By the time the bells tolled the abbot’s death, the gates were opening to allow Matteu’s passage out of the monastery. He hesitated a moment. Where was it safe to take it? Where should he go?
A thought came to him then: his song of Esclarmonde de Foix, and the Grail that fell into the bosom of the mountains for safekeeping. He pointed his horse away from the monastery, towards the mountains and the caves of Lombrives.
32
Underworld
‘Of the dungeons there had been strange things narrated, fables I had always deemed them, but yet strange, and too ghastly to repeat, save in a whisper.’
Edgar Allan Poe, ‘The Pit and the Pendulum’
Rennes-le-Château, 1938
Rahn slept fitfully. He dreamt that Deodat was inside a dark place. He could hear people weeping; some were reciting prayers. He sensed they were all doomed to die . . . and that Deodat would die with them. Into his dream came these words:
Jesus, you remedy against our pains and only hope for our repentance . . .
He woke in a cold sweat. The uncomfortable chair had taken its toll on his body. He could hear Eva sleeping soundly in her bed and looked about in the shadows, trying to remember the dream. There was something about a monastery, and a cave . . .
Deodat was in peril!
Years ago, he and Deodat had been to the caves of Lombrives. They had seen the bones of the Cathars who had died in those caves. Some skeletons were arranged like the spokes of a wheel, their heads to the centre and their feet raying out like a sun.
He sighed. He had to get up and return to that awful church despite his revulsion. He suspected that Deodat’s life depended on his finding out whatever it was that Saunière had discovered, and he wanted to see if the answer lay in the word penitence. He had to find out now – while the village slept and he could look about undisturbed.
Outside the world was windblown and angry, lit now and again by a waxing gibbous moon peeking out from behind thick clouds. Branches had fallen along the path and leaves crackled under his feet and the elements seemed alive. A feeling of dread passed over him, this was the second time he would be going into a church at night in as many days. Moreover, this time he would be alone; even so, he would have to find the strength . . . for Deodat’s sake.
It took him a time to reach the church and a part of him wasn’t at all relieved to find it unlocked. Once inside, the feeling of dread was multiplied. The desire to sneeze was overwhelming and, as he passed Asmodeus in the shadows, he was unable to contain it. The sound reverberated around the room as if a bomb had struck it. He paused, his every nerve raw and prickling. The wind whistled. He shivered with cold, he was tired and foggy from a lack of sleep, his eyes watered and there was a pounding in his head.
Penitence . . . penitence . . .
He made his way down the nave to the choir enclosures, sniffling. Taking a candlestick from the altar, he bent its light to the relief of the Magdalene. He wanted to see the inscription.
Jesus, you remedy against our pains and only hope for our repentance, it is by means of Magdalene’s tears that you wash our sins away.
His dream!
He tried to reason: repentance . . . a sinner goes to confession to repent and to ask for forgiveness, thereby he becomes a penitent; a penitent by means of Magdalene’s tears. Through these tears, sins are washed away. He looked up. The stained-glass window above the altar had Mary Magdalene anointing Christ’s feet. Magdalene had washed Christ’s feet with her tears, and anointed them because she was the Magdala or the tower that connected Heaven with Earth; she had possessed the power of service. Christ also washed the feet of his disciples to make them clean . . . like the soul is clean after confession . . . confessional – the confessional!
He turned around and looked down the nave to the confessional. It was directly opposite the altar – was this significant? Trying to think of nothing else, he made his way to it. It was a large structure made of oak and above it he could barely see the large coloured bas-relief of the Sermon on the Mount. There were three cubicles: the middle cubicle for the priest and those for the penitents on either side. He let the light of the candle illuminate the small space inside the left cubicle; it was wide enough for a person to kneel on a fixed padded step. There seemed to be nothing here of interest. The other penitent’s cubicle was the same. The old woman had said penitence and the entire church seemed to be devoted to Magdalene and to penitence, but perhaps he shouldn’t be looking for the one who performs penitence but for the one who remedies sins. The priest was the representative of Christ and he took His place during a confession. He was tenet – he was crucial.
Rahn entered the middle cubicle. On the floor was a worn rug nailed in place. Rahn lifted its edge and it came away enough for him to see that a hatch had been cut out of the floorboards. He tore the rest of the rug away to reveal the entire hatch. He lifted the lid and this released a rush of damp, stale air into his face. He lowered the candle through the opening. He could barely see the curve of a narrow flight of stone steps leading down. He smiled and, setting the hatch lid to one side, squeezed through the opening.