‘Yes, Of course, you’re right. I’m sorry. Shall we have a quick look round and then go on to see Hortense?’
* * *
Back outside, the entrance to the graveyard of the village was padlocked, but Saunière himself had now been moved into his garden and buried in unconsecrated ground, which I found to be the oddest thing. It seemed unlikely that someone was going to dig him up overnight, but if that was a real concern then why not just make the original burial site more secure?
‘I never understood why they reburied him. He left instructions that he was never to be moved, and yet they did just that. Maybe there were reasons that weren’t apparent, but now he’s under five tons of concrete and away from Marie Dénarnaud, his long-term housekeeper, companion, and friend. How very sad.’
I nodded. ‘Isn’t it just? I’ve wondered about the motives of those who made the decision. Did they think that they would find something in his tomb? If they genuinely thought it would put a stop to some of the myths surrounding him, then the opposite has happened, with another mass of conjecture and questions as to the real purpose of the exhumation. I was told that a court case had followed, and that the prayer book that he had carried with him everywhere had now gone missing.’
Whatever the truth, the whole thing was appalling. It seemed that controversy and misunderstanding had followed Saunière since his arrival at Rennes-le-Château in 1885. I found the man himself to be of much more interest than any buried treasure myths. He had what an old friend of mine, now dead, would call a ‘chaotic aura,’ and the title certainly seemed to fit.
‘So little has been written about his personality and who he really was. I’ve been trying to find out more about him for the book, basic things, to try to define his character, but it isn’t easy.’
‘Grandfather spoke about him sometimes. I’ll have a think, and jot down a few bits for you, if that would help?’
Caro walked over to the Tour Magdala, a lookout tower dedicated to Mary Magdalene on the corner of Saunière’s domain, which was once used as a library. I sat on a wall to wait for her, and was soon lost in thought. Coming here had strongly reminded me of the immense speed at which we were pulled though life, seemingly with little control of its outcome. It felt like some sort of externally controlled game, and I thought of Macbeth and one of the most poignant things ever written:
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The wind had picked up, and clouds began to scud across the sky, illuminating everything with sun one minute and casting it into shade the next. I thought how very fitting this was to my mood. Caro startled me when she put her hand on my shoulder.
‘Gosh, you really jumped then. Are you OK?’
‘Just tired, probably. And coming up here, well, it all makes everything seem so futile, doesn’t it? Oh, don’t take any notice; a strong coffee will sort me out. Let’s go and see Hortense. I’m sure she’ll talk some sense into me; she usually does.’
We walked back out of the garden and past the church. On the corner was a tiny cottage. It had a strange sundial painted on it, using various astrological and alchemical symbols, as well as Roman numerals, all painted in black. It had been there for as long as I could remember, and I took a quick photo, to study later. It was much quieter now, and we made our way down the narrow lane opposite that led to Hortense’s cottage.
It was on the end a long row, and looked badly in need of a lick of paint. I knew that Caro had offered to have it done, but Hortense had refused, saying that she could do what she liked with it after she was dead but she didn’t want the trouble of workmen about the place at her age. The sun shone on its gabled front which, combined with the honey-coloured render, made it look like it was glowing. I lifted the knocker to announce our arrival, although I knew that she rarely locked the door in the daytime. We heard a shout from inside, ‘entrez,’ and I turned the iron handle and leant against the heavy door to push it open.
* * *
Hortense was standing in the kitchen making coffee. She looked like she had shrunk since I was last here, and when I hugged her, I could clearly feel her protruding bones. Caro continued with making the coffee, and putting away the food we had brought, whilst I sat with Hortense in front of a roaring fire. She clearly felt the cold and given her current state of emaciation I could see how she might be chilled, especially if she wasn’t moving about very much. Her mind, though, was as sharp as ever. She always insisted on speaking English since I had been living there, and we were soon being given the latest news.
‘Ah, yes, I was told you were here, Benoît. A bit of a rush, wasn’t it? I heard you were in trouble. Hopefully there isn’t some woman involved?’
I was startled by this, but she didn’t wait for a reply and continued.
‘There are some funny things going on around here, Benoît, more than the usual hippies and treasure seekers. I don’t miss much, and I’ve seen them: men in dark glasses, snooping about the place. I know their sort and I don’t like it one bit. What are they looking for? Blanchefort’s gold?’
At this, she started to laugh, at first quietly, and then so much that she held her sides. We started to laugh with her, although I must say mine was held back somewhat by concern for her frailty, in the face of so much body-shaking humour.
‘Oh, oh, it makes my stomach hurt,’ she said, her amusement now reduced to stifled giggling. ‘You two used to laugh a lot when you were children, do you remember? You used to fall on the floor and roll around till you were weak with it. Strange children.’
At this point she reached down by the side of her chair, and pulled out a small bottle of Chabot Armagnac. Despite our protests, she poured a measure into each coffee cup and we had no choice but to accept our coffee being laced. It did taste fabulous, and I asked to see the bottle. Looking at the label, I recognised the contents as a rare twenty-year-old vintage. It must have cost her quite a bit of money – perhaps a hundred pounds or so. Was she rich too or had Caro bought it? I would ask her later.
‘Of course, I wasn’t born until about six years after Saunière died, but even before then there was talk and gossip, the same as there is now, really, only without so much hysteria. I knew Marie Dénarnaud, though. She was a reserved woman; didn’t have a lot to say, and kept to herself. She had a very lonely life after he had died.’ She paused for a moment, all the laughter now gone, and looked at us both in turn with great seriousness.
‘I grew up with the treasure myths, you see, we all did around here, and it’s not surprising, is it? So many people have come and gone over the centuries and so many battles fought. They all left their mark in one way or another, n’est-ce pas? That’s what people want to do, leave something to be remembered by so that their lives weren’t lived for nought. Pah! In the end, we are nothing but dust blown about in the wind, and others try to snatch that dust as it blows them by.’
At this she raised her hand and made a snatch in the air to affirm what she had just said. She shifted in her chair, and spoke again.
‘I almost feel like selling the tourists nets to try to catch their dreams in, or someone else’s dreams, which is just as unlikely. Benoît, you know what I mean, don’t you? I can see in your face that you’ve been thinking such things too.’
Once again, Hortense had hit the nail on the head. She had always been like this, and I supposed that so
me people might call her psychic. I should be used to it by now, but she still managed to startle me with her astuteness.
‘It’s true, Hortense, I do feel that way, especially over the past few days. I’ve been thinking a lot about my parents and how little I knew them. They were so odd, and when I think of them now it’s like they have a veil over them, so I can see even less. I want to grab it and pull it off, but truly I don’t know how.’
‘Very true, Benoît, very true… they were as cloaked as our Curé Saunière. My two children, I don’t think I am going to last much longer, and there is something I must tell you.’
At this declaration both Caro and I exclaimed, shocked at her sudden announcement.
‘No, surely not, you’ll live for years yet!’
‘Why, we’ll look after you ourselves, won’t we, Benoît? Come home with us now.’
She raised her hand to silence us.
‘No, it is done, and now you must listen. These are not bad things that I’m about to say. They are good things. And you, Benoît, as a priest, you will come to terms with what I must tell you. You’re not like any priest I have ever known anyway.’
Unsure if this was an insult or a compliment, I stayed silent and let her continue.
‘You have both grown up together in these mountains like brother and sister, and as you have said Benoît, there is much that you do not know. I have written it all down for you, and when I am gone you will know it. But, for now, you will know this. You are brother and sister. Caro, my dear, your mother couldn’t conceive at all, and it made both her and your papa so very sad. And then, out of the blue, Benoît, your mother is pregnant. She had made no plans to have a baby, you see, given how things were, but it happened nonetheless. And then she found out it was twins. They decided between them, the sisters, that they would have one each, and that is how it was. They paid to have the birth certificate changed, et voila! You were cousins. And now you are returned to how you should be. It’s a miracle!’
‘Actually, Hortense, I already knew. I found a letter about it, written to papa from all those years ago. It was after he had died and I was clearing out his things. Thank you for telling us though. It was the right thing to do, and if I hadn’t already known I would have liked to know. Benoît? Are you OK?’
They were both looking at me, trying to gauge my reaction. Hortense was smiling broadly, as though she had just given me a huge gift, but Caro seemed more hesitant, perhaps reluctant to smile in case I was angry that, once again, I had been kept in the dark. As a child, I had always wished that she had been my sister, and that she didn’t have to keep going back home to her parents. Then the words of the Italian came into my head. Your sister… he had known. But how? I could think about that later, but at this moment, I had no intention of upsetting either of them. My wish had come true, even if it was rather late. That was enough. I got up and kissed them both, picked up the bottle, and poured an extra shot into their glasses.
Now it was my turn to start laughing.
‘No wonder we look so alike. I never did understand why you had blonde hair when neither of your parents did. How very odd. I must admit though, I am shocked, but not in a bad way. I expect it will take a bit of time to sink in.’
* * *
Hortense spoke again. ‘Caro, could you open the cupboard under the stairs and pass me the carved wooden box? It’s heavy, so be careful.’
She did as she was told, and put the old chest on the table beside Hortense. It was about eighteen inches wide, twelve deep, and was beautifully carved all over. I had never seen it before and wondered where it had come from. Hortense leaned forward and took off a chain that was around her neck. On it were two small keys, one silver and one gold, as well as a circular pendant of gold, which was much bigger. She had worn these for as long as I could remember. Unlocking the box, she pulled out a bag of thick, linen cloth with a draw-string top.
‘You were one, then you were two, and now you are one again, so this is for you both. They belong to Charles and I, but Christiane wouldn’t have theirs in the house, so I kept them here.
Caro took the bag and loosened the strings. I could hear the chink of metal and, when she pulled her hand out, it was full of golden discs, exactly like the one on Hortense’s chain. They were of the brightest yellow, totally untarnished, and I could tell from where I was sitting that they were almost certainly solid gold and likely to be of some considerable age. In today’s market, they would be worth a fortune. She seemed stunned, her eyes transfixed on Hortense as she spoke.
‘They’re the same as the one on your chain. But, Hortense, where did you get them from? I’ve never seen anything like them before.’
‘It’s all explained to you in my will, and there are documents there about other things, too. It will all become clear when you have them, but I’m too old to become involved in it anymore. It took its toll on us all, and keeping secrets is never an easy thing. I believe that there are some things that should be known to everyone, and to be controlled by lies has never sat easily with me. It wasn’t how I wanted to live my life, but telling the truth is not always simple, children; I have learned this. It never was, but even less so in these dangerous times. I see that very clearly, and hopefully you will too. I know and trust that you will do whatever you feel is right, but sometimes one must look at life in a much broader sense. Everything is connected, and nothing can be changed in isolation. If you remember nothing else, please remember this.’ She paused for a moment.
‘For all that your childhoods were strange in some respects, you come from good stock, and nothing can alter that. Blood is thicker than water… is that how you say it? Those that have gone before, speak out through you, and that’s how it should be. It will keep you strong, but I’m glad that I won’t be alive to witness what happens from here on. It has already started, has it not, but later than I thought? I have watched them in the village, and they too have been watching me. You are in danger, but I think you know that.’
‘You have to come and live with us, Hortense. We’ll look after you and make sure that you’re safe.’
She raised her hand to silence me.
‘No. That isn’t needed. I do not wish it, and the disturbance would be too great for me. There is one more thing I must give you. Caro, your father loved it, and thought it the most beautiful thing, but your mother took against it, like the discs. She thought it would bring bad luck but I don’t believe in rubbish like that. Luck is an issue of attitude alone. I have loved to have it in my house and have had a very happy and fortunate life. I am ninety-two, so have nothing to complain about.’
She opened the box again and pulled out a beautiful casket, made from a dark red, shiny material. It looked like cinnabar, a type of stone mined in various places around the world, which had a high mercury content. The Romans and others had used it for that alone, although in the Far East it had historically been used for carved ornaments and jewellery. I had seen a few ancient Church vessels made from it in the past, although these days it was hardly seen at all.
Hortense’s casket was inlaid with golden vines running all around the box, and was exquisite. She used the small gold key on her chain and then opened the lid to reveal a stunning golden cube, perhaps eight centimetres square, with engravings on each side. Caro got up to look at it, and then handed it to me. It gleamed like it was lit from within, and we all stared at it, totally mesmerised.
‘It’s so beautiful. Where did he find it?’
‘Soon, you shall have all of this information to do with as you will. For now, though, I’m tired, and Angeline will be here shortly.’
She handed the chain with its keys and gold disc to Caro and silenced her attempts to question this by another raise of her hand. She spoke again, using her native French this time, and in a loud, clear voice, as much, it seemed, to herself as to Caro and myself.
‘Ma part
est terminée. C’est fait!’ Then in English: ‘My part is finished. It is done!’
She looked exhausted, and I felt concerned. I wrote my telephone numbers on the pad by her phone, and intended to call Angeline, her home help, later on. I knew that she slept with Hortense each night now, which made me feel a little easier, but not entirely so.
Everything was put back in the trunk and wrapped in an old table cloth. We kissed and hugged Hortense, both Caro and I fighting to hold back the tears, and promised to call her in the morning, telling her to call us anytime. The wrapped wooden box was very heavy and awkward to hold, and I struggled with it as we walked back to the car. It was now well past six, and we were just about to drive off when I saw a car pull into the almost empty car park. Caro recognised Angeline as the driver. She jumped out and I followed her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
‘Angeline, we’re so worried about Hortense… she seems so thin and frail. Benoît has to work, but I’d happily have her live with me, although she refused, of course.’
‘You’re wasting your time, she won’t leave that cottage. I’ve even offered to live with her full-time, but she won’t have it. Don’t worry, I’ll look after her, and if I’m at all worried I promise to call. The doctor sees her regularly, and she’s happy enough. What more can anyone do?’
She was right, and we thanked her, checked that she was being properly paid and, although not happy, acknowledged that short of forcing Hortense into the car and taking her with us we could do no more. Back in the car, we began the short drive to Caro’s house.
‘Are you alright, Ben? About us being brother and sister? It must have come as quite a shock.’
‘I’m surprisingly OK. Nothing’s changed really, has it? It’s just the secret thing again. Another one to add to the list of many. Why didn’t you tell me when you found out?’
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