The Priests' Code

by B. B. Balthis

  ‘I think so too.’

  ‘You asked me about responsibility? I’ve thought about what Harcourt said in the journal about the enlightened seeking the truth when they are ready for it? Surely that can only happen over time, since some will become enlightened and want truth, before others. After talking with Hortense yesterday, I concluded that all we can do is take the opportunity to work the story through, and try to understand why we’re in this position. Maybe if we’re clear about what we know, then we can find a way out the other side? One thing’s for sure: we can’t hide in here for the rest of our lives. Of course, we’ve also got the Templar discs and the cube. I need to see it; can you get it out of the safe please? I’m sorry, I’m lecturing you again. Old habits die hard, eh?’

  ‘Well, you certainly know how to talk, that’s for sure.’

  She leant forward to thump me but I was too quick for her and leapt out of the way. I went to the safe, took out the cinnabar box, and handed it to her.

  ‘I’m hungry. Will salad, bread, and cheese do, Caro? I’ll cook later.’ I went into the kitchen and opened the fridge.

  ‘That’s fine, thanks. I worked out another thing from Marie’s gravestone too. It’s the incorrect date, where a C meaning 100 has been missed and a 0 put in its place? Obviously, it now totals 1681. There’s been so much conjecture and wild, fantastical theories, but once again it’s simple. 1681 was when the Assembly of the French Clergy took place. It went on until 1682, and in essence it removed any powers from Rome to have a say in how the Church was taxed. It put a greater burden on the Church to cough up money, and even forced them to give free gifts to the crown, not only from land and tithes, but from what each church owned.

  ‘It’s obvious that at that time the churches would hide away anything of great value, claiming that they had none, or replacing gold items, for instance, with a cheaper metal. The nobility in each region, who mostly supported their churches greatly – they certainly did in Rennes-le-Château – would have helped with this. I think that what Bigou was trying to say with the date was that the church treasure hidden from that time, and I use the word “treasure” in the broadest sense, was buried with Marie or under the tombstone.’

  ‘Whilst you’re eating, Caro, and therefore silent, I’ll take the opportunity to add to what you’ve said about the 1681 date. I don’t have notes, but I remember it well enough. You might learn something you don’t know!’

  She smiled apologetically, and I raised my hand like she had done.

  ‘There’s been so much conjecture about the date. We know that Saunière reused the Carolingian pillar that he pulled out from under the old altar during the renovations of the church. He inscribed it with the word “Mission” and the date of 1891. Upside down, it does of course, read 1681, but 1891 was significant enough, although I suppose it could have had a double meaning.

  ‘1891 also saw Pope Leo XIII declare a feast of the apparition of “Our Lady of Lourdes” and, indeed, Saunière put a statue of her on top of the pillar in his domain that year. Lots of the local children received Holy Communion, and he had Ferrafiat, who was a diocesan missionary, speak at the event. Did you know that Ferrafiat was a descendant of St Vincent de Paul and he was a missionary too?’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘Of course, Saunière had his own mission along with various other clergy as an anti-republican, and had got into hot water because of it before. We also know that he had ideas about having some sort of priests’ retirement home at Rennes-le-Château. He did literally turn the whole pillar upside down, of course, which inverted the old cross on it. He was knowledgeable enough to know what an inverted cross would symbolise, so my guess would be that he was, quite literally, turning the crucifixion of Jesus “on its head.” He was saying that it didn’t happen. It’s also quite likely that he came across small relics in its cavity too, or found something buried underneath.’

  She nodded, her mouth full, and I carried on talking.

  ‘And 1891 was also the year that Saunière worked at Antugnac Church. That may well be significant. And there’s evidence to say that he found a golden chalice, which he gave to his close friend, Eugene Grassaud, priest of Amelie les Bains. It wouldn’t surprise me if he found it hidden beneath Marie’s gravestone, and it’s highly likely that there were more valuable items underneath it or others, kept hidden from the greedy hands of Louis XIV since 1681 or maybe before then. It’s well known that she was penniless towards the end of her life, so it certainly wasn’t personal valuables that were found.’

  * * *

  Another 1681 came to mind. I had come across it in Coustaussa, once a Cathar village, still with its beautiful but wrecked fortress, and directly across the valley from Rennes-le-Château.

  ‘Inset into one of the cottage walls near the old graveyard in Coustaussa is a strange piece of carved stone that looks like the top of an ornate doorway. Written on it is 1 B C 681. 1681 again, although I haven’t worked out the B C yet. Upside down it’s 1891, of course. I haven’t been able to find out where the stone was found, although it looks like the top of a doorway, or possibly a gravestone. Having the 1 at either end is interesting too, because one of its many numerological meanings is that of an entrance or portal to another realm, which may well include another realm of knowledge.’

  Caro pushed her almost empty plate to one side. ‘Have you been inside the church?’

  ‘Not for years. I tried, but it’s locked up now.’

  ‘I got in a few months ago, and like Antugnac, it’s been stripped back to the stone, which looks so odd in this region. Thank goodness they haven’t managed to do that to Rennes-le-Château. The water stoup has been all but destroyed, and there’s a picture of Pope Leo XIII in the room at the back of the church amongst bits of furniture and other rotting debris. He comes into my research again later.’

  * * *

  Abbé Antoine Gélis had been the priest at Coustaussa during Saunière’s time, and they were close friends. One night, at the point of his retirement and leaving the village for good, Gélis was viciously hacked to death. His house had been ransacked for papers, but gold and other valuables were left behind. ‘Viva Angelina’ had been written on a cigarette paper and left in his house. Like everything else connected to Rennes-le-Château, there was much conjecture as to this meaning.

  ‘Did you ever work out the meaning of the Viva Angelina on the cigarette paper found in Gélis’s house after he had been murdered?’ I asked.

  ‘Of course. I hate to say it again, but it was simple. The meaning of the name Angelina is Messenger of God. Several strangers had been seen in the village that day, and although they were arrested, oddly they were let go, on their claims that they were travelling bar singers. Ha! Much more likely, they were church agents, and definitely messengers of God, or should I say the Church, intent on silencing him and taking any important documents that he held before he left the village. No doubt the police force involved was told, in no uncertain terms, to let them go… I’d bet on it.’

  ‘I’m impressed. Mind you, you’ve got nothing to do all day long so a bit of research here and there is no hardship, is it?’ At this point, she picked up a crust of bread from the table and threw it at me. It missed, but only just and we both laughed.

  The poor man’s tombstone had added further conjecture. ‘I went to the graveyard twice in one afternoon, the second time with a compass. Instead of the usual Christian eastern alignment, Gélis’s tombstone faces almost directly to the west, and the rest of the gravestones face south-south-east, towards Rennes-le-Château. When I got home, I checked on a map and he faces directly towards Antugnac and Croux. How odd it that?’

  ‘Very, and even more odd is that you didn’t say!’ She looked at me, sighed, and shook her head slightly from side to side. ‘It’s like you don’t trust me.’

  ‘That’s not true. I suppose I just don’t
feel the need to share everything, or I forget and move on to something else?’

  ‘I don’t believe that you forget anything, Ben, I really don’t.’ She sighed again. ‘Anyway, I suppose that because it’s so rocky up there the other graves could have been placed for ease of burial, or maybe they continued to use a historic alignment used in Cathar times? But that doesn’t account for the way he faces, which must be deliberate. At the very least I would say it was to state a direct contradiction to normal Christian practices. In recent years, the terraced house that was the presbytery and his home was pulled apart, literally stone by stone, in a blatant search by the Church for more information that he might have hidden. How desperate is that? I wonder if they found anything? It’s been rebuilt now and is let out as a Gîte.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Caro had opened the cinnabar box, and the cube gleamed at us. The gold was the same colour as the discs, an intensely rich and buttery yellow. With the sun streaming in from the open doors and window, it reflected flashes of light, which bounced and danced on the walls, seemingly with a life of their own.

  The cube resembled a large dice, but instead of dots it had an image impressed on each side. The images were the same as on the discs, but larger. The craftsmanship was superb, and with the extra size, the images were even clearer. There was, of course, one more impression, on the sixth side. It was of a key and stood out clearly in relief. It looked a bit like the old key to my door in England, and I supposed that little had changed in basic key design between the Middle Ages and the seventeenth century, which was when the cottage dated to.

  She looked up at me. ‘What an awesome thing. It reminds me of some gold bars that were brought up from a sixteenth-century Spanish galleon a few years back. There were coins too, not dissimilar to ours, and a few even had Templar-style crosses. It’s the perfect symmetry that makes it so astounding, although I suppose that’s the whole point. Perfect symmetry, perfect balance, and multiple facets making a whole. The cube has always been a symbol of truth because of each side being the same size. Should we be keeping it here, Ben? It must be of immense value.’

  ‘Probably not, although even if anyone found the safe they would need dynamite to open it. The whole lot should go to the bank vault, though. Let’s go down now. It’s broad daylight, and mid-afternoon, so there should be plenty of people around. I already have a safety deposit box, so I can put it in there. Take photos, and let’s keep a set of discs each.’

  She did just that whilst I quickly tidied up and locked the safe. When we went out to the car there was no one in sight, and we jumped in and drove the couple of kilometres to Esperaza. I managed to get a parking space right in front of the bank, and we were soon inside. Caro and I were well known here. The manager was the same age as us and we had gone to school together. His family and ours had known each other for several generations, and that counted for a lot in a rural community like this. We were soon in his office, and my safety deposit box was brought out. He politely looked away as I placed the bag of discs and the cinnabar box with the golden cube inside. I told him that we were depositing coins, and an ornament in a box, and he noted this down. Within minutes everything was back in the vault and we thanked him.

  ‘Not a problem at all,’ he replied. ‘There have been quite a few burglaries in the area over the past couple of months. Even the church here in Esperaza has to stay locked because of vandals.’ He saw us to the door. ‘Take care – nice to see you both,’ and then went quickly back inside.

  ‘Right, now hold my arm. I’m serious. I think we’re both at risk of being kidnapped and we need to make that as difficult as possible. Let’s go straight to the bakery, and then the mini-mart to get a few bits. Look, the fish man has a stall. I forgot it was Wednesday. Let’s get some prawns and I’ll make a risotto tonight.’

  Prawns bought, we quickly crossed the square to the bakery. As usual, there was a long queue, but eventually we bought two large loaves and some pastries, which should last for a few days, and headed towards the small supermarket. A man that had been behind us in the bakery queue, was now following us to the supermarket. He could be just going there too, of course, but I held Caro’s arm close to mine and we kept walking.

  ‘Steady on, Ben, you’ve almost stopped the flow of blood.’

  ‘Never mind that, I think we’re being followed. Keep walking.’

  We reached the supermarket, quickly buying the things we needed, including a kilo of my favourite white peaches. The man didn’t come into the shop and within minutes we were back outside. I didn’t see him until he made a grab at Caro’s arm from behind one of the stone pillars to the side of the shop. He had obviously been waiting for us, but she held on and we almost ran into the café next door. There were quite a few people inside, including some that we knew, but once again the man didn’t come in. Ordering two large coffees, we sat down near the window.

  * * *

  ‘Phew… that was close… he actually grabbed my arm! What was he going to do, drag me through the square? Isn’t that a bit obvious and rather stupid, since I would have yelled my head off? I’m feeling really scared now. What a nightmare this is all becoming.’

  ‘I know. These guys are serious, and my bet is that if he had managed to get you apart from me, a car would have come screaming up alongside and you would have been in it within seconds. I’ve seen it happen quite a few times in Rome and Naples, and whilst a few people turn their heads, most just carry on for fear of becoming involved. They’re used to it there, of course, which we aren’t here, but you can bet that the car would have been gone in seconds and would probably have had false plates on it.’

  Our coffee arrived, and we chatted to the bar owner for a while until he went back to serve another customer.

  ‘A family I once knew in Naples had been held up at gunpoint three times by the Mafia-style Camorra, and robbed of everything they had because they wouldn’t pay protection money. They were lucky to not get killed. The police did nothing, of course; I suppose there was little they could do, given the influence and power these gangs often hold. Let’s stay in here for a while and hope that he gets bored and goes away.’

  We drank our coffee and relaxed a little, Caro changing the subject to that of Esperaza church.

  ‘It’s such a shame they have to lock the church now. It’s so beautiful, and a real tourist attraction. Did you know that someone smashed one of the altars? What on earth is that about? If you don’t like churches, that’s fine, keep out. I can’t help feeling it’s something to do with Abbé Rivière, who was the priest in Saunière’s time and built the odd statue of Jesus in a grotto with his eyes open. Perhaps people are angry at being conned for all these years, or it could be the opposite, I suppose. They see the statue as heresy of some type and are angry at that. But then why smash the altar, which would be a type of heresy in itself. In Couiza church someone even put excrement on the altar. How sick is that? Sorry to be chattering away. I’m nervous. Actually, that’s an understatement!’

  ‘Don’t worry. It’s my fault. I should have kept you well out of it.’

  She shrugged her shoulders.

  ‘You’re so cool about everything, Benoît. I’m beginning to feel like I don’t know you at all!’

  This time it was my turn to shrug my shoulders and change the subject.

  ‘I think your first idea about the smashed altar was probably the most accurate.’

  Rivière, the priest here in Esperaza at the same time as Saunière was at Rennes-le-Château, had the strange grotto built after Saunière had died. It was said that when he went to give him the last rites, he had come rushing out of the room looking deeply shocked, having not done so. Saunière didn’t get the last rites until after he had died, which seemed rather pointless, and a short while later, the statue was made on Rivière’s orders and put in Esperaza church. I got up.

  ‘Right,
have we got everything we need for the next few days? We don’t want to have to come here again anytime soon – it’s too risky. Hang on tight and we’ll literally run to the car. It’s only on the other side of the square, and I’ll make sure the doors are open using the remote. But I’m warning you – I’ll be driving fast, so brace yourself!’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  The man who had followed us was nowhere to be seen, and we got to the car safely and sped off. Not speaking at all, we were back at the house within ten minutes and I made tea whilst Caro put the shopping away. It was now almost five, and I got my laptop out to check for emails. Both Merry and Bill had replied.

  Bill’s email said that he was finally at home and was sitting on a chair in his front room, which although uncomfortable, was wonderful. It was what he wrote next that caught my interest.

  I wanted to tell you something that I had forgotten about the church. It’s just a small thing, but those are often the most telling. When we were children, if we’d been cheeky and answered back or used inappropriate language of some sort, my grandfather used to tell us that if it didn’t stop we’d find our mouths locked up like the man in Temple’s corner. He was referring to the man’s head in the piscina in the right-hand chancel corner. I’m sure you’ve seen it. I’ve never given it much thought since then, but it’s the Temple thing that’s interesting, because I think he meant Templar. No one talks about it around here anymore which is odd, since the lords of the manor were heavily involved in the setting up of the Knights Templar. You’d think they’d be proud of the connection, but the whole thing seems to have been silenced. Plenty of other churches around here are very open about their Templar origins, but even in history at school it was never mentioned. It’s almost like it’s been deliberately quashed.