Olt Part One

0 – Summer 1086 Italy

The death of Pope Victor III was quick and unexpected. Succeeding Pope Gregory VII in the year 1086 and supposed to reign the Church for a long period he had been on the papal throne for less than two years when fate decided it was his time, even if some suspected that fate had been given a little help.

Now, meeting in the church in the city of Terracina, Bishops and Cardinals, the Princes of the Church, faced each other in distrust. They had the grave responsibility of electing the new Pope; how many of them would be up to the task of leading the Church? They all agreed that the new Pope should lead the fight against Emperor Henry and give the Church her rightful position, alas, the Princes of the Church did not agree how to get there; should they fight the powerful Emperor Henry or should they negotiate and try to convince him? There seemed to be only one candidate with a clear vision. Two years ago he barely had lost the election to Pope Victor as there were many who disagreed with his ways to seek power for the Church, but now? Even if they still disagreed with him, no other candidate had dared to present himself. Diplomacy, money and thinly veiled threats had done their work. It could be only one man, Odo of Lagery. When finally Odo entered the church, the Bishops and Cardinals rose from their chairs and acclaimed, Odo, Odo for Pope!

1 – Early August 2012, France

John watched Vincent moving closer to the steep ridge and he didn’t like it. Vincent, come here. You are too close," he yelled at him, worried that he could slip and fall.

Don’t worry, I just want to have a look, Vincent said, ignoring his fathers advice and continuing to walk on the very edge of the ridge while balancing unsteadily.

But I don’t want to see you so close to that ridge, Vincent, stay away I said. Please! repeated John angry now.

I’ll just have a look, said Vincent, not paying any attention to the warnings at all. Don’t worry, it is not steep, even I fall, it won’t be far.

Let him go, said Juliette, whom as mother was often coming up in defense of her children. He will be fine.

He’ll bump his head, fall over his own legs or whatever, something always goes wrong with him, John said. Especially when in his discovering mode!

Juliette shook her head, her loose long blonde hair making waves in the air. Come on, let him, he is not a small child anymore, he is twenty two, you always behave as he is twelve years old. She turned to Thomas, the oldest of the three brothers. I am thirsty, can you pass me a bottle of water please, I need a drink.

Why can’t we have a rest and lunch now? suggested Thomas, handing over the bottle. We have been walking and climbing up and down hills for at least three hours.

Me too, said Simon, the youngest, I’ve had it.

Vincent, hearing something about food turned away from the edge of the ridge, ostentatiously dropping on the ground and impatient as always with little respect for rules or conventions, bellowed with his deep and dark voice. I need to eat, and I need it now!

Juliette put her backpack down on the hard rocks covered with yellowing grass and small dry bushes fighting to survive in the drought. High on the hill the growth was sparse with few trees and places to shield from the burning sun. She was happy to take the stress of her back; her small body was not used to heavy backpacking and usually she carried a lot less than she did now. It would be a good opportunity to unload some of the weight! Calm Vincent, calm, please, I need some time, she said. "We just have to unpack and prepare our lunch in a proper way you can wait, and stay out of there! she yelled at Vincent who already had his big hands in her backpack.

Before setting off on their hiking expedition they had visited the local farmers market in the little village and bought tasty French delicacies for their picnic. Finding a relatively flat space between the rocks, Juliette spread a large cloth on the ground starting to unpack the food. John pulled knives and plates from his backpack and when all was unpacked and ready they sat down to work their way through a classic French picnic. Juliette had bought French cheeses, a creamy Camembert, a delicious local Cabecou de Rocamadour, and for meat she had Jambon cru and saucissons sec de chevreuil. Vincent cut large pieces of sausage with his huge hunting knife and imagined to be on a survival trip. The cheeses with big pieces of baguette tasted delicious and as desert there were some ripe peaches waiting.

When finally John had devoured his share he lied down on a comfortable soft spot of grass he had located. He had covered his face with a dark brown Australian outback hat against the sun and started dozing. He felt like Indiana Jones, secretly proud that often people told him that he resembled the famous Harrison Ford. At forty-seven he was still remarkably fit thanks to regular exercise; his silver grey hair belied his age but went well with the brown tan he cultivated over the last weeks. Half sleeping he gazed from under his hat into the sun. This was the last week of their stay in France. Forty-two years ago in this region, in a small village, Juliette was born and lived in a small village the first 18 years of her life before going off to university in Paris. He had met the petite and beautiful French girl during an exchange year in London where she read philosophy and where he specialized in geology. They made a lovely couple and had married quickly. After his studies he found a job at a large oil company that had sent them around the world for many years, an experience they all enjoyed very much. To keep in touch with the French part of the family they spent every two or three years at least part of the holidays in France. With a mother who spoke French with them, the kids were fluent in the French language although now becoming more and more English since they lived in London. He was pleased that after so many years living in Latin America everybody spoke a good word of Spanish as well and during the years in the Middle East they all picked up basic Arab. Eager to keep up with the different languages they often would mix all languages, changing from one language into the other, testing each other on knowledge. The gift of language came from Juliette with her background as a translator and exceptional ability to pick up any language really quick.

It was a good to be on a short holiday with the kids as with them getting older and more and more living their own lives there would be fewer opportunities. Thomas, at twenty-three, studying engineering, took after him with his dark wavy hair, just like he used to have a long time ago. With his 6.ft 4 and strong muscles from regular workouts he made an imposing figure and he possessed a clear and logic thinking brain to match his physical appearance. Vincent, at twenty-two was in many ways the opposite. He was almost as tall and muscular as his older brother but heavy set like a bear. He had his long hair tied in a samurai bun on top of his head and his sparkling but often-uncoordinated creative illogical ideas annoyed often his brothers and parents. He almost finished art academy and with brilliant results so far. Simon at nineteen was unquestionably the most quiet of the three and had just started engineering but was dreaming to become a master of fencing in which he was a high school champion. Combining fencing with wrestling and soccer his love for sport clearly came from both parents. As tall and muscled as his brothers, he cut a more agile figure with his short cut blond hair.

During earlier holidays, Juliette and John had made some hikes and, when they told about their small adventures the kids had become interested in hiking. This year it had been agreed that they would go on holiday as a family spending a week together hiking in central France, including, at Vincent’s insistence, spending at least one night out in the field. John was already longing for his bed, but this was the night he had to do without it. They mapped out a trip that would bring them to the most deserted part of the region. No GR today, as the French called them, the famous Grandes Randonnees, the great French hiking trails, very beautiful but not really ‘wild.’ The boys had insisted in leaving the trails behind and going of road, in this part there were no indications, no little red and white painted signs; instead they had to rely on a map, sun and compass. Together they planned the route, and early in the morning they had climbed the hills moving away from the trail in the valley, walking towards the next ridge. The plan was to follow the mountain ridge for a couple of more miles seeking a place for staying the night. Tomorrow morning they would be climbing the last part of the hills, slowly descending to cross over the valley, where in the afternoon the GR should be found again. Not far away in the next village they would finally reach the hotel and enjoy a good rest and bed. He felt cheered up already by the thought and anticipation of a soft and thick mattress! Looking at his watch he realized they needed to move on if they wanted to reach the place he had picked on the map for spending the night. He rose and looked at the others still dozing in the hot and bright shining sun. Come on, we have to move on if we want to be at our destination on time.

Simon opened his eyes and mumbled. What are we eating tonight?

Thomas could not believe his ears. Hey, you just had something to eat, dummy, he said. And, by the way, you ate quite a lot already for lunch, actually a lot more than your share!

Well, we can try the special dried pasta with tomato sauce packs, but we have to find water to cook it, Juliette said. If you get water, I will pick some herbs and plants for the healthy part, I am sure there is thyme and rosemary to be found. Talented by nature Juliette was a great cook who had been working for the last two years in an organic food shop. She had enriched their meals with all kinds of fresh herbs and plants, making her own bread and on top of that was in the middle of writing an organic cookbook.

Vincent overhearing the conversation stood up and immediately focused on food. "Where are the madeleines, can I have one? I need something sweet." He loved the typical French butter cakes and devoured them when he was in France.

I ate them all, laughed Simon, and with a long and tough experience as the youngest kid, ran away before Vincent could hit him. Vincent still tried only barely missing him. The heat was too much though and he didn’t chase him further.

He did not eat them, said Juliette. He is joking, I have the cookies, and stop acting like little children, please!

Come on, behave! added John totally unnecessary. We have to move on, we still have a long way to go, just get ready. Realizing that they needed their energy for walking some more hours and not waste it, the kids calmed down, collecting their backpacks and moving on while falling in line behind each other. Walking was difficult as there were no paths and they had to find their way through the rough terrain. The views were terrific though, with no soul around it gave the feeling as if they were alone on earth.

Late afternoon they arrived at a small stream and found a protected spot half way up on a hill that was bordering the stream below and settled for the night. John and Simon collected twigs and dead branches for a small campfire while the others helped Juliette in preparing a meal with the dried pasta, spiced up with the fresh herbs they had collected on the way at Juliette’s indication. The meal wasn’t like home cooking, but it was tasty and hugely welcome after their long and tiring walk. During and after dinner they discussed most of their usual topics ranging from holidays, hiking and the quality of food in France. With darkness slowly setting in, the discussion died down as did the flames of the fire, changing to a soft glowing small pile of red-hot cinder. The temperature of the air was cooling down to an agreeable warm and with a light breeze cooling the hot rocks. The dark sky above them was wonderful as it was sprinkled with millions of stars and galaxies that were never visible from a city. Gazing