Capcir Spring (18 page)

Mary had a few questions of clarification for Andre and every time she spoke John used the excuse of concentration to stare at her. Her brows knotted when she was concentrating as if he could see the thoughts being squeezed out. And there was a spark of fire in her eyes that as she deepened and developed some long held and previously less clear ideas. But most of all her face was lovely. He wondered if he was drooling. He could play no part in the discussion, indeed after a while it bored him as she was interested in minutiae rather than the grand sweep of the story that had captivated them all. Is this another infatuation or is this possibly the beginnings of what all the poets describe as romantic love, he found himself asking himself.

After about half an hour of discussion the three fell silent, each considering what they had learnt from the other and each taking breath before launching off in another direction. John decided it would now be acceptable for him to ask a question of his own without offending the historians so he asked Mark, "What attracts a young man like yourself to the vagrant life?"

"Need you ask when you see the dawn breaking over the mountain tops and then from the same vantage point see the sun going down. Need you ask when you are out in the open air listening to the birdsong away from the cities smoke and smog. Need you ask when you are surrounded by a rich history and spirituality the breathes out from every rock and tree in this whole beautiful mountainous area. Need you ask when you have parents who have been pushing you to become everything they have not achieved in their boring, middle class lives. There is a freedom on the road. A recognition of this all as being one earth. We are a new race of peaceful pilgrims, travelling on a journey of discovery. We are a mixed band. As you can probably guess I want to be a poet. But there are people running away from all sorts of things with us. There are those running from the law. Those who have left families because of pressures they couldn't take and those who are truly searching for the real spiritual meaning of life. Am I making sense or do I sound like a romantic drop out."

John wondered what reply to give, having spoken to more that had opted out of mainstream society in various ways over the past few years while he was at the centre than probably Mark had ever met.

"You have done nothing that countless others who have rebelled at their parents generation haven't done. You have gone away to find yourself and I hope you are successful. There are many who are never able to connect up with their real selves however long they travel and where ever they go. The important thing is that you recognise for yourself the real reason you have got away, what you are escaping from and you are honest with yourself while you can still remember."

"Are you a guru?" asked Andre, only half tongue I cheek.

Mary and John both laughed.

For the first time John had no difficulty in talking about himself. "I am only an old Jesuit who has fallen out with his church." As he said it, he wondered for the first time whether this falling out was temporary or whether it would be forever.

"Well Father" said Mark half in a tone of mocking, yet half in a tone of respect, "What do you make, as a man of prayer, of the spiritual energies of this place?"

"Spiritual energies come from inside you. Some are spiritually stimulated by certain environments that do nothing for other people. What you see as a spiritual stimulus tells me more about your culture, background, class and religious upbringing than anything objective about the physical world that we see around us."

"Are you saying there is nothing magic in these beautiful surroundings that you would not find in some city centre Gothic architectural monstrosity?"

"Are you saying there are no external realities," interjected Mary, "That everything spiritual comes from inside us?"

"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.