stone walls. A wooden cross hung above the simple altar. Worn boards, each at least two feet wide, probably hewn centuries ago from the surrounding primeval forest, sheathed the floor and creaked with each step. Where the church at Rennes was animated in obscene detail, an unnatural quiet reigned in this nave.
Mark noticed Geoffrey's interest in the ceiling. He knew what he was thinking. The master had worn a robe of blue with gold stars in the last days of his life.
'Coincidence?' Geoffrey asked.
'I doubt it.'
From the shadows near the altar emerged an older man. His crooked shoulders were poorly concealed under a loose brown frock. He walked with a jerky, stooped gait that reminded Mark of a puppet on a string.
'Are you the abbe?' he asked the man in French.
'Oui, monsieur.'
'What's the name of this church?'
'The Chapel of St. Agulous.'
Mark watched as Geoffrey strolled forward, past where they stood, to the first pew before the altar. 'This is a quiet place.'
'Those who live here belong only to themselves. It is indeed a peaceful location.'
'How long have you been abbe?'
'Oh, for many years. No one else seems to want to serve here. But I do like it.'
Mark recalled what he knew. 'This area was once a hiding place for the Spanish brigands, wasn't it? They would slip into Spain, terrorize the locals, rob farmhouses, then slip back over the mountains, safe here in France, out of reach of the Spanish.'
The priest nodded. 'To plunder Spain, they had to live in France. And never once did they touch a Frenchman. But that was a long time ago.'
He continued to study the church's austere interior. Nothing suggested that the building harbored any great secret.
'Abbe,' he said. 'Have you ever heard the name Berenger Sauniere?'
The older man thought for a moment, then shook his head.
'Is that a name anyone has ever mentioned in this village?'
'I'm not accustomed to monitoring my parishioners' conversations.'
'Nor did I mean to say that you were. But is it a name you recall anyone mentioning?'
He shook his head again.
'When was this church built?'
'In 1732. But the first building was erected here in the thirteenth century. Many came after. So unfortunate, but nothing remains from those early structures.'
The older man's attention was diverted to Geoffrey, who was still wandering near the altar.
'Does he bother you?' Mark asked.
'What is he looking for?'
Good question, Mark thought. 'Perhaps he's in prayer, wanting to be near the altar?'
The abbe faced him. 'You don't lie well.'
Mark realized the old man standing before him was far smarter than he wanted his listener to believe. 'Why don't you tell me what I want to know.'
'You look just like him.'
He fought to repress his surprise. 'You knew my father?'
'He came to this area many times. He and I spoke often.'
'Did he tell you anything?'
The priest shook his head. 'You know better.'
'Do you know what I'm to do?'
'Your father told me that if you ever made it here, you should already know what it is for you to do.'
'You know he's dead?'
'Of course. I was told. He took his own life.'
'Not necessarily.'
'That's fanciful thinking. Your father was an unhappy man. He came here looking but, sadly, found nothing. That frustrated him. When I heard that he took his own life, I was not surprised. There was no peace for him on this earth.'
'He spoke to you about those things?'
'Many times.'
'Why did you lie to me about never hearing the name Berenger Sauniere?'
'I didn't lie. I've never heard that name before.'
'My father never mentioned him?'
'Not once.'
Another riddle stood before him, as frustrating and irritating as Geoffrey, who was now walking back toward them. The church surrounding him clearly contained no answers, so he asked, 'What about the abbey of Hildemar, the castle he turned over to Agulous in the tenth century? Is any of that still standing?'
'Oh, yes. Those ruins still exist. Up in the mountains. Not far.'
'It's no longer an abbey?'
'Goodness no. It hasn't been occupied in three hundred years.'
'Did my father ever mention the place?'
'He visited there many times, but found nothing. Which only added to his frustration.'
They needed to go. But he wanted to know, 'Who owns the abbey ruins?'
'They were bought years ago. By a Dane. Henrik Thorvaldsen.'
PART FIVE
11:40 AM
DE ROQUEFORT STARED ACROSS THE TABLE AT THE CHAPLAIN. THE priest had been waiting for him when he returned to the abbey from Givors. Which was fine. After their confrontation yesterday, he needed to speak with the Italian, too.
'You will not ever question me,' he made clear. He possessed the authority to remove the chaplain if, as Rule stated, he caused disturbances or was more a hindrance than an asset.
'It's my job to be your conscience. Chaplains have served masters in this way since the Beginning.'
What went unsaid was the fact that any decision to remove the chaplain had to be approved by the brotherhood. Which could prove difficult, since this man was popular. So he retreated a bit. 'You'll not challenge me before the brothers.'
'I was not challenging you. Merely noting that the deaths of two men weigh heavily on all of our minds.'
'And not on mine?'
'You must tread carefully.'
They were sitting behind the closed door of his chamber, the window open, the distant waterfall a gentle roar. 'That approach has taken us nowhere.'
'Whether you realize it or not, those men dying has shaken your authority. There's talk already, and you've only been master a few days.'
