‘Perhaps it was true love?’ Eva said.
‘More like he got a whiff of what was to befall the Hapsburgs and wanted to distance himself,’ Rahn answered.
‘Yes, suicide, assassinations, war and eventually their downfall.’ The priest climbed the steps to the semicircular walkway that overlooked the vast, mountainous footfalls of the Pyrenees. The walkway connected the Tour Magdala on the left with the conservatory on the right. This was the glasshouse Rahn had seen from the cemetery a moment before. It had seemed far grander from below. As they neared, Rahn realised it was rather a shabby place. The floor was littered with rotting leaves and dead snails and the corners were hung with cobwebs. Above, bird droppings clung to the broken glass panes that allowed the filtered light to fall over a wicker chair in which dozed an old woman. She was dressed in black like a nun, with a black shawl over her head that accentuated the paleness of her withered face. She was resting her chin on her chest and making low snoring sounds as they approached.
‘Madame Dénarnaud,’ the priest said tentatively, giving her a little shake. ‘These are the people who wanted to see you.’
She opened both eyes sharply and lifted her head to survey the abbé with contempt. She turned her slow and penetrating eyes to the strangers standing before her and said, ‘Who are you, and what do you want?’
26
Madame Dénarnaud
‘Then I cursed the elements with the curse of tumult; and a frightful tempest gathered in the Heaven where, before,
there had been no wind.’
Edgar Allan Poe, ‘Silence, A Fable’
‘These are the visitors I told you about. They would like to ask you some questions,’ the abbé said, the perfect model of politeness and decorum.
Madame Dénarnaud turned to the abbé and spat, ‘Get out!’
This abruptness caused a violent blush to flower on the priest’s face and a few words of apology were followed by a hasty exit.
When he was gone, she addressed Rahn and Eva: ‘Strangers usually want one thing from me, and if that is what you’re seeking you will not be satisfied.’
Rahn ventured to ask, ‘And what do they usually want?’
‘They want to know about the treasure, of course,’ she said, with a wily smile and narrowed eyes.
‘Is there treasure?’
‘I knew it!’ she shouted. ‘Take your carcasses out of here!’
‘We’re not here about treasure,’ Eva hurried to say.
‘I read the cards this morning. I pulled out the Tower – destruction – mayhem – death! The planet Mars!’ Madame Dénarnaud punctuated each word with a jab of her finger.
‘The Tower can also mean a blessing in disguise,’ Rahn countered.
There was a reluctant grunt. ‘You know the cards?’
‘Of course. There’s a wealth of knowledge locked in each one that can only be mined by those who are wise.’
She was soothed, but only a little. ‘What do you want to know?’
Rahn decided to take advantage of her momentary good humour to get to the point. ‘We’re looking for any information on something called Le Serpent Rouge – a grimoire written by Pope Honorius.’
‘A grimoire?’ she said with raised brows.
‘A book of black magic,’ Rahn said.
‘Why would I know about such a thing?’
‘We wondered if Abbé Saunière had known about it.’
‘And if I did know, why would I tell you anything?’
‘Because a priest has died and I think his death is connected to the grimoire.’
This made her stop. ‘What? What did you say? Who is dead?’
‘The Abbé Cros from Bugarach.’
She paused to think about it, and Rahn could see that Madame Dénarnaud was a good actress, for the addled exterior fell away and what surfaced now was a fiercely lucid intelligence. ‘Bugarach?’ She looked at Rahn, the whites of her eyes as yellow and dry as medieval parchment. ‘How did he die?’
‘His wheelchair tipped into a fish pond and he drowned,’ Eva said, without expression.
The old woman frowned. ‘What?’
‘He was paralysed,’ Eva answered.
The old woman pursed her puckered lips. ‘But he wasn’t—’ She looked at Rahn sharply, ignoring Eva. ‘What do you know about that book?’
‘I know that Saunière must have found something to do with it, and whatever it was he took it around to certain societies in Paris,’ Rahn informed her.
‘Look,’ the old woman said, pointedly, ‘I was only a young girl when he came to this village. I was beautiful, you wouldn’t think so now, but I was. I worked at Espéraza making hats but it wasn’t a good living, we were poor. My mother took him in as a boarder. Oh, he was a handsome man all right, in his broad hat and cassock! He won the hearts of the people of this township, that’s for certain. He even won my heart . . . a little. He had a wonderful humour and he was full of emotion when he spoke. The church was falling to bits and he found some money, not much mind you, but with the help of his congregation he fixed the foundations that were falling down because of the water, that is all. Now leave me alone.’