My inspiration

France, with its long history of conflicts between monarchs, dukes, clergy and, of course, the English, has provided us with a glorious legacy of fortified towns. Many still have their original walls complete with proud towers and massive gateways. Avignon is a perfect example. Its robust sandstone ramparts enclosing a microcosm of medieval life: houses, shops, churches, cafes and inns. I am readily drawn into such a society.

In the Middle Ages, Avignon was the home of the Catholic Church, commanding the whole of Christendom. The pope lived in and governed from the town, later to be termed 'The Babylon Captivity', rather than its traditional seat in Rome. When the Italian Clement V was elected in 1305, factionalism rendered his life so stressful, and to escape the oppressive Roman atmosphere, he moved the papal capital to the town of my novel. Clement V1 of my story came in 1342. He was, fair to say, neither better nor worse than his predecessors or successors. But, he proved a profligate spender on the fine things in life: wine, art, books and music. This, together with his financing the new town walls, left the next pope, Innocent V1, with empty coffers (this will form the basis of my sequel).

In the story, Clement's secret vices of body and spirit are his lustful dalliance with the mysterious Alice and a repressed desire for revenge on an old friend. It was not uncommon for members of the cloth to take a mistress, but I thought a dangerous eternal triangle would prevail when my protagonist, Marius, was infatuated with the same woman.

We know that in the early 1300s, an epidemic we now classify as the 'bubonic plague' originated in the Far East and spread inexorably westward. The bacillus was probably infected by fleas carried on rats and arrived in Avignon in 1447. It would wax and wane over the next two centuries and reach London in around 1665 - the event being well-chronicled in Samuel Pepys' diaries. It is a given that a town's fortifications repel intruders but, equally, imprison its citizens: the consequences of the plague would, thus, be intensified, the main part of my narrative occurring 'intra muros'.

So, I had a scourge devastating a walled town's inhabitants, a pope with secrets, and a heroic figure in Marius: the ingredients for my work.

The original bridge - properly called the 'Pont St.Benezet' - joining Avignon on the left bank to Villeneuve-les-Avignon on the right, was a wooden construction, replaced by twenty-two stone arches in 1345 by our Clement, yet another drain on his finances. Gatehouses on either side collected tolls from merchants carrying all manner of goods and when the plague struck, guards prevented anyone leaving or entering (a coin or two might avert their watch) and my characters are further isolated when it is closed. The bridge was only wide enough to afford passage to a packhorse and cart so the traders set out their stalls, and danced in good times, under its arches - hence the famous folk song "Sous le pont d'Avignon" ( under, not on, as is often mistaken).

Those who remain in the town when the plague strikes each, in their own way, defy it and, mainly, survive. Rostand, the beggar; Marcel, the innkeeper; Alice, the brothel owner; the Magistrate; even Pope Clement; and Marius, my fearless warrior. The scourge transforms their behaviour: imprisoned within Avignon, they oppose the evil, in the end, as one.

As the plague is declared over, the gates to the town are opened and the people are free to resume their previous lives. They celebrate, laughing and dancing, under the bridge - "Sous le pont d'Avignon'.