She set off with long, energetic strides along the overgrown path that led up the hill. He followed close behind her ready, as always, to help her if she got into difficulties. They passed a small sign which informed the few members of the public who got this far that they were approaching the ruined Cathar stronghold of le Bezu.
Jolyon always made sure he was ready when she needed him. He realised that to her he was just her special assistant - part minder, part enabler, part enforcer, part organiser - but he would never be any more. He performed all of his duties to her complete satisfaction. His reward, as well as sharing a part of the funds and the reflected glow she attracted, was the occasional night in her bed and the knowledge that she looked on him as her best friend and support. And he had decided to accept that was as far as their personal relationship would ever progress. He would have to keep his love to himself.
They didn’t talk much on the ascent. Instead they kept their breath to cope with the steepness of the path and the irregular rough stretches of scrambling over rocks.
“You will have to make sure the diggers wear safety harnesses,” she observed as they struggled over one particularly difficult section. “We can’t afford to have any accidents.”
“I’ve chosen three guys for the start who also have experience of rock-climbing. I’ve warned them that the terrain is very rugged. That’s really wetted their appetites. They have promised me that they’ve all got suitable kit.”
“I know I can always rely on you, Jo.”
The comment was unnecessary. They both knew that he wouldn’t let her start any kind of archaeological exploration without proper preparations being made. It was his particular talent. She had found this out when he was seconded to her by the Louvre for her first television series The Archaeological Treasures of the Louvre. That series had been so successful that it had made Jacqueline Blontard a household name throughout the French-speaking world. She had refused to let Jolyon go back to his old job and had insisted that he accompany her on all her subsequent digs. She had appointed him as her technical director on the second record-breaking series, Napoleon’s Archaeological Adventures in Egypt. Now it was unthinkable to each of them that they should start a new project without the other.
When they had scrambled up the slope and finally reached the remains of the eastern entrance to the castle they climbed over a rough cattle fence, scrambled up the remains of a low wall and found themselves on a small level terrace where they paused to catch their breath. Even though they hadn’t yet climbed to the top of the chateau, they could see the views were magnificent.
“Wow! Look at that.”
Jolyon looked down where she was pointing. Carved rather crudely into the large stone step at her feet was a cross with forked ends within a circle - the symbol of the Knights Templar. Andre felt a tingle run down his spine.
“Do you think it’s genuine?”
She shrugged. “It hardly matters, does it?” She looked at him seriously. “I have every reason to believe there is a lot more evidence here of both the Templars and their predecessors - the Cathars.”
“Ah.” He grimaced. “Sounds like your old uncle talking.”
“I’m serious, Jo. Nobody else may believe him. But he told me enough when I was a youngster for me to be confident his research notes weren’t a tissue of lies.”
Andre kept silent. So this was why she had chosen le Bezu. He knew Jacqueline still believed old Albert Blontard had been badly treated by the academic world when he published his ground-breaking exposure of the end of the Cathars. The problem was that the old boy had failed to come up with enough supporting evidence to back up his astonishing claims. He had been ridiculed by his contemporaries and had never been able to get the funding to continue his work. Jolyon swallowed. It looked as though Jackie was hoping to find evidence to support his claims. She was very sensitive about this subject. He would have to be careful in his choice of comments to avoid upsetting her.
Andre looked round at the scene. The weather wasn’t particularly fine today and there were great banks of cloud hiding the high Pyrenees to the south. They were being driven along by a strong westerly wind. The nearer, lower mountains were clad almost to their peaks in dark forest. But as they looked away to the northwest the sun suddenly came out and lit up the village of Rennes-le-Chateau, about six kilometres away. Jacqueline pointed towards the main centre of fascination with the Cathar legends for the last one hundred and fifty years.
“That’s where the famous cleric, Berenger Sauniere, lived in the late nineteenth century.”
“Do you mean the poor parish priest who became fabulously wealthy but nobody knows how?”
“That’s it.”
Jolyon looked around him at the remains of the chateau. It was difficult to make out much of the original construction. The mountain itself was spectacular enough. The series of giant rocky teeth which climbed into the low cloud were impossible to scale without full rock-climbing kit. The walls which once linked them into an impregnable stronghold had now mainly crumbled away or been robbed for use in later buildings in the neighbourhood. What remained around the bottom of the sheer rocks was now shrouded in dense undergrowth. The effect was awe-inspiring.
“I bet this fortress was a sight in those days.”
“It certainly was,” she agreed. “On the North side of the ridge there’s a sheer drop of more than thirty metres. The guys working on that side will have to be extremely careful.”
He turned and faced her. “This is going to be totally different to our normal excavations, Jackie. The site is going to be very difficult to explore. Why are you doing it? What are we looking for?”
“Anything.” She had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. “I want to prove some points. I believe we will find the evidence here.”
He pulled a face.
“Jo - before Uncle Albert committed suicide he made a will leaving me all his papers. He had nothing else to leave. Every franc he possessed had been invested in his search for the Cathar remains. He had nothing left but those papers.”
“And you want to carry on his work.”
“Not exactly. During the last fifteen years, whenever I could find the time, I have been working through his notes. They took up seven filing cabinets so it wasn’t easy. However I think I’ve picked up enough to convince me that the answer is here under our feet.”
“You believe this castle is the hiding-place of the Cathar treasure?”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that. I’m looking for facts. All I know so far about le Bezu is that the chateau was confiscated from the Cathars by Simon de Montfort and was awarded to Pierre de Voisins in 1231.”
“I’ve not heard of him before. Who’s this chap de Voisins?”
“He was a very interesting character. You’ll k now that the Albigensian Crusade was led by Simon de Montfort. Pierre de Voisins was one of his lieutenants. After de Montfort’s death in 1218, he seems to have decided to withdraw from the Crusade and retire to le Bezu.”
“Are you hoping to find out more about him by excavating here?”
She shook her head. “De Voisins is only peripheral to what I’m looking for. Uncle’s files contained Occitan documents with references to him. My reading of those notes suggests de Voisins had a change of heart in later life and became sympathetic to the Cathar cause. In fact it is possible that le Bezu may have become a haven for some of the Cathars escaping from Montsegur.”
Jolyon pulled a face. “It doesn’t seem much of a basis for a major excavation.”
“Come off it, Andre.” Her face was flushed with enthusiasm as she looked up at him. “We know that only four Cathar perfecti escaped from Montsegur and they were recorded as taking ‘The Treasure of the Cathars’ with them. Le Bezu is not much more than a long day’s walk through the mountains from Montsegur. I have been unable to find records of any other safe havens in the area. The Cathar escapers and their treasure have never been found. Can you think of a more likely plac
e for them to have come than here?”
“But wouldn’t they have been pursued by the French?”
“Yes - sooner or later. However, suppose that de Voisins was willing to shelter them, being secretly sympathetic to the Cathar cause. All he needed to say was that he hadn’t seen the escapers. Nobody would be likely to have argued with him.” She swept her arm round, indicating the whole site. “If they didn’t accept his word, it would have resulted in another twelve-month siege of a powerful and easily defended castle. In addition, the French would have assumed that de Voisins was an enemy of the Cathars. So they would have been much more likely to accept his word and look elsewhere.”
“OK, Jackie.” He grinned. “I can see you’re convinced. Who am I to argue?”
She tossed her head angrily. “In any case it fits in with the rest of the research I’ve been doing about the Albigensian Crusade and its aftermath. So I want to check it out.”
“I still think it’s hardly enough to justify a whole summer’s excavations in a remote spot like this.” He hesitated. “Are you sure you are being professional about this?” That was as far as he dared to go in arguing with her.
Jacqueline stared into the distance, her eyes misting over. “Maybe I’m not. But I still can’t forget the stories he used to tell me when I was a little girl. He swore they were true, Jo.”
Andre wasn’t so sure, but he decided not to confront her further on that topic.
“So how did you sell it to the backers?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t have to sell it to them. After the success of the last two series they were desperate to get me started on a new one. I only had to point to the spectacular nature of the site and the huge interest in the Cathars to get their backing. Once we’ve got something to show them we’ll have the television crews down here. That’s another reason why we have to get the site safely roped up.”
“Huh. That’s if we’ve got something to show them.”
Jacqueline looked at him sharply. There was more than a hint of aggression in her reply. “It’s not like you to be negative, Jo. It’s normally me who’s holding you back.”
“I just don’t want you to slip up, Jackie. Your career has been all success so far. I don’t want this one to be a flop.” He grinned, trying to mollify her. “Of course, I’m partly thinking of myself as well as you.”
“It won’t be a flop.” She linked her arm through his. “Even if we don’t find anything, we’ve still got a damn good story to tell. Don’t worry, Jo. Have I ever let you down?”
“No, you haven’t.” He shrugged. “OK. I accept the Cathars are your new fixation.”
“Remember, Jo - this was a very murky period in French history. Languedoc wasn’t a full part of a united France in those days. I believe the French have to face up to this particular skeleton in their cupboard. But - much more than that - it also involves the very truth about the origins of Christianity. That’s what will sell the series all over the world.”
Jolyon was starting to feel a bit worried about that. Publicity was a two-edged sword. He could see that there might be a lot of opposition from very influential groups in the government and the Roman Catholic Church. Was that what was niggling at the back of his mind? He hadn’t got any other good reason for doubting her. In fact, he didn’t know why he didn’t feel happy about this new project. Perhaps it was the strange sensation of remoteness which the site encouraged. But it wouldn’t be any good trying to put her off without a very good reason. Jackie could be extremely obstinate at times. So he decided to ignore his doubts. He shook his head and turned away, looking up the ridge toward the highest peak.
“So - what are we looking for then?”
“I won’t know precisely until we start digging. Look, Jo - this is a wild, untamed site. It’s more than four hundred years since anybody was here except the odd casual tourist. I doubt whether anyone has ever properly explored it in a structured way. We’re going to clear the site section by section, photograph it, measure and draw it on the computer in three dimensions, investigate any anomalies or potential hiding places. Then we’ll go on from there.”
“Are you expecting to find anything valuable?”
She shrugged again. “I don’t know. The castle is known as the fortress of the Templars. As well as the Cathar connection, there have been vague local rumours for centuries about the Templar treasure being hidden here. But I discount those.”
“You don’t expect to turn up any treasure?”
“Well, who knows? However, even if we don’t find anything specific, we’ll still be able to produce a detailed survey of a former Cathar stronghold. It will form a novel and effective backdrop to the Albigensian series.” She turned and grinned at him. “And can you think of a better place to spend a summer’s excavation?”
The cheekiness of her expression made him laugh. She suddenly seemed half her real age. He felt as though he was confronting a naughty schoolgirl.
“Oh - I’m not complaining.” In truth he had to admit he would probably enjoy the next few months here with Jackie and a few other archaeologists and students. “What I don’t understand is how you managed to get permission. They’re pretty tough on licences in this area.”
“Ah. There I was just a little bit crafty,” she said. “When I first submitted the application to excavate at Rennes-le-Chateau I knew I didn’t stand a chance of receiving a licence. All the publicity of the last thirty years combined with the huge pressure brought by the Church has ensured that the place is shut up like a prison. If a person so much as carries a spade up the main street of Rennes-le-Chateau he is likely to be arrested.”
Even an application from the famous Jacqueline Blontard was unlikely to be given serious consideration. The fact that she had two highly successful television series behind her of course made them take her seriously. And she was not averse to the newspapers dubbing her “the most glamorous archaeologist on the planet.”
“So I knew I’d never get permission. The place is shut down tight. But, with my television backers, Jo, I pack a lot of punch nowadays.”
“You can say that again. Half of France would be howling for their blood if they seemed to be treating you unfairly.”
“They were frightened I’d make a big fuss if I didn’t get some sort of go-ahead. They kept putting me off for about six months until they knew they were going to have to give me an answer one way or the other. Then I pretended that I’d got tired of waiting and banged in an alternative application to work here.” She laughed outright. “They were so relieved that they gave me the licence straight away without putting any conditions on it.”
“You never were interested in Rennes?”
“Of course not. That place was cleaned out more than a century ago. On the other hand, this is one of the few Cathar strongholds which weren’t razed to the ground in the wake of the Albigensian Crusade. I hope we’ll find some interesting remains here - that is providing Sauniere didn’t pillage this site in his forays into the countryside around this area.”
She rested a hand on his shoulder. “The other good thing, Jo, is that nobody knows that we are here so far. Of course, I expect someone will start asking where we’ve disappeared to in due course. And in a few months some hungry news-hound will track us down. But I’m counting on getting most of the season’s work completed before we’re troubled by treasure seekers and all the other characters who’ll be poking around as soon as they find out what we’re doing.”
Jolyon pulled a face. “I hope you’re right.” He looked along the ridge, running irregularly for more than two hundred and fifty metres, and broken up into several sections by the rugged terrain. “It’s a big, irregular site. So where do you want us to start?”
“It might as well be at this eastern end. The first thing you’ll need to do is get your guys to carefully rope off a secure working area. And I don’t want anyone scrambling around outside the safe zones. It’s too dangerous.” She prodded him in the chest. “That includes yo
u, Andre Jolyon. I know what you’re like.”
He smiled lop-sidedly. “OK. You’re the boss. Gaston Lesmoines and the other two rock-climbers are turning up on Monday. Their first job will be anchors and safety ropes. Will that satisfy you?”
“Just remember you’ve promised.” Her eyes were suddenly serious. “You’re too valuable to me to take any silly risks.”
“Of course I promise. Do you want to explore any further today?”
“No. I think it’s too dangerous until we’ve got the ropes firmly fixed all the way along both sides of the ridge.” She wagged a finger at him. “I tell you I don’t want any accidents. We’ll go back to the hotel in Quillan now and start to plan our campaign.”
Without further hesitation she set off back down the rough path towards the car. He watched her trim, lithe figure as she sprang over the boulders. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps the next few months would be fun. And it would be good for a change to be away from all the publicity which usually hounded Jacqueline Blontard nowadays.
He followed her more slowly, deep in thought.
- 3 -
The magnificent timber gates of the Bishop’s Palace were firmly closed. The big man with the fair crew-cut hair lifted a large fist and hammered upon them. He paused to listen as the echoes rattled along the street. He counted to twenty then raised his hand to strike again. As he did so the door began to move. It swung back a metre or so with a grinding sound and he saw a short, tonsured monk standing in the gap before him. The man lifted his head in silent attention but his eyes avoided the big man’s.
“My name is Jean-Luc Lerenard. I have an appointment with Monsignor Clemente Galbaccino.”
The silent priest lowered his head and moved to close the door, but Lerenard had his foot in the gap before it shut. He leaned against the door and it opened with little resistance.
“I will wait inside.”
The monk raised no objection. He stood aside as the big man entered then closed the door behind the new arrival and dropped the securing latch before padding away down the short arched corridor to the sunlit cloister beyond. Feeling that he had made his point, Jean-Luc let him go. He stood patiently and studied his surroundings. Although he would not have admitted it if questioned, he was impressed by the ancient, nearly blackened stonework, the peaceful silence which reigned in this haven from the violent life that he knew, and the almost tangible atmosphere of unchanging faith which seemed to reach back over centuries.
The Secret Of The Cathars (2011) Page 2
