‘Be careful on the stairs.’
‘Yes. Yes. I will. I’m all right. I’m all right now.’
Sabir turned his attention to Alexi. ‘Can you hear me?’
‘He landed on me with the chair. Some of my teeth are smashed.’ Alexi’s voice was blurred, as if he were talking from somewhere deep inside a sealed container. ‘I think my jaw is maybe broken too. And some ribs.’
‘And the rest of you?’
‘I’m all right. I’ll be able to walk.’
‘Okay. We’ve got about five minutes, grace in which to make our way out of here and back-up to the car. Here. Take this.’ He handed Alexi the pistol.
‘It’s useless. It doesn’t work.’
‘Take it anyway. And try to pull yourself together a little while I wrap up the Virgin.’
‘Check on the base first.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘There’s writing there. I couldn’t read it but it’s burned in. Just like on that coffer of Yola’s. It’s the first place I looked.’
Sabir hefted the Black Madonna. It was a good deal lighter than he had at first supposed. Around two feet tall, it was carved out of dark stained wood and garlanded with two crowns, one on the Virgin’s head and one on that of Jesus - in addition, the Virgin wore a golden necklet. Her body was partially encased in a sort of fabric, which was coming apart across her left breast, revealing paler wood beneath. She was seated on a chair and the baby Christ was seated on her lap. His face was not that of a child, however, but that of a wise older man.
‘You’re right. I’m going to trace it.’
‘Why not take it with us?’
‘It’ll be safer here than out on the road with us. And we don’t want a second police force on our tail. If nothing’s stolen, there’s a fair chance they’ll drop the whole thing after a few days, with nobody but the old man to question. We’ve got what we came for. I figure this is just another fragment of a larger map that will eventually lead us to the verses.’ He laid a piece of paper across the base of the Madonna and began tracing across it with the stump of a pencil.
‘I can’t stand up. I think he did more damage than I thought.’
‘Wait for me. I’ll be with you in a minute.’
Alexi made an attempt at a laugh. ‘Don’t worry, Adam. I’m not going anywhere.’
48
Sabir stopped to catch his breath. Alexi was leaning against him with all his weight. Below them they could hear the distant sound of approaching police sirens. ‘I still haven’t fully recovered from my blood poisoning. I’m as weak as a kitten. I don’t think I can get you up there alone.’
‘How much further do we have to go?’
‘I can see the car now. I can’t risk calling Yola, though. Someone might hear.’
‘Why don’t you leave me here and go to fetch her? Both of you could carry me the last bit of the way.’
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’
‘I think I’ve just swallowed one of my teeth. If I don’t choke on it, I’ll be all right.’
Sabir left Alexi leaning against the protective fence at the edge of the path. He hurried up the hill.
Yola was standing by the car, a worried expression on her face. ‘I didn’t know what to do. I heard the sirens. I wasn’t sure if they were for you or for someone else.’
‘Alexi is injured. We’re going to have to carry him up the steepest part of the hill between us. Are you up to it?’
‘Is he badly hurt?’
‘He’s lost a few teeth. He may have a broken jaw. Possibly some cracked ribs. Someone landed on him with a chair.’
‘Someone?’
‘Yes. That someone.’
‘Is the man dead? Did you kill him?’
‘Alexi tried to kill him. But the pistol jammed.’
Yola took Alexi’s feet, with Sabir taking the main weight of his body.
‘We’re going to have to make this fast. The minute that old gardien talks to the police and tells them that there was a pistol involved in the break-in, we’re for it. They’ll seal off the entire valley and send in the paramilitaries. And as I remember the map, there are only three ways out of here. And they’re as good as covering the two main ones already.’
49
‘I’m pretty certain nobody’s been following us.’ Sabir squinted ahead, trying to make out the road signs.
They were beyond the main danger area now, on the Route National 20, with considerably more traffic on the road to disguise their passage. The relief in the car was palpable, as if, through luck and sheer good timing, they had succeeded in avoiding a particularly nasty accident.
‘How is he?’
Yola shrugged. ‘I don’t think his jaw is broken. Some of his ribs are definitely cracked, though. Now he’ll have the perfect excuse for being idle.’
Alexi looked as though he were about to sass her back, but then he unexpectedly changed tack and punched at his trouser pocket. ‘Ha! Do you believe this? I had it right in here.’
‘What?’
‘The wallet.’ Alexi shook his head disconsolately. ‘That bloody thief bastard stole back his own wallet. And it was stuffed with cash. I could have lived like a King. Even bought myself some gold teeth.’
Sabir laughed. ‘Don’t knock it, Alexi. The fact that he was worried we might find out his identity probably saved your life. If he hadn’t gone searching for his wallet, he would have had ample time to kill you before we came in.’
Alexi’s attention had moved on. He raised his head from the seat and flashed his remaining teeth at Yola. ‘Hey, nurse. I heard what you said about being idle. It’s not just my ribs, you know. He kicked me in the balls, too.’
Yola extended the gap between them on the rear seat. ‘You can deal with those yourself. I don’t want to go anywhere near them.’
‘You hear that, gadje? This woman is frigid. No wonder no one has ever offered to kidnap her.’
Yola drew up her knees as if in self-defence. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. Now that you’ve been damaged in the balls, you’ll make a useless kidnapper to someone too. You’ll probably be impotent. They’ll be forced to go elsewhere if they want their eyes taken out. Or use a cucumber.’
‘That’s not true!’ Alexi reached forwards, grunting and tapped Sabir on the shoulder. ‘That’s not true, is it, Adam? That if you get kicked in the balls you’ll go impotent?’
‘How should I know? It could be, I suppose. You’ll know in a few days, either way.’ Sabir turned to Yola. ‘Yola, what did you mean by ‘if they want their eyes taken out’?’
Yola dropped her gaze. She glanced out of the car window. Silence descended on the three of them.
‘Oh, yeah. I get it. Sorry.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Look, want to say something to the two of you. Something important.’
‘We haven’t eaten yet.’
‘What?’
‘Never say something important when you are hungry or in pain. The hunger and pain speak instead of you and
what you say is of no value.’
Sabir let out a sigh - he knew when he was beaten. ‘I’ll stop at a restaurant, then.’
‘A restaurant?’
‘Yes. And we’d better set about finding a hotel.’
Yola started laughing. Alexi began to join in, but stopped very quickly when he realised how much it cost him in rib and jaw pain.
‘No, Adam. We’ll sleep in the car tonight, as it’s too late to arrive anywhere without causing questions to be asked. Then tomorrow, first thing in the morning, we’ll drive to Gourdon.’
‘Why would we want to go there?’
‘There’s a permanent campsite. We can get food. Somewhere proper to sleep. I have cousins there.’
‘More cousins?’
‘Don’t scoff, Adam. Now that you are my phral, they will be your cousins too.’
50
Captain Joris Calque did not approve of television at breakfast. In fact he didn’t approve of television per se. But the patronne of the chambre d’hôte in which he and Macron now found themselves appeared to think it was what was expected. She even stood behind them at the table, commenting on all the local news.
‘I suppose, being policemen, that you are always on the lookout for new crimes?’
Macron inconspicuously raised his eyes to Heaven. Calque concentrated even more intently on his banana fritters with apple mousse.
‘Nothing is sacred any more. Not even the Church.’
Calque realised that he would have to say something, or be considered rude. ‘What? Has someone stolen a church?’
‘No, Monsieur. Far worse than that.’
‘Good God!’
Macron nearly achieved the nose trick with his scrambled egg. He covered it up with a coughing fit, which necessitated Madame fussing around him for a couple of minutes, dispensing coffee and hearty slaps on the back.
‘No. Not a church, Inspector.’
‘Captain.’
‘Captain. As I said. Something far worse than that. The Virgin herself.’
‘Someone stole the Virgin?’
‘No. There was heavenly intervention. The thieves were stopped in their tracks and punished. They must have been after the jewels in her and the baby Jesus’s crown. Nothing is sacred any more, Inspector. Nothing.’
‘And what Virgin was this, Madame?’
‘But it’s just been on the television.’
‘I was eating, Madame. One cannot eat and look at the same time. It is unhealthy.’
‘It was the Virgin at Rocamadour, Inspector. The Black Madonna herself.’
‘And when did this attempted theft occur?’
‘Last night. After they had locked the Sanctuary. They even used a pistol. Fortunately the gardien wrestled it from one of the men - like Jacob wrestling with the angel. And then the Virgin made her miraculous intervention and drove the robbers off.’
‘Her miraculous intervention?’ Macron had stopped with the fork halfway to his mouth. ‘Against a pistol? At Rocamadour? But, Captain…’
Calque glanced meaningfully across the table at him. ‘You are right, Madame. Nothing is sacred any more. Nothing.’
51
‘And this man pretended that he was a member of the public? He pretended to help you?’ Calque was trying to estimate the gardien’s age, but he finally gave up at around seventy-two.
‘Oh yes, Monsieur. It was he who brought my attention to the disturbance in the Sanctuary in the first place.’
‘But now you think that he was part of the gang?’
‘Certainly, Monsieur. I am sure of it. I left him behind covering the other man with the pistol. I needed to phone, you see, but the only problem is that the mobile phones the church authorities give us don’t work here underneath the cliff. They are useless. We have to go back to the office and use the old landline whenever we want to call out. They do it on purpose, in my opinion, to stop us from misusing the service.’ He crossed himself in penance for his uncharitable thoughts. ‘But then all these modern contraptions don’t really work. Take my grandson’s computer, for instance…’
‘Why didn’t they take the Black Madonna with them, if they were part of the same gang? They had ample time before either you, or the police, returned to the scene.’
‘The younger boy was injured, Monsieur. He had blood all over his face. I believe he fell while trying to steal the Virgin.’ He crossed himself again. ‘Perhaps the older man could not carry both him and the Virgin?’
‘Yes. Yes. You may be right. Where is the Virgin now?’
‘Back in her case.’
‘May we see her?’
The old man hesitated. ‘It will mean returning to the storeroom to fetch the ladder and…’
‘My junior, Lieutenant Macron, will arrange all that. You won’t have to put yourself to any additional trouble on our behalf. That, I promise you.’
‘Well, all right then. But please take care. It is a miracle she was not damaged in the fracas of last night.’
‘You behaved very well. It is entirely to your credit that the Virgin has been restored.’
The gardien hitched his shoulders. ‘You think so? You really think so?’
‘I am entirely convinced of the fact.’
***
‘Look, Macron. Come over here and tell me what you make of this.’ Calque was staring at the base of the Virgin. He allowed his thumb to travel over the deeply incised letters that had been chiselled into the wood.
Macron took the Virgin from his hands. ‘Well, the carving was certainly done a long time ago. You can tell that by the way the wood has darkened. Quite unlike these other marks on her breast.’
‘Those were probably done in the Revolution.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Neither the Protestants, during the Wars of Religion, nor our revolutionary ancestors, approved of graven images. In most of the churches of France they destroyed statues of Christ, the Virgin and the Holy Saints. They tried that here too. Legend has it that they tore off the silver which originally covered the Virgin and then were so astonished by the dignity of what was revealed below, that they left her alone.’
‘You don’t believe in all that rot, do you?’
Calque took back the Virgin. ‘It’s not a matter of belief. It’s a matter of listening. History keeps its secrets on open display, Macron. Only someone with eyes to see and ears to hear can disentangle their real essence from the flotsam and jetsam that fl oat alongside them.’
‘I don’t understand what you are talking about.’
Calque sighed. ‘Let’s take this as an example. It’s a statue of the Virgin and Child, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Of course it is.’
‘And we know that this particular Virgin protects sailors. You see that bell up there? When it suddenly tolls of it’s own accord, it means a sailor has be
en miraculously saved from the sea by the Virgin’s intervention. Or that a storm will come and a miracle occur.’
‘That’s just the wind, surely. Wind usually comes before a storm.’
Calque smiled. He spread some paper over the base of the statue and began to trace over the letters with his pen. ‘Well, Isis, the Egyptian goddess, wife and sister of Osiris and sister of Set, was also believed to save sailors from the sea. And we know that she was frequently depicted seated on a throne, with her son, Horus the Child, on her lap. Horus is the god of light, of the sun, of the day, of life and of good and his nemesis, Set, who was Isis’s sworn enemy, was the god of the night, of evil, of darkness and of death. Set had tricked Osiris, chief of the gods, into trying out a beautifully crafted coffin and had sealed him inside it and sent him down the Nile, where a tree grew around him. Later, he cut Osiris’s body into fourteen pieces. But Isis found the coffin and its contents and reassembled them, with Thoth, the mediator’s, help and Osiris came back to life just long enough to impregnate her with Horus, their son.’
‘I don’t understand…’
‘Macron, the Black Virgin is Isis. The Christ figure is Horus. All that happened was that the Christians usurped the ancient Egyptian gods and transformed them into something more palatable to a modern sensibility.’
‘Modern?’
‘Osiris was resurrected, you see. He came back from the dead. And he had a son. Who pitted himself against the forces of evil. Doesn’t that sound familiar to you?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Both Jesus and Horus were born in a stable. And their births are both celebrated on the 25th of December.’
Macron’s eyes had begun to glaze.
Calque shrugged. ‘Well. Anyway. Here is what Sabir and your eye-man were looking for.’ He held up the sheet of paper.
THE NOSTRADAMUS PROPHECIES Page 12