It was six weeks later that I was sitting in Andrew’s apartment in Paddington in Sydney with Andrew and Michael. It was a cool autumn day so we were inside and gathered in the sitting room. Martina had gone out for a few hours so it was just the three of us, sitting over coffee and some biscuits. Andrew had not changed a lot since I had last seen him but his brown hair had thinned a little, I guess along with his physique that was still suffering from the rigours of his trauma in Međjugorje in Bosnia and Herzegovina several years before and the more abstemious lifestyle which it had forced upon him. Michael, being somewhat younger, seemed to have hardly changed at all. His solid build and light coloured hair remained the same but, now being around forty years old and a father, his looks had matured somewhat and, while his gaze had not really hardened and lost its quiet, friendly quality, he had undoubtedly found his way in life and become more sure of himself.
Andrew thanked me for flying over from Adelaide and being prepared to hear their story, Andrew then quickly handed over to Michael, whose tale it really was. What emerged over the next three hours was an extraordinary piece of oral history and conjecture about the origins and life of a well-known European and I could certainly understand why Andrew would be unsure about whether to publish the story. The story was bizarre and almost unbelievable and yet many elements of it rang true, even to my limited knowledge. My first thoughts were that I could not possibly advise on what to do with the story, except to be very careful with it. On second thoughts, I knew that both Andrew and Michael needed what guidance I could give on the matter and decided to give it all some thought. However, I have set out Michael’s story, pretty much as he told it.
Michael had been doing a story on the commune of Épernay, in the heart of the Champagne appellation of northern France. To help with the geography, Épernay lies about 30 kilometres almost due south of Reims, which itself lies about one third of the way on the main route between Amiens, in north-western France, and Truchtersheim, in north-eastern France, not far from the German border. Michael had been looking at the effect of the corporatisation of some of the champagne houses on the strong family houses that remained, and on the social structure within the famous wine region. The relevance of these last two towns will become evident as the story unfolds.
Towards the end of his visit and during one of the final wrap-ups of his story, going through it all with the participants before publishing, which was an essential part of the process that both he and Andrew had adopted, the discussion turned to French politics. It was a general discussion at first, with various views being expressed but, after most of the other participants had left the gathering, one elderly vintner asked whether Michael had ever been to Reims, and had he ever visited the hospital there. Somewhat surprised by the question, Michael replied that he had once spent a couple of nights in Reims and had visited the famous cathedral, but certainly not the hospital. He asked why the question had been raised. The elderly vintner looked at the other remaining participant, who nodded to him, and then proceeded to relate a story that Michael found almost unbelievable.
