‘I don’t understand…’
‘Macron, the Black Virgin is Isis. The Christ figure is Horus. All that happened was that the Christians usurped the ancient Egyptian gods and transformed them into something more palatable to a modern sensibility.’
‘Modern?’
‘Osiris was resurrected, you see. He came back from the dead. And he had a son. Who pitted himself against the forces of evil. Doesn’t that sound familiar to you?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Both Jesus and Horus were born in a stable. And their births are both celebrated on the 25th of December.’
Macron’s eyes had begun to glaze.
Calque shrugged. ‘Well. Anyway. Here is what Sabir and your eye-man were looking for.’ He held up the sheet of paper.
‘It’s in gobbledegook.’
‘No it’s not. It’s written in reverse. All we need to do is to find a mirror and we should be able to disentangle it.’
‘How do you know they were looking for it?’
‘Logic, Macron. Look. They broke in here for a purpose. That purpose was to steal the Virgin. But the eye-man was also here. They succeeded in driving him away, though, leaving Sabir, the gypsy and the gardien alone in the Sanctuary. But the old man is bewildered by it all and is too old to take charge, so he obeys Sabir and trots off back to the office to phone. The two of them could easily have managed to take the Virgin with them then. She’s only around seventy centimetres tall and hardly weighs anything. But they don’t. They leave her behind. And why do they do that? Because they already have what they came for. Bring me that torch.’
‘But it’s evidence. There may be fingerprints on it.’
‘Just bring me the torch, Macron.’ Calque turned the paper over. ‘Now we’ll shine it against the writing.’
‘Ah. That’s clever. No need of a mirror.’
‘Take this down in your notebook:
‘Il sera ennemi et pire qu’ayeulx Il naistra en fer, de serpente mammelle Le rat monstre gardera son secret Il sera mi homme et mi femelle’
‘What does it mean?’
‘Don’t you understand your own language?’ ‘Well, of course I do.’ ‘Then you decipher it.’
‘Well, the first line reads “He will be an enemy and worse…’’ ’ Macron hesitated. ‘ “…than anyone before him.” ’
‘ “He will be born in iron…” ’
‘ “…of Hell’, Macron. Enfer means Hell. Ignore the fact that it’s been split in two. People aren’t born of iron.’
‘ “…of Hell,’ then, ‘with the nipple of a serpent…” ’
‘ “…he will suckle from a serpent’s breast.” ’
Macron sighed. He exhaled loudly, as if he had just hefted a set of massive weights in the gym. ‘The monstrous rat will hide his secret…” ’
‘Go on.’
‘ “ He will be half man and half woman.” ’
‘Excellent. But the last line may also be read as “He will be neither man nor woman.” ’
‘How do you work that one out?’
‘Because of the clue given in line one. The use of the word ‘ ennemi ’. It implies that when mi reappears, the em should be changed to en.’
‘You’re joking?’
‘Have you never done crosswords?’
‘They didn’t have crosswords in medieval France.’
‘They had better than crosswords. They had the Kabbalah. It was normal practice to disguise or codify one word by using another. Just as the author has done in line three, with rat monstre. It’s an anagram. We know that because the two words are followed by the word secret, which acts as the pointer. Just like in crosswords. Again.’
‘How do you know all these things?’
‘It’s a little thing called a classical education. Linked to another little thing called common sense. It’s something they obviously failed to teach you people down in that bidonville of a school of yours in Marseille.’
Macron allowed the insult to wash over him. For once in his life he found himself more interested in the case than in himself. ‘Who do you think wrote this stuff? And why are these maniacs after it?’
‘Do you want my honest opinion?’
‘Yes.’
‘The Devil.’
Macron’s mouth dropped open. ‘You’re not serious?’
Calque folded up the sheet of paper and put it in his pocket. ‘Of course I’m not serious. The Devil doesn’t bother to write people billets-doux, Macron. Hell always comes by Express Delivery.’
52
Yola sat up higher in her seat. ‘Look. There’s going to be a wedding.’ She turned and stared critically at the two men. ‘I shall have to wash and mend your clothes. You can’t appear in public like that. And you’ll need jackets and ties.’
‘My clothes are fine as they are, thank you.’ Sabir turned to Yola. ‘And how the Hell did you work that one out about the wedding? We haven’t even arrived in the camp yet.’
Alexi let out a snort. He lay sprawled across the back seat, with his bandaged head propped comfortably against the window. ‘Are all you gadjes blind? We’ve already passed four caravans on the way here. Where do you think they’re going?’
‘To a funeral? To another of your Krisses?’
‘Did you notice the faces of the women?’
‘No.’
‘Well, if you used your eyes for once – like a gypsy – you would have seen that the women were excited, not sad.’ He ran his finger around the inside of his mouth, testing the new geography. ‘Have you got fifty euros on you?’
Sabir switched his attention back to the road. ‘That will scarcely be enough to buy you a new set of gold teeth.’
Alexi grimaced. ‘Have you got them?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well give them to me. I’m going to have to pay someone to watch the car.’
‘What are you talking about, Alexi?’
‘Just what I said before. If you don’t pay someone to watch it, someone else will strip it clean. They’re thieves, these people.’
‘What do you mean, “these people”? They’re your people, Alexi.’
‘I know that. That’s why I know they’re thieves.’
Sabir and Alexi had been allocated the corner of one of Alexi’s cousins’ caravans. Alexi was recuperating on the single cot, with Sabir seated below him, on the floor.
‘Show me the pistol, Alexi. I want to see why it misfired.’
‘It didn’t misfire. It just didn’t fire at all. I would have had him. Straight through the nose.’
‘You know about safety catches?’
‘Of course I know about safety catches. What do you think I am? An idiot?’
‘And you know about cocking?’
‘Cocking? What’s cocking?’
‘Ah.’ Sabir sighed. ‘Before you can shoot an automatic pistol, you have to pull back this catch here and cock it. It’s called locking and loading in the military.’
‘ Putain. I thought it worked like a revolver.’
‘Only revolvers work like revolvers, Alexi. Here. Try it.’
‘Hey. It’s easy.’
‘Stop pointing it at me.’
‘It’s all right, Adam. I’m not going to shoot you. I don’t hate gadjes that bad.’
‘I’m very relieved to hear it.’ Sabir frowned. ‘So tell me, Alexi. Where’s Yola gone?’
‘To be with the women.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that we won’t see her so much for a while. Not like when we’re on the road.’
Sabir shook his head. ‘I don’t get this gypsy split between men and women, Alexi. And what’s all this about impurities and polluting people? What did she call it? Mah… something or other.’
‘ Mahrime.’
‘That’s it.’
‘It’s normal. There are things that pollute and things that don’t pollute.’
‘Like hedgehogs.’
‘Yes. Hedgehogs are clean. So are horses. They don’t lick their own genitals. Dogs and cats are filthy.’
‘And women?’
‘They don’t do that either. What do you think? That they’re contortionists?’
Sabir slapped the sole of Alexi’s foot. ‘I’m serious. I really want to know.’