Kate Mosse - Labyrinth

2›Should she change her mind about Chartres? 2›

If anything, Alice realised that having confirmation she was in danger- that it wasn’t just her imagination – strengthened her resolve. As she thought about it, she became more certain Authie was behind what was going on. He believed she’d stolen the ring. He was clearly determined to get it back.

Call Noubel.

Again, she ignored her own advice. So far, the Inspector had done nothing. A policeman was dead, Shelagh was missing. Better to rely on no one but herself.

Alice had arrived at the steps that connected rue Trivalle to the back of the car park, reasoning that if they were waiting for her, they were more likely to be at the main entrance.

The steps were steep and there was a high wall on this side of the area, which stopped her from being able to see in but gave a dear view to anyone looking down from above. If they were there, she wouldn’t know it until it was too late.

Only one way to find out.

Alice took a deep breath and ran up the steps, her legs powered by the adrenalin racing through her veins. At the top, she stopped and looked around. There were a couple of coaches and cars, but very few people about.

The car was sitting where she’d left it. She picked her way between the lines of parked cars, keeping low. Her hands were shaking as she slid into the front seat. She was still expecting the men to loom up in front of her. She could still hear their voices, shouting, in her head. The moment she was in, she locked the doors and rammed the key into the ignition.

Her eyes darting in all directions, hands white on the steering wheel, Alice waited until a camper van was pulling away and the attendant raised the barrier. She accelerated and shot across the tarmac, too fast, aiming straight for the exit. The attendant shouted and leaped back, but Alice took no notice.

She kept driving.

Audric Baillard stood on the railway station platform at Foix with Jeanne, waiting for the Andorra train.

“Ten minutes,” Jeanne said, glancing at her watch. “It’s not too late. You could change your mind and come with me?”

He smiled at her persistence. “You know I cannot.”

She waved her hand impatiently. “You’ve devoted thirty years to telling their story, Audric. Alais, her sister, her father, her husband – you have spent your life in their company.” Her voice softened. “But what of the living?”

“Their life is my life, Jeanne,” he said with a quiet dignity. “Words are our only weapons against the lies of history. We must bear witness to the truth. If we do not, those we love die twice over.” He paused. “I will not find peace until I know how it ended.”

“After eight hundred years? The truth might be buried too deep.” Jeanne hesitated. “And perhaps it is better that way. Some secrets are better for remaining hidden.”

Baillard was looking ahead at the mountains. “I regret the sorrow I have brought into your life, you know that.”

“That’s not what I meant, Audric.”

“But to discover the truth and set it down,” he continued, as if she had not spoken. “It is that I live for, Jeanne.”

“Truth! But what about those you fight, Audric? What are they seeking? The truth? I doubt it.”

“No,” he admitted in the end. “I do not think that is their purpose.”

“Then what?” she said, impatient. “I am going, as you advised me to do. What possible harm can it do to tell me now?”

Still he hesitated.

Jeanne persisted. “Are the Noublesso Veritable and the Noublesso de los Seres but different names for the same organisation?”

“No,” the word escaped from his lips more severely than he’d intended. “No.”

Well then?“

Audric sighed. “The Noublesso de los Seres were the appointed guardians of the Grail parchments. For thousands of years they fulfilled this role. Until, indeed, the parchments were separated.” He paused, choosing his words with care. “The Noublesso Veritable , on the other hand, was formed only one hundred and fifty years ago, when the lost language of the parchments began to be understood once more. The name Veritable meaning true or real guardians – was a deliberate attempt to give validity to the organisation.”

“So the Noublesso de los Seres no longer exists?”

Audric shook his head. “Once the Trilogy was separated the reason for the guardians’ existence was gone.”

Jeanne frowned. “But did they not attempt to regain the lost parchments?”

“At first, yes,” he admitted, “but they failed. In time, it became more foolhardy to continue, for fear of sacrificing the one remaining parchment for the sake of regaining the other two. Since the ability to read the texts was lost by all, the secret could not be revealed. Only one person…” Baillard faltered. He felt Jeanne’s eyes on him. “The one person with the knowledge to read the parchments chose not to pass on his learning.”

What changed?“

“For hundreds of years, nothing. Then in 1798 the Emperor Napoleon sailed for Egypt, taking savants and scholars with him as well as soldiers. They discovered there the remains of the ancient civilisations that had ruled those lands thousands of years ago. Hundreds of artefacts, sacred tables, stones, were brought back to France. From that moment on, it was only a matter of time before the ancient languages – demotic, cuneiform, hieroglyphs – were deciphered. As you know, Jean-Francois Champollion was the first to realise that hieroglyphs should be read, not as symbols of ideas or scripts, but as a phonetic script. In 1822, he cracked the code, to use the vulgar expression. To the ancient Egyptians, writing was a gift from the Gods – indeed the word hieroglyph means divine speech.”

“But if the Grail parchments are written in the language of ancient Egypt…” she tailed off. “If you are saying what I think you are, Audric…‘ She shook her head. ”That such a society as the Noublesso existed, yes. That the Trilogy was believed to contain an ancient secret, then again, yes. But, for the rest? It’s inconceivable.“

Audric smiled. “But how better to protect a secret than allow it to be concealed beneath another? To appropriate or assimilate the powerful symbols, the ideas of others, is the way civilisations survive.”

“What do you mean?”

“People dig for the truth. They think they have found it. They stop, never imagining that something more astounding lies beneath. History is full of religious, ritualistic, social signifiers, stolen from one society to help build up another. For example, the day Christians celebrate the birth of Jesus the Nazarene, December the twenty-fifth, is actually the feast of the Sol Invictus, as well as the winter Solstice. The Christian cross, just like the Grail, is actually an ancient Egyptian symbol, the ankh , appropriated and modified by the Emperor Constantine. In hoc signo vinces – by this sign shalt thou conquer – words attributed to him when seeing a symbol in the shape of a cross appear in the sky. More recently, followers of the Third Reich appropriated the swastika to symbolise their order. It is in fact an ancient Hindu symbol of rebirth.”

“The labyrinth,” she said, understanding.

“ L’antica simbol del Miegjorn .‘ The ancient symbol of the Midi.

Jeanne sat in thoughtful silence, hands folded in her lap, her feet crossed at the ankles. “And what of now?” she said at last.

“Once the cave was opened, it was only ever a matter of time, Jeanne,” he said. “I am not the only one who knows this.”

“But the Sabarthes Mountains were excavated by the Nazis during the war,” she said. The Nazi Grail hunters knew the rumours that the Cathar treasure was buried somewhere in the mountains. They spent years excavating every site of possible esoteric interest. If this cave is of such significance, how was it not discovered sixty years ago?“