Capcir Spring
Page 14
"That's it. The realities of the physical world are triggers that affect different people, in different ways. My response in a city centre Gothic chapel is triggered by the response that whenever I enter a church or cathedral. Certain thoughts and prayers flood into my subconscious from all the many thousands of times I have entered Gothic architectural monstrosities in the past and found a sense of inner peace and even joy. But without that background, the triggers may well just remind you of dreary schooldays and enforced church attendance leading to the silent games devised by generations of unwilling schoolboy congregations to pass the interminable hours of a long mass. Such would not, I think, be a trigger for ecstatic reverie."
Mark was silent. John had guessed right. He was the product of a catholic boarding school. He mused silently to himself how strongly people as well as places could act as triggers for certain repressed emotions and feelings for good or ill. But that thought was too close to home for him to articulate.
The conversation was abruptly brought to a close as from somewhere in the encampment sounded a clanging, perhaps the rattling of two old pieces of iron together. Andre simply said,
"Lets go eat" and he led the way out of the coach and round to the rear of the tents where a large fire was glowing on a hearth and suspended above it was a caldron of some sort of stew. One of the women of African origin was ladling out the thick stew into an assortment of bowls and plates. John looked doubtful, wondering what could possibly have found its way into the pot.
Mary looked strangely at the scene before her. Were dreams coming true. This could have been a scene from the Cathar settlement as she had envisioned it at Iglessiettes. A hungry assortment gathering in the open air surrounded by mountains and trees eating simply from the fruits of the earth. She reflected on the recent conversation. With all these trigger mechanisms surrounding her it was little wonder that she was having dreams.
The stew tasted really good. It was vegetarian Andre explained and the beans and pulses are flavoured with many roots and aromatic herbs found locally in the hills.
"Forget your ideas of French cuisine" said one of the travellers who was standing near to Mary, "This is the real mountain food that mountain people of France have been eating for generation upon generation."
They noted that meal-time had brought out the whole settlement and they were many more of them than either John or Mary had first thought. More tents, invisible from the track were hidden back into the forest. Andre made some introductions but the community seemed to be made up of individuals and each respected the others autonomy and they mostly sat on their own or in pairs. There was little talk, and certainly no small talk.
As the meal ended and people were drifting away the lights of a vehicle could be seen coming up the track. Two of the young men detached themselves from the grouping where they were eating and slipped quietly over to the car which had now stopped.
"The local drug baron, whispered Andre to John and Mary, "He comes up each night to do his dealing."
"Can it really happen here, so far from civilisation" asked Mary genuinely horrified that this symbol of the urban jungle was impinging on her rural idyll.
"If you want the stuff rest assured that where ever you are in the world there will be someone who will see that you can get it at a price. I wouldn't mind betting the local mafia who are probably well respected pillars of the community are involved in the trade in some way." After a few moments the engine roared into life again and the there were turning noises then the tail lights headed off into the distance. The two who had headed in that direction walk slowly back to the tents looking relaxed and smoking loosely rolled cigarettes.
Andre continued "With them its only pot thank goodness, otherwise it could make life difficult for all of us." He motioned for them all to sit down on logs, and Mark quickly sat down close to Andre. Andre responded by patting him gently on the knee. John immediately averted his eyes. His mind returning to the dire warnings in the seminary lectures on "particular friendships". Another instinctive guess he had made when he had seen them both together in the coach was confirmed. Mary too noted the gesture and looked instantly towards John and saw the hurried averting of his eyes. It was as if she sensed his unease and wondered if he was a repressed homosexual or just repulsed by what he saw.
"I've been in this area for several weeks now" began Andre, " and I am sure there is something very strange going on. And it is centred in some way on the old chapel ruins which for different reasons Mary and I value so much. Mark and some of our boys were down there early this evening and, Mark tell them what you saw."
"Edouard, and another man, his assistant I think, had metal detectors and surveying equipment. They also had some big charts. They moved systematically across the floor of the valley. I wondered, knowing all the old legends, if they were looking for the buried treasure. But we know that is not possible. No one could surely still believe that old one. Nevertheless they were there and there must be something."
"I know for one thing that our Mr Edouard isn't a simple historian. There's no money in it. He might agree to restore the old buildings in the Village Square but that is not for a love of history. Its because he knows that it is what the tourists like and he will do anything to bring in more and more every year. His companies have so much invested in the commercial success of this area that if for example the snow fails to come one year for the ski season and if there is not enough water in the local lakes for the snow cannons then he will be history. And he will take the whole local economy down with him too."
Mary was certain that this demonising of Edouard was wrong yet she waited until Mark had finished speaking before she said, "I disagree with you there. Edouard is quite an authority on the local history of this area, and his family have been involved here for generations. He has written several well-researched articles on the local history of these parts and had been very helpful with my research. He is a businessman too of course but I believe he has a genuine interest in this area."
Andre responded immediately, "He is a certainly a charming man and takes most people in by his charm but I for one believe that those articles were nothing more than a marketing exercise on behalf of the local tourist office. If there is any funny business going on then I am sure that he will be involved in it up to his neck."
Mary at that moment decided to raise the subject of her burglary to see what the response would be.
"My flat was robbed today and the strange thing is only the work written on my computer and my plans and charts of the valley were stolen. The police didn't seem to take it very seriously. They said empty holiday places are always vulnerable but I think it is suspicious that my plans should just go missing like that."
If Andre and Mark were guilty of the burglary they were very skilled at feigning surprise and disgust and pointing the finger, in line with their other suspicions, at the business man to whom they seemed to have taken such a strong and irrational dislike. Yet at the same time Mary was surprised that the longer she had spent talking and eating with Andre and Mark the more she felt that she trusted him. Regardless of the bizarre setting in which she found him there was something authentic about him even if his references in the conversations to her academic quest and his academic past lacked the fervour with which he spoke of his present concerns. For the first time the germ of a doubt about her friend Edouard began to develop in her mind.
The darkness had thickened and wearily and somewhat reluctantly (to the surprise of both of them), John and Mary left their new friends to head back to the village.
8
They drove in silence for the first part of the track, the headlights picking out strange shapes in the surrounding trees. At length Mary said,
"That evening wasn't nearly so bad as I had feared. The discussion was quite valuable for my thesis. In fact it was like having a seminar laid on especially for me but more than that I actually enjoyed my visit there. I've just had a thought. Do you think they are Cathars?"
"And there is a rejection of the conventional life and materialism of the world and a retreat to this rural idyll…"
"Mmm," said John, non-committally, "They were certainly interesting characters. I'm sure that even if they are not Cathars there is on the other side of the Atlantic a present day Cathar church. Neither Andre nor Mark is strictly what you would call conventional but I think we had better start looking elsewhere for your burglars."
Mary giggled to herself. "Did you get the impression that Andre and Mark are an item."
"That would be my guess. It might be the strongest reason that Mark didn't tell us about for taking to the travelling life. Some people don't even realise the force that the subconscious power of love has on all their conscious and so called logical actions. The soppy songs are right. Love is the most powerful force in the world. Love changes everything. It makes sane and normally rational people behave with a temporary madness. But the Cathars were strict on celibacy but only for the perfect - all the ordinary believers could get away with breeding and then make a deathbed move into the perfect. It was a neat way out of that conundrum for many!"
"Are you now speaking as a priest, detached from the emotional entanglements of the world? As a celibate yourself what do you know of the depth of the emotional life of love? If you tell me that you are then I won't believe you. I have lived with the church and its servants for too long to really believe that there is ever anyone whose asceticism allows them to detach themselves completely from emotional involvement. And why should anyone want to anyway. If you so surround yourself with barriers so that you are fortified against the temptations of the world the flesh and the devil then you will have also barricaded the chinks by which the light and pure celestial joys of the life and the glimpses of the beyond can enter."
John stared silently ahead for a few moments. Was that a description of Derek? One so barricaded against real involvement that his coldness was the strongest feeling you were left with after meeting him.
He replied, "I think you are very hard on your idea of what it is possible for a priest to understand. When detached from the world I believe that you can have a more objective understanding. I certainly have lived for most of my life believing strongly in the great value and indeed privilege of such detachment. It is a sacrifice we make and it can cause much pain but the rewards are immense Freedom from involvement with the emotional entanglements of the world gives one a rare and perceptive insight for looking at things as they really are. An ability too to get alongside and see things through the eyes of another. But having said all that I admit though that in recent weeks and months I have come to see that the detachment we pride ourselves on can often be a cop out. An excuse to avoid involvement in the very real decisions that people have to face where there are no clear cut rights and wrongs. Those times when the human passions and emotions dictate against what training, custom and belief indicate one ought to feel."
As Mary listened to John's unspoken words she thought, correctly as it turned out, that she was beginning to see something of the conflicts of inside the man.
They both seemed reluctant to pursue further the conversation at this stage and a comfortable silence fell between them.
Mary thought of the strange assortment of senior clergymen (and they were all men) with mixed motives who came to bring her support and comfort after James was committed and taken away for good. There had been the bishop, well meaning but barely able to articulate anything beyond the familiar platitudes that he was used to dishing out to all ladies of the diocese who doted on him. The archdeacon, who Mary had long known to be reputed to be a womaniser, had come and certainly exceeded his reputation. Was he, she wondered at the time and later, aware at all of the effect his advances had on women at their most vulnerable hours? Perhaps he and his easy charm took in some people. Perhaps the church would one-day wake up to what he was really like but then he was shrewd and professional and had influential friends in high places. He was one of the sorts of people who seemed to do what ever they wanted and always got away with it. And there was the vicar of her mother's parish who was as gay as a daisy but loved the company of young women. But there she couldn't relax in his company no matter how much he tried to be one of the girls for her. Perhaps John honestly believed that as a Jesuit he was different to the others. Or was the realisation of his being as all other men linked with his taking a long holiday abroad.
John during this time was thinking hard about how far he should go in telling Mary about himself. He had disclosed so little, and at the same time she had already disclosed so much about herself. Could he dare to tell her about Kate. Perhaps that would be the answer. Perhaps that would allow her to see him as he really was. It made sense. If he could share his past with her then perhaps if he knew that she knew about Kate this would tell the recesses of his stubborn sub conscious to stop confusing Mary and Kate. If he was no longer involved in hiding Kate from Mary then perhaps the living Mary could help bury the ghost of Kate who so often still seemed so real. If But not just yet. He was never good at conversations in cars. There was no eye contact. And he always felt afraid of the affect anything that provoked a reaction would have in distracting a driver's eye from the road. As a non driver he felt this extremely vividly and was disconcerted when taxi drivers chattered away endlessly to him.
They were now entering the outskirts of the village. "Do you fancy a coffee?" asked Mary, keen to re open the conversation on her home ground. "We'll go past my flat and I can take you up to your cabin later."
"Sounds an attractive idea" John replied, "But I'll walk home after as it is a lovely clear starlit night."
Mary felt peaceful in John's presence now. He was good company in that he demanded little of her and his presence made her realise how much time she had been spending on her own recently. Perhaps it was just this one thing that she missed most of all after splitting with James, a constant companion with which to share the minutiae of life with. It was not good to be alone.
As they sat coffee mugs in hand Mary asked, "How come you are taking a long break abroad. Let me guess. You are searching for a lost vocation? You no longer know whether there is a God or not and your Bishop told you to go away for a while to a lonely place as a kind of retreat to find yourself and encounter the divine."
John stared at the bubbles spinning in his cup where he had recently finished stirring and was grateful that he didn't have to search for an opening to explain himself. He took a deep breath and begun,
"Very close but not quite accurate. I haven't fallen out with God. I still know God as well as I ever did. My problems come from a much more human level. I am a Jesuit but haven't been a parish priest for a long time. For an number of years I have had a very specialised ministry in a counselling centre in an inner city area. It is part of the churches attempt to get relevant and meet the needs of the people. Anyway this all went well for a while and I was good at my job and we helped a large number of people and then I started counselling a disturbed teenage girl called Kate. Now Kate had many problems but inside, just occasionally she showed that she was a lovely and loving person. I did the inexcusable thing for a counsellor. I became emotionally involved with a client. A double taboo if you have taken vows of celibacy. We had an affair. I enjoyed it. I can't pretend it was against my will for I really thought that I was in love. And then we were discovered. And the full force of the Jesuit secret service came into force against me. I was taken away to a monastery and they tried to hush her up."
"Now when I was taken away I ceased to have any contact with or influence on her. I never saw her again. Perhaps if I could have seen her again we could have worked something out, But I wasn't allowed. She went over the top, but worse than she had ever done before. She came to the counselling centre one afternoon and smashed up the pot plants and magazine racks i
n the reception area. She terrorised the receptionists and threw a chair through the window into the general administrative office. If we had not been in an inner city area she might have stood on the street and lobbed bricks through our windows but they all had wire grills on. She then disappeared before the police arrived. But they of course all could identify her. She was a regular client of course. When the police went round to where she was living she had overdosed. It was a massive overdose so there was no hope I'm told. If the paramedics had reached her faster they might have saved her but they didn't. And that was the end of Kate."
"They didn't tell me for a week after this had happened because they were afraid for my mental state. I think they thought that I might do a Romeo to her Juliet and kill myself too. They kept me under observation for quite a while with the best spiritual head shrinks they have got all having a go at me. But I have been in this game too long. I know all the counselling techniques and ploys and none of them were able to get through to me. There was only one who understood me really and that was Derek, my superior. We go back a long way together. He saw through the game of non co-operation that I was playing so he sent me away here on my own to sink or swim. He knew that I am the sort of person who will only sort himself out in his own time and in his own way. So I came here. And that's almost the end of my sad and sorry tale. I'm trying to forget and understand the madness that has altered the course of my life. I only wanted to give her the love that she never had in her short and sad life but I ended up screwing her up so much that she destroyed herself. Perhaps she wanted me to be the loving father she never had but I couldn't. I became first of all flatterer then lover and then killer."