Chapter 9
Chapter 9
The trip on the crowded bus had been a nightmare. The air conditioning did not work and it was necessary to keep the windows open to let in fresh air, but this air was charged with the humidity and dust of the surrounding fields. Children running down the hallway and the mix of smells of the various meals that the remaining passengers were consuming around him completed the picture.
Yashi had planned the trip and gotten the ticket so as to minimize his wanderings through the streets of Mumbai, since it was evident that unknown and potentially dangerous people were following him. Romain had spent two days hiding in a cardboard hut in which the frequent rains of that season penetrated by a thousand holes.
The Canadian had to leave India because in that immense country he had hidden and unknown enemies of which therefore it was difficult to find protection, but he was not to depart from the airport of Mumbai because it would be probably controlled by his followers. That is why Yashi had already purchased an internet ticket from the international airport of Goa, south of Mumbai and one of the closest to this city. The ticket would be waiting for him at the offices of Air India.
Arriving at the airport, he breathed a sigh of relief as he stretched his legs and inhaled the fresh air. He carried his backpack with the few things he had been able to take away from the store and went to the waiting room, almost empty at that time. Once comfortably seated, he pulled out the cell phone and dialed Alisha's number. Recognizing his voice the woman gave vent to her emotions that ended in tears. Romain waited for her to calm down and then began to explain the situation and his plans, careful not to disclose the flight number in anticipation of her phone being monitored.
"I'll call you when I get to Europe. Please buy a new cell phone and let me know the number.”
"But ... where are you going to be? I cannot live in this permanent anguish.”
"I'll let you know when we both have secure communications. Ali, I love you.”
"It was about time you said it."
"It is so, and you know it. You will always be in my thoughts.”
A groan was heard on the other side. At that moment the loudspeakers of the airport began to announce the departure of the flight that the man had to board.
"Ali, I must go now. Wait for me.”
Romain grabbed his backpack and headed for the boarding gate. A lump tightened in his stomach. There was no doubt that love was a difficult burden to carry for a man on the run.
The Air France flight arrived at the Charles de Gaulle International Airport fifteen minutes late. After crossing the migrations area and since he had no luggage to pick Romain left immediately the arrivals building and took a taxi. He gave the driver the address of a hotel in the suburbs of Paris, although he took good care not to go to the hotel that he thought could be known by his pursuers, whoever they were. On the trip he took out the cell phone and saw that he had a message consisting only of a cell phone number in India, certainly the one recently purchased by Alisha. Romain memorized it so he did not register it on his device and erased the message. He realized that the level of paranoia that had invaded his life interfered with his normal activities and thought that it would be difficult to erase it from his life even if his situation normalized and the danger moved away, which perhaps would never happen anyway. For his activities Romain had always been on alert and precautions formed his second personality. He wondered if in an eventual future living together he would have the right to subject Alisha to that way of life.
The man was not clear on what impulse had led him to go to France instead of his own country, which would have been the logical choice for a fugitive in search of security. However in the depths of his consciousness a ray of light was breaking through his mental darkness
Mercier spent the following two days buying clothes appropriate to the prevailing climate in France and elements he would need in the activities he had planned to carry on. Each day when he returned to the hotel he would call Alisha and spend some time talking so that the girl would at least hear his voice. Her insistent requests to know his plans were answered by silence since the Canadian did not wish to involve her in unnecessary risks. In addition, he thought, it was difficult to explain those plans as they were not clear even for him.
On the second day, as he was sitting on the hotel bed, Romain began to outline his activities in Europe.
The first step led the young man to Toulouse in the south of France. Once there he boarded a bus that took him to the city of Carcassonne, connected with Toulouse by the highway A61. As it was late, he decided to stay in a hostel. Browsing the tourist brochures placed on a hotel counter display saw one of the local airport; he was surprised by the name of the air station:
Carcassonne in Pays Cathare
since the last part of it made reference to the reason of his stay in the city. He picked from the exhibitor several brochures of tours through the medieval city of Carcassone and the historical center and in particular an intriguing pamphlet on the Cathar tradition in Carcassonne. He took all that stuff into his room, where he left his suitcase and his backpack and went out to find a place to dine.
When he returned that night, a long repressed wish made its way into his head. He looked at the watch and taking into account the time difference between France and Canada calculated that it would be the pre-dinner hour in Quebec. He put aside his doubts and called his mother at Trois Pistoles, mentally preparing himself for a string of complaints and criticisms.
“Hi Maman. I'm Romain.”
A moment of silence followed. The woman was obviously not ready for the call after a long time.
“Son. Why are you calling? Is something wrong?”
“No Maman, why should something happen to me? I'm just calling my mother.”
"You have not called me since last Christmas. No, let me think ... it was Easter.”
As he had foreseen, Romain had to endure for a long time the cascade of complaints of his mother. Berthe de Mercier was an energetic and austere lady who lived only to take care of her other three children and Romain's departure from her sphere was an ill-healed wound. At last the young man was able to learn that she and her father and the rest of the family were all right, dedicated to the routines of the farm from which he had just attempted to escape ten years earlier. After the phase of updating of information, the woman asked.
"Well, Romain, tell me where you are now, Africa, Australia ..."
"No Maman, I'm in France.”
Without seeing the face of his mother the man could guess her gesture of surprise.
"Well, that's fine. You are in Paris?”
"No, I'm in Carcassonne.”
New silence to filter the information.
"Well, you do not stop surprising me. Is it related to your work?”
"No Maman. It relates to something that happened to me in India.”
When he narrated his mother the events Romain was also making clear to himself the subjective reason that had led him to the southern part of France, where Berthe and her relatives were born.
"Well, then tell me everything that caused this unexpected trip of yours.”
Romain foresaw that his mother was going to make that request and so he had been reluctant to call her, but under those circumstances he knew she was the only one who could give him the necessary clues to find out who was following in his footsteps. So he told him in detail and in order what happened in Mumbai, without reference to the previous events.
"Son, read me again the message they left you." Demanded Berthe.
“ Tots els heretges han de morir.”
“ Obviously it is a threat rather than a warning.” Reflected the mother.” Whoever wrote it possibly wanted to resemble the ancient Provençal but in fact it sounds like a modern language.”
“Maman, what I need now is that you give me some clues why they would leave me a message like that. What is it that can make me a heretic in the eyes of these people, whoever they are?”
"If you had listened what your mother was trying to tell you when you were a child, you would know… but no… you discarded it as old things. Today these things come into your life and you are not prepared.”
“Maman, leave the reproaches aside and give me solid clues.”
"There is no such thing as solid clues, only hints and conjectures. Well, listen now.”
Romain sat on the bed and let his mother speak without interrupting her with questions.
“My family, the Gabriacs, descended from an ancient lineage originated in the area where you are now, although in those times the surname was different, since they had to change it to avoid being caught by the Inquisition. Our ancestors belonged to the Cathar people, which was a dissident branch of Christianity that from the beginning of the thirteenth century was declared heretical by the successive Popes, who finally organized the crusade against the Cathars or Albigenses, headed by the bloodthirsty Simon de Montfort, during which countless battles were fought and finally ended in 1244 with the burning of more than two hundred Cathars at the foot of the fortress called Montsegur, not far from Carcassonne. I guess calling you heretic is related to those sad facts.
"But what does a thirteenth-century story have to do with me today?"
"The Cathar children had been previously evacuated from the castle before the slaughter and the Holy See had ordered the removal of all the" bad seed ". That is why the remnants had to change their names and move away from the zone of conflict towards Aragon, Catalonia and other regions.”
"This does not help me much to prevent the dangers."
"That's all your mother can say at the moment ... But listen, there's a person you must see. He lives right there in Carcassonne. This man has a shop where he sells tobacco and other things and he can guide you because his family he has been on the ground since those painful times. His name is Bertran Rostanh and ... wait until I get his address... "The woman momentarily left the phone while her son waited. After a few moments she spoke again. "Well, do you have paper to write down?"