Gnome-Trek: Episode 7. Into the Plague: Chapter 25

France. The Final Destination.

These are the continuing voyages of the Flying-Brick ‘Gnome’. It’s a motor-gnome..

Chapter 25: The White Queen’s move.

As the numbers of other tourists reduced, and as the heavens above threatened more rain upon us, we decided that it was time to enter the chateau itself. 

You may note a note of reluctance. Noted. I had an uncomfortable gut-feeling about this. Perhaps I should listen to my gut more often. 

Hmm. Perhaps not.

I was picking up perturbing vibes. There is, in this humble abode’s history, more than one 'disturbing' era. At the time Henry III was assassinated, his wife (Louise of Lorraine) was here. He had been killed by a fanatical priest, (as opposed to the other kind) who was pretending to have a secret message for him. He leaned forward to whisper his message and plunged a knife into his guts. Guts play a big part in this story.

Louise stayed here in Chenonceaux, wandering the lonely halls for eleven years until she finally died of grief, or maybe too much wandering. 

The walls were hung with tapestries depicting skulls, crosses, bones, and other amusing motifs. She wore white, as was the custom then for grieving wives. 

She was called the White Queen.

Maybe her ghost was there still, warning me to keep out. You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave...

It was not long before a pressing sense of acrophobia came upon us both. Despite a vain and frankly insufficient attempt at guiding visitors in one direction, it proved utterly impossible to keep safe distance. The guts of this chateau are simply too small for the numerous visitors it ingests. We were constantly trying to avoid contact with others. We found ourselves holding our breath as we passed others on narrow spiral staircases. We felt a pressing need to get out. We sped through the kitchens, raced through the ball room, glanced at the bedrooms. I had lost control. I was but a pawn being sacrificed in a giant game of chess.

Get out. 

Let us out.

And then.....

Trapped.

We passed through a door into a small room. A small room with only that one door. A small room filling with people. Hot, sweaty, virus filled people. The only door was too narrow to escape through. More and more people were trying to force their way in. 

“It’s too full in here! Wait for us to get out!”

“We want to see it too! We have the right to get in! We have the right!”

Visions of Auschwitz flashed through my head. 

“LET ME OUT!”

We left the chateau fleet of foot. As I glanced back, I felt sure that I could see the White Queen, smirking at us like a demented Priti Patel, from an upstairs window. Check mate.

We were not alone. This exact spot was where many tried to escape the clutches of the nazis during the Second World War. This river, Le Cher, separated occupied France from Vichy France. 

Kinda spooky huh?

 We had learned one thing from that experience. We had learned that the government’s attempt to stop the virus was doomed to failure. Without doubt it would get worse. 

The government had to act. Another lockdown was inevitable. The only question now was ‘when’.