Read Provence - To Die For for Free Online

isn’t far from here, is it?”
    “It is very close by. You should pay a visit before you leave us. As every schoolchild in Avignon can tell you, Pope Clement the Fifth abandoned Rome and settled here in 1309. Later his successor, Clement the Sixth, brought his whole court here. For seventy years this city was the home of the papacy, and an important economic center as well.”
    “I can imagine. Was this building built at that time?” I rubbed my hands up and down my arms to warm up a bit.
    Guy strode to the wall on the right and slapped it, releasing a cloud of dust. “Yes. This was at one time a courthouse and later a private residence.” He wiped his hands on the side of his trousers. “The stonework is beautiful, is it not?”
    “Yes,” I said slowly, casting my eyes over the rough limestone walls. What was different here?
    “Ah, something is not right.” He was pleased. “Can you tell what it is?”
    “This is a strange room,” I said. “What function did it have?”
    “See if you can guess.”
    We walked to the center of the area where a long wooden table with a battered top stood in solitary splendor on the stone floor. Piles of plates, bowls, flatware, and napkins had been arranged neatly on its rough surface. On one end, laid out on a white linen towel, was an array of large kitchen knives in size order. A short earthenware pitcher held a bouquet of what I presumed were small knives; I could see only their black, brown, and white handles. The table, a bench along one side, and several high-backed chairs drawn up to the other were the only pieces of furniture in the room. The light in the sconces flickered and dimmed.
    “Oh, dear,” I said, resting my hand on the corner of the table.
    “Don’t be concerned. It’s a temporary malfunction. They do this from time to time. Someone must have switched on the dishwasher.”
    I turned to scan the room. There were three arches in the masonry walls. Those on the right and left had been fitted with heavy wooden doors; the open one behind us led back to the hallway. High on the walls were sets of shutters covering what might be storage cupboards. Peculiar places for storage, I thought. They’d be inaccessible without a ladder. On the other side of the table, up a step, was a multipaned glass window looking into another room.
    Guy picked up one of the large knives and idly tested its point with the pad of his thumb. “There is a mystery here, eh?”
    “Why are those storage cabinets so high?” I asked. “Can you reach them from another room?”
    “You have a keen eye,” he said, replacing the knife and aligning its blade so it matched the others. He was enjoying the game. “I give you a hint.” He tapped the floor with his foot. “This stone was laid in the thirteenth century.”
    “But you said the building was built in the fourteenth century,” I said, pointing to the wall.
    “Exactement. The floor is older because it isn’t a floor at all. We are right now in the middle of a medieval street. Do you see the outside of the houses?” He waved a long arm at the walls.
    I looked up and realized that we stood in what appeared to be a courtyard with buildings all around. Those possible storage cupboards were at one time windows overlooking this small square. The table was standing in the street. Perhaps the glass window on the other side had been the window of a shop. It was only the beamed wooden ceiling, high above our heads, that had transformed the spaces into an interior room.
    “Those arches,” I said. “Were they passageways leading to other streets?”
    “Oui! And, like our streets, they are narrow because there were no cars in those days, only mules.”
    “Yes, I can see the square,” I said slowly. “It’s obvious now that you point it out.”
    The knowledge of the room’s origins, however, did not lessen my uneasiness. I made a mental note to bring a warm sweater to the cooking class. Perhaps it was just the cold that was