The Priests' Code

by B. B. Balthis

  ‘If you’re going to speak to the priest about getting the key to Antugnac church, you might as well arrange the funeral times. Perhaps we should speak to Niort again and ask him what’s going on. The problem is that we’ve not been honest with him, and I’m sure he knows that.’

  ‘But once we involve him in the journal, the parchments, Saunière’s parchments, Mary, Jesus, and all the saints, we’ve lost the lot! I for one am not willing to let that happen, not yet anyway.’

  ‘I agree. Don’t forget I’ve got a book riding on this, but it’s more than that… I don’t want to be silenced, which would most likely be the case if Niort got his hands on everything.’

  I turned on my laptop. There were quite a few emails for me. Some were basic church things and I dealt with those first. There was one from Bill, asking if I had heard about Peter.

  I’m not sure if you know, but Peter Lacy, the vicar, is dead. It’s all a bit shady, and no one really knows how or why. He always seemed rather highly strung and anxious to me, but I can’t say I knew him that well. The date of the funeral hasn’t been arranged yet, and there’s a rumour that he wasn’t even in England when he died, but I know no more than that. The cleaner at the rectory told me. She had gone up there earlier and found Merry in a bit of a state with the police there. My mother would say that it was the curse of the church! It’s more likely to be that he got into a bit of trouble. I had heard he was having an affair, but I try to go deaf when I hear things like that. It must be awful for Merry, who is such a nice woman. I’ll let you know if I hear more. I’ve walked by your cottage a few times (without stick!) and all seems well there. Hope to see you back soon. Bill

  I wrote back expressing the appropriate shock at his news and asked him to let me know if he heard any more.

  ‘There’s an email from Merry. I’ll read it out.’

  Benoît and Caro. As you know, Peter was shot dead in France this morning. I am told he was about to shoot the pair of you, but he was killed before he had the chance to do so. How can this be? I am so sorry that you have been put in danger. He hasn’t been himself for quite a while now, but I hadn’t realised how serious things had become. I’m struggling to imagine him with a gun at all. I feel completely stunned, to be honest, and none of it seems real. I’m sure it will hit me at some point, but right now I’m being very practical and doing all the things that need to be done.

  The boys are on their way home, so that will be a help. You may have heard that he was having an affair. I know how gossip gets around the village. I did know, but I doubt if this has anything to do with things. Against my advice, he had joined a modern-day Templar-style organisation, which pledged to uphold Christian principles above all other things. I thought it was ridiculous but he wouldn’t listen to me. Anyway, I’ve told the inspector everything I know about it, which isn’t much, and can do no more.

  He had taken to spending hours in the church at night looking for something, but he wouldn’t tell me what and always locked the door so that I couldn’t get in. What a terrible mess. Once again, I’m so sorry that you’ve been involved. I think he must have had a major psychological breakdown, but I suppose that now I shall never know. His body is still in France, and I don’t know when it will arrive back in England. I understand if you don’t want to speak to me given what you’ve been put through. Love to you both, Merry.

  ‘That poor woman. Send her my love, won’t you, Ben.’

  I wrote back to her, offering our support with anything she might need, and sending our condolences and love. I didn’t say much, as I didn’t want to compound an already-impossible situation, but I felt deeply sorry for her and for what she and her children had to face in the coming days and weeks.

  Caro had gone upstairs and I picked up the phone to dial the number of the local priest. He had heard about Hortense’s death, and we agreed on Saturday morning at eleven for the funeral.

  ‘When will you be free to discuss the details? I’m on my way down the hill shortly, because I’ve got to drop something off in Couiza.’

  ‘Why don’t you come after that and stay for supper? Oh, and by the way, would it be possible to have the key to Antugnac church for half an hour? Caro is writing an academic history of the Razès area, and Antugnac was particularly important because it was one of the few places locally to have a fortified church.’

  ‘No problem, Benoît. I’ll bring it with me.’ This concluded the conversation, which had been easier than I thought, and Pascal, the priest, had sounded very pleasant. He lived alone in a church cottage and would, no doubt, welcome a bit of company on a summer evening, and it would do us good too, to talk to someone other than each other for a few hours.

  Caro came back down and I explained that we had a guest for supper, and the contents of the conversation. She quickly phoned the undertakers and updated them on the details.

  I cleared the table and then wrapped three large potatoes in foil, tucking them into the hot embers of the fire.

  The room was filled with a delicious smell of the chicken stew, and I realised how hungry I was despite the trauma of the day.

  * * *

  A few moments later there was a knock at the door, and I quickly let Pascal in. We were soon chatting and he was easy company. He told us that the police had been at the church in Rennes-le-Château that morning and a man had been carried out and taken away in an ambulance. They had taken the recordings from the security camera and had been there for the rest of the day, but were now gone.

  ‘I’ve no idea what it was about and they were very cagey. Still, I’m glad that the church wasn’t closed for days. I’ll ring them tomorrow to try to find out more. Here’s the key to Antugnac church; I cover four parishes now.’

  ‘It’s the same in England. Most priests cover three or four parishes,’ I replied.

  ‘I suppose the congregation is shrinking just about everywhere. Antugnac is a strange place, and it’s true that it is an unusual building in that it’s fortified. The Huguenots tried to destroy it and burn it down in the late 1500s, with all the villagers hiding inside, but they didn’t succeed. It’s always puzzled me that it’s been stripped to the stone on the inside. As you know, most of our churches are very ornate. I’m so sorry about your aunt. She was an amazing lady, even if she didn’t believe in God! I had wondered if she would want a church service at all.’

  ‘I know, but if it’s OK with you we would still like it there. She loved the church so very much, and hopefully we can arrange things to make us all happy. Come and sit down at the table. Benoît has made a fabulous chicken stew over the fire like our grandmother used to do, so I hope you’re hungry.’

  ‘Very. I’m not much of a cook, I’m afraid, so it’s a real treat to be offered a home-cooked dinner.’

  ‘Then you must come and eat with me sometimes. I like cooking, although I’m not up to Benoît’s standard. He’ll probably be going back to England sometime soon.’

  I looked at her as she said this. I had given no thought to my return, and there were still issues with our safety to consider before that happened. We spent a pleasant evening with Pascal and I warmed to him greatly. I hoped they would meet up sometimes. I knew he would never be a partner for her, but at least he was good company, and she seemed to like him.

  We had arranged a supremely simple service for Hortense, using Jesus instead of God in any prayers, and some simple music that we knew she liked. I doubted that there would be more than a handful of people there since she had outlived almost all her friends and probably her old colleagues too. We waved him off, his little scooter chugging noisily back up the hill.

  ‘What a nice chap. I really do think it’s time the Catholic Church allowed priests to marry, and look, Ben, we’ve got the key to the church.’

  ‘Let’s go over in the morning and see what’s what. I’m exhausted, and am going straight to bed after we’v
e washed up.’

  ‘Why don’t you do that, and leave the washing up to me. I’ve got some research to do and won’t be going up for an hour or two.’

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  I was unconscious in minutes, and woke to the sun streaming through the window at eight the following morning. Caro was already downstairs, and I quickly ate some breakfast. She was anxious to get over to the church and then make a few more arrangements for Hortense’s funeral the next day.

  ‘I wanted to show you this before our church visit. “Asmodeus.” I’ll read it out, but you can follow it through as I read. Or perhaps you would just rather read it yourself? I don’t want you to feel like a student. You do already know quite a bit of it.’

  ‘No, I’d rather you read it out – it sinks in more quickly that way. And I don’t mind being your student at all. You’re the best teacher ever. Did anyone ever tell you that?’

  ‘Are you teasing me, Benoît? Because if you are…’

  She made to move towards me, and I raised my hands to declare peace. ‘I was being deadly serious. Now hand me what you’ve written and teach… I’m all ears.’

  She handed me several printed sheets of paper, and I sat at the table, placed it in front of me, and sipped my coffee, waiting for her to begin.

  ‘Asmodeus, guardian of the gates of hell and of the secret of Solomon’s temple. Tricked by King Solomon into giving assistance with the building of his temple, by filling his favourite water hole with wine and then capturing him, although he did eventually escape. The piscina on his back and the water hole is a good 3D analogy. Asmodeus was the king of nine hells, and one of the seven princes of hell, generally thought to represent lust and sexual desire.

  ‘His brother Ihys believed that everyone should have free will and choose their own destiny, whilst Asmodeus believed that the strong should rule the weak and proceeded to kill his brother. There’s a parallel here with religion in general, which I believe Saunière is trying to point out after making his discoveries. That is, if the powers that control us all revealed that Jesus was a mortal man, then humanity wouldn’t be able to cope with their lives at all. I suspect that it would be much more likely that those in dominant positions would be the ones who wouldn’t be able to exist, with their positions stripped from them.

  ‘In the Book of Tobit, or Tobias, a religious novel and part of the canon of the Roman Catholic Church, which represents the sanctity of marriage, Asmodeus falls in love with Sara, the wife of Tobias the son. She ultimately rejects him, but of interest is verse 22 chapter 6, which speaks of the marriage of Tobias the son and Sara. They wait until the third night of their marriage before consummation takes place.

  And when the third night is past, thou shalt take the virgin with the fear of the Lord, moved rather for love of children than for lust, that in the seed of Abraham thou mayst obtain a blessing in children.

  ‘Another 22, and an allegorical narrative used by Saunière, telling us about Jesus being a mortal and created in the same way as the rest of us, his marriage to Mary Magdalene and their offspring, Sara.

  ‘This is reiterated in the writing on the chancel walls and ceiling, where there are dozens of symbols showing the initials M for Mary, J for Jesus, which is inverted to show that the crucifixion didn’t happen, and S for Sara through the middle. There’s also another one of them in gold on one of the arches, with the symbols of Mary and Jesus to either side: the jar of healing balm and a plain cross. Sara also means princess. No surprises there since both Jesus and Mary came from royal blood lines.’

  As she spoke, I remembered that Charles had been the first person to point them out to us when we were children.

  ‘I’ve noticed how worn many of the wall paintings have become. I hope they don’t disappear altogether. Even poor Asmodeus had his head lopped off and stolen a few years back. Listening to you like this, I can’t help thinking about Saunière and the planning he must have undertaken. Do you think he worried that people might not understand his clues?’

  ‘It’s quite likely, I suppose. And some of the clues are still being argued about. It’s like anything: what is clear to one person may not be clear to another, and the bulk of what he did to the church was more than a hundred years ago. Can I have another coffee please?’

  I walked over to the kitchen and she followed me, paper in hand.

  * * *

  ‘Back to Asmodeus. Firstly, the four archangels standing on his back. That’s a numerological four, meaning truth, fate, illumination, knowledge, and wisdom and of course, the sum total of 22. If you remember the multiple four triangles or Eyes of Hel in your church in England, Ben? That might be a deliberate connection between the two churches. There’s also the fourth rune, Ansuz, meaning divine communication, ancestral speech, and the use of symbols to understand and transform.

  ‘Each archangel shows part of the Catholic crossing of oneself with blessed water. One points directly down to the piscina below and underneath them is written the phrase:

  PAR CE SIGNE TU LE VAINCRAS

  ‘By this sign, you will triumph, take possession of, will overcome it/him. Him meaning Asmodeus and the holder of the secret, and the knowledge of the secret itself. People have been trying to crack this code for ever.’

  ‘We spent quite a bit of time on it years ago, although I can’t say I’ve thought about it much since then. Don’t tell me, Caro, you’ve worked it out!’

  ‘Well, yes, I have. I sat up all night with the letters on bits of paper and suddenly, I realised I had done it! I was so excited, I nearly phoned you, but decided to save it for when I saw you next. It’s a simple breaking down of an anagram to this:

  R L C

  PISCINA

  EAU SANG

  VERITE

  RENNES-LE-CHTEAU

  PISCINA

  WATER BLOOD

  TRUTH

  ‘Eureka! You should have phoned; that’s some achievement, and after all these years…’

  ‘Thank you. But there’s more to it than that. We already know that the phrase is comprised of 22 letters with the symbolism that goes with it. There are two extra letters from the original phrase that this was taken from though. The phrase originated with Constantine, the Roman Emperor who, apparently, whilst in battle, had a vision of these words minus the “le” and with a cross of light. Very handy, and we know he went on to use it at the Council of Nicaea in 325, along with bits of Roman, Egyptian, Greek, and other belief systems, all thrown into the mix to create the new faith. Worth noting is that Constantine’s birth date, and his death date, are both numerological 22s. Again.’

  * * *

  ‘These 22s. How can it be? How can it come up over and over like that? Call it what you like, synchronicity or whatever. It’s astounding but totally unfathomable.’

  ‘I’ve got no answer to it. Like Hortense said in her last letter, Rennes-le-Château is a strange place. Maybe someday, someone will be able to explain it properly. I can’t help feeling that even all the research I’ve done is just scratching the surface of what’s out there.

  ‘The meaning of the decoded phrase is simple and direct. Saunière is telling us of the whereabouts of the parchments, both found and re-hidden. Under a piscina or water stoop. Which piscina? Antugnac. Why? Because he tells us so in the Stations of the Cross. The plaid cloth around the child in Station 8 is the plaid for the Andrews clan. St Andrew’s church is just down the road in Antugnac, and where Saunière worked in 1890–91. Antugnac is written on Marie de Nègre’s headstone backwards on the bottom two and top two lines. 22. It might also be a clue to Saunière’s own involvement with the Scottish Rite Masonic order.’

  ‘I’ll second that. I have no doubt about his involvement. There is Masonic symbolism in many of the churches around here, and it’s well known that the Scottish Rite were in France from the 1700s onwards.’

 
; ‘I agree, and the “Le” is interesting in itself, because they’re the thirteenth and fourteenth letters. 1314 was the year that Jacques de Molay, the last grand master of the Knights Templar, was burned at the stake by Philip IV of France. As this was happening, he apparently cursed both Philip and Pope Clement V, who were both dead within the year. Philip of France died on a numerological 22. The order to abolish the Knights Templar altogether was given on the 22nd March 1312. The royal house of Capet collapsed fourteen years later.

  ‘And there’s more. It was on the 22nd July 1209 that the order was given to start the Albigensian slaughter in Bezier. A 22 and the feast day of Mary Magdalene. And the bishop had drawn up a list of 222 individuals he wanted handed over.’

  ‘And Abbot Amalric’s chilling words, “Kill them all, God will know his own.”’

  ‘Indeed. But he didn’t, did he? God, I mean. No one was spared or saved, not even children.’

  ‘No… no, he didn’t… and more 22s. I’m struggling again. I can understand the deliberate use of the number as a means of explaining something, but not its recurrence over the best part of two thousand years. It suggests some sort of overall plan, or fate, something like that. If Hortense was here I’d ask her.’

  Caro shrugged her shoulders. ‘I’ve thought about it a lot, but haven’t come up with anything. I’ve got a friend who’s interested in this sort of thing, so I thought I might ask him. Anyway, we already know of Templar involvement at Rennes-le-Château, and in the area, not least because of Marie de Nègre’s tombstone, and the code on it that Bigou left. The Templars were accused of worshipping skulls, and a skull is often seen with statues of Mary Magdalene. The statue and the altar relief of her at Rennes-le-Château both have skulls. The skull and crossbones are a well-known Templar symbol; in fact, they used it as the flag flown on their ships. There’s also a stone skull and crossbones at the entrance to the cemetery with 22 teeth. That might be a clue in itself, since we know he dug around a fair bit and he may well be leaving another clue to the whereabouts or origins of his finds, or what might still be left there.’