He knew from the rest of the diaries what Tristan had been to Fabien, even in a time when that was not only illegal but also dangerous. They had died together, after all. He didn’t know if Tristan had returned Fabien’s feelings. Perhaps Fabien had never told him.
But who on earth was Blanche?
‘We saw them in the picture, in the museum,’ Ari said. ‘And Simon talked about Tristan. His grandfather used to tell him about Tristan and how he found the path to Ys.’
He flicked on ahead. There were pages missing, torn out. That couldn’t be good.
He closed the book. ‘Upstairs,’ he said. ‘We need to talk to Mémé and find out why she hid it down here.’
‘She hid it?’
‘It’s his last diary. There’s a gap on the shelf upstairs. I don’t know when she did it, but I don’t think anyone else could have hidden it down here. So what’s in it? And what did she want to keep secret?’
Ari was on the phone to Jason when he came back from Mémé’s room. His great-aunt was asleep and she looked so frail, he didn’t like to wake her. Nolvene said she hadn’t been well all day. Lack of sleep last night, bad dreams…
‘No, it’s fine. It’s here. I promise. We thought it was better to lock it up somewhere secure… Yes, it’s secure. I checked. It’s fine… I don’t know who did it. There was no one there when I— Look, I’ve got to go. Let me know when you’re home, OK?’
She hung up and gave him a pained smile.
‘How are they?’ he asked.
‘Still at the hospital waiting for discharge. I just didn’t want them to get back and think—’
What she had thought, he guessed. That the house had been burgled and the mask stolen.
‘Mémé is sleeping, but I’ve asked Nolvene to tell us when she wakes up. I didn’t want to disturb her.’
‘May I see the diary?’
He handed it over with a certain reluctance. It felt like prying and he didn’t like it. It wasn’t that Fabien’s life, and his love for Tristan Poullain, was a deep dark secret. At least, not after so many years. It was tragic, that was all. Just as Gwen had said. In more ways than one.
Ari flicked through it, studying the elegant script, clearly having no real trouble with the language.
‘What cave is he talking about?’
‘Probably one of the sea caves near Pors Sirène. But it could be anywhere up and down the coast. The resistance used them to bring in operatives and to store supplies, like the smugglers did for years.’
‘Like La Fontenelle.’ The Wolf of Île Tristan, the pirate who had marauded these shores and used the caves to hide his treasure. The caves were always places of secrets, and those who knew them could benefit from that.
‘Exactly. Many of the local men left with de Gaulle and joined the Free French forces. They knew these shores like no one else. Every young man on Île de Sein left, you know? The Germans occupied the island but found only the women, the children and the old men had stayed. It was the same along the coast. But not as obvious. Men came and went and the women covered for them. Then the Germans cleared the coast, relocating everyone.’
Ari frowned at something on the page. ‘It says here he was brought in for questioning. He can’t have been in hiding then.’
‘Not at that point, no.’ He scanned the paragraph and then translated. ‘They were living in one of the farmhouses, with his sisters. “I was brought in for questioning this morning. The commander, Sternberg, is a thin-faced, miserable man, from the Ahnenerbe…” What’s that?’
She frowned. ‘Nazi archaeologists. Obsessed with proving the purity and supremacy of the Aryan race. Gwen mentioned them. Obsessed with Atlantis. And Ys, I guess. Go on.’
He obeyed. ‘“The questions were not what I expected and not at all welcome. He wanted to know about Ys, everything I might know and how it might tie in to the legend of Atlantis. He would not accept my answer that there is no connection and never has been. He has already made up his mind. When I had nothing useful for him, he released me. But they will keep looking. For now, the tides hide the water path. They will be watching me. If I am lucky, that will be all. However, in most things I have never been lucky.”’
They sat in uncomfortable silence. Rafael’s ancestor had been walking a dangerous line and ultimately he had paid the price. He had died a patriot and a hero of France. If he was also defending the last remnants of Ys from the Nazis, he’d died a hero of Brittany as well. The Mac’htiern, the leader of his people, their protector.
‘“The tides hide the water path”,’ Ari murmured. ‘Le chemin de l’eau…like on the map, the old map. He found it, Rafael. Some part of it is still here. The pathway to Ys. Simon was right.’
She flicked on ahead to where the pages had been torn out. No way of knowing when or by whom. Along the edge, he could make out a few letters and nothing more. No clues as to what might have been written there.
‘And Simon was trying to find it based on the stories he heard as a child. It must have been Tristan’s stories, passed on through his family. Who was this Blanche he speaks about?’
Rafael shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
