The Secret Of The Cathars (2011)

by Michael Hillier

  “Why? Have you been to Quillan before?”

  “Certainly not. If I had I should not have risked making this our rendezvous. I would have nominated a far more remote location.” Robert paused. “Now - please walk with me. We will talk as we stroll.” He turned and set off past a row of stalls on the East side of the square, taking no interest in any of the wares on offer.

  Suppressing a grin, Armand followed.

  “Now then,” said Charles Robert. “What have you been doing for the last two weeks?”

  “Well, as I told you. I have been concentrating on getting to know the archaeologists. I believe I have had some success. In fact I have been enrolled as an unpaid helper in their excavations.”

  “Really?” The old man stopped and gazed at him. “What sort of things have you been excavating?”

  Armand shrugged. “All sorts of things actually. Jacqueline and Andre have carried out a methodical survey of the castle to establish the areas where they wish to excavate. The le Bezu site is different to a lot of sites. For the last week we have been cutting away undergrowth and digging up roots of bushes and small trees to clear an area and to try to find out the ground plan of the place.” He shook his head. “I can tell you it’s not an easy task on a rugged site like le Bezu.”

  “Is that all you have done?”

  “Well - there’s been plenty of talking about which is the best way to go and where to clear next. They seem to be taking the exploration step by step, working out their strategy as they find out more.”

  “So what have you found out about their final aims? Are they likely to be harmful to our cause?”

  “I don’t think so. They are mainly interested in establishing the history of the place and its links to the Cathar Movement and the Albigensian Crusade. Later historical events don’t interest them.”

  “No mention of the Council or our forbears?”

  Armand shook his head. “Nothing like that. So far they have excavated a trench in the main entrance to the chateau but that yielded very little of interest except establishing links to Roman and Visigoth occupation. So they filled that in. Now we are starting to investigate the great hall. We’ve cleared the undergrowth and are lifting out chunks of fallen masonry.”

  “Will they continue exploring inside the perimeter walls of the castle?”

  “I believe so - in so far as they can establish where the perimeter is. Why? Is what we’re interested in located inside or outside the castle?”

  Robert turned to face him. “That is not for you to know or to ask about. Please just answer my questions.”

  They had reached the northeast corner of the square and now he set out along the north side where the stalls were smaller and more spaced out. Here it was pleasantly warm. The sun, dappling through the freshly-leafed trees, highlighted his pink scalp through his thin hair. Armand followed half a pace behind.

  “Tell me,” Robert asked, “What do the archaeologists hope to find in the area of the great hall?”

  “I don’t know exactly - presumably some information about the occupation of the castle in Cathar times. I believe they are hoping to find out something about the seneschal - this Pierre de Voisins - and his attitude towards the Cathars.”

  “Pierre de Voisins?” Robert’s voice was suddenly sharp. “Has this woman archaeologist said anything about de Voisins?”

  Armand was startled by the sudden change of tone. “No. Not very much. As far as I remember his name was only mentioned in passing. He was simply the keeper of the castle in the period that they are interested in.”

  “What else has been said? How long are they expecting to continue this investigation?”

  “I think they will be here all summer.”

  “All summer!” Robert spun round to look at him and Armand involuntarily stepped back a pace.

  “I believe so. That is what they seemed to be saying.”

  “I cannot stay here all summer,” cried the old man. “There are many important things I have to do. I have to be back in Paris within the month.”

  Armand stared at him. “I am sorry, Monsieur Robert, but there is no hope of the archaeologists finishing their explorations in the next month. They will keep working until they find sufficient artefacts of interest, then the television cameras will move in.”

  “Television cameras?”

  “That’s right. They are doing a television series about the Albigensian Crusade.”

  “A series?” gasped Robert. “A series on the television?”

  “Of course. Jacqueline Blontard is a star. Haven’t you seen her previous series about the Louvre and Napoleon in Egypt?”

  “Another series on the television!” Robert put his hand to his forehead. “And it will be set in le Bezu. Thousands of people will trek to see the location where the series is set. It will be an utter disaster. It cannot be allowed to happen.”

  Armand shook his head. “How can we stop it? These television people are very powerful. They deal in huge amounts of money. They cannot be bought off.”

  “Nevertheless, young Sejour, they must be stopped. You will have to stop them before they can get any further.”

  “And what do you suggest I do to stop them?” asked Armand coldly.

  “I don’t know. You must decide that for yourself. All I can tell you is that their activities at le Bezu must not be allowed to continue.” He pointed a finger at Armand. “I will allow you one week to stop them. We will meet here in exactly one week from now.” He checked his watch. “That is at precisely noon next Tuesday. And I will expect you to tell me that you have brought an end to this foolish and dangerous exploration.”

  Armand gazed at the enraged old man in front of him. “But I don’t know what I must do to stop them.”

  “One week,” repeated Robert. “If you tell me in a week’s time that the archaeologists will be continuing their excavations, I will have no alternative but to refer the whole matter back to Paris. I need hardly remind you of what that will mean for your personal standing with the Council.”

  With that parting comment Charles Robert turned on his heel and strode away without a backward glance, leaving a dispirited Armand Sejour to make his way back to the hotel and the people who had become his friends over the last two weeks. Now he had to betray that friendship.

  He shook his head and took a deep breath. He must be ruthless. That was what he was employed to do. He had been ruthless before. This was the first time that he had allowed himself to become involved with any of his targets. He was beginning to see what problems that might cause.

  - 10 -

  The broken, twisted body of Andre Jolyon was found spread-eagled on the rocks at the foot of one of the cliffs of le Bezu at about nine o’clock on Wednesday morning. A search had been instigated when it was realised that he hadn’t slept in his room that night. One of the men had spotted his dark blue anorak under the trees and Gaston had climbed down on a rope to investigate. He found Jolyon’s body was cold and very dead.

  The police had been called and had instructed that the body should be swathed in a canvas stretcher bag and lifted up to the castle. Philip had seen the police Suzuki at the bottom of the path when he arrived and wondered about its purpose. He met the melancholy procession coming down the path and stepped aside to let it pass. First came Gaston and three other men, awkwardly carrying the misshapen bundle. Gaston shot him a venomous glance as he passed.

  Behind the four men came Jacqueline. She was clearly upset. Two gendarmes followed her, dressed in their kepis and short shoulder capes. As she reached him, Philip asked, “Jacqueline? What has happened?”

  She stopped and gazed at him with a tear-stained face. “It’s Andre. He has had a dreadful accident. He - he is dead.”

  “Dead? What happened to him?”

  “He fell from one of the cliffs. He - he wasn’t wearing a safety harness. He must have lost his footing and slipped.” She sniffed. “It seems that one of the anchors holding the rope had pulled out. That m
ay have caused him to fall.” She began to weep again.

  “Oh, my God.”

  “I don’t understand how he could have let it happen,” she sobbed. “He promised me he would always wear his safety harness. I was most insistent about it. And he promised.”

  The younger gendarme gave Philip a reproving glance and shepherded her down the path after the others.

  She turned briefly back to him as she passed. “Nothing will happen here today,” she faltered. “The site is closed until further notice.” Then she moved on.

  The senior man, who was walking behind her, paused to address him in passable English. “Who are you, monsieur?”

  “My name is Philip Sinclair. I have come from England. I only arrived here yesterday.”

  “Ah.” The man looked at him with a calculating gaze before coming to a decision. “Please to follow me.”

  Philip decided that now was not the time to argue with such an order. So he tagged along at the rear of the group. He felt desperately sorry for Jacqueline, even though he had only just met her. He would have liked to be able to offer her some sort of comfort, but he couldn’t think of any way that he might help at present.

  The dejected little group went on down to the car park area. At the bottom of the path an ambulance was now waiting. It was squeezed in to the small turning space beside the police vehicle, the two archaeologist’s wagons and Philip’s little car. The body bag was loaded into it. Instructions were given to the attendants - something about Toulouse - and, after an undignified shunting of vehicles to permit it to turn round, it set off

  “Your car?” asked the sergeant, pointing.

  “Yes.”

  “You will follow me to the mairie,” he instructed. He turned to the others and told them the same thing in French.

  So a sad procession followed the police car into Quillan where fortunately there was sufficient parking space outside the town hall. They were shepherded into a waiting room. Jacqueline was immediately asked to accompany the sergeant into another office. So Philip was left alone with Gaston and the other men. Nobody spoke to him. The others talked among themselves in low tones and he felt their accusatory glances resting on him from time to time.

  One by one the men were called in for questioning. Finally Philip’s turn came. The junior gendarme came into the waiting room and beckoned him in a none-too-friendly manner. Philip followed the man down a short corridor and into a room with only two high-level barred windows. The sergeant was sitting at a desk near the centre of what was apparently his office and Jacqueline was seated to one side of him. Philip was told to sit on a chair on the opposite side of the desk and the other gendarme stood just inside the door as though to make sure that he didn’t try to escape.

  Jacqueline looked up at him. He noticed there was an empty coffee cup in front of her and, although her face was deathly pale and the brightness seemed to have gone from her eyes, she looked as though she had regained her self-control.

  “The police sergeant’s English is not so good. I have been asked to act as interpreter for you,” she said. “Is that agreeable to you?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “You can have a lawyer if you wish although it may be difficult to find one this morning in Quillan who can speak English sufficiently well.”

  “Am I accused of something?”

  She smiled tightly. “No-one is accused of anything at present. The police are trying to find out what actually happened. That is the way they do things in France. Sergeant Leblanc here is making out a report to go to the examining magistrate who will decide whether any crimes have been committed and who, if anybody, should be charged with the crimes. To do this the sergeant has to interview anybody who might have been a witness or who might have been connected in any way with the events which occurred last night.” She smiled again bleakly. “Unfortunately, you came to the site for the first time yesterday and you spoke to Andre Jolyon. That means you may be able to provide the sergeant with useful information. Do you understand?”

  Jacqueline explained to the sergeant what she had told him. The man nodded and directed her to ask a question. She turned back to him.

  “He asks when you came to France and why.”

  Philip briefly explained his progress over the last few days. When it came to his reasons for choosing to come to the area he felt he should give rather more information than he had the previous day.

  “You know my name is Sinclair. I believe I am a direct descendent of a certain Phillipe de Saint Claire whose family lived in this area in the thirteenth century.” He paused. “My grandmother died recently. She had spent a lot of time researching our family origins but she died before she could come to Languedoc and continue her research. So she left me some money on the condition that I should come to this region to see what I could find out about our ancestors.”

  Jacqueline looked at him speculatively as she dictated to the policeman what she had been told. Her translation had to be slow enough for the man to write it all down.

  After a pause Philip continued, “You can check this with the solicitor in London. His name is Mr James Baker of a partnership called Smythe and Baker. I will give you their phone number but I think it would be best if I ring them first to explain why you are contacting them. Otherwise they may refuse to provide any information and insist on it being handled through the British Embassy.”

  She explained this to the sergeant who grunted and made a note.

  “My grandmother found some old papers which suggested that my ancestor spent some time at le Bezu. That is why I came here. I wanted to see if I could find out anything about the castle and its owners in the Middle Ages. That is why I climbed up to look at the castle yesterday.”

  Jacqueline had raised her eyebrows at this additional disclosure. However she translated it for the policeman to write down. When he had finished, the man had a further question to ask.

  “Is that the only reason for your visit here? Did you know any of the people in this area before you arrived?”

  “No. It was a surprise to me to find archaeologists working at the chateau.”

  “What was your opinion of Andre Jolyon?”

  Philip considered. “I didn’t really know him well enough to have an opinion.”

  She conferred with the sergeant and turned back to him. “Apparently Gaston has told the police that you had an argument with Andre yesterday and that he ordered you off the site. Is that correct?”

  “No!” he exclaimed. Then he thought more carefully. “Well - yes, I suppose it is, in a way. Jolyon didn’t seem to like me being there although you had told him earlier that I had a complete right to look round.” Philip looked straight at her. “You were there when I first arrived. I think, that if you hadn’t over-ruled him, he wouldn’t have let me on to the site in the first place. Do you agree?”

  She explained his reply to the man. He asked her a couple of short questions and she seemed to agree. She turned back to Philip.

  “What was your argument about?”

  He took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. “What happened was this. After you left I spent about an hour looking round the chateau. Then I went back to look at the roped off area where Jolyon and the others were working. I didn’t go inside the ropes because you’d asked me not to.” He paused. “Well, as soon as he saw me he told me to move away because I might have been in danger if one of the boulders had fallen while they were lifting it onto the trolley.” He shook his head. “So I moved to a higher point on the other side of the site - but it was still outside the rope.”

  He continued looking straight at her. “However he didn’t seem to like me being up there either and he came to order me off. When I didn’t immediately move he called to Gaston and one of the others and they started to come up to where we were. I saw that Gaston was carrying a pickaxe and the other guy had a crowbar. It looked to me as though they intended to use them on me if I didn’t go.” He grinned sheepishly. “So I decided to lea
ve to avoid any further confrontation. I told Jolyon that I would come back this morning to meet you as we had arranged. Then I left.”

  She raised her eyebrows when she heard his explanation but she didn’t respond. It took quite a long time for her to translate all his comments. Once again she was asked several questions and seemed to agree to the points put to her. Philip hoped she wasn’t twisting his story. Finally she turned back to him.

  “The sergeant will check these details with Gaston. Now he wants to know what you did after you left the site.”

  “I went back to my car which was parked in le Bezu village. By then it was nearly lunchtime, so I drove into Quillan, where I found a bar and got myself a glass of wine and a baguette. I believe the bar was called the Moulin Blanc. After that I drove back to Carcassonne where I am staying. My hotel is in the industrial area. It was still quite early and the day was pleasant so I walked in to the town centre and strolled around for a while. Then I had a meal in a bistro - I’m afraid I can’t remember the name but I can take you there if necessary. After the meal I walked back to the hotel and I read a guide-book for a time until I went to bed.”

  All this was translated and written down.

  “Can anyone confirm this?”

  “Not really. I still had my room key so I didn’t need to go to the hotel reception. I don’t know if anybody in the bar or the bistro will remember my being there.”

  There was a long discussion between Jacqueline and the sergeant. At last she said, “I am told I must ask you this - did you come back to Quillan or go up to le Bezu chateau later yesterday or during last night?”

  Philip couldn’t prevent the ghost of a smile appearing on his face as he answered. “Certainly not. After Jolyon ordered me off the site - as Gaston put it - I didn’t come back again until I saw you this morning.”

  There was further consultation between them.

  “The sergeant has one more question. When you were looking round the site did you interfere with any of the ropes which were fixed?”