"Translated it means, 'I have had contempt for the kingdom of this world, and all temporal adornments, because of the love of my Lord Jesus Christ, whom I saw, whom I loved, in whom I believed, and whom I worshiped.' On its face an interesting statement, but there are some conspicuous errors." Mark motioned. "The words scoeculi, anorem, quen, and cremini are all misspelled. Sauniere spent one hundred and eighty francs for that carving and for the letters to be painted, which was a sizable sum at the time. We know this because his receipts still exist. He went to a lot of trouble to design this entrance, yet he allowed the misspellings to remain. It would have been easy to repair them, since the letters were only painted."
"Maybe he didn't notice?"
"Sauniere? He was a type A personality. Nothing slipped by him."
Mark led him away from the entrance as another wave of visitors entered the church. They stopped in front of the garden with the Visigoth pillar and statue of the Virgin.
"The inscription above the door is not biblical. It's contained within a responsory written by a man named John Tauler early in the fourteenth century. Responsories were prayers or poems used between scriptural readings and Tauler was well known in Sauniere's time. So it's possible Sauniere simply liked the phrase. But it's pretty unusual."
Malone agreed.
"The misspellings could shed some light on why Sauniere used it. The painted words are quem cremini, 'in whom I believed,' but the word should have been credidi, yet Sauniere allowed the misspelling. Could that mean that he did not believe in Him? And then the most interesting of all. Quem vidi. Whom I saw."
Malone instantly saw the significance. "Whatever he found led him to Christ. Whom he saw."
"That's what Dad thought, and I agree. Sauniere seemed unable to resist sending messages. He wanted the world to know what he knew, but it was almost as if he realized that no one in his time would understand. And he was right. No one did. Not until forty years after he died did anyone ever notice." Mark looked over at the ancient church. "The whole place is one of reversals. The stations of the cross are hung on the wall backward from every other church in the world. The devil at the door-he's the reverse of good." Then he pointed to the Visigoth pillar a few feet away. "Upside down. Notice the cross and the carvings on the face."
Malone studied the face.
"Sauniere inverted the pillar before carving Mission 1891 at the bottom and Penitence, Penitence along the top."
Malone noticed a V with a circle at its center in the bottom right corner. He cocked his head around and envisioned the image inverted. "Alpha and omega?" he asked.
"Some think so. Dad did."
"Another name for Christ."
"That's right."
"Why did Sauniere turn the pillar upside down?"
"No one has come up with a good reason."
Mark stepped away from the garden display and allowed others to surge forward for pictures. He then led the way toward the rear of the church, into one corner of the Calvary garden where a small grotto stood.
"This is a replica, too. For the tourists. World War Two took the original. Sauniere built it with rocks he would bring back from his forays. He and his mistress would travel off for days at a time and return with a hod full of stones. Odd, wouldn't you say?"
"Depends on what else was in that hod."
Mark smiled. "Easy way to bring back a little gold without arousing suspicion."
"But Sauniere seems a strange sort. He could have just been toting rocks."
"Everybody who comes here is a little strange."
"That include your father?"
Mark appraised him with a serious countenance. "No question. He was obsessed. He gave his life to this place, loved every square foot of this village. This was his home, in every way."
"But not yours?"
"I tried to carry on. But I didn't have his passion. Maybe I realized the whole thing was futile."
"Then why hide yourself away in an abbey for five years?"
"I needed the solitude. It was good for me. But the master had bigger plans. So here I am. A fugitive from the Templars."
"So what were you doing in the mountains when that avalanche came?"
Mark did not answer him.
"You were doing the same thing your mother's doing here now. Trying to atone for something. You just didn't know folks were watching."
"Thank heaven they did."
"Your mother is hurting."
"You and she worked together?"
He noticed the dodge. "For a long time. She's my friend."
"That's a tough nut to crack."
"Tell me about it, but it can be done. She's hurting bad. Lots of guilt and regrets. This could be a second chance for her and you."
"My mother and I parted ways long ago. It was best for both of us."
"Then what are you doing here?"
"I came to my father's house."
"And when you arrived you saw that somebody else's bags were there. Both our passports were left with our stuff. Surely you found them? Yet you stayed."
Mark turned away and Malone thought it an effort to hide a growing confusion. He was more like his mother than he cared to admit.
"I'm thirty-eight years old and still feel like a boy," Mark said. "I've lived the past five years within the sheltered cocoon of an abbey governed by strict Rule. A man I considered a father was kind to me, and I rose to a level of importance I've never known before."
"Yet here you are. Right in the middle of God-knows-what."
Mark smiled.
"You and your mother need to settle things."
The younger man stood somber, preoccupied. "The woman you mentioned last night, Cassiopeia Vitt. I know of her. She and my father sparred for several years. Should she not be found?"
He noticed that Mark liked to avoid answering questions by asking them, much like his mother. "Depends. She a threat?"
"Hard to say. She seemed to always be around, and Dad didn't like her."
"Neither does de Roquefort."
"I'm sure."
"In the archives, last night, she never identified herself and de Roquefort didn't know her name. So if he has Claridon, then he now knows who she is."
"Isn't that her problem?" Mark asked.
"She saved my hide twice. So she needs to be warned. Claridon told me she lives nearby, in Givors. Your mother and I were leaving here today. We thought this quest over. But that's changed. I need to pay Cassiopeia Vitt a visit. I think alone would be best, for now."
"That's fine. We'll wait here. Right now I have a visit of my own to make. It's been five years since I paid respects to my father."
And Mark walked off toward the cemetery's entrance.