Chasing Shadows

by Chasing Shadows (retail) (epub)

  Chapter 5

  High Pyrenees, April 2016

  ‘So this is the top, is it?’

  Amy’s breath was clearly visible in the cold mountain air and both of them could feel the keen wind that blew down from the peaks on either side of them. Luke had parked the car on what would no doubt become a picnic area in summer. As it was, the car crunched off the road onto at least a foot of frozen snow, the tyres gripping sure-footedly as the weight of the big vehicle cut deep tracks into the icy surface. He switched off the engine and turned towards her. ‘As I feared, the idea of walking a stretch of the Pilgrims’ Way will have to be put on hold. The snow’s so deep, there’s no trace of a path. In fact, the only markings on the snow are a few ski tracks criss-crossing the open area leading to the summit.’

  ‘Is that where we’re going? Is it a long way to the top?’

  ‘Not too far. We’ll give it a try. It all depends how deep the snow is.’

  They dressed in their warm clothes and he led her up through the snow. It took them some time as they kept stumbling in the deeper drifts, but they finally made it to the highest part of the pass. She was hanging onto him with both of her hands for most of the way and on a couple of occasions he had to encircle her with his arm and support her. There was little doubt in her mind that she increasingly enjoyed physical contact with him, feeling the strength of his arm through his jacket, his muscles contracting and flexing as they moved. The sensation was really rather pleasant and she could feel a smile on her face. At last they reached the top and he stopped, their breath forming clouds in the frozen air.

  ‘Is this it?’ She, too, was panting after their exertions.

  ‘Yup, this is it. Turn towards me a bit. That’s right. Now tell me which way you’re headed.’ He glanced in her direction and saw her take a deep breath and run her tongue across her lips. He noticed, not for the first time, how truly beautiful she looked in profile. He did his best to keep his mind on historical matters, but it wasn’t easy. Unaware of his eyes upon her, she was trying to work out the right answer.

  ‘We must be looking due south. I can feel the sun just a bit off to the right and it must be about…’ She felt for the watch on her wrist. Charlie Brown’s voice obligingly told her it was 3.27. ‘About half past three, as I thought.’ She sounded pleased with her estimation. ‘I reckon we must be looking straight down into Spain. Maybe straight down onto the ruins of the abbey of Santa Cristina?’ Her tone was interrogative.

  ‘Dead right on both counts.’ He was equally pleased for her. ‘But you aren’t missing a view of either of them. The ruins of the abbey are virtually invisible under normal circumstances, but with a couple of metres of snow on top, I doubt if we’ll even be able to locate what little’s left. And as far as seeing down into Spain’s concerned, there’s a huge great mountain in the way. Mind you, it looks pretty nice, with a load of people skiing down towards us on the north-facing slope. There’s still a good snow covering on that side.’ For a moment he wondered whether the mention of skiing would bring back uncomfortable memories for her, but her face showed no sign that she was troubled.

  ‘Brr.’ In spite of her thermal jacket she was cold. ‘Just imagine what it must have been like up here for pilgrims in leaky boots, or even bare feet.’ She stamped her feet in the snow and pressed closer to him. ‘I suppose they didn’t have much to keep them warm apart from woolly jumpers.’

  Although he tried not to think about the feel of her against him, he didn’t succeed. ‘They would also have had furs; mostly rabbit, but a few fox or even wolf, and above all they had their cloak. Don’t forget every pilgrim had a waterproof cape that would protect them from the worst weather.’

  ‘And a sturdy staff to protect them from dogs, wolves and other pilgrims.’

  She sounded relaxed and happy. There was no doubt about it, her warmth against him was definitely pleasant. More than pleasant, he thought with a guilty start, and did his best to sound matter-of-fact.

  ‘Come on, then, before we freeze, we’d better make a move. Stay out in this wind for long and we’ll both soon start losing body heat.’ They started to make their way back to the car. Avoiding the tracks they had made on the way up, he cut straight across the virgin snow. The sensation of breaking a new trail was exhilarating, but hard work, as their boots sank into the snow to the ankles.

  ‘This is nice.’ Her voice sounded happy. She reached over so that she was gripping his arm with both hands again. They walked on in silence for a while, until a large rock loomed ahead of them. The snow had melted off it completely in the spring sunshine, and its bulk formed an effective windbreak. He guided her towards it.

  ‘Fancy a rest in the sunshine?’

  ‘It’ll be nice to get out of that bitter wind,’ she readily agreed.

  They took up positions side by side, the sun warming their faces. She could feel the warmth of his body beside her. It felt very reassuring. More than reassuring, she thought to herself. This feels right. She breathed deeply, but said nothing. He cleared his throat in that way she had come to recognise: it meant he was embarrassed. She heard him launch into tour guide mode.

  ‘We’re facing west now and we’re in the lee of the rock. That’s why that cold wind’s stopped. You can see the tracks we’ve made in the snow quite clearly. We’re the first humans to come across here since the last snowstorm. Mind you, from the mass of other tracks, it must be a real wildlife show when we’re not around. Those are deer, I would think, and there are lots of rabbits or hares. There are bigger tracks over there, but I suppose they might have been made by a dog. No wolves left now, though the area was crawling with them in the Middle Ages.’

  He rattled on, conscious that he was overdoing it. Deep inside he was afraid that if he didn’t, the conversation might take a more intimate turn. His emotions, held in check now for so many years, were still so uncertain. As ever, he did his best to suppress them. Anyway, he reminded himself, he was here as her guide. It would be all too easy to abuse the trust placed in him. ‘Bears, too, of course. There are supposed to be ten or twenty brown bears in this area nowadays, but it’s very unusual to come across one. Mind you, in…’

  ‘…in the Middle Ages, the area must have been crawling with them.’ She finished the sentence for him, a gently mocking note in her voice. But she let him off the hook by asking, ‘What’s this place like where we’re sitting? Is it just a big rock or what?’

  ‘It’s certainly a big rock.’ He answered gratefully, glad of the change of subject. ‘I’m not sure what the name of this stone is, but it’s a deep red colour, probably loaded with all kinds of minerals. It’s more or less in the middle of the open area. It would have made a good lookout post for bandits on the prowl. It flattens off above us and a person could lie stretched out quite easily there.’ As he said the last words her expression changed to one of apprehension, no longer carefree as it had been a moment before.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ He was concerned.

  ‘Help me up, would you?’ She scrambled to her feet and had pretty well found her way to the top by herself before he was able to reach her with a guiding hand. She dropped to her knees, her hands running lightly over the smooth rock surface, her expression ever more concerned.

  ‘So what is it?’ He sounded puzzled, unable to explain her behaviour.

  She turned towards him as he climbed up in turn. He saw fear and another emotion, maybe pity, on her face. She reached out for him and he took both her hands in his. This time his concern for her removed any feeling of disquiet. She was trembling as she spoke.

  ‘This is a really bad place. It’s an evil place. I don’t know what happened here, but something truly terrible took place right here, up here where we are standing. Can’t you feel it? There’s something awful about this rock.’ Her voice tailed off and he saw her eyelids flutter. Before she could faint, he caught her in his arms. This caused him to overbalance and he had to jump off the rock down onto the snow. Their combined weight took them
through the top crust of ice and he almost fell. With a great effort he managed to keep his feet and struggle out of the hole he had made. He stumbled off across the field towards the car with Amy in his arms and his breath was getting laboured by the time he reached the road. He opened the passenger door, slipped her onto the seat, then made his way slowly round the back of the car and climbed in the driver’s side.

  As he regained his breath and his pulse began to return to normal, he studied the face of the girl beside him. Her eyes were tightly shut and her fists were clenched so hard that her knuckles were white. She was breathing rapidly in and out, for all the world as if it had been she who had just run across a field. He wondered whether to say something, but opted to give her time to compose herself. A flash of inspiration struck him and he reached to the back seat. The bottle of thirty-year-old brandy should do the trick, he decided. Amy had insisted on buying it for him several days earlier in Cognac, when they had stopped off to visit the cellars. He tore open the box and broke the seal, twisting out the cork before holding the bottle under her nose.

  ‘Here. Take a drop of this.’

  The combination of his voice and the smell of the spirit had the desired effect. She reached out absently and took a mouthful. By the time she had finished coughing, she was back in the land of the living. He retrieved the bottle and breathed in the heady aroma before deciding he could risk a sip, even though he was driving. The taste was every bit as good as he had hoped and he felt the warmth spreading pleasantly through his body. After a brief moment of hesitation he regretfully replaced the cork and returned the bottle to its place on the back seat.

  He looked across at her. ‘Want to talk about it?’ He was relieved to see her half-turn towards him, no longer with the agonised expression on her face. She pulled out a tissue and blew her nose while searching for the right words.

  ‘I had an overwhelming feeling of evil. A sensation, no, more than a sensation. I just suddenly felt the absolute conviction that something really bad happened in that spot. I don’t know how to describe the feeling. Totally overpowering. One moment I was as happy as I have been for months… years, and then smack, this awful feeling of dread. It was as if somebody just walked over my grave. You don’t think I could be turning into a witch, do you?’ She paused for a few seconds while she collected herself. ‘I very nearly fainted.’

  ‘You certainly did.’ He said it with feeling. ‘In fact, I would say that having to be physically carried qualifies as the next best thing to a dead faint.’ He flexed the muscles of his shoulders and groaned theatrically. ‘You weigh a ton in all that thick winter clothing.’

  She turned towards him with a smile and reached up to his face with her hands. Before he could stop her, she pulled herself upwards and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. This was the first time her lips had ever touched him and the effect upon him was stunning. Suddenly all his fears and uncertainties returned with a rush. Memories came rushing, unwanted, into his head and he had to struggle hard to maintain his equilibrium. Meanwhile, apparently unaware of his discomfort, she settled back in her seat and switched to a pretty convincing Zsa Zsa Gabor voice.

  ‘But darlink, maybe I did it just so that I could fall into your so schtrong arms!’ She smiled to herself while he did his unsuccessful best to banish the mass of memories pulsing through him and reply in a normal tone.

  ‘Have a heart. I’m not used to all this excitement.’ He thought for a moment about another nip from the cognac bottle, but prudence prevailed. ‘If you’re going to insist upon being carried around much more often, I’d better go into training again.’

  ‘Which reminds me.’ She was getting back to normal. ‘What’s all this about you not being used to excitement? Why’s that? When do I get to hear your story? About you, that is.’

  She heard him clear his throat. ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘Oh… just everything.’

  ‘Surely Father Tim told you all about me.’

  ‘Father Tim told me next to nothing about you. You’ve got a PhD. You’re a jolly good chap and you’re a close friend of his. I don’t even know what you did before going back to university. For all I know, you might have been in jail.’ She was smiling now. ‘Is that it? Did you murder somebody?’

  Luke found himself smiling back at her. ‘So, if you think I might be a murderer, why on earth did you agree to come away with me like this?’ He allowed his voice to deepen with menace. ‘Why, I might be about to tear your head off at this very moment.’

  ‘I notice you didn’t answer the question. That’s pretty damn incriminating, I’d say.’

  ‘Well, let me set your mind at rest on that score. I’m not a jailbird or a murderer.’ His voice became more serious. ‘But I’ve been going through some pretty difficult stuff and I’m still trying to sort my head out.’ He paused, doing his best to drum up the courage to try to talk about everything that had happened to him, but knowing in his bones that he still wasn’t ready. ‘I’ll tell you that much, and I promise I’ll tell you more very soon. Just be patient and bear with me. Please.’

  She reached over, found his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘Take your time. It’s all right. Tell me more when you feel ready. In the meantime, I’m very happy to take you as you are.’

  For a few seconds, a wave of emotion swept over him and he came very, very close to kissing her, before deciding to return to safer ground.

  ‘Thanks, Amy.’ He found he had to clear his throat before continuing. ‘It’s a promise. Now, tell me something, my witch friend, do you think the opposite could also apply?’ In response to the puzzled look on her face, he explained. ‘If you can have such a strong reaction when you sense that something evil has taken place, do you think you could have a reaction of equal intensity if you found yourself in a place where something good has happened?’

  ‘You don’t find so many of them, I’m afraid.’ Her light tone belied the sad truth behind her words. ‘At least, not so strong. Boy meets girl, girl marries boy, boy and girl live happily ever after doesn’t hit the headlines of history. The place where hundreds of thousands of people were murdered for no good reason, now that sticks in the historian’s mind, whether we’re talking about Auschwitz or the Somme. Maybe I picked up a force that intense suffering can leave in a place. One warm happy moment, however intense, doesn’t seem to have the power to linger on and influence me.’

  He thought for a moment before asking his next question.

  ‘So have you any idea when and how thousands of people may have been made to suffer up here? None of the history books mentions a battle of any kind in this part of the High Pyrenees. Indeed, the terrain’s so inhospitable and the access so difficult that I just can’t imagine two armies making it up here in a fit state to start a monumental battle.’ Receiving no reply from her, he started again.

  ‘Or do you think this could be the site of some deeply painful and bitter experience for a smaller group or an individual? After all, it was only at that precise spot on the red rock that you felt it. Could there have been a particularly painful cry that still echoes down to this day?’ He looked hard at her face and saw the concentration. It was a while before she replied.

  ‘Yes, I suppose it’s possible. I know what you mean about the armies or any other mass confrontation here. I just can’t imagine it either. Unless, of course…’

  He was with her. ‘Unless the memory was of an event of special poignancy and significance to you personally. Maybe it was not so much somebody walking over your grave. Maybe you just walked over somebody’s grave.’

  ‘I just walked over somebody’s grave…’ She explored the concept. Her sightless eyes were trained on some distant object and didn’t waver. He didn’t ask any more for fear that the snow and the mountains had revived the deep trauma of her parents’ accident in her. Her first return to the mountains would mean that her subconscious must still be full of it. He decided to introduce a more positive note into the conversation.


  ‘Anyway, think about this for a moment, Amy. I can give you one place where the opposite has happened, time and again through history. You haven’t visited Santiago de Compostela yet.’ She shook her head. ‘When we do, we’ll walk into the cathedral together. Then you can tell me whether your sixth or seventh sense works only in places of evil. The accumulated joy of millions of people, I’m sure you’ll feel it. You don’t need to be religious to feel it. All those people, who’ve walked for hundreds and hundreds of miles to get there, they must have left a mark. I’ve been there twice in my life and, although I wouldn’t describe myself as a religious man, I felt it both times.’ He glanced at her. ‘And I’m certainly not a witch.’

  ‘Can you get male witches?’

  ‘I’m not even sure you can get female ones, present company excepted.’ He decided it was time to move on, both as far as the conversation was concerned and in practical terms. ‘Anyway, it’s getting late. We’d better start thinking about finding a hotel for the night.’

  She ran her hands through her hair and sat up, looking more relaxed. ‘Sounds like a good idea.’

  ‘Dig in the door pocket. There should be a booklet about this part of northern Spain. It’s not very thick.’ Obligingly she reached down and retrieved a handful of Spanish Tourist Board brochures. He took them from her and selected the one dealing with Jaca and its immediate area.

  ‘Looks like there is no shortage of accommodation in Jaca. Shall we head for there?’

  She nodded in agreement so he started the engine. His head was still spinning from the after-effects of that simple little kiss. He knew he would have to find the strength to start speaking to her about his past. She needed to know and maybe, just maybe, it might help him to start talking about it in all its horror.