by Kate Mosse
Arinius pressed his bag close to his side, grateful that he had left little of value in the camp.
Time passed. Arinius lost track of how long he waited, but still he didn’t move from the sanctuary of the deep evergreen. Still, the crack of arid leaves or a stone dislodged on the path. The footsteps grew more and more faint, until finally there was no sound at all.
He thought the man had gone in the opposite direction. He was certain of it, yet waited longer. The cut on his leg was stinging, but it didn’t really hurt. The shadows lengthened as the sun moved round, turning the leaves from gold to green once more in the changing of the late afternoon light.
Finally, when he was certain the threat had passed, Arinius came out of his hiding place. He stood up and stretched, flexing his muscles and bringing the life back into his fingers and his toes. There had been no sound at all for some time, but he was still careful.
He climbed back up to where he’d fallen and paddled his hands in the dry leaves, looking for his mother’s brooch. He couldn’t find it. Much as it pained him to leave it behind, he didn’t feel he could delay any longer. He had put his own wishes before his mission. He should never have stayed in the valley for so long.
When he caught his first sight of his stone dwelling, he stopped and cast his eyes around. He saw no signs the camp had been discovered, and when he cautiously went inside, everything was exactly as he had left it.
Already nostalgic for the time he had spent in this patch of land, he packed his few belongings. He left anything that was not essential for the final stage of his journey.
Arinius looked out over the garrigue, the grassland bleached white in the heat of the day, and wondered if he would return to watch the sun set over these hills again. He feared he would not. He put his hand on the stone, still retaining some heat from the day, imprinting the shape of it on the flesh of his palm. Then he took a final look around at the curved entrance and the flat plot of land behind it where he might, in a different story, have planted chard or carrots. Created his own garden.
With a catch in his throat, Arinius set out on the final leg of his journey. Bearing the Codex to its final resting place in the mountains of Pyrène.
‡
Chapter 83
BELCAIRE
AUGUST 1942
Raoul was sitting in the woods south of Belcaire. Knees drawn up, his jacket unbuttoned and the laces of his boots loosened at the top, he had his pistol in his pocket and his rucksack propped between his legs.
They had made good time. Geneviève Saint-Loup taking him across country through Quillan and Lavelanet, skirting around the road leading to Montségur, then on to Belcaire where he was due to meet her sister, Eloise, who’d guide him to the final destination.
‘Smoke?’ he asked.
The boy who’d come to tell him Eloise had been delayed had the same dark hair and dark skin of most of the people of the Tarascon valleys. He nodded, and Raoul passed him the cigarette. The boy took a couple of deep drags, then passed it back.
‘Where are you from?’
‘Hereabouts,’ the boy replied. He’d obviously been told not to give any information away. ‘You?’
‘Carcassonne originally.’
‘You’re a long way from home.’
‘It’s not really home any more,’ he said with a sudden flash of grief for Bruno. Grief, then guilt. He hadn’t thought about his mother for some days. He had considered writing, but he was sure the house would be under surveillance. He sighed. His mother wouldn’t read a letter anyway.
‘Where were you stationed?’ the boy asked.
Raoul brought his thoughts back to the present. ‘On the Maginot Line to start with, the secteur fortifié in Faulquemont. What about you?’ he added, despite the fact the boy didn’t look old enough to have fought anywhere.
‘Missed it,’ he said. ‘Making up for it now.’ He cast a quick look at Raoul. ‘You know?’
‘More important now,’ Raoul said, and saw the boy flush at the compliment. ‘After the first few months, I got sent to the Ardennes. March 1940.’
‘Did you see much fighting?’
‘Not much. Spent most of my time being posted from one place to another.’
‘What was the point of that?’
‘You tell me.’ Raoul shrugged. ‘None of it makes sense to me. Didn’t know what they were doing.’
The boy offered Raoul his canteen. Raoul took a swig, blinked as the rum hit the back of his throat, then wiped the neck before handing it back.
‘You got someone?’ he said. ‘A girl?’
The boy rummaged inside his top jacket pocket. He produced a cheap holiday snapshot and held it out to Raoul between dirty, nicotine-stained fingers.
‘Coralie,’ he said proudly. ‘We can’t afford to get married yet, but as soon as I’ve got enough for a ring – silver, something classy, you know – I’m going to ask.’
Raoul looked at the photograph of a gentle, plump girl holding an unwilling kitten. She looked the spit of Geneviève.
‘Pretty,’ he said, handing the picture back. ‘She’s a lucky girl.’
‘Thanks.’ The boy put the photo away. ‘What about you, are you married?’
Raoul shook his head. ‘Not married, no.’
‘Don’t want to be tied down?’
The simple innocence of his attempt at a man-to-man conversation made Raoul smile. He passed the cigarette across again. ‘No, it’s not that,’ he said. ‘There is someone.’
‘Got a picture?’
Raoul tapped the side of his head. ‘Up here, you know?’
‘Coralie and me have known each other since we were so high. Can’t wait to be married, she can’t. One of four sisters, all look just the same. It’s her oldest sister, Eloise, who’s coming later.’
Raoul smiled. ‘I’ve met Geneviève.’
The boy put the snap away again. ‘If you’re happy with your girl,’ he said, ‘I’d hang on to her.’
‘I intend to,’ he said seriously. ‘Maybe I should even take a leaf out of your book.’
‘Then why wait? I’m telling you, it’s all girls want. Marriage, a nice house to look after, a couple of kids.’
Raoul hid a smile, suspecting that Sandrine might want rather more than that. But the simple image caught at his heart all the same. The thought of her standing at the door, waving him goodbye as he went off to work in the morning, being there when he came home. A world that no longer existed.
He finished the cigarette, pinched the ash at the end, then put the stub in his pocket. He leaned back against the tree, looking around at the deep green of the woods and the mountains beyond, and waited for night to come. It was going to be a long wait.
Chapter 84
COUSTAUSSA
Sandrine, Marianne, Suzanne and Lucie were sitting at the table in the kitchen. While the sisters talked, Suzanne had raided Monsieur Vidal’s cellar. Geneviève had cycled up from Rennes-les-Bains to let Sandrine know Raoul had arrived safely in Belcaire, and stayed to help Liesl – under precise orders from Marieta – prepare a scratch meal.
Two hours later and the table was covered in empty plates and dishes, wine bottles. Suzanne sat by the cold fireplace, smoking. Lucie was curled up in an armchair like a cat, taking quick, sharp puffs of a cigarette and tapping the ash into the ashtray. Geneviève and Liesl were at the sink washing up and Marieta had gone to lie down.
The atmosphere had been convivial and sociable until Sandrine had told Marianne what Monsieur Baillard was planning. She hadn’t shared with her all the information about the Codex, imagining what her reaction might be, but had confined her explanation to the plan itself.
Even so, the mood changed.
‘It’s ridiculous,’ Marianne said again.
Sandrine glanced at the clock. ‘If all goes according to plan, by this time tomorrow Raoul will have set the trap.’ She frowned. ‘Then we’ll see.’
Marianne threw her hands in the air. ‘Suppose it does all go
“according to plan”, as you put it. And they – whoever they are – fall for this ruse of Monsieur Baillard’s. Then what? If Authié is pursuing you and Raoul because of this, then he’s going to come looking for you. Even if it’s someone else, with German money behind them, you and Raoul are making yourselves sitting targets. You’re playing with fire.’
Sandrine sighed. ‘We’ve been through this. All we’re doing is attempting to buy Monsieur Baillard more time to find the real Codex and also to deflect attention away from us. As soon as Monsieur Saurat in Toulouse confirms—’
‘If they find the forgery, if it’s taken to him,’ Marianne interrupted. ‘If.’
‘All right, if,’ Sandrine said, throwing a look at her sister. She wished Marianne would stop putting so many obstacles in the way. She was terrified enough as it was without her pointing out all the things that could go wrong.
‘When they – Authié – do find out it’s a fake, there’s no reason for them to think I was involved in the deception,’ Sandrine said firmly. ‘I’ll have passed on information in good faith, that’s the point. Just women’s chattering.’ She paused. ‘Can’t you see, Marianne, it’s the only way to get Authié to leave us alone. The problem’s not going to solve itself of its own accord.’
‘You are being naïve,’ Marianne said, her voice hard with frustration. ‘All of you.’
Geneviève turned around from the sink. ‘Monsieur Baillard won’t let anything happen to Sandrine,’ she said.
‘In the same way he didn’t let anything happen to Antoine Déjean?’ Marianne snapped.
Geneviève flushed.
‘I’m sorry,’ Marianne said quickly. ‘That was uncalled for. I’m just on edge.’
‘Antoine didn’t follow Monsieur Baillard’s instructions closely enough,’ Geneviève said quietly. ‘But Sandrine will. Raoul will.’
Marianne said nothing for a moment. She glanced at Suzanne, then started talking again.
‘I know you all think I’m making too much fuss. But I think it’s absurd that you’re deliberately putting yourselves in danger for something like this . . . this fantasy. There’s real work to be done, real people suffering every day.’
She stopped, the fight suddenly going out of her voice. Liesl too now turned around and looked at Marianne. An uncomfortable stalemate settled like a cloud over the kitchen. Suzanne reached across and squeezed Marianne’s hand, then sat back. Geneviève was watching Sandrine. Only Lucie, having excused herself to go to the bathroom, seemed unaffected by the awkward atmosphere when she came back into the kitchen.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ she said.
‘Yes?’ said Sandrine quickly, grateful for a change of subject.
‘About how to get a letter to Max. We’re not so far from Le Vernet. Wouldn’t it be possible to go there? To the village, at least. See if someone won’t take a letter to him.’
Sandrine glanced at her sister, who was now staring in disbelief at Lucie.
‘For crying out loud, what on earth’s got into everyone? You can’t just turn up at Le Vernet. It’s madness. You’ll be arrested.’
‘But you read all the time of messages being smuggled in, smuggled out of prison camps. Raoul told you, Sandrine, didn’t he, about how the women would stand outside the camp at Argelès and push letters through the wire to their husbands?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted, ‘but that was before the war. Le Vernet’s different.’
‘Why’s it different?’
‘It’s a prison camp,’ Marianne snapped. ‘Not a refugee camp.’
‘But Suzanne told me it’s still under French control,’ Lucie replied. ‘And you yourself told me, Marianne, that the Croix-Rouge are allowed to go in. They deliver food parcels, letters.’
‘It’s impossible.’
Lucie looked at her, then decided not to argue any more. Suzanne opened another bottle of wine and drew Marianne aside. Geneviève and Liesl finished drying up and started to put the dishes away in the cupboard. Lucie hesitated, then came and sat down beside Sandrine.
‘How are you feeling?’ Sandrine asked her.
Lucie pulled a face. ‘So-so. Better in the evenings.’
‘Are you excited about it?’ she said, glancing at Lucie’s flat stomach.
‘It doesn’t feel real yet.’
‘I suppose it doesn’t.’
They sat for a moment longer.
‘It’s not such a stupid idea,’ Lucie said in a low voice. ‘I can’t just sit here doing nothing. Max not knowing. It’s not right. I have to tell him. He has to know he will have a family waiting for him when he’s released.’
Sandrine frowned. ‘It’s true, the camp isn’t entirely sealed off. The village certainly isn’t, at least it wasn’t. Raoul knows people who were held there. But, again,’ she sighed, ‘who knows how much things have changed.’
Lucie looked at her. ‘Will you come with me?’
‘Me, why me?’
‘Obviously Marianne won’t,’ she carried on. ‘She’ll try to stop me, and she’s still cross with me anyway, whatever she says.’ She dropped her voice even lower. ‘I’ve been thinking about it all day. I’m going to have a go, whether you come or not. I’d just rather I wasn’t on my own.’
Sandrine found Lucie’s bravado strangely impressive. Liesl, who’d clearly been eavesdropping on the conversation, now joined them.
‘If I write a letter too, would you take it, Lucie? I know I can’t go, but if I could let Max know I’m all right. That you’re all being so kind.’
‘Hold on,’ Sandrine jumped in. ‘Nothing’s agreed.’
‘Of course I will,’ Lucie said to Liesl.
‘Will you drive?’
‘We’re nearly out of petrol and it will be hard to get any all the way out there. Besides, the car might draw attention. By now, my father’s probably reported it missing.’
‘The train, then. What line serves Le Vernet?’
‘It’s on the Toulouse to Foix line,’ Geneviève said, overhearing the conversation. ‘The station after Pamiers. That section of track wasn’t affected by the storm, though it’s a very small line. Unreliable.’
‘What’s unreliable?’ Marianne asked, catching the tail end of the conversation.
Sandrine didn’t want the argument to blow up again. More than that, she saw how exhausted her sister looked and didn’t want to make things worse.
‘Nothing really,’ she said. ‘We’re just talking things over.’
‘The railway to Le Vernet,’ Lucie said. ‘I’m still thinking about how to take a letter to Max.’
‘It’s a hopeless idea,’ Marianne said wearily. ‘You’ll be arrested long before you get anywhere near the camp.’
‘I agree she can’t just turn up at the gate,’ Sandrine said. ‘But if we go to the village, we could at least find out how other relatives manage to be in contact with their men inside.’
‘There might be a way of paying someone to take the letter in. A guard, perhaps,’ Geneviève said.
‘Perfectly hopeless, Marianne repeated.’
‘I’m prepared to give it a try,’ Sandrine said, keeping her voice calm. ‘At least go to the village, then see.’
‘I don’t mind going too, if that’s helpful,’ said Geneviève.
Marianne shook her head. ‘Nobody’s going anywhere. Don’t you understand anything?’
To Sandrine’s astonishment, she saw there were tears in her sister’s eyes.
‘Hey,’ Suzanne said in her gruff way. ‘It’s all right.’
Without another word, Marianne got up, put her chair under the table, and walked out on to the terrace. The door rattled shut behind her. For a moment, none of the girls moved. The room itself seemed to be holding its breath. Suzanne was on the point of following Marianne, when Sandrine stood up.
‘I’ll go,’ she said.
Chapter 85
Marianne was sitting on the wooden seat, looking out at the dusk. Long shadows stretched across the garrigue as the
last vestiges of light slipped from the sky.
‘We didn’t mean to upset you,’ Sandrine said, sitting down beside her. ‘We’re only thinking out loud, trying to find a way to help Lucie.’
She tailed off, seeing her sister wasn’t listening. Marianne continued to sit motionless, her hands resting in her lap.
‘I didn’t mean to upset you,’ Sandrine said again.
‘I know,’ Marianne said.
‘Lucie’s desperate, that’s the thing. She’ll try to get there on her own if one of us doesn’t go with her.’ She paused. ‘And you and Suzanne, you do things to help other people – strangers – all the time. You take risks. Is this really so different?’
‘We never deliberately put ourselves in harm’s way,’ she said. ‘But it’s not that.’
‘Then what?’
Marianne shook her head, as if no words would be enough. Sandrine couldn’t remember seeing her sister so beaten down before, so unsure. She was always so certain, so self-controlled.
‘What is it, Marianne? Tell me?’
For a moment Marianne didn’t react, then she gave a long, deep sigh.
‘The thing is, I don’t think I can do it any more,’ she said. ‘That’s all. I’m too tired, I’m . . .’ she shrugged. ‘I’m worn out.’
‘Of course you are . . .’
‘I can’t do it any more, Sandrine. Worry about everyone, keep everyone, be responsible for everyone. Make sure that the bills are paid, that we have enough to eat. I’m just worn out and I wish . . .’ She broke off. Sandrine took her hand, but it felt like a dead thing, cold and lifeless. ‘Sometimes I wish I could look away, like other people seem to be able to do. Not feel it’s my job to put things right.’
‘But you’ve always been the one to put everything right,’ Sandrine said gently, ‘even when we were little. Papa always said, didn’t he? You always made everything right.’
‘This situation with Lucie, like this business with Monsieur Baillard, I feel it’s my job to say no. To try to keep you all safe, even though it makes you – Lucie – cross. I do understand why she wants to try to go to Le Vernet, of course I do, and why you want to go with her. But it’s always me that has to tell everyone to be careful. To watch out for you all.’