valley and the area around the ruins would have been little disturbed. The site of the stockade was clearly visible to a trained eye and the principle buildings around the chapel could also be made out, suggesting that disturbance here had been slight. It would be a good idea if she could find out more about this treasure mania. She thought that she should search the archives of the local newspapers as a starting point. All this new information would have to be included in a lengthy appendix to the main report. She sighed inwardly at the thought of yet more work to be done as she started the car.
5
It was evening. Mary was sitting on the upright chair looking out of the window of her flat at the red sky and the colours reflected on the clouds as the last daylight slipped away. Earlier she had been writing up some of her many notes and plotting some of the latest measurements onto one of the plans but she had stopped and was enjoying a cup of coffee and being still and simply admiring the view. There was, she thought, something magical about an ever-changing mountain vista. The flat may be cramped, brash and utilitarian but window seat provided a constantly changing panorama. There were the occasional human movements below of cars and people visiting the supermarket open all hours and post office. Above were the majestic mountain peaks in all their glory. This was a window where it was a joy just to sit and watch the world go by. She had been thinking about her work and how important it was to her and though this was still as strong a feeling as ever she didn't now begrudge a moment's daydreaming as she had probably trying to do too much. She must chill out a little more - that was the phrase she had heard people use at the university.
Her thoughts wandered near and far but she felt strangely at peace. There were no disturbing dreams this evening. And she had the sleeping draught she had collected from the pharmacy and so she would not dread going to sleep tonight so much. She felt safe. It was almost as if she was being cradled in the mountains and they were protecting her. She was becoming part of the landscape and rather than something to be feared she welcomed this as something ultimately reassuring. Words of an ancient hymn came to her. She was unaware of its origin or indeed all its words but what she could remember seemed just right for the peace she felt:
My life goes on in endless song
above earth’s lamentation
I hear the real though far off song
That hails a new creation
Through all the tumult and the strife
I hear its music ringing
It sounds an echo in my soul
How can I keep from singing.
But into her reverie the doorbell rang. It was a harsh cheap little bell that shattered the atmosphere by interrupting her timeless thoughts with the intrusion of reality. A caller. Perhaps John again she mused, half hoping against her better judgement she thought that it would be him but she was wrong.
Edouard was standing at the door. He was dressed impeccably as ever and but looked less at ease than he had the previous night. Mary noted with curiosity his subtle agitation.
"Marie, can I please have another look at your maps?" he asked, as if it were the most natural request in the world. "We had such an interesting discussion last night and I have been thinking of little else but your fascinating theories ever since. I have brought you a copy of some short articles that I wrote about the history and legends of this area for one of the local newspapers a couple of years ago. I thought you would like to read the series so I've made photocopies of all the articles for you."
"Come in Edouard" she said, embarrassed to have been suspicious of her caller who genuinely was offering her further help. Can I trust my intuitive first reactions she mused? I'm still on edge even though I felt so peaceful just a moment ago. "My work is progressing very
5
It was evening. Mary was sitting on the upright chair looking out of the window of her flat at the red sky and the colours reflected on the clouds as the last daylight slipped away. Earlier she had been writing up some of her many notes and plotting some of the latest measurements onto one of the plans but she had stopped and was enjoying a cup of coffee and being still and simply admiring the view. There was, she thought, something magical about an ever-changing mountain vista. The flat may be cramped, brash and utilitarian but window seat provided a constantly changing panorama. There were the occasional human movements below of cars and people visiting the supermarket open all hours and post office. Above were the majestic mountain peaks in all their glory. This was a window where it was a joy just to sit and watch the world go by. She had been thinking about her work and how important it was to her and though this was still as strong a feeling as ever she didn't now begrudge a moment's daydreaming as she had probably trying to do too much. She must chill out a little more - that was the phrase she had heard people use at the university.
Her thoughts wandered near and far but she felt strangely at peace. There were no disturbing dreams this evening. And she had the sleeping draught she had collected from the pharmacy and so she would not dread going to sleep tonight so much. She felt safe. It was almost as if she was being cradled in the mountains and they were protecting her. She was becoming part of the landscape and rather than something to be feared she welcomed this as something ultimately reassuring. Words of an ancient hymn came to her. She was unaware of its origin or indeed all its words but what she could remember seemed just right for the peace she felt:
My life goes on in endless song
above earth’s lamentation
I hear the real though far off song
That hails a new creation
Through all the tumult and the strife
I hear its music ringing
It sounds an echo in my soul
How can I keep from singing.
But into her reverie the doorbell rang. It was a harsh cheap little bell that shattered the atmosphere by interrupting her timeless thoughts with the intrusion of reality. A caller. Perhaps John again she mused, half hoping against her better judgement she thought that it would be him but she was wrong.
Edouard was standing at the door. He was dressed impeccably as ever and but looked less at ease than he had the previous night. Mary noted with curiosity his subtle agitation.
"Marie, can I please have another look at your maps?" he asked, as if it were the most natural request in the world. "We had such an interesting discussion last night and I have been thinking of little else but your fascinating theories ever since. I have brought you a copy of some short articles that I wrote about the history and legends of this area for one of the local newspapers a couple of years ago. I thought you would like to read the series so I've made photocopies of all the articles for you."
"Come in Edouard" she said, embarrassed to have been suspicious of her caller who genuinely was offering her further help. Can I trust my intuitive first reactions she mused? I'm still on edge even though I felt so peaceful just a moment ago. "My work is progressing very
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