Capcir Spring (13 page)

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Authors: Jean de Beurre

BOOK: Capcir Spring
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"The deeds of darkness do not like the light. See how she squirms when faced by the light of our presence. May the holy God whom we serve be her judge and we His witnesses as we here today do examine her case."

 

"Amen" came the chorus in unison.

 

The first voice came from a figure towards the right hand side of the table. It is a light and musical voice, seemingly out of place in these surroundings. It is a voice not without a hint of kindness in it. But then another spoke.

 

"We have heard evidence all day about you and of your deeds. You are condemned already by the testimony of many people." This speaker has a deeper voice with a rasping harshness which made me long for the first voice again. "But It is now your chance to give your word. You can now speak and telling the truth before the One God of heaven and earth and tell us whether you are guilty of the charges brought against you."

 

My mind is all in a whirl. What is going on? What charges. Will my tongue work now or am I struck dumb too I wondered as I tried to put my frustration and puzzlement into words. "What charges? What do you say I have done?"

 

One of the central figures stands up. I could see he is very tall and broad even though he is still in silhouette. He speaks and instantly I recognised the voice. It was the one who called himself the inquisitors vicar and who had preached in the village square in the early morning. Was it that very morning? Was it still the same day?

 

"How dare you feign ignorance of the charges. Do you not know in whose presence your are now sitting. You were the one who showed such an exhibition of the demons inside of you this very morning when I called you forward to me. You who condemned yourself by every word you uttered in front of a hundred witnesses. You confessed then."

 

"I haven't done anything," I said confidently. "I have done nothing of which I am ashamed of before God. And because I am innocent before God I cannot see that I can be but innocent before a court of men. And if you pronounce me guilty you will be bringing blood-guilt down upon yourselves. You will be condemning yourselves to eternal fire in the depths of hell for your persecution of innocent blood." I stopped speaking. Yes I had said all that but where had it come from. It wasn't what I was thinking at the moment. I had no idea of what I was about to say even as I was in the middle of saying it. She shuddered. Was this what being possessed meant. There was a voice inside where who was taking control and making me say and do things out of character? I thought that I had been afraid before but I was terrified now.

 

"Listen master to the words that come from her lips. Does she not condemn herself enough?" It was the deep rasping voice.

 

The lighter sweeter voice chipped in "Could she really be so ignorant and uneducated to believe that she is innocent. To have done all that she has done and yet still maintain that she is a child used by others and not responsible for her own actions. It seems most unlikely."

 

"If you want your freedom say you wish to repent. Tell us all your sins and there may yet be a way found for you to be saved." The lighter voice was pleading with her it seemed.

 

She felt as if she wanted to say get me away from here. This is not real. This must be a dream. I am not really here, but the words from my lips came out differently. "I am who I am. You recognise me by the works I do. I have done what I have done. And I have done as I have done with my Lord doing his will living in me. I have no need of repentance as you call it as the spirit of God has truly set me free. I am free indeed. Do your worse for you will be sinning against the spirit of the one true God. And that is the unforgivable sin. You will be heaping hot coals on your heads when you reject the one whom he has sent."

 

"Do we need to hear more! She blasphemes. She quotes the words of Holy Scripture as her own and twists them to refer to herself. She has insulted us all now and more importantly she has insulted the honour of the Lord our GOD." The deep voice paused for a moment and then continued slowly and with emphasis on every word. "My lord, I rest my case with the words of her own lips she is as guilty as hell and to hell she is bound. We must be purged of her from our midst and soon before her deadly pollutant spreads it's wicked poison to others. That is the only way of dealing with the diseased branches. Cut them off and put them in the fiery furnace. It is what our Lord Jesus Christ himself commanded us to do." he finished speaking and sat down.

 

I waited for the friendly light voice to spring to my defence. Where was this defending lawyer or whatever he was called. Wasn't he going to put in a good word for me. I always thought the defence had the last word. No one at the table moved. I don't want to hear any more of this talk about burning in fiery furnaces. I want my rights. I was full now of anger as well as frustration for not being able to put into words what I wanted to say. But all I could do was watch seemingly through the eyes of a woman who wasn't me. I wanted to speak and scream out about the great injustice that was being done but instead I bowed my head and heard myself saying "My God, let it be to me according to your will."

 

The Inquistor's Vicar stood up and a deeper hush descended on the hall. The atmosphere seemed thick with pain. His craggy voice seemed to come from somewhere deep in the bowels of the earth, and he spoke with a solemnity and propriety that was befitting his elevated status. "You have condemned yourself from your own lips. You have blasphemed readily and frequently. You have confessed to all manner of evil. You have been implicated by the testimony of others in many and various kinds of wickedness. You have refused the opportunity of repentance and have instead insulted the propriety of this courtroom. You have transgressed the boundaries and so we have no alternative in our judgement.

 

You will be taken out at dawn and burned at the stake. Our Lord said let every branch that does not bear fruit be cut off and burned. We hand you over now to the mercy of almighty God may he have mercy on your soul."

 

The death penalty had been passed and all the men on the bench stood and bowed their heads. With them all standing they blocked the light out from the window behind them and I could see for the first time the row of hard faces. My eyes darted back and forth along the row looking for a face that expressed some of the kindness or regret that I thought that I had detected in the light friendly voice. But all the faces were set as stone, equally hard and equally fierce. They all had their eyes closed and were all muttering a prayer or chant under their breath and the occasional word I could make out and recognise was Latin. They then all sat down. Again the full force of the suns rays came to my face but I was more used to it now so did not flinch.

 

"Take her away" said one of the anonymous voices who had not spoken before "And let it be with her as has been decreed."

 

I could hear the footfall behind me as the soldiers approached. I was aware of gasping a sharp intake of breath and heard myself scream at the top of my voice, "May Almighty God pardon and deliver you from all your sins for you know not what you do!"

 

The two pairs of strong rough hands pulled me up sharply and again dragged me out of the room. She must have been drugged. That alone would explain why she couldn't move. Perhaps it was in the hope of getting me to confess. A primitive truth drug perhaps? The passages and stairs looked unfamiliar as the guards retraced their steps and opened a cell door and threw me again on a straw mattress.

 

I recoiled in horror at the stench. Perhaps last time I had become used to the smell but now coming in from up in a airy hall the stench of stale urine and sweat and other unpleasant odours was overpowering. The cell was not perhaps the same one as it was not total darkness. There high in the wall opposite was a tiny opening, a hand’s width maybe higher in the wall and through it I could see a shaft of daylight. I watched transfixed as the light gradually faded and darkness became total in the cell knowing what the next light, the break of dawn, holds in store for me.

 

It was when the last ray of daylight had disappeared and my eyes had become used to the darkness that I suddenly became aware that she I not alone. There was someone or something huddled in the opposite corner of the cell. I still could not move. I stared intently at it but it only looked like a bundle of rags. Yet it had made a slight movement, it must have one to have attracted my attention in the first place. I stared at it willing it to move again, yet at the same time hoping that it is just a shadow and wasn't going to move.

 

I must have stared silently at it for a good long time before it happened. The bundle of rags stood up and shuffled across the floor and crouched down beside me. I could feel and smell the putrid breath in my face as the creature, be it human or not studied me closely and all the while I still couldn't move. Then the figure came between me and the slight glimmer of light from the high shaft and I was just able to make out an aged human face. It grunted. It is perhaps an attempt at communication but it only sounded like a grunt. A smile? Perhaps or is it just imagination to think there is anything. Yes it is a smile and the figure was thrusting something towards me. It is a rough pot full of water. It was offering me a drink. It was pushing this rough pottery jar to my lips. The taste was foul. The smell was overpowering. But I opened my mouth for my throat was so dry and took a mouthful of the brackish water and the bitterness almost made my stomach reach instantly. But I took yet another mouthful and again swallowed. The mute then put down the pot and returned to its own side of the room and again became a bundle of rags in the shadows.

 

I longed to speak but the power of speech which had been so eloquently present in the hall above were now absent. I was so tired and the night has so far gone and dawn will soon be breaking. There was nothing to do but wait for the first lightening of the sky and the promise of all that will bring. It was to be death by fire. Staring at the cold stone wall I noticed it gradually changing colour, the stone becoming lighter and lighter, turning from grey to brown and lighter to a yellow. Is this another kind of spiritual experience.

 

Is this dawn?

 

*****

 

Mary opened her eyes suddenly and just as suddenly sat bolt upright. She can move, move easily. She is in her own room, the books still on the table and her notes recently written on her portable laptop computer. There are the plans and sketches. Her mouth is dry and her lips caked as she swallowed trying to clear the memory of the putrid water from her taste buds.

 

"Another sodding dream" she muttered under her breath. The dawn was breaking outside and though it was still early the light was beginning to flood into her bed sitter apartment. "Just another sodding dream" she cried out at the top of her voice with almost hysterical relief as she got out of bed and went over to the window to look at the new day. On the way she filled a glass with water from the tap and delighted in the taste of its sweet freshness as it passed her lips into her parched mouth. She would not take pure clean water for granted again. She opened the window and sniffed the scents of the freshness of the mountain morning air. It was a new day and it was good to be alive. She filled the coffee machine with water from the tap. Very early yes, but a new bright, sunny day.

 

 

 

 

 

6

 

Mary left the flat immediately after her shower with her bag crammed as usual with surveying equipment, notebooks and sketch-pads. It was cool in the long shadows of the early morning but the clear blue sky promised yet another scorching hot day. In the back of her mind was the name of Andre Laporte. Could he, the author whose paper she had so recently read, be the meditating hippy who had spoken all the mumbo jumbo about channelling spirits? Logically she knew it was unlikely but she also knew that co incidence is not born of logic. She hoped that with her early start she would meet up with him at the ruins again and then she could settle this matter one way or the other. Unsolved riddles unsettled her. She pulled her car up briefly in the main street of the village and bought herself a baguette at the bakers, the only sign of life on the otherwise sleepy main street. She would take her breakfast at the ruins and if not alone, so much the better.

 

On the walk to the ruins the quiet peace and beauty of the valley again struck her. The flies seemed more active at this early hour. Grasshoppers chirped noisily and the butterflies too were fluttering frantically in the cool morning air. As the familiar track neared the ruins she stopped. Above all the frantic insect noise and activity there was the sound of human voices. Voices raised in anger. A real argument was going on. Her mind momentarily returned to the old legend of the ghostly voices of the two women arguing about the love of a man echoing through the valley. She dismissed the notion immediately, as the voices were obviously male.

 

She lengthened her stride and hurried along the last few yards until she was clear of the bushes and could see clearly who was present. Edouard was there and alongside him was a man she recognised from his office, who must be one of his assistants. They were in the middle of a large group of scruffily dressed dirty looking travelling folk who Mary guessed correctly must be from the new age encampment. Most of the travellers were standing in silence in a large circle around Edouard's large and shiny four wheel drive vehicle but on the far side of the circle she could see two travellers in an animated state. A heated argument was obviously in full swing.

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