He gripped the glass tightly in his hand and felt the burn of the whisky against his tongue. In the distance, beyond the heaving dark grey waves that crashed against the rocks of the bay, the arc of the horizon was slowly lightening to red with the dawn.
He turned away from the window as he heard the door open behind him. Morning, Win, he said, managing a smile. What are you doing up so early?
She looked at him with concern, her eye flickering to the glass in his hand and the empty bottle on the table behind him. Thought I heard voices. Everything all right, Ben?
I couldnt get back to sleep.
Bad dreams again? she asked knowingly.
He nodded. Winnie sighed. Picked up the worn old photograph that hed been looking at earlier and had left lying on the table next to the whisky bottle. Wasnt she beautiful? the old lady whispered, shaking her head and biting her lip.
I miss her so badly, Winnie. After all these years.
You think I dont know that? she replied, looking up at him. I miss them all. She laid the picture down carefully on the table.
He raised the glass again, and drained it quickly.
Winnie frowned. Ben, this drinking
Dont lecture me, Win.
Ive never said a word to you before, she replied firmly. But youre just getting worse. Whats wrong, Ben? Since you came back from seeing that man youve been acting restless, not eating. Youve hardly slept the last three nights. Im worried about you. Look at youyoure pale. And I know you only opened that bottle last night.
He smiled a little, leaned across and kissed her forehead. Im sorry if I snapped. I dont mean to worry you, Win. I know Im hard to live with.
What did he want from you, anyway?
Fairfax? Ben turned towards the window and looked back out to sea, watching as the rising sun touched the undersides of the clouds with gold. He wanted mehe wanted me to save Ruth, he said, and wished that his glass werent empty.
He waited until just before nine, then he picked up the phone.
Youre reconsidering my offer? Fairfax said.
You havent found anyone else?
No.
In that case, Ill take the job.
6
Oxford
Ben arrived early for his rendezvous at the Oxford Union Society. Like many old students of the university he was a life member of the venerable institution that nestles off the Cornmarket and has served for centuries as a meeting-place, debating hall and members-only club. As hed done in his student days, he avoided the grand entrance and went in the back way, down a narrow alley next to Cornmarkets McDonalds restaurant. He flashed his tatty old membership card at the desk and walked through the hallowed corridors for the first time in nearly twenty years.
It seemed strange to be back here. Hed never thought he would set foot in this place again, or even in this city again, with all the dark memories it held for himmemories of a life once planned, and of the life that fortune had made for him instead.
Professor Rose hadnt yet arrived as Ben entered the Unions old library. Nothing had changed. He gazed around him at the dark wood panelling, reading tables and high galleries of leather-bound books. Up above, the frescoed ceiling with its small rose windows and priceless Arthurian legend murals dominated the magnificent room.
Benedict! called a voice from behind him. He turned to see Jonathan Rose, stouter, greyer and balder but instantly recognizable as the history don hed known so long ago, striding happily across the burnished floorboards to shake his hand. How are you, Professor? Its been a long time.
They settled in a pair of the librarys worn leather armchairs, and exchanged small-talk for a few minutes. Little had changed for the professorOxford academic life went on much as it had always done. I was a little surprised to hear from you after all these years, Benedict. To what do I owe this pleasure?
Ben explained his purpose in asking to meet him. And then I remembered that I knew one of the countrys top ancient history scholars.
Just dont call me an ancient historian, as most of my students do. Rose smiled. So, youre interested in alchemy, are you? He raised his eyebrows and peered at Ben over his glasses. Didnt think that sort of stuff was your cup of tea. You havent become one of those New Age types, I hope?
Ben laughed. Im a writer these days. Im just doing some research.
Writer? Good, good. What did you say this fellows name wasFracasini?
Fulcanelli.
Rose shook his head. Cant say Ive ever heard of him. Im not really the man to help you there. Bit of a far out subject for most of us fuddy-duddy academicseven in this post-Harry Potter age.
Ben felt a pang of disappointment. He hadnt entertained high hopes that Jon Rose would have much to offer him on Fulcanelli, let alone on a Fulcanelli manuscript, but with so little to go on it was a shame to lose any potential source of dependable information. Is there anything you can tell me generally about alchemy? he asked.
As I say, its not my field, Rose replied. Like most people, Id be inclined to dismiss it all as complete hocus pocus. He smiled. Though it has to be said that few esoteric cults have endured so well over the centuries. All the way from ancient Egypt and China, right through the Dark Ages and medieval times and onwards into the Renaissanceits a sub-current that keeps resurfacing all throughout history. The professor stretched back in the worn leather chair as he spoke, adopting the tutor pose that was second nature to him. Though heaven knows what they were up to, or thought they were up toturning lead into gold, creating magical potions, elixirs of life, and all the rest of it.
I take it you dont believe in the possibility of an alchemical elixir that could cure the sick?
Rose frowned, noticing Bens deadpan expression and wondering where he was going with this. I think that if theyd developed a magic remedy for plague, pox, cholera, typhus, and all the other diseases that have ravaged us through history, wed have known about it. He shrugged. The problem is its all so speculative. Nobody really knows what the alchemists might have discovered. Alchemys famous for its inscrutabilityall that cloak-and-dagger stuff, secret brotherhoods, riddles and codes and supposed hidden knowledge. Personally I dont think there was much substance to any of it.
Why all the obscurity? Ben asked, thinking of the reading hed been doing over the last couple of days, running Internet searches on terms like ancient knowledge and secrets of alchemy and wading through one esoteric website after another. Hed turned up a wide variety of alchemical writings, ranging from the present day back to the fourteenth century. They all shared the same baffling and grandiose language, the same dark air of secrecy. He hadnt been able to decide how much of it was genuine and how much was just esoteric posturing for the benefit of the credulous devotees theyd been attracting over the centuries.
If I wanted to be cynical Id say it was because they didnt actually have anything worth revealing, Rose grinned. But youve also got to remember that alchemists had powerful enemies, and perhaps some of their obsession with secrecy was a way of protecting themselves.
If I wanted to be cynical Id say it was because they didnt actually have anything worth revealing, Rose grinned. But youve also got to remember that alchemists had powerful enemies, and perhaps some of their obsession with secrecy was a way of protecting themselves.
Against what?
Well, at one end of the scale there were the sharks and speculators who preyed on them, Rose said. Once in a while some hapless alchemist whod bragged too loudly about gold-making would be kidnapped and made to tell how it was done. When they failed to come up with the goods, which of course they probably always did, theyd end up hanging from a tree. The professor paused. But their real enemy was the Church, especially in Europe, where they were forever burning them as heretics and witches. Look what the Catholic Inquisition did to the Cathars in medieval France, on the direct orders of Pope Innocent III. They called the liquidation of an entire people Gods work. Nowadays we call it genocide.
Ive heard of the Cathars, Ben said. Can you tell me more?
Rose took off his glasses and polished them with the end of his tie. Its a terrible story, he said. They were a fairly widespread medieval religious movement that mainly occupied the part of southern France now known as the Languedoc. They took their name from the Greek word Catharos, meaning pure. Their religious beliefs were a little radical in that they regarded God as a kind of cosmic principle of love. They didnt attribute much importance to Christ, and may not even have believed he existed. Their idea was that, even if he had existed, he certainly couldnt have been the son of God. They believed that all matter was fundamentally crude and corrupt, including human beings. For them, religious worship was all about spiritualizing, perfecting and transforming that base matter to attain union with the Divine.
Ben smiled. I can see how those views might have upset the orthodoxy a little.
Absolutely, Rose said. The Cathars had essentially created a free state that the Church couldnt control. Worse, they were openly preaching ideas that could seriously undermine its credibility and authority.
Were the Cathars alchemists? Ben asked. The part about transforming base matter sounds very like the ideas of alchemy.
I dont think anyone knows that for certain, Rose said. As a historian, I wouldnt stick my neck out on that one. But youre quite right. The alchemical concept of purifying base matter into something more perfect and incorruptible is certainly well in tune with Cathar beliefs. Well never know for sure, because the Cathars never lived long enough to tell the tale.
What happened to them?
In a nutshell, mass extermination, Rose said. When Pope Innocent III came to power in 1198, the alleged heresies of the Cathars gave him a magnificent excuse to extend and reinforce the Churchs powers. Ten years later he put together a formidable army of knights, the biggest ever seen in Europe at that time. These were hardened soldiers, many of who had seen service fighting in the Holy Land. Under the command of former crusader Simon de Monfort, who was also the Duke of Leicester, this huge military force invaded the Languedoc and one by one they massacred every fortress, town and village with even the remotest Cathar connection. De Monfort became known as the glaive de leglise.
The sword of the Church, Ben translated.
Rose nodded. And he meant business. Reports at the time spoke of a hundred thousand men, women and children slaughtered at Béziers alone. Over the next few years the Popes army swept over the entire region, destroying everything in its path and burning alive anyone who didnt die under the sword. At Lavaur in 1211 they threw four hundred Cathar heretics on the pyre.
Nice, Ben said.
It was a vile affair, Rose continued. And it was during this time that the Catholic Church formed its Inquisition, a new wing of Church officialdom to lend greater authority to the atrocities performed by the army. They oversaw duties of interrogation, torture and execution. They were answerable only to the Pope personally. Their power was absolute. At one point in 1242, the Inquisitors were acting so bloodthirstily that a detachment of disgusted knights broke away from their station and slaughtered a whole bunch of them at a place called Avignonet. Of course, the rebel knights were quickly suppressed. Then, finally in 1243, after the Cathar resistance had held out much longer than anyone had anticipated, the Pope decided it was time to finish them off once and for all. Eight thousand knights laid siege to the last Cathar stronghold, the mountaintop castle of Montségur, firing enormous rocks at its ramparts from their catapults for ten solid months until the Cathars were finally betrayed and forced to surrender. Two hundred of the poor souls were brought down the mountain and roasted alive by the Inquisitors. And that was more or less the end of them. The end of one of the most scandalous holocausts of all time.
I can see alchemical heresy might have been a risky thing to get into, Ben said.
Still is, in some ways, Rose replied playfully.
Ben was taken aback. What?
The professor threw his head back and laughed. I dont mean theyre still executing heretics in the public square. I was thinking of the danger for people like myself, academics or scientists. The reason nobody wants to touch this subject with a bargepole is the reputation youd get for being a crank. Every so often someone takes a bite of the forbidden apple and their head rolls. Some poor sod got the sack for just that reason, a while ago.
What happened?
It was at a Parisian university. American biology lecturer got into hot water over some unauthorized research
On alchemy?
Something of that sort. Wrote some articles in the press that rubbed a few people up the wrong way.
Who was this American? Ben asked.
Im trying to remember the name, Rose said. A Dr.Dr. Roper, no, Ryder, thats it. There was a big furore about it in the academic world. It even got mentioned in the French Medieval Society bulletin. Apparently Ryder went to a university tribunal for unfair dismissal. Didnt do any good, though. As I said, once they brand you a crank its a real witch-hunt.
Dr. Ryder in Paris, Ben repeated, noting it down.
Theres a whole article about it in a back issue of Scientific American that was lying about in the college common room. When Im back there later Ill look it out for you and give you a call. There might be a contact number for Ryder.
Thanks, I might well check that out.
Oh Rose suddenly remembered. Just a thought. If you do find yourself in Paris, another person you might want to contact is a chap called Maurice Loriot. Hes a big book publisher, fascinated by all sorts of esoteric subjects, publishes a lot of that sort of stuff. Hes a good friend of mine. This is his cardif you meet him, tell him I said hello.
Ben took the card. I will. And do let me know that Dr. Ryders number, if you can find it. Id really like to meet him.
They parted with a warm handshake. Good luck with your research, Benedict, said Professor Rose. Try not to leave it another twenty years next time.
Far away, two voices were speaking on the phone.