Capcir Spring Page 10

  "Do we need to hear more! She blasphemes. She quotes the words of Holy Scripture as her own and twists them to refer to herself. She has insulted us all now and more importantly she has insulted the honour of the Lord our GOD." The deep voice paused for a moment and then continued slowly and with emphasis on every word. "My lord, I rest my case with the words of her own lips she is as guilty as hell and to hell she is bound. We must be purged of her from our midst and soon before her deadly pollutant spreads it's wicked poison to others. That is the only way of dealing with the diseased branches. Cut them off and put them in the fiery furnace. It is what our Lord Jesus Christ himself commanded us to do." he finished speaking and sat down.

  I waited for the friendly light voice to spring to my defence. Where was this defending lawyer or whatever he was called. Wasn't he going to put in a good word for me. I always thought the defence had the last word. No one at the table moved. I don't want to hear any more of this talk about burning in fiery furnaces. I want my rights. I was full now of anger as well as frustration for not being able to put into words what I wanted to say. But all I could do was watch seemingly through the eyes of a woman who wasn't me. I wanted to speak and scream out about the great injustice that was being done but instead I bowed my head and heard myself saying "My God, let it be to me according to your will."

  The Inquistor's Vicar stood up and a deeper hush descended on the hall. The atmosphere seemed thick with pain. His craggy voice seemed to come from somewhere deep in the bowels of the earth, and he spoke with a solemnity and propriety that was befitting his elevated status. "You have condemned yourself from your own lips. You have blasphemed readily and frequently. You have confessed to all manner of evil. You have been implicated by the testimony of others in many and various kinds of wickedness. You have refused the opportunity of repentance and have instead insulted the propriety of this courtroom. You have transgressed the boundaries and so we have no alternative in our judgement.

  You will be taken out at dawn and burned at the stake. Our Lord said let every branch that does not bear fruit be cut off and burned. We hand you over now to the mercy of almighty God may he have mercy on your soul."

  The death penalty had been passed and all the men on the bench stood and bowed their heads. With them all standing they blocked the light out from the window behind them and I could see for the first time the row of hard faces. My eyes darted back and forth along the row looking for a face that expressed some of the kindness or regret that I thought that I had detected in the light friendly voice. But all the faces were set as stone, equally hard and equally fierce. They all had their eyes closed and were all muttering a prayer or chant under their breath and the occasional word I could make out and recognise was Latin. They then all sat down. Again the full force of the suns rays came to my face but I was more used to it now so did not flinch.

  "Take her away" said one of the anonymous voices who had not spoken before "And let it be with her as has been decreed."

  I could hear the footfall behind me as the soldiers approached. I was aware of gasping a sharp intake of breath and heard myself scream at the top of my voice, "May Almighty God pardon and deliver you from all your sins for you know not what you do!"

  The two pairs of strong rough hands pulled me up sharply and again dragged me out of the room. She must have been drugged. That alone would explain why she couldn't move. Perhaps it was in the hope of getting me to confess. A primitive truth drug perhaps? The passages and stairs looked unfamiliar as the guards retraced their steps and opened a cell door and threw me again on a straw mattress.

  I recoiled in horror at the stench. Perhaps last time I had become used to the smell but now coming in from up in a airy hall the stench of stale urine and sweat and other unpleasant odours was overpowering. The cell was not perhaps the same one as it was not total darkness. There high in the wall opposite was a tiny opening, a hand’s width maybe higher in the wall and through it I could see a shaft of daylight. I watched transfixed as the light gradually faded and darkness became total in the cell knowing what the next light, the break of dawn, holds in store for me.

  It was when the last ray of daylight had disappeared and my eyes had become used to the darkness that I suddenly became aware that she I not alone. There was someone or something huddled in the opposite corner of the cell. I still could not move. I stared intently at it but it only looked like a bundle of rags. Yet it had made a slight movement, it must have one to have attracted my attention in the first place. I stared at it willing it to move again, yet at the same time hoping that it is just a shadow and wasn't going to move.

  I must have stared silently at it for a good long time before it happened. The bundle of rags stood up and shuffled across the floor and crouched down beside me. I could feel and smell the putrid breath in my face as the creature, be it human or not studied me closely and all the while I still couldn't move. Then the figure came between me and the slight glimmer of light from the high shaft and I was just able to make out an aged human face. It grunted. It is perhaps an attempt at communication but it only sounded like a grunt. A smile? Perhaps or is it just imagination to think there is anything. Yes it is a smile and the figure was thrusting something towards me. It is a rough pot full of water. It was offering me a drink. It was pushing this rough pottery jar to my lips. The taste was foul. The smell was overpowering. But I opened my mouth for my throat was so dry and took a mouthful of the brackish water and the bitterness almost made my stomach reach instantly. But I took yet another mouthful and again swallowed. The mute then put down the pot and returned to its own side of the room and again became a bundle of rags in the shadows.

  I longed to speak but the power of speech which had been so eloquently present in the hall above were now absent. I was so tired and the night has so far gone and dawn will soon be breaking. There was nothing to do but wait for the first lightening of the sky and the promise of all that will bring. It was to be death by fire. Staring at the cold stone wall I noticed it gradually changing colour, the stone becoming lighter and lighter, turning from grey to brown and lighter to a yellow. Is this another kind of spiritual experience.

  Is this dawn?

  *****

  Mary opened her eyes suddenly and just as suddenly sat bolt upright. She can move, move easily. She is in her own room, the books still on the table and her notes recently written on her portable laptop computer. There are the plans and sketches. Her mouth is dry and her lips caked as she swallowed trying to clear the memory of the putrid water from her taste buds.

  "Another sodding dream" she muttered under her breath. The dawn was breaking outside and though it was still early the light was beginning to flood into her bed sitter apartment. "Just another sodding dream" she cried out at the top of her voice with almost hysterical relief as she got out of bed and went over to the window to look at the new day. On the way she filled a glass with water from the tap and delighted in the taste of its sweet freshness as it passed her lips into her parched mouth. She would not take pure clean water for granted again. She opened the window and sniffed the scents of the freshness of the mountain morning air. It was a new day and it was good to be alive. She filled the coffee machine with water from the tap. Very early yes, but a new bright, sunny day.

  6

  Mary left the flat immediately after her shower with her bag crammed as usual with surveying equipment, notebooks and sketch-pads. It was cool in the long shadows of the early morning but the clear blue sky promised yet another scorching hot day. In the back of her mind was the name of Andre Laporte. Could he, the author whose paper she had so recently read, be the meditating hippy who had spoken all the mumbo jumbo about channelling spirits? Logically she knew it was unlikely but she also knew that co incidence is not born of logic. She hoped that with her early start she would meet up with him at the ruins again and then she could settle this matter one way or the other. Unsolved riddles unsettled her. She pulled her car up briefly in the main street of the village an
d bought herself a baguette at the bakers, the only sign of life on the otherwise sleepy main street. She would take her breakfast at the ruins and if not alone, so much the better.

  On the walk to the ruins the quiet peace and beauty of the valley again struck her. The flies seemed more active at this early hour. Grasshoppers chirped noisily and the butterflies too were fluttering frantically in the cool morning air. As the familiar track neared the ruins she stopped. Above all the frantic insect noise and activity there was the sound of human voices. Voices raised in anger. A real argument was going on. Her mind momentarily returned to the old legend of the ghostly voices of the two women arguing about the love of a man echoing through the valley. She dismissed the notion immediately, as the voices were obviously male.

  She lengthened her stride and hurried along the last few yards until she was clear of the bushes and could see clearly who was present. Edouard was there and alongside him was a man she recognised from his office, who must be one of his assistants. They were in the middle of a large group of scruffily dressed dirty looking travelling folk who Mary guessed correctly must be from the new age encampment. Most of the travellers were standing in silence in a large circle around Edouard's large and shiny four wheel drive vehicle but on the far side of the circle she could see two travellers in an animated state. A heated argument was obviously in full swing.

  Mary paused at the edge of the group to take in the scene before her. No one had yet noted her presence. Edouard looked very agitated. His face had turned a bright shade of red and he was waving his arms about as he spoke quickly and harshly in his deep voice. As a result of his anger his thick local accent had become very pronounced and though she was quite close Mary found it difficult to understand much of what he was shouting. As she listened began to understand that Andre and his friends were being told to leave the historic site and even the whole region in no uncertain terms by Edouard.

  She moved closer. She could see now that as well as anger there was also fear in the faces of Edouard and his assistant. The travelling people surrounded their vehicle. They were silently staring at the two men, menacing purely by their presence and numbers rather than any outward expressions of malice. She noticed they were not all standing still. Some of them were moving very slowly at the rear of the vehicle, collecting together some bags and boxes that had been unloaded from Edouard's vehicle and beginning to reload it into the open back door of the Izuzu Trooper.

  Mary decided that she must get closer and find out what was going on. She walked right up to the group. The travellers saw or sensed her coming and parted silently to let her pass through into the centre of the group. Everyone suddenly fell silent. All eyes turned and were fixed on Mary.

  Insect noises again dominated the scene yet the silence of the valley is not one of peace. The silence lasted and lasted for what Mary thought an eternity. It was not just Mary's arrival that had provoked the silence. It was perhaps more that each party has said what it wanted to say and was waiting for as response from the other side. Mary noticed that Andre's head was bandaged. He looked pale, but perhaps that was only in contrast to the deep colouring of Edouard.

  Edouard slowly looked from side to side, carefully taking in the scene around him. He then looked around again at the distant rocks and bushes. He nodded to his assistant and he went and checked that all their equipment had been reloaded into the rear of the vehicle, slammed the back door shut, then they both got back into the front seats. As he was closing the door Edouard paused and broke the silence looking directly at Andre he said. "And don't touch a thing."

  He turned and acknowledged Mary's presence for the first time. "Enchante Madame. Do you want to come back to the village with me for your safety? This area seems to be infested with vermin at the moment."

  "Thanks, but I have work to finish" she replied.

  "Then be careful Mary my dear. Be careful of these people." he shouted as the powerful engine roared into life and in a cloud of dust the heavy four wheel drive roared out of the clearing and down the track shattering the fractured silence of the morning.

  "Remember don't you touch a thing," the assistant shouted from his open window the retreating vehicle.

  Slowly the dust settled back onto the track as the engine noise disappeared. And with the dust settling the travellers seem to melt quietly back into the bushes and woodland paths. How many of them now had there been? Mary was now unsure. As she first came into the clearing she had the impression of a mighty throng but perhaps there had only been about eight of them. Mary and Andre found themselves alone in the centre of the clearing.

  "What was all that about?" Mary asked, "What are you and all your friends doing arguing with one of the most important local people hereabouts?" Andre looked tired.

  "It’s a long story, " he begun "And my head aches. Basically I couldn't let him get away with it again."

  "What do you mean?" she asked, but Andre stood in silence and refused to elaborate on what he had already said. At length he added, "I can't tell you anything just now. Everything is very complicated and I'm not really sure what is going on. We were here meditating as a group this morning and this big noisy jeep drove into the valley and they started unloading those bags and boxes. They were intruding in the solitude of the valley, the sanctity of these hills. I don't know what they were up to but I will find out. I have to find out. There is so much at stake."

  Mary wondered what he was talking about. She had no grounds to be suspicious of her recent dinner guest. And who was this Andre Laporte anyway? That reminded her.

  "Did you say your name was Andre Laporte?" He nodded. "The Andre Laporte who wrote about ancient religions in the Midi in an historical journal?" she asked.

  His face was transformed as he looked again at Mary with a quizzical light in his eye.

  "You have been reading widely," he confirmed. "Yes it was something that I wrote when I was undertaking my doctoral research into ancient religions. It was several years ago now. I then changed direction completely," He paused, "I escaped from the blind alley of academic research and moved onto the right path when I realised these religions were still very much alive in the mountains. I could not write cold academic prose about something that I felt alive in my heart. So I gave up college life for the cross-country ski development job so that I could spend all my time in the mountains with the spirits of the place. This is my life now. I am here. This is where I exist, with out these spirits I am nothing. They are part of me and I am part of them. Everything is one.”

  Mary saw a transformation in him into an evangelical preacher brought about by the fervour of his beliefs. At the back of her mind was resonating her fear of men who leave behind their old selves and adopt new identities especially when these were religious men. But Andre seemed a harmless enough sort of eccentric and everything he said and did seemed to be affected with a gentle touch. There was no malice in his fervour that she could detect and certainly he would have some very interesting background information at his fingertips.

  "I must go now" he said. "There is much that I have to do today. I am supposed to have a job to get on with. I hope I can find out more about what is going on here." After a brief pause for thought he added, " Why don't you come for supper tonight up to our camp. We eat just after eight. I will not be in a rush and I can give you some background information on all the religions of these mountains. Perhaps too we can pool our knowledge on Mr Edouard's intentions."

  Mary hesitated for a moment, Edouard's warning resounding in her head. But here was Andre Laporte, an acknowledged expert on the religious history and heresies of this region offering an invitation to find out more. Like Edouard he would have extensive information available to him which would be useful to Mary. He also might know something about the holes. He was far better placed than she was to unearth what was really going on here. Her hesitation was very brief.

  "That would be delightful. Thank you for your invitation. I will look forward to seeing you this evening." He
nodded with a smile. "Must get some more aspirins " he muttered as he walked away in the direction of the village.

  She watched his tall figure move quickly out of sight. He was a mystery. She again thought of the extensive reading she had done on the various types of mental illness but as quickly put the half formed idea out of her mind. He might be strange but probably not mad. She could relate to the academic and the ski du fond field development officer but the new age religious fanatic was something that frightened her.

  She opened her bag and took out her supplies from the bakers and ate her belated breakfast, suddenly realising how hungry she was and how long she had been up and about. Eating alone she recalled with incredulity her thoughts about sharing breakfast that she had on waking.

  The remainder of her day was uneventful at the site. There were no interruptions. Indeed she was alone with the flora, fauna and ancient rocks. She worked quickly and finished what she hoped would be her final day on the site measuring and checking and by early afternoon was well satisfied with her efforts. She gave a long last look at the site and took a photograph to keep the memory fresh in her mind and hoped that this would be the last time this year that she would be here. It had been a good trip and there were just a few loose ends to be tied up and the rest could be written up at home.