The Priests' Code

by B. B. Balthis

  ‘I thought we ate so little yesterday that I would do a decent breakfast. How are you feeling this morning?’

  ‘Not too bad. I must have slept for about six hours. You passed out on the sofa so I thought it best to leave you there. Thanks for the eggs – I’m really hungry.’

  ‘Me too. I called the solicitor and left a message. Oh, I nearly forgot, the phone rang earlier, but they hung up. It was an unknown number.’

  ‘I wonder who it was?’ I suddenly felt anxious. ‘I’ve got an awful feeling that something’s going to happen.’ When the phone rang again, I looked at Caro before reaching for it. It did cross my mind not to answer it at all, but it might be the Italian offering help, which right now, would be very welcome!

  ‘Hello, is that Ben? It’s Bishop August. I’ve tracked you down at last.’

  ‘Hello, bishop. Yes, you’ve tracked me down. How are you? Your secretary said you were away. I hope everything’s OK?’

  ‘Yes, yes, no problems. Just a family thing to sort out. I heard you had a family problem too?’

  ‘That’s right… my aunt has died, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Yes, I’d heard – I’m so sorry. There must be a lot to sort out. Of course, you have your cousin to help. How is she? Such a delightful woman.’

  ‘Well, we’re both upset obviously, and there’s a lot to do. I won’t be back until after the funeral, and I don’t have a date for that yet. I’m sorry to let you down.’

  ‘No problem, Benoît. We’ll sort things out this end. Such a fascinating area that you live in there in France. Rennes-le-Château. I’ve never been, but would love to see it all. You must know quite a lot about the mysterious priest Saunière and his discoveries, growing up in the area?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose I do, but there are so many red herrings, deliberately misleading treasure trails, propaganda, and downright lies written about it. Anything worth having is probably already in the Vatican vaults. I’m sure that you’d find far more there than you would here.’ The thought of the bishop trying to get access to the most secret files in the Vatican was an amusing one, and I laughed. ‘Oh, by the way, did Adrian Harcourt ever turn up? I remember you telling me that he had gone missing.’

  ‘I’m not sure, Ben; I haven’t heard. If I do, I’ll let you know.’

  We agreed to keep in touch, and ended the conversation.

  ‘What do you make of that? I put the call on loudspeaker so you could hear it. Sounds like he’s going to be poking around sooner or later, if he isn’t here already. He was definitely fishing! I used to think he was a friend, but since he stole the copy journal everything has changed. You wouldn’t do that to a friend, so clearly, he isn’t one at all. Maybe it’s a case of “keep your friends close and your enemies’ closer still.” Perhaps that’s how he sees me?’

  Caro thought for a moment.

  ‘And there’s something else. How did he know Hortense had died? You haven’t spoken to him, and neither have I. No one knows but us, although I suppose it might get into the press eventually, if her involvement in the Resistance gets out. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s a lot closer than England. We had better keep our eyes open. As for Harcourt, he’s up to no good too from what you’ve told me. I can’t see what part Peter the vicar might play in it all, but he’s an oddball. Merry’s far too good for him. I wonder what’s happened to the Italian? I’d like to give him a good slap for involving you in the first place, no matter who he is.’

  At this point, the phone rang again. It was the solicitor who was dealing with Hortense’s affairs, and we made an appointment to go to his offices in town the following morning, and go through her will.

  ‘We need to go up to Hortense’s cottage and have another look around. She may well have left other things for us, hidden away somewhere. In fact, I’d bet on it. I think the house has been left jointly to us both, Benoît. I read it in a letter that she had written to Charles. What shall we do with it?’

  ‘Let’s keep it for now. Property up there rarely comes available and there’s no rush. I’m not keen on letting it out either. l know most people are respectful and interested, but all the churches around here have been vandalised and, as you know, a lot of damage has been done at Rennes-le-Château over the years.’

  ‘Even the Nazis took to dynamiting the place during the Second World War… morons. Seriously, do people really think there are pits full of gold lying around? The church warden at Esperaza told me that when he turned his back for a few minutes, he found a couple of men digging up the floor behind the altar. Even if there are tombs there, and all old churches buried the most important people inside, they’re hardly likely to be a couple of inches down, are they?’

  ‘If we’re going up there, I suppose when it’s full of tourists would be best, but I’m not sure we should leave the house at all.’

  ‘I know, but I’m desperate to get out, and we really should check Hortense’s cottage. Talking about vandalism, did I tell you that the Jesus of Antugnac statue that Saunière erected facing Rennes-le-Château has had its hands chopped off? Do you remember they used to be gold, with Maltese crosses in the palms and hearts in the centre with the letter M on them? Why would anyone do that?’

  ‘Of course I remember it, but it was with hands last time I saw it.’

  ‘Let’s drive up that way and look.’

  ‘OK, but don’t blame me if we end up in another chase, or worse. The car is packed for an emergency though. How do you fancy a night or two in a viper-infested cave? It might end up with that, the way things are going. I’m just going to have a quick shower.’

  * * *

  Whilst I was upstairs, I went to the top of the house to look out of the front and rear windows. I couldn’t see anything that looked remotely suspicious. Fifteen minutes later, and we were driving up the steep lane that led to the statue. There was no one to be seen, and I pulled over, leaving the engine running.

  I stared at the statue in dismay. The whole thing had been whitewashed, head to foot, and a few metres in front of it was the fence of a large new bungalow. As Caro had said, some sick person had smashed the golden hands off, leaving his arms in stumps.

  ‘I’ve just noticed something else. I always thought that he faced directly towards Rennes-le-Château, but he doesn’t. Look, Ben, he’s staring right at Antugnac church. Rennes-le-Château is slightly to one side.’

  ‘So it is. Odd we never noticed that before. Someone’s had a go at the cross too.’

  There was a large, stone cross behind the statue. It had the initials B.D. on it and a date of 1838. INRI was carved at the top, but with the N inverted. It had always been like that, but not now.

  ‘Someone’s chiselled out the inverted N and put one in the right way around. Look at it. What the hell is going on?’

  ‘Inverting it in the first place is deliberately and literally turning the truth around. INRI is Jesus the Nazarene King of the Jews. It says he wasn’t – the Nazarene King of the Jews, that is. The cross on Saunière’s old grave was the same.’

  ‘I get that, but why change it? Who is so desperate to obliterate history? It makes me really angry.’

  ‘I know, but don’t get upset. There’s nothing you can do to stop it. There’s a bit more to it than just turning the truth around, anyway. It’s the runes again. The inverted shape is like the sun rune Sowilo, the exposure of fate and truth. Also, if you use N as the fourteenth number of the alphabet, the fourteenth rune is Perthro. It’s the rune of chance and coincidence, lost meanings, unwanted and disturbing knowledge, and using it in the most appropriate way.’

  ‘The past week has been disturbing, that’s for sure!’

  ‘Even more so when you consider that in biblical terms, the fourteenth number signifies the genealogy of Jesus. In numerological terms, it’s the karmic number of progressive change, trials, danger, and chao
s, which can be turned into great financial gain. I’ve no idea who put the cross there in the first place, though, or when, or even what B.D. stands for, although I’ve tried to find out.’

  Back in the car, we drove towards Rennes-le-Château, checking on Caro’s house first. Once parked, we almost ran to Hortense’s cottage and quickly locked and bolted the door behind us.

  ‘It’s awful having to sneak around like this, but it’s happening just like I said. The bishop has shown his first card, and the others will follow. It’s so strange being here without Hortense to boss us around; I miss her so much. Let’s go upstairs first. Can you go into the loft, Ben? I don’t think there’s much in there but we should check it, and I’ll check the cupboards in the bedrooms.’

  * * *

  I pulled down the ladder and climbed up into the loft. It had been boarded out a long time ago, and we used to play up here sometimes when we were children. A single bulb hung down in the centre, dimly lighting the space. When we were young it had been full of boxes of old clothes, ornaments, and other objects in various stages of decrepitude.

  She must have had it cleared out, because it was now almost empty. I picked up the small metal trunk, which I knew contained photographs and postcards. I shouted to Caro and passed it down to her, along with an old leather suitcase, which I hadn’t seen it before. None of the boards looked like they had been lifted, and anyway, I was sure that Hortense would have either told us or given us anything of great value, like she had with the discs and the cube.

  I switched off the light and went back down the ladder.

  ‘There’s nothing else up there - clean as a whistle.’

  ‘I’ve got the jewellery box. There isn’t a lot. As you know, she wore the disc and keys all the time. The place is spotless. Angeline looked after Hortense and the house so well. We should buy her a gift, although I suppose that Hortense may have left her something in her will.’

  Carrying everything down, we went into the kitchen to make some coffee. It was simple and uncluttered. Charles had made the cupboards from local wood many years before, and they had aged beautifully. He had also made a long matching sideboard, which was in the sitting room. There were false backs on two of the drawers, which had always fascinated us as children, and I remembered that Caro had something similar in her own house. There was nothing other than a few old bills in the first drawer, but in the second, was a small battered box. Inside was an ornate, gold pocket watch and Hortense’s old wristwatch, which I hadn’t seen her wear for years. We tucked them, and the jewellery box, into the leather suitcase, empty apart from a few sealed brown envelopes, deciding to look at it all properly when we got home.

  We then checked the cupboard under the stairs, where Hortense had kept the cube and discs. Most poignant were a few pairs of shoes, and Caro stopped for a moment to wipe away more tears. A large stone jar held several umbrellas and her collection of walking sticks. Some of them were very beautiful, with silver embossed tops of various styles. We were familiar with all of them apart from one. It had a heavy golden handle in the shape of a large bee, with bees engraved into the dark, polished wood below it. Every few inches a golden bee had been inlaid into the shaft of the stick.

  ‘Look at this. Have you ever seen it before?’

  ‘No, never. It’s stunning! I wonder where she got it from?’

  At this moment, there was a heavy banging on the door. We looked at each other and I shook my head at Caro, and put my finger to my lips. We waited… there was more banging and then a voice.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  ‘Father Benoît? Professor de Morny? It’s Inspector Niort. I would like to speak with you.’

  I opened the door. ‘Sorry about that, inspector, we weren’t expecting any callers. Do come in. Can I get you a coffee? We were just having one whilst we tidied the house. Have you got any information for us?’

  ‘I will have a coffee, thank you. I was going to call at your house, but saw your car and assumed you would be here. Sorry to disturb you, but I was hoping you’d be able to help me. To answer your question first, I’ve no more information regarding the intruder that your aunt shot. None of the hospitals knew anything, and I seem to have come to a dead end. I can see little point in an autopsy, but I’m waiting to hear from the coroner, so you may need to wait for a day or two until the body can be released.

  ‘No one locally heard or saw anything, except for one resident a few doors down who said that she had seen a black car here on and off over the past few weeks. The village is so small; I could understand that a local might notice something like that, but, like I said before, it’s mostly tourists now. Your aunt was a very interesting lady, though, and had many connections, certainly when she was younger, anyway. Were you aware that she worked for the French Secret Service?’

  Caro and I glanced at each other before she answered. ‘No, inspector, we didn’t know that, but I guessed that she must have had some sort of important job. She was frequently in Paris when we were younger, and always seemed to have her finger on the pulse where politics was concerned.’

  ‘She worked for them for many years, until well into her seventies. She may have made some enemies in that time, in fact it’s quite likely, or she may have come across some information that other people want. And the name de Morny; what do you know about it?’

  ‘Nothing at all. Neither my father nor my aunt ever wanted to talk about it, and there are no relatives left that I know of. As I’m sure you know, mine and Benoît’s parents are dead, and our grandparents died a long time ago, so the trail has run dry, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I see. Just one more thing, was she involved in the Rennes-le-Château mysteries at all?’

  I thought about the cube and discs but, more than that, what came to mind was her laughing when she had mentioned Blanchefort’s gold the evening before she died.

  ‘I honestly have no idea, inspector, but I doubt it. She certainly thought that the constant treasure hunting was ludicrous, and said so many times, but you know how it is when you live here. I think she found it a nuisance more than anything else. I wish there was more we could tell you. We’re desperate to know who was here that evening and what they wanted with her.’

  ‘Thank you anyway and thanks for the coffee. I’m sorry to have taken up more of your time. Do contact me if you hear of anything.’

  He got up and walked towards the door, then stopped and turned around.

  ‘I nearly forgot, there was one more thing. Have you heard of anyone called Adrian Harcourt?’

  I was shocked at the mention of Harcourt’s name. What the hell was going on?

  ‘Forgive my surprise, inspector. He wasn’t someone I expected you to ask me about. Yes, I know him. He lives in England quite close to where I’ve been working, and he helps the church from time to time in an advisory capacity. He used to have a property restoration company, but he’s retired now. I don’t know much more than that apart from the fact that he paints icons. Why do you ask? Has something happened to him?’

  ‘Not that I know of. I just came across his name whilst researching your aunt’s affairs from the past, and only made a connection because he lived so near to where you live in England. Is he the sort to be involved in anything criminal do you think? What sort of man is he?’

  I thought for a moment. I needed to be very careful here. Part of me wanted to blurt the whole thing out, and ask for protection, but my instinct told me to keep quiet.

  ‘Inspector, as for him being involved in anything criminal, I really have no idea. He has always seemed like a decent enough man. I saw him a week or two ago to drop off some papers. In what way was he connected to my aunt?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t give you that information right now. Please be assured that I shall do all I can to find out what happened on the evening your aunt died. If you are at all concerned or remember anything t
hat might help, do please give me a call. You have my number.’

  I let him out, closed the door and locked it again.

  ‘What do you make of that? The plot thickens. Just who is Harcourt, and how can he possibly have anything to do with Hortense? One thing’s for sure, he’s on the wrong side of the law as far as I’m concerned. You were right about things unfolding in time; in fact, it feels like it’s about to explode! We should be getting back. You hold the suitcase and the sticks, and I’ll carry the trunk. Don’t deviate, go straight to the car, and lock your door as soon as you get in. OK, let’s go.’

  We noticed Niort chatting to some tourists at the front of the church as we drove by.

  ‘Perhaps he’s doing more investigating on our behalf?’

  ‘Or perhaps he’s interested in the “mystery,” as he called it, himself. Nothing would surprise me. The man makes me feel uneasy, Caro. I’m not sure why, but I don’t trust him, or perhaps I’m just being paranoid.’

  ‘He knew an awful lot more than he was telling us, that’s for sure, but I suppose we do too. We’re playing a game. Each knows that the other is holding something back, and I’m wondering who’s going to break first.’

  * * *

  The drive home was thankfully uneventful, but on trying to open the outer door to the house I could see some slight buckling of the metal around the lock. The key still worked and we were soon inside, the phone ringing almost immediately. It was my neighbour, saying that he had seen someone tampering with the door, but he had shouted at them and they had run off. I thanked him and we chatted for a minute or two about recent burglaries in the area and then rang off.

  ‘Even if they had managed to break through both doors, which is highly unlikely, they’d never have got into the safe. I don’t think they’ll be back, especially now they know my neighbours are always in. How about risotto for supper? We need to use the fish from the market or we’ll have to throw it out.’