And he sped ahead.
Chapter 45
Thursday, May 10
12:50 a.m.
Bernat was back home in Toulouse, having driven there from his trip south to Monts間ur. He owned a large five-bedroom, art nouveau home with mosaic floors and stained-glass windows. When he bought it the attic was unfinished. He converted it into a stylish office where he spent a lot of time. He should be sleepy, but his brain reeled with thought after thought, and his focus was on the computer screen before him.
The curator for the Ghent Altarpiece had sent an email explaining that Sister Deal had not forwarded the images, as instructed. Disturbing. But the curator assured him that this would be corrected. He抎 been scheduled to see the totally revealed Just Judges next week, before any news conference and public announcement. But with the panel in ashes the images were all that remained of a medieval masterpiece, and the only way to perhaps salvage some element of notoriety from his investment.
The wallpaper on his screen showed the entire altarpiece, stretched flat, the panels fitted properly together. He抎 downloaded the high-resolution image a few months back. Each of the twelve panels carried a label, a reference relevant to the images they depicted: 揂dam,?揕eft Choir,?揤irgin,?揇eity,?揓ohn the Baptist,?揜ight Choir,?揈ve,?揔nights,?揂doration of the Holy Lamb,?揚ilgrims,?揌ermits,?and the one he was now staring at, 揓ust Judges.?
Of course, it was Van der Veken抯 reproduction. Ten men atop horses on a pilgrimage toward the center panel and the Holy Lamb. They were meant to represent the secular world條earned, noble, knightly, mercantile梐nd a lot of debate had ensued over the centuries as to the faces depicted. The general consensus was the blue-robed man atop the white horse in front was Hubert van Eyck, his brother Jan right behind him in a dark-brown robe and a hat trimmed in fur. Sadly, now only in images would the altarpiece ever be displayed in all of its original magnificence. The physical, original Just Judges was gone. Two weeks ago he抎 thought that he抎 be part of reuniting the last missing part of van Eyck抯 masterpiece.
Now it was only a partial victory.
The curator indicated in his email that he was still planning a public announcement. The Just Judges had been found. A crime of long standing had been solved, though a thousand new questions remained unanswered. The idea was to generate worldwide interest in the altarpiece and alert the public to the crime. He liked the sound of it all. Every bit of that publicity would spill over to him. How could it not? And he should still be able to reap ample benefits. The curator wanted him there, on the podium, beside him when the announcement was made. The press conference was scheduled for 1:00 p.m. About twelve hours away. The cathedral was sending a private plane to ferry him back and forth, which he appreciated. He was planning on allowing Vilamur to stew for most of the day anyway. No need to rush a thing. He had all the time in the world to make that man抯 life a living hell.
Maybe even enough that the bastard would end his own life.
Suicide among clerical sexual predators, both male and female, was common. He抎 researched the issue in detail. Good thing many of them chose death since the recidivism rate, due to their rabid narcissism and inability to feel a speck of remorse, was sky-high. Cathars took a different approach to death. No fear. Instead, a welcome act that freed them from the physical world. They even had a particular practice relative to it. The endura. It came from the Occitan word for 揻asting.?Toward the end of their life, believers would take the consolamentum, achieve Perfectus status, then starve themselves to death. This had been quite common in the thirteenth century to avoid falling into the hands of the inquisitors. Why hang around in hell, when freedom on the other side was within easy reach? Catholics regarded suicide as a great sin. The idea of a good end was a concept peculiar to Cathars. When parting from each other Cathars never said goodbye, or God be with you. Instead, they used the more specific May you come to a good end. No such one came to Father Tallard. He died the disgusting sinner that he抎 been his entire adult life.
Any regrets?
Not a one.
His encounter with the archbishop still unnerved him, and Raymond Barbe抯 question about how he抎 felt was a fair one. He抎 wondered for a long time what it would feel like to finally be back in Vilamur抯 presence. His biological father. The man who抎 raised him, whom he抎 thought to be his father in every way, had been a gentle soul who died far too young. Aside from her indiscretion with Vilamur, his mother had lived an otherwise exemplary life, also dying young. She had, though, drifted away from Catholicism, eventually discovering Catharism, which offered her a measure of comfort and peace. She抎 achieved Perfectus status just before dying. He抎 followed her into the religion, trying to find his own inner peace. He hated that he carried any of Vilamur抯 DNA inside him. The hypocrisy of the man抯 life, along with the evil of his religion, disgusted him.