CHAPTER SIX: LE GUIDE For characters in Story: check Biographies

#1


Trouble is, though, trouble does lead me astray. I could still smell Eva's scent, from the night on the mountaintop at Queribus.

Its strange how one gets hooked by little things that come back at one, just as you want them to get out of your mind.

The worst of it was of course, was that every time we made love - I was under the influence of the drugs she gave me, - I was not making love to her, I was making love for her. And Goethe was always spying. looking on, picking up on what? And was he her brother - or was that pretence?

If only I could find a bar and play. The music would make sense of it. And this song Trouble - which you all know now - with the stunning landscapes and digital video effects -and the throbbing base line would come into being. But that is still a air flight away.

"John!"

I turned. Eva held in her hand a marker and a large map.

"John - forgive us....."

Trouble is on the map - a line from the song

"Look here are the keys to the car. There's a place where you can swim, - natural hot springs - you'll feel better....."

She lifted some keys that were hanging around her neck. The love warden was letting me loose.

"Go! Go! "

She pushed me. Hard.

"We have so much work to do. You have given us so much to do!"

She punched again

"Ow! Alright I'll go"

"Here's the map ...go past the village, the road by the cemetary, you'll see a weir, it's not too deep - so don't take a dive, - I do want you to come back in one piece..."

Eva let this go with a bite on my neck...

"Go ...."

As I turned aroused, she was heading back into the chateau.

The pool was as she described. Secluded. Trees and cliffs hanging overhead. The water warm, inviting.

I laid back, and let the days slide over into me. And the old movie "The Graduate" came to mind with Dustin Hoffman, lying back in the pool, whilst his parents moaned about his lack of meaning in his life. The get a job syndrome.

What always hit me was the blueness of the water, the sky.

"Trouble is a map
Trouble is blue"

Small fish played between my feet. I looked down at my pink blob as it floated, the sun picking up the whiteness of it. The sun was blinding. It was good. The birds once in a while setting off a hoop. The bees ever buzzing between blossoms. But ...

I looked down again at the pink blob. Next to the tatoo, that I earned when I was thirteen playing truant from school, was a marking. It was as if a hand had been placed there. As if all the lines, like fingerprints had made an impression. This body print was smaller than my own hand. It was embedded into my skin.

Pulling myself out of the water, I sat down on a rocky overhang. Half an hour perhaps passed. I stared across to an odd rocky pinnacle, that on further inspection was a building crawling out of the rock, and below it a man was working on his vines. I looked down again, and pressed my right hand firmly into the impression.

Out of the rock a long gray haired man walked across the spring, and stood on the water, and began to speak

"Hello John"

The water sparkled. The fish seemed to swim in sparkles of air. The rock glowed and the ghost of a moon, found a place on the ruin on the hill.

"I will tell you the secret that your friends seek but may never find...."




#2


St Guilhem came into sight as they took the turn, the river swirling sweetly to their right. Jean looked over, and saw his boss, Joe tight in her ensemble, hair flapping against her steely helmet, her body bronzed after the shoot and morning amongst the dunes.

Marine had been getting in his hair. He was tired of Parisian girls, and their almighty attitude, and Joe, at least he knew where he was with her.

Joe, sucked on her water bottle, the trees, the mountains climbing steadily above her. The water cooled her throat, soothed her dry mouth, still rough from a night under the stars. She fixed her eyes on Jean, as his legs pumped, pushing the air in front of her. Her eyes touched each of his muscles as they rippled, as he pumped, pumped.

She had laid back, the sand sticking to her skin, after the swim out beyond the breakers. She felt him walking out of the parking lot. Saw his hard shoulders, beyond the dune grass. He came upon her, his face moody.

Marine, had been toying with him. These Northern girls with their neat words, how they pissed him off. It was good to be back in the Midi, close to home. Marine had played with his passions, and then flirted with one of the boys playing soldiers. Perhaps she liked the way he stood to attention, when he disrobed, with Joe squirting him with the water cannon. He turned his back on her. He needed the walk.

Joe and Jean were nearly in the village. St Guilhem was full of tourists seated outside the restaurant at the entrance to the square. Some children were playing under the peace tree, that shaded the middle of the square in front of the church. They stopped, slid off the bikes and Joe went off to get some beers. They were parched. Jean stood still and wondered which part of him would be plundered, like the cloisters that had been sold years back, and shipped over to New York.

Jean was angry with Joe. Her lying back in the dunes. Naked and tough. She had whipped up his creative juices to make something of her fashion, her styles - he should be back in the hills, taking the photos that came to him when he walked the back roads. How he so easily was spoilt by money, and spice.

He wanted to lay down on her, and dig his eyes close to hers. Stare her out as he stared out all those girls back in the old days behind the barn. The thrill of pushing the limits without pressing the buttons. He could only take being bossed around by a woman - even a fashion guru as Joe was - so much - one day! one day!

In the long narrow street behind the square they put their heads under the fountain, letting the icy water slip down over their aching limbs. As Joe raised his head, he saw Marine come out of an alley, arm around the rap musician Candy. Something left him. The flirtation was over, and as he said to himself, he was open to plunder.

The four of them stomped into the climbers refuge, the bicycles quickly stored away, bike shorts thrown off, and a climax of cool water as they stepped into the showers. Joe closed the doors on Candy, Jean and Marine, hoping they would cook up a good meal, perhaps even light up the open fire. There was a nip in the air. She ran down the stairs, into the basement bedroom, and as if part of running, walking, talking, fell into a deep sleep.

Joe turned over amongst the dunes, the high grass. She reached out with a bottle of oil in her hand.

"Oil me"

She said it softly but with the crispness of an order

Jean felt the anger rise in him. The hammering anger that had been at him since the photo shoot in the dunes.

"Give me an oil, Jean!"

As his hand came down, as if to strangle her, the bottle of suntanning oil was pushed into his hands

"Work it in good"

Joe stretched out on the bed, under the stone arches. A slow moan eased out of her.

There was a knocking on the door.

" Joe? Joe? are you hungry"

The smell of steak and wine, broke the moan.



#3


Eva was running down the path, as I drove the old car up to the Chateau.

"Thought you'd left us."

She almost pulled me out of the car. Her face ramming itself up into me, like a dog that doesn't give up. Lips and tongue working their way around my face. Goethe appeared from behind the pillar.

"Ready for another night up at Queribus?"

I was going to play along for the time being. The guide at the pool had told me to meet them halfway . But I was sworn to not telling them. They would never understand the simple truths. In the end they would find the food for their hunger .

I remember back on the long road trips across the midwest plains reading a rather juicy book - Holy Blood Holy Grail, that had set my mind wandering into the demise of the Holy Grail. And here I was knowing its source - its secret. But silent for now, until the right moment.

The guide had said there would always be those who never would find what they were looking for, because they were too intent on looking.

Eva pulled away.

"You're different?"

"Only after a good swim, a day taking it all in"

"We really pushed you didn't we?"

Goethe sidled up to Eva, gave her a peck of a kiss on the back of her shoulder.

Was this brotherly love or something more. Was he really her brother? They always seemed too close in age to be brother and sister. Perhaps I just came along at the opportune moment.

"We go now - catch the sun!"

As the black mercedes wound through the narrow streets of Cucugnan, Eva put her hand on my thigh, letting it slide up.

"Want to go ahead, and play eh!"

She whispered into my ear.

Goethe's eyes darted in the mirror.

As Eva picked her way through the brush, Goethe was left to carry a couple of large cases up the hill to the castle. He was soon beneath us. Stopping every few feet to gasp for air. We turned the corner, and the deep valley dropped beneath us. The steps steepened climbing up below the walls of the castle. I could feel her sucking in the air and toying with its energy. She stopped and pulled me into her. Her body insistent. Her eyes hard.

An elderly English couple were taking in the view with their teenage grand daughter - hair blustering in the wind.

"Well I never .........these continentals have no sense of propriety!"

The daughter caught in a stare was tugged at by her mother - aunt - and in no time the three of them disappeared ou t of view.

We entered the large room, the central pillar looming up to the arched ceiling as Goethe was setting up the electrical equipment. I noticed chalk lines that ran from the windows in the walls, with rough numerals marked in the next to them.

"Give me a hand Eva!"

Goethe was angry.

An old lover that had become a brother. Brother! Perhaps in the pursuit of the holy grail they thought they should take no prisoners! All or nothing!

"Lie down!"

Goethe at least enjoyed tying my arms legs to the dusty floor. Tightening the ropes so they stuck deep in the skin. I began to look like Leonardo da Vinci's Renaissance Man - like a human X.

"Lie down. Enjoy the peace."

The guide from the pool was talking. Hovering overhead. Unseen by the hungered ones who wanted to pull and have.

Eva knelt. She put the cup to my lips. I swallowed the mead.

"We'll give them what they want"

Smiled the Guide.





#4

Joe was determined to clear her head. Too much wine. Too much sex. Too much fashion.

She was going to walk it off. Let nature do its stuff. She let go, cursing and cussing, to her team the night before, before an ugly face off with Candy and Jean. Where was that ideal man? Where was that peace of mind? Where were all those ideas she had when she first flew into Paris.?And that man who spilt coffee, who looked into her eyes.... where was that man?

They just did not get it. Just one good time, and they thought everything. Men were boys. They demanded to be treated like toys. What had got into her this morning! Bah!

St Guilhem was now out of view, far down in the valley. Alone at last. She was hurting with sweat as the sun began to beat mercilessly down, she pulled off her top, and let her skin rise and fall to the fresh wind that bit through the trees and brush that surrounded her.

An elderly German couple, came into view, moving their way, walking sticks in hand, down the path in front of her. The woman, with potent but smiling eyes, bonjoured, and her husband, just glistened. They walked on. If only everything was so simple. Just so.

The cram of her business tried to break into this joy of life that was punching out the toxins that had taken their toll. The media wanted more, to hell with media! An eagle soared, rising on the air as it pumped out of the valley. This was her time. Don't you forget it!

Perhaps she had pushed things a bit - but the rush had given her this. Breaks always happened at times like this. When she had met Marine, eons ago, in her Paris studio, her freshness excited her, - she could feel her trembling need. The trembling when rules get thrown out. She was trying to remember her first break.

Her first big break. How she felt so alive.

The path hung over the deep valley. Scree tumbled out of view.

She had told the crew to cut out for the next few days. She'd rent a car. And be on the road. Alone.

Jean was now lost in the dunes, swallowed by the sand. Candy crushed in the hoards of a rap concert. And Marine...........


END OF CHAPTER SIX

READ CHAPTER SEVEN

© Giles Denmark/Giles Mitchell 1997. Worldwide Copyright.