‘If you don’t tell us what you know, I’ll be forced to go to the gendarmes at Carcassonne,’ Rahn bluffed. ‘I know a certain inspector who’ll be very interested to know about Abbé Cros’s investigation into the priests and their involvement with certain brotherhoods. I might even show him a list of priests in which one finds the name Bérenger Saunière. I’m certain he’ll find it most enlightening, since he’s already looking into the death of Abbé Cros. A death that occurred shortly after the abbé informed us of where the list was kept.’
‘A list you say? An inspector? What is his name?’
‘Beliere.’
‘Beliere . . .’ she said, a light seeming to blink on and off behind that old façade. ‘Look, all I know is that when Abbé Saunière moved the altar, he found something in the Visigoth pillar. I never saw it. That pillar is now outside the church. He had it placed there, upside down, and had an image of Mary of Lourdes sat on it. It is there for all to see.’
‘Why upside down?’
‘How should I know?’ she spat.
‘What did he find?’ Rahn pressed, trying to keep calm, though he could hardly forget that time was ticking away and that his friend was still missing and possibly in grave danger.
She looked at him squarely as if she could read his thoughts. ‘Do you dare to go to Hell?’
He held her stare, defiantly. He wasn’t going to let the old hag get the better of him. ‘If there exists a way towards Heaven and it crosses Hell, then, yes – I dare!’
‘You may recite Faust, but you don’t know the meaning of it! Heaven?’ she scoffed. ‘There is no Heaven!’ Then her face changed into a look of terror. ‘Listen!’ She sat stock-still. ‘It comes – le Autan, le Autan is coming! Do you hear it? It’s the Devil’s wind!’ Her face was full of alarm. ‘I told you! Disaster. The cards never lie. We have to go!’
To Rahn the sky was no different. ‘I don’t hear anything,’ he said.
‘God help us! Lift me up, you idiot!’ She made a grab at Eva’s arm and used it to pull herself out of the chair. ‘Can’t you hear the snapping of the trees? It’s here!’
Now Rahn could hear a faint whirring sound, like a large motor, perhaps a plane, echoing in the valley.
‘Take me out of here, now!’ The woman was suddenly frantic.
It took only a moment for it to be upon them. From out of nowhere it came, shaking the old glasshouse and rattling its loose windowpanes so that they came crashing to the ground. The wind fetched the glass door then and swung it open and then shut it again with such force it shattered a number of old panels, spraying the three of them with glass splinters.
‘You idiots! I told you!’ the old woman wailed.
Rahn tried to open the iron-framed door but it was jammed. Glass was falling all around them and the entire conservatory was rattling now as if the wind’s hands were about to shake it loose and take it away. He eventually managed to rattle the door open and, leaving the wreckage of the glasshouse behind them they ventured out into the gale. The wind was an animal, roaring over the trees and loosening their limbs. Dust flew into their eyes and Rahn could hardly see to take the old woman down the precarious steps to the garden. Eva went ahead to fetch the priest and Rahn toiled to get the old madame over the debris, while leaves and dead twigs fell over them, littering their path and making every step dangerous. The old woman’s dress flapped and caught around her legs and she stumbled on a twig but Rahn managed to catch her before she fell.
Up ahead the priest was gesturing with his hat and shouting something he couldn’t hear, his cassock fluttering and ballooning. He pointed to the villa.
By the time they reached the house the woman was exhausted to the point of being limp, and Rahn and the priest had to half carry her through an annex that looked like it had been converted into a chapel and down a corridor to a sitting room.
Together they sat her in a large chair. She was shivering and the priest directed Eva to a flight of stairs.
‘There are bedrooms up there,’ he told her. ‘I’m sure you’ll find a blanket for the madame in one of the cupboards. I’ll go and fetch her some water.’
Rahn could smell sewage, old pipes and damp. The shutters knocked at the windows and the wind whistled through cracks. He took in the room; there was a crucifix on the wall; a good reproduction of the Shepherds of Arcadia; a cold hearth; expensive carpets on the floor; and floral wallpaper. The décor was opulent for a small town like Rennes-le-Château and he thought that the house must have caused quite a stir among the citizens of the town when it was built.