telling his parishioners that he wanted to shore up the foundations of the church, he began looking for a way down. He was convinced that the treasure was hidden in the crypt below the church and that there must be a hidden way to it. He did find the crypt eventually, but it had been ransacked, and was empty of anything valuable. Even this did not dissuade him. He continued his search and discovered a tunnel and at the end of it a wall. This, he was certain, led to the crypt of the dames of Rennes. The night he began to dismantle the wall, there was a downpour and the crypt flooded with water, as it no doubt did last night. He only just managed to escape with his life. After that, one could say, Saunière became slightly mad. Rather than wait for the floodwater to recede, he began looking in the cemetery late in the night for another entry into the crypt.’
‘Did he find it?’ Eva asked.
‘Yes, there was an entry near the church concealed by a gravestone inscribed with the words Et in Arcadia Ego.’
‘So he did use the crypt for magic rituals?’ Eva asked.
The woman gave her a whisk of a glance. ‘That is not important. What is important is that he never found what he wanted in that crypt and it ate away at him until finally, at his wits’ end, he decided to tell his friend about the parchment.’
‘Abbé Boudet?’ Rahn said.
‘Yes, of course.’ She smiled as if he were an orphan and she had just adopted him. ‘Boudet suggested that Saunière go to the Bishop of Carcassonne, a certain Billard. The Bishop was very interested in what Saunière had to say and he even gave him money to travel to Paris, to see if someone could solve the cipher.’
‘To whom did he take it?’ Rahn asked.
‘Why, to Association Angelica, of course, who are based at Saint Sulpice.’ She sat back, with narrowed eyes. ‘You see, Bishop Billard also belonged to the same order that Boudet belonged to – and Bigou before him. Billard understood clearly the significance of the parchment and he told Saunière to go to Saint Sulpice, to see Abbé Hoffat who was a senior member of that same order, and whose knowledge of all things occult was unsurpassed. The man realised instantly that the note was related to the secret their order had been safeguarding for many years and he set about trying to decipher it. He worked out that in the second part of the note he was dealing with le chiffre indéchiffrable – a Vigenère cipher. Do you know what that is?’
Rahn nodded, thinking that he wasn’t going to tell her how many reports on ciphers he had written for Himmler.
‘Then you will know, Monsieur Rahn, why the Vigenère cipher is called indecipherable. Without the master word, it was impossible to unscramble the message and therefore find the treasure. And they did not have the master word. They tried every word in the first part of the cipher and a number of combinations of words but even with his vast knowledge, Hoffat failed to find the solution! After that, Saunière contacted those with whom he had a special connection from his early days in Narbonne, thinking they might be able to help him.’
Rahn felt an excitement rising to his throat. Things were coming together. He was intoxicated by the complexity of the puzzle. He was tense and alert.
The old woman noted his eagerness. She smiled and continued, ‘S
aunière visited with a certain Boulle, leader of the penitents, and showed him what he had found. Boulle was immediately excited because, you see, the penitents were in the possession of a book . . .’
‘Le Serpent Rouge, the Grimoire of Pope Honorius?’ Rahn blurted out.
‘Yes, not the original but a copy of it that they had acquired through the murderous priest, Jean-Louis Verger.’
‘So, did Association Angelica also have a copy of it? Is that what you meant when you said they were also in possession of a secret?’
‘Very well surmised. They held the original.’
‘And Saunière knew about the grimoire?’
‘No, he wanted the Cathar treasure, or what he imagined it might be: gold coins, precious jewels.’ She half smiled, nodding mysteriously. ‘Saunière was playing a dangerous game. He was a very audacious, if not a stupid man. Now, this Boulle offered Saunière money to continue his search, having by now heard that Association Angelica were also involved.’
‘So now there are two orders that know about the treasure,’ Rahn said, ‘Association Angelica and the penitents. Both were in possession of Pope Honorius’s grimoire, Le Serpent Rouge, one the original and the other a copy, and now they suspected that Saunière had found the key to completing it.’
‘Yes! You catch on fast, Monsieur Rahn. Saunière began travelling to Paris and Lyon and Toulouse regularly, courting the good favours of a number of groups – who were all vying for the treasure. He soon became a celebrity, giving parties here at the villa and drawing to himself the attention of the most illustrious people; people like the opera singer Emma Calve, the Countess of Chambord and any number of disaffected members of the Austrian Hapsburg family.’
‘Was he party to some intrigue to bring France into the Austrian empire?’
‘Yes, better the empire than the government! At any rate, his entertaining drew the attention of his friend from the nearby village of Coustassa, Abbé Antoine Gélis, who became suspicious of Saunière’s newfound wealth and celebrity. When he asked Saunière about it, the braggart, thinking himself invulnerable, could not resist. He told him, “I have found something of great value, and so far I have made it work for me – and I will hold on to it! Do you want to know what it is?”
‘Thus was Antoine Gélis added to the ring of priests who now knew about the treasure, and a lot of good it did him, as you no doubt already know. At the same time, through the renewed influence of the penitents, Saunière became interested in the “Cult of the Dead”, saying more and more masses – since he needed money to continue his search. In the meantime Saunière’s confidante, Bishop Billard, died of a stroke. A new bishop, a man called De Beauséjour, was appointed to Carcassonne, a man who was dedicated to the Church’s reconciliation with the government of France; in other words, a Freemason. Having heard rumours of Saunière’s renovations and his parties with movie stars, singers and royalty, De Beauséjour sent his right-hand man, the Abbé Cros, to investigate. Subsequently, Abbé Cros and his underlings arranged a meeting with Saunière, Boudet and Gélis at Coustassa. I remember the night quite well because on his return home, Saunière was laughing at how frustrated Abbé Cros had been that they wouldn’t tell him anything. As it turned out, they were to suffer at the bishop’s hands. Saunière was sued and Boudet was hounded. Perhaps Cros, knowing Abbé Gélis’s weakness for money and desire for the grand life, offered him a large sum to divulge what he knew. Perhaps that is why he was killed so brutally? Did you hear how they found him? The killers took pains to place his limbs in a certain pattern, both hands on his chest and one leg bent behind him. What in the tarot reminds you of that, Monsieur Rahn?’
‘The hanged man!’ Rahn said, suddenly illuminated.
‘Yes, the betrayer of secrets!’ she hissed with glee. Her eyes twinkled. ‘You see, none of them, not Saunière, nor the Bishop of Carcassonne or even Cros understood the dangerous game they were playing. They did not realise it until Gélis was killed. The hanged man was Association Angelica’s calling card; they also left their catchcry, “Viva Angelina”, on a packet of Russian cigarette papers at the murder scene.’
‘So Saunière and Gélis were not members of AA?’
‘What? Do you think they would allow men like that to enter their fold? Of course not! After that, Cros fell silent and Bishop Beauséjour let things die down. But Saunière did not stop. Sometime later he went to Abbé Grassaud at Saint-Paulde-Fenouillet because he had a good library. He told Grassaud that he was interested in the Blancheforts and the man gave him access to his files. That is when he discovered records pertaining to the transfer of a painting, a Poussin – Les Bergers d’Arcadie – the Shepherds of Arcadia, perhaps you have heard of it? It was transferred from the family of Perillos to the Blancheforts. When he returned to the village he searched the old castle of the Hautpouls but he found nothing. On his next visit to Paris he bought a reproduction and it sits now in the study. Perhaps you saw it yesterday?’
Rahn was struck then – two things colliding! Yes, he had seen it and now he remembered that Abbé Cros also had the same painting in his study! Why?
‘What has that painting to do with anything?’ he asked.
‘Perhaps something.’ She shrugged. ‘Perhaps nothing.’ She snapped the bible shut and looked at Rahn. ‘Now, if you want my advice, you had best watch yourself. You have entered into a field of war and you are in no-man’s-land. I asked you yesterday if you were prepared to enter Hell and you answered in the affirmative. That is how I knew you were the one to whom I could tell these things. I hope you are ready for the consequences.’ She said this and her face changed before his eyes: the hardness softened, the eyes became vague and the mouth drooped. Once again the master of deception adopted the mien of a fragile, arthritic old woman. ‘I am tired, I must rest,’ she said, settling herself into the role of old Madame Dénarnaud.
Rahn was not about to be dismissed. ‘Not so fast, madame! You weren’t just Saunière’s housekeeper! You were watching Saunière for someone else – who was it? Who was paying you to watch him? Was it Boudet? Was it Association Angelica? Or was it the penitents?’
‘Paying me?’ she said and her eyes became pinpoints without a speck of humour or humanity. ‘I am not for sale, to any order, or to any man, Monsieur Rahn! Our time is now over. I have nothing more to say to you.’ She turned her attention to Eva with a certain removed amusement. ‘So, you say you’re Cros’s niece? But who are you really, mademoiselle?’
The two women glared at one another. A momentary flash of recognition passed over the old woman, occasioning a strange battle of wills between the two of them: one old and a space from death, and the other replete in youthful vitality. Rahn observed it helplessly, without understanding, having been left quite out of the loop created by that silent battle.
When it was over the old woman broke off first, a little breathless. She gave Rahn a wisp of a glance.
‘If I were you, Monsieur Rahn, it is to this young lady that I would be directing my questions.’ But she could say no more because a voice disturbed them.
‘Well, burn my beard, there you are!’
Rahn couldn’t believe his ears until he turned around and looked to the doorway and saw La Dame’s dishevelled shape.
‘La Dame, what on Earth—?’
‘Never mind that! The police are right behind me!’ La Dame shrieked.
The sound of distant sirens reached them at that very moment. Feeling wretched, tired, frustrated and confused, Rahn turned to the old woman. ‘Is there another way out of this tower?’
‘At the bottom of those.’ The madame pointed to steps that led in a spiral downwards into darkness. ‘There is a room below that leads out in the direction of the old water tower; once you reach it, you can circle the town.’
Rahn got up to go but the old woman stopped him with a gnarled hand. ‘Don’t forget this.’ She gave him Bigou’s parchment, and in a moment she was a memory.
37
Data, Data, Dat
a
‘It is a capital mistake to theorise before one has data.’
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, ‘A Scandal in Bohemia’
Following Madame Dénarnaud’s instructions, they skirted Saunière’s garden and picked their way down side lanes. Luckily for them, most of the citizens had gathered at the church and, taking advantage of the chaos, they kept out of sight and slipped out of the town. They found La Dame’s Peugeot and were soon leaving Rennes-le-Château behind them. They drove in silence to Couiza, watching for police cars. Rahn had too much to think about and now he wasn’t certain he could trust Eva. Just as Deodat had written: trust no one!
It was only later, as they sat in the shabby interior of a boulangerie that Rahn began to relax a little. Eva had gone to freshen up and La Dame was dunking his croissant into his coffee and eating with relish, dribbling it over his blond beard.
‘Do you know how long it’s been since I tasted croissant like this?’ he said, as happy as a child.
Now they were alone, Rahn asked La Dame the burning question, ‘What are you doing here, La Dame?’
‘Firstly,’ he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin and leaning forward, ‘before she comes back, you simply have to tell me. Are you and she . . . you know . . . ?’
‘What do you mean?’ Rahn said.
‘Are you and the mademoiselle . . . amoureux . . . perhaps even intimately involved?’ He smiled.
‘Eva and I?’
‘Is that her name? But of course! It suits her. Eva, the temptress from the garden of good and evil, with the eyes of an angel. I have to say, dear Rahn, she’s terribly like an actress. I’m trying to place her . . . dark, large eyes, slender . . .’
‘Louise Brooks,’ Rahn said, tapping his fingers nervously on the table.
‘That’s it! Louise Brooks exactly, in that Pabst film. What was it called?’ He bit at his croissant as if both the idea of the actress and the reality of the croissant were closely matched, in his estimation.
The Sixth Key Page 28
