Capcir Spring Page 8

  The receptionist was explaining to her where to sign the forms and what the pharmacist would want when the door behind her banged open abruptly. She turned automatically and saw the mystic hippie ski development officer coming in holding a red handkerchief to the side of his head. It wasn't a red handkerchief. He was badly cut and the blood had reddened not only his handkerchief but also the collar of his shirt and was congealed on his sleeve. He looked pale and threw himself into a chair. He looked exhausted by the effort of getting here and relieved as if some long ordeal was over.

  "Its Andre isn't it!" Mary exclaimed" What has happened?"

  He looked up, registering surprise in seeing her in this setting.

  "Just a little bump on the head. I stumbled and banged my head on a rock. Nothing to worry about. I expect I just need a couple of stitches."

  Mary didn't have an opportunity to ask anything else as at that instant the doctor emerged from behind the scenes and instantly taking in the scene and the blood hurried across and helping Andre to his feet, ushered him efficiently into the consulting room. Mary felt invisible to him as he didn't even glance in her direction. Perhaps he was a supreme professional after all. But then she had paid her bill so he was finished with her. Oh men! She thought, wondering if there were any who had consistent and predictable patterns of behaviour.

  Mary emerged into the late morning sunshine feeling confused, and not only by the dark, handsome doctor. Was Andre hurt? He seemed bright enough. There was hidden depth in that man that she was sure of. But what exactly was it that lay behind that laid back, hippie exterior, she wondered. Had he fallen? That was what he had told her. Why then should she have a feeling that he wasn't telling her the truth?

  His Citroen Dyane was dumped right in the entrance to the doctors. There was blood on the steering wheel and passenger seat. How had he managed to drive here? Where had it happened? However Andre had got his bump on the head and cut he must have lost a large amount of blood. Yes, she thought, I know all about the affects of loosing a large amount of blood and her head began to swim. She put out her hand and supported herself on the roof of the car and the dizzy spell passed. I must use that sleeping draught tonight and see if I can get a good night's sleep she thought. I'm a public liability if I am going to pass out all over the place.

  *****

  The valley around the chapel seemed like a return to normality after the excitement of the morning. The still beauty of the surrounding peaks still thrilled her when she cast her eyes upward. The undergrowth was beginning to look worn around the ruins she thought as she came close. But then she had been working here for several days now though this day it did seem rather more worn down than others. Today she would complete the measurements of the far section under the cliff wall, near where she thought the well would have been. It was an area of thick bracken like undergrowth and spiky grass. In the middle was a small spring where clear crystal water tinkled out of the hillside.

  As she neared the spring she stopped. Here there was a hole. An ordinary, freshly dug hole, only about half a metre deep and a spade width across but a freshly dug new hole all the same. And right in the middle of her historical site. Vandalism. Treasure hunters. Perhaps it was that Andre looking for a site for some thing for his cross-country ski course? Then there was that silly old tale about buried treasure? Someone had been there early that very morning and they had been busy for as she looked up she saw other holes. Holes lined up with this one. All were about the same size across but some a little deeper and some a little shallower. The holes had been dug through the thin topsoil until the subsoil, a mixture of rocks and clay, had been reached and then had stopped. She could now see that the holes continued at about five metres apart in a straight line right across the valley at this point. It almost looked as if they could be the holes for sinking fence posts but there was no earthly reason she could see for putting a fence here.

  She stood back and looked at the line of the holes and saw that at least they were away from the main ruin. What could she do? It wasn't her property. It was forestry land. in France that meant it was managed by the Office National de Forets who had a fairly liberal attitude to what citizens of the Republic could do in their forests.

  Perhaps she should go to the police anyway. But what would she tell them. Someone has dug a line of holes across a valley near to an old ruin that I'm interested in? They would probably laugh at her behind her back as an eccentric foreigner, if not worse.

  She dismissed such thoughts and decided to get on with the task in hand. She needed more painstaking measurements, levels and calculations and most of all more thinking. The more she could do the more solid her case would be in her planned publications. Everything was down to evidence.

  *****

  John turned up late on in the afternoon, his battered knapsack on his back.

  "I've been out for a walk and felt myself pulled towards this valley of yours." He smiled But I really also wanted to see if you were all right after last night. You gave me quite a turn you know."

  Mary recognised genuine concern in his voice.

  "I'm OK. I went to the doctor and he's told me not to do too much and get plenty of rest. He couldn't find anything wrong."

  "I've brought you some supplies." added John, slipping his rucksack down and pulling out a bottle of Oringina and a bar of chocolate." She smiled and they sat down together on the grass, she realising for the first time that she was quite hungry as she hadn't stopped since she had arrived on the site.

  After they had eaten she showed John the holes. He stood silently at her side staring at the digging and at length said,

  "If they are not putting a fence up then all I can suppose is that someone wanted to see how deep the soil was in the different parts of the floor of the valley. Though for what purpose I can't imagine" he paused and then joked, "Perhaps Edouard came up in the night to look for his great uncles treasure hoard."

  Mary stared hard at him and said sharply "That is not funny."

  They both continued to stare at the digging in silence and Mary told him of her idea to visit the Gendamerie.

  "It can't do any harm" he reassured her" If there are any authorised public works going on around here they may well know all about them and put your mind at rest by explaining the mystery"

  John didn't stay for long but continued his walk and as he looked back wistfully he saw Mary resettling to her work. The image of her had become indelibly impressed on his mind.

  She too was also not concentrating one hundred percent on her work as a small corner of her mind was thinking about this strange Englishman that it seemed was slowly becoming a friend. A man that she didn't fully understand and certainly didn't fully trust. There was something about him that she couldn't place but that she half recognised and admired in him.

  *****

  Mary drove her car to the Gendamerie as soon as she had finished work for the afternoon. The police station was eight kilometres away in the next village, Formigeures. An elderly officer greeted her at the desk. She immediately thought of the elderly desk sergeant of legend called Dixon of Dock Green whose avuncular manner had endeared him to generations of people in distress.

  She told him the story of her research project around the ruin and vandals digging that she had discovered that day. If he was interested his face showed no sign of it but he made some lethargic notes in the big book in front of him.

  "I'm surprised that there is anything left up in that valley to find." he said.

  "How do you mean" she asked.

  "A number of years ago a man used to live up there. He was wild, but generally harmless. He lived in a shepherd's hut and generally kept himself to himself. One night he claims he saw a great hoard of treasure in a cave. Then he started digging. He dug all over the valley. Day and night he worked like a man possessed, at least obsessed. He wouldn't let anyone else come to the valley. He was sure he knew.

  "He went completely mad after a while when he didn't find anythin
g. His family had him committed to a lunatic asylum and he spent the last years of his sad life there completely mad."

  "Anyway after he was taken away the word spread about his idea of hidden treasure and people came from all around to dig and explore. There were crowds up in that valley all digging little holes all over the place. The cliffs on both sides were tunnelled into as people searched for hidden caves and there was even a landslip and one man was killed. After a while the treasure mania passed and the valley became silent again. But no one ever found anything. I shouldn't worry about a few little holes disturbing your precious site as it has all been well dug over this century very thoroughly."

  "But what about today's digging?"

  "Now there is a mystery. It is all forestry land. There is no building or fencing needed there. There is no need for anything to be built for a ski du fond trail. I can't see anyone taking the old treasure story seriously after all these years. So we have a mystery. But we will make a note of it and look into it. Strictly speaking it is unlawful to do things like that with out the permission of the Office du Forets. The headquarters of the office de forets is hundreds of kilometers away - all there are in the local office are guys who know how to chop down trees!" He laughed. This must have been the funniest thing he had said all day. "You have mystery holes and we have recorded it in our incident book and we will look into it. But I can't promise you that this investigation will be given the highest priority by our best detectives." He then started chuckling again - "You reported a strange hole and I said we would look into it!" He giggled again.

  Mary wondered if the officers that no big town Gendamarie wanted staffed small country police stations. Her French was good enough to understand his sense of humour and wondered if she had been French, her visit would have provoked the same response. She decided to pretend that she didn't fully understand what he had said. She thanked him profusely and seemed to be taking his offer of help at face value. Mary believed the best way to deal with such pathetic attempts at humour was to ignore them. But she left the Gendamerie with the impression that the visit had been a complete waste of time.

  It was depressing to think that her precious site had been so vandalised in recent times. Her heart sunk as she thought that many of her meticulously plotted levels and measurements of the old settlement might just be the remains of nineteen twenties gold fever. Perhaps they had concentrated on the sides of the valley and the area around the ruins would have been little disturbed. The site of the stockade was clearly visible to a trained eye and the principle buildings around the chapel could also be made out, suggesting that disturbance here had been slight. It would be a good idea if she could find out more about this treasure mania. She thought that she should search the archives of the local newspapers as a starting point. All this new information would have to be included in a lengthy appendix to the main report. She sighed inwardly at the thought of yet more work to be done as she started the car.

  5

  It was evening. Mary was sitting on the upright chair looking out of the window of her flat at the red sky and the colours reflected on the clouds as the last daylight slipped away. Earlier she had been writing up some of her many notes and plotting some of the latest measurements onto one of the plans but she had stopped and was enjoying a cup of coffee and being still and simply admiring the view. There was, she thought, something magical about an ever-changing mountain vista. The flat may be cramped, brash and utilitarian but window seat provided a constantly changing panorama. There were the occasional human movements below of cars and people visiting the supermarket open all hours and post office. Above were the majestic mountain peaks in all their glory. This was a window where it was a joy just to sit and watch the world go by. She had been thinking about her work and how important it was to her and though this was still as strong a feeling as ever she didn't now begrudge a moment's daydreaming as she had probably trying to do too much. She must chill out a little more - that was the phrase she had heard people use at the university.

  Her thoughts wandered near and far but she felt strangely at peace. There were no disturbing dreams this evening. And she had the sleeping draught she had collected from the pharmacy and so she would not dread going to sleep tonight so much. She felt safe. It was almost as if she was being cradled in the mountains and they were protecting her. She was becoming part of the landscape and rather than something to be feared she welcomed this as something ultimately reassuring. Words of an ancient hymn came to her. She was unaware of its origin or indeed all its words but what she could remember seemed just right for the peace she felt:

  My life goes on in endless song

  above earth’s lamentation

  I hear the real though far off song

  That hails a new creation

  Through all the tumult and the strife

  I hear its music ringing

  It sounds an echo in my soul

  How can I keep from singing.

  But into her reverie the doorbell rang. It was a harsh cheap little bell that shattered the atmosphere by interrupting her timeless thoughts with the intrusion of reality. A caller. Perhaps John again she mused, half hoping against her better judgement she thought that it would be him but she was wrong.

  Edouard was standing at the door. He was dressed impeccably as ever and but looked less at ease than he had the previous night. Mary noted with curiosity his subtle agitation.

  "Marie, can I please have another look at your maps?" he asked, as if it were the most natural request in the world. "We had such an interesting discussion last night and I have been thinking of little else but your fascinating theories ever since. I have brought you a copy of some short articles that I wrote about the history and legends of this area for one of the local newspapers a couple of years ago. I thought you would like to read the series so I've made photocopies of all the articles for you."

  "Come in Edouard" she said, embarrassed to have been suspicious of her caller who genuinely was offering her further help. Can I trust my intuitive first reactions she mused? I'm still on edge even though I felt so peaceful just a moment ago. "My work is progressing very satisfactorily and I have had an interesting day today. With any luck I will soon have finished but then I'm afraid I will have to go home and back to a wet, dreary city and set about writing up my many scrappy notes into a report fit for the University."

  "I think you have fallen in love with the Capcir Plateau," he said, with a twinkle in his eye, "It has a strange magical beauty. It strikes you at first sight as stark and barren but after a little while the wide sunny vistas and the ever present distant peaks make you feel safe and secure."

  Mary nodded, somewhat amazed at how accurately Edouard had guessed her mood. But then perhaps the feeling of being cradled by the surrounding peaks was perhaps a common one on this high plateau.

  Edouard continued, "The romance of the mountains affects most people. I think that it is a combination of the natural beauty, the friendly locals, the stories, the climate, the local delicacies and the ever-changing scenary. People come back here year after year. Why do you think the developers were so successful at selling all these flats and chalets. It certainly wasn't for their architectural merit! The skiing here is a big draw but beyond that there is a magnetic drawing power in the very rocks themselves."

  Mary pulled out the roll of maps and with them showed the latest drawing that she had just been working on.

  "I have been doing a reconstruction of what I think the original chapel would have looked like. Without a proper archaeological excavation it is impossible to be sure that there are not other walls that are completely covered under the earth. But allowing for some artistic licence, I think it is a pretty accurate guess based on what we know from surviving buildings of that period.

  Edouard stared at the picture for a long time in silence. He seemed to be staring at something beyond the sketch of the stone building with a simple thatched roof set in the valley. The sketch indicated accurately outlines
of the mountain peaks, setting the building into a recognisable present day context.

  "You sketch well. I recognise the viewpoint you took and I can name all the peaks you have portrayed. It is strange how a stone building like that with its simple lines dominates the whole scene. A simple stone building in that position really improves the vista of the whole valley. It looks so right just there."

  "Of course there would have been many other timber and thatched buildings around the chapel. A detailed excavation would show up for certain the positions of the roof support pillars and probably a lot of the wall lines too." Mary enthused on her pet subject but Edouard didn't seem to be listening to her.