Chapter 16 #2
We headed back towards the city centre as the sun began its descent into soft lavender clouds.
Just as he had promised, it did not take long before we entered another car park, but this time we were at the entrance to a grand castle, set in stately gardens and surrounded by woodland.
My fellow passengers made lots of appreciative ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ before slipping on their backpacks and getting out of their seats.
‘What is this place?’ I said, shaking off the shadows of the forest.
‘This,’ he said, taking off his seatbelt, ‘is where I bring all the wives when they get fed up following their husbands around all the war museums. It seems to do the trick,’ he added casually.
I was completely taken aback by the scale of the castle. As we walked up the steps to the terrace, lined with magnificent classical statues, I mentioned to Geoff that it kind of resembled Buckingham Palace.
‘There are similarities, yes. Indeed, Chateau Compiègne is an example of the First French Empire style from the eighteenth century, but the Compiègne estate dates back to the Merovingian dynasty.’ Geoff was back in tour-guide mode and again I found myself grateful to have his fountain of knowledge on tap, if I could just keep up with what he was talking about.
‘The who dynasty?’ It sounded made up, like something out of The Princess Diaries.
‘In the fifth century, the Merovingian dynasty ruled the Franks for three-hundred years in a region known as Francia. It’s believed that all French kings descended from them.’
‘I had no idea,’ I said, realising that history was like a vanishing point that just kept moving further and further away. ‘So who lived in the castle?’
‘The castle itself was built as a royal residence for Louis XV and was later restored by Napoleon. Even before the chateau was constructed, Compiègne was the preferred summer residence for French monarchs, primarily for hunting – given its proximity to Compiègne Forest.’
‘You’re kidding me? Who knew Compiègne was so … important! To think, I was so upset because I wouldn’t be living in Paris,’ I told him.
‘We like it,’ he said, looking around as though it were his playground.
‘We don’t have time today, I have another tour to do in the afternoon, but maybe when you get your own wheels you can come back and visit the Second Empire museum – it’s full of Empress Eugénie’s clothing and marriage paraphernalia. ’
‘I’d love to come here again,’ I said, genuinely. ‘You must be pretty busy?’
‘You might be surprised, but I’ve actually had to turn people away.
I can’t keep up with the demand, especially once the season gets going.
If I’m being honest, I could do with taking someone on, but I haven’t been able to find the right person.
There aren’t very many people who have the historical knowledge as well as the communication skills to make it interesting. It’s like a performance in a way.’
My eyes lit up. ‘You need an assistant?’ I said.
‘Yes, would you be interested?’
‘I have my hands full with the Moreaus for now, but I might know the perfect candidate,’ I mused, thinking of Johnny. If anyone knew how to perform, it was him, and hadn’t Nicole said he’d studied history?
‘Right, back to the castle,’ he said as we walked around the grounds and joined up with the rest of the group.
The building itself was spread out over a large area of about five hectares and was indeed very grand, but not as fussy as the pictures I had seen of Versailles or other French chateaus.
I could see the long avenues leading off into the forest in the distance and could just imagine the royals hunting on horseback and having a jolly old time of it.
‘Now, it was built in a neoclassical style – and what is neoclassical style, you might ask? It’s when simplicity and clarity govern the design.
In 1750, the prominent architect Ange-Jacques Gabriel proposed a thorough renovation of the chateau.
During the French Revolution, the chateau passed into the jurisdiction of the Minister for the Interior.
In 1795 all furniture was sold and its works of art were sent to the Musée Central.
However, in 1804 Napoleon made the chateau an imperial domain and ordered it be made habitable again.
Its layout was altered, a ballroom added, and the garden was replanted and linked directly to the forest. They say that ‘Compiègne speaks of Napoleon as Versailles does of Louis XIV’.
‘Bravo!’ I clapped, impressed by his ability to memorise so much detail. ‘This really is your passion, isn’t it?’ He gave me a shy grin and I envied that sense of fulfilment he exuded. This was how it felt to be doing something you loved.
As we strolled around the gardens, the enormous chateau and its extensive grounds put my own life into perspective.
There was so much history here, centuries of kings and queens, life and death, and yet it was the building and the forests that remained.
It called to mind the shadowy figure I had seen in the basement of the bakery.
I wasn’t sure how to put it, other than blurting it out.
‘Geoff, do you believe that places like this, with all their history, do you think they could be haunted?’ I tried to say it casually, conversationally.
‘What, do you mean ghosts?’
‘Maybe, you know, or just, I don’t know, like “a presence” of some sort?’
‘I don’t really believe in all that palaver, but I suppose somewhere as old as this must have the odd ghost rattling about. I’ve heard stories,’ he added, ‘on the old battlefields, but that could be just a load of old twaddle!’
I nodded and didn’t mention it further. It felt good to get away from the bakery for the day, but there was something drawing me back there – a mystery that needed to be solved.