The Marks Of Cain Part 20

'It gets difficult...from here.'

They were driving over a bridge. In the half-light David recognized the mournful spire of Campan church across the slated roofs; he glimpsed one of the rag dolls lying next to the bridge, smiling happily in the headlights; but now the car was headed deep into the bad side of the river, into the cagoterie. Ruined cottages with empty black windows stood on either side, tumbledown barns, derelict allotments. Thick woods approached, slowly reclaiming the ancient ghetto of the untouchables.

The road worsened, stones and branches littered the way. In the chilly darkness David got the sense they were driving underground a ravine was rising on either side. The humble cottages were more scattered now, low grey shapes through the trees; a ghostly white owl flapped across the headlights' dazzle.

'Voila.'

It was a very large, very old stone house. Possibly medieval. And yet, despite its size, it was concealed with great efficiency: ma.s.sive bushes hid the turning, thick trees formed a perimeter wall, the maze of the cursed cagoterie lay all about and they were halfway down the black ravine.

'My grandparents brought me here only once,' said Eloise. 'To show me the house where the Cagots used to hide during the worst persecutions. This is the refuge of the Cagots. There are caves and pa.s.sages beyond...under the house. Les chemins des Cagots. Les chemins des Cagots. So the Cagots could escape here.' So the Cagots could escape here.'

They got out of the car. The night air was almost frosty, tangy with the savoury scent of the woods.

David tensed.

There was a light inside the house. A flickering light, a lantern, or a candle, inside the house. Someone was in there.

Fear fought with curiosity. David motioned to Amy and Eloise, his finger vertical to his lips, shhh shhh. He approached the window and peered inside.

He started back. Two people were huddled inside the humbly illuminated room.

It was Jose Garovillo and his wife.

20.

'I was hoping you would...explain the Serpent Seed.'

Emma Winyard smiled; they were sitting in a restaurant near Smithfield meat market. Then she turned to an approaching waiter, and asked for some more water, giving Simon a chance to appraise Ms Emma Winyard, the Walden Professor of Church History at King's College London.

She was pretty, elegant and personable: in her early forties, she evidently favoured discreet jewellery, very smart shoes and fashionable restaurants. It had been her idea to meet here at St John's, because, as she said on the phone, 'It's rather nice to lunch there when I'm doing research at the Guildhall.'

'Serpent Seed, yes...' She smiled again. 'This is a highly controversial teaching. It says that the snake in the Garden of Eden had intercourse ah, here's my starter. That was quick.' She leaned back and accepted the plate.

Simon couldn't help staring at her food. It looked like a small bobbly rubber inner tube of meat, with a nosegay of parsley at the side.

Emma picked up her fork, and continued, 'The doctrine says that the snake in Eden had intercourse with Eve, and that Cain was the progeny from this b.e.s.t.i.a.l copulation.'

'The snake and Eve had s.e.x had s.e.x ? ?'

'Yes. That is to say, Satan in the form of the serpent had s.e.x with Eve. And therefore Cain was the son of the Devil, and all who descend from him are tainted.'

'Rrright...' The journalist didn't know quite what to say. His embarra.s.sed silence was interrupted by a phone call; he glanced at the screen. It said Fazackerly. Fazackerly. What did the old professor want? Nothing that important, surely. The journalist leaned to the phone, and refused the call, forwarding it to voicemail; then he switched his attention back to his lunch partner. 'Sorry about that...' He wondered how to get the dialogue going again; he gazed down at her plate. 'What What did the old professor want? Nothing that important, surely. The journalist leaned to the phone, and refused the call, forwarding it to voicemail; then he switched his attention back to his lunch partner. 'Sorry about that...' He wondered how to get the dialogue going again; he gazed down at her plate. 'What is is that you are eating?' that you are eating?'

'Chitterlings,' said Emma. 'Fried intestines. Very salty, but quite delicious.'

'Intestine?'

'Oh yes.' She smiled. 'The chef here, Fergus Henderson, is famous for reviving old English meat dishes. World famous. Smithfield meat market is just down the road, of course. Been there since the thirteenth century. Do you mind if I eat my starter? It's not so good cold. Yours has yet to arrive.'

'By all means. Please.'

Simon looked on as she downed a mouthful of rubbery-looking intestine, then he pressed the question.

'Who believes in Serpent Seed?'

'A small selection of cranks, minor sects, splintered cults.' She chewed thoughtfully, and added: 'That said, the doctrine has some...Biblical authority.'

'Such as?'

'The idea that Eve mated with Satan, and gave birth to Cain, is hinted at in various places in the Bible. For instance, in the New Testament Epistle of John 1, Chapter 3, it states, "Not as Cain, who was of that wicked one who was of that wicked one, and slew his brother". The idea of the Serpent Seed can also be found in some early Gnostic writings.' She took another forkful of intestine and chewed. Then added: 'Things like the Gospel of Philip. However, the teaching was rejected as heresy by the church father Irenaeus, and later by mainstream Christian theologians.'

Simon absorbed this. Cain who was of that wicked one Cain who was of that wicked one. He thought of the two brothers, the sons of Adam and Eve: Cain and Abel. Like him and Tim. And which one of them was Cain?

He felt the gulf of sadness, and a piercing desire for a drink. So he fixed his eyes on Emma Winyard. Concentrating.

'It's a load of rubbish then? Serious Christians don't believe it?'

The waiter arrived once more, this time presenting a plate with a bone on it. Just a bone. Like a roasted kneebone.

As he was new to this strange restaurant, Simon had allowed Professor Emma Winyard to order his lunch. But he hadn't expected a bone.

Emma pointed decorously with her knife.

'The food is...inside.'

'Ah, sorry?'

'It's roasted bone marrow, Mister Quinn. That's why you have a little fork, to dig the marrow out out of the bone. Then spread it on those slices of toast. Delish.' of the bone. Then spread it on those slices of toast. Delish.'

He picked up the tiny fork. And put it down.

'Call me Simon.' He stared at the knee joint on his plate. 'I'll have a go at the bone in a minute.'

'Fair enough.' Emma was happily working her way through her grey-brown intestines. 'Shall I go on with my theology?'

'Please.'

'The importance of Serpent Seed is this: the actual doctrine might only be affirmed affirmed by the tiniest Protestant sects, like Christian Ident.i.ty in America, or by Midrashic strains of Judaism, but it ties in with a variant Pentateuchal interpretation which does have great significance.' by the tiniest Protestant sects, like Christian Ident.i.ty in America, or by Midrashic strains of Judaism, but it ties in with a variant Pentateuchal interpretation which does have great significance.'

'Are you talking in English?'

She smiled. 'I mean there is a related and controversial interpretation of the early books of the Bible which has caused much pain and anguish over the centuries.'

'Which is?'

'The problem of Cain's wife. And so on.'

'Ah...'

They were nearing the nub. But Simon needed to eat something because he hadn't eaten all day. So he picked up his tiny fork and stabbed it into the surprisingly tender centre of the bone knuckle. A small, strange, wriggly blob of jelly emerged, p.r.o.nged on his fork. The roasted marrow. It looked repugnant, yet it smelt quite good. He placed it on a slice of toast and took a deep breath and ate it.

It was oddly delicious, despite the revolting texture.

'See!' said Emma Winyard, her handsome face smiling. 'Not so bad after all.'

'I guess...Tell me more about this heresy.'

Emma had finished her intestines; she laid down her fork and knife and sipped some water, and leaned forward.

'I'll tell you in one go, as you tackle your bone. First thing to know is that there are strange hints in the Book of Genesis that Adam and Eve were not the only human beings around during the Creation.'

Simon stopped eating, halfway through a mouthful of bone marrow.

'What?'

'Yes. There are some other odd and mysterious hints in the Pentateuch of non-Adamite humans other races of already existent human beings, apart from Adam and Eve. For instance, in Genesis, the Bible tells us that Cain went out into the world: "And the LORD set a MARK upon Cain, lest any finding him should kill him." Thing is: who on earth were these people who might find him? Theoretically, only Adam and Eve were around at the time. That's in Genesis 4. So who was it Cain should be scared of?'

Simon sat back. He looked at his laptop bag by his side. He wondered if he should be making proper notes. This was really quite intriguing information: it was also quite unnerving, this Biblical idea of different humans, of people already existing, yet separate: like a tribe of pale shadows.

'That's truly truly strange,' he said. 'Go on.' strange,' he said. 'Go on.'

But the elegant Ms Winyard was distracted: she was sitting back once more as the waiter whipped away her starter, and placed another dish on the table. Her face lit up.

'Pig cheek and b.u.t.terbeans, one of my favourites.'

The waiter now set a second dish in front of Simon. It was red and hot and looked like something...recently aborted.

'Ah.'

'I ordered you bloodcake.'

'That's nice.'

His phone was ringing again: very annoyingly. Simon glanced at the read-out. Fazackerly Fazackerly, it said, pulsing on and off. What had got the professor so agitated? He recalled the yellowing smile of the old man, and the over-elaborate metaphors of Darwinian struggle; he once more killed the call without answering. And this time he switched off the phone.

Emma was checking her watch, with a flicker of irritation. 'Let's kick things along?'

'Yes please. Sorry about all these interruptions.'

'Apology accepted. Now we come to the Curse of Cain. To put it very briefly, this strange pa.s.sage of Biblical verse, Genesis 9:20 or thereabouts, says that Ham's father Noah placed a hex upon Ham and his son Cain, that they should become perpetual slaves, after Ham saw his father's nakedness in a tent.'

'This is a different different Cain we're talking about?' Cain we're talking about?'

'Yes. It is complex. But a different Cain, yes this is the grandson of Noah, son of Ham. He is also known as Canaan, the founder of the Canaanite people...'

Simon was trying to enjoy his bloodcake, and failing. He pushed the plate away, suppressing nausea, and asked Emma to continue. She was happy to oblige.

'So what does this strange story tell us? Well, the Curse of Cain has been used by elements within the Abrahamic religions to justify racism and Zionism and especially the enslavement of black Africans. Because they were believed to be descendants of Ham and Cain.'

'But how? I'm confused. Again.' He shrugged. 'Was Cain African?'

She smiled.

'It's quite simple. The Bible itself says Ham and his son Cain should be slaves in perpetuity, for their sins for the unseemly s.e.xual act with Noah, exposing the drunken father. And that's all. But early Jewish and Christian scholars say G.o.d went further, further, they claim Jehovah smote Cain with blackness. The Babylonian Talmud, for instance, categorically states "Cain was smitten in his skin" i.e. turned black. The Zohar, the most important book of the Kabbalah, likewise says "Ham's son Cain blackened the face of mankind". And Africans thereafter descended from Cain...' they claim Jehovah smote Cain with blackness. The Babylonian Talmud, for instance, categorically states "Cain was smitten in his skin" i.e. turned black. The Zohar, the most important book of the Kabbalah, likewise says "Ham's son Cain blackened the face of mankind". And Africans thereafter descended from Cain...'

'And it's mainly Jewish, this theory?'

'Oh no. No no. Christian church fathers were just just as keen. An Eastern Christian work from the fourth century, the as keen. An Eastern Christian work from the fourth century, the Cave of Treasures Cave of Treasures, openly connects slavery with dark-skinned people.' Emma swallowed a big chunk of pig cheek, and explained: 'Why all the fuss? Probably Africans were already being enslaved by this time, so foisting the Curse of Cain upon them was a good excuse to perpetuate the bondage of blacks. Throughout the Dark and Middle Ages there are many more scholastic references to Cain, blackness and slavery.'

'And people used this doctrine during...colonial times?'

'Absolutely.' Emma paired her knife and fork. 'Spanish conquistadors, British imperialists, the French and Portuguese, many American slavers, they all seized on these pseudo Biblical pa.s.sages to justify the hideous trade in Africans. The idea was either that G.o.d made different inferior races, when he made Adam, or he deliberately created a caste of black slaves when he cursed Cain. Ergo, slavery is OK.'

She dabbed her lips with a napkin, and continued, 'And the theory still has potency. Mormons only renounced the doctrine in 1977.'

It was time to broach the underlying topic.

'Emma, did you discuss this subject with a guy, name of Angus Nairn, a few months back?'

Professor Winyard sat up.

'Yes, I did. But...How did you know that?' Her persistent smile faded. 'I thought you were just a journalist researching racism?'

'I am. But...there are other factors. And I need to know, what did Nairn want?'

She frowned. 'OK...Yes, Angus and I were quite close. He's a rather eccentric...but rather charming young man. Very clever scientist. Scottish Presbyterian.'

'So I understand.'

'I haven't heard from him in ages. But I have been immersed in my studies...'

'What did you, ah, talk about?'

'Lots. He was interested in some strange things. The history of the Curse of Cain as it related to the Inquisition, the Basques and the Cagots.'

'The Cagots?'

'Yes, a tribe of French pariahs.'

'Never heard of them.'

'Most people have never heard of them. They were one group of victims of this extreme Curse of Cain theology. Some Catholic priests thought they were of the sons of Cain, blah-de-blah, and persecuted them. There is a strain in French Catholicism which is highly racist, and sometimes anti-Semitic, to this very day.'