Stepping through the flimsy door over the entrance to the unfinished Lady Chapel he faltered, caught by an unexpected sound curling within the howling wind. A voice. An angelic voice singing Missus est Angelus Gabriel a Deo in civitatem Galilææ, cui nomen Nazareth. An Advent hymn – appropriate, but at such an hour, and alone? He thrust back his hood so that he might gauge whence came the sound. The transept? No, that would echo and cut the immense silence of the overarching stones. This came from behind a door. The chapter house? He was hurrying in that direction when something did cut the silence – the jangle of keys on a ring approaching from the south transept. Shining his lantern to his left, he saw Theo, the precentor’s man, lit by his own lantern as he hurried across toward the chapter house.
‘God in heaven, what madness has descended upon us this night, a man fallen, someone singing in the chapter house. What? Who dares intrude–’ Theo halted, peering at Michaelo. ‘Out of my way, brother,’ he called, hurrying on, the keys and the rude command sacrileges in this holy place.
Michaelo followed on his heels. Reaching the door of the chapter house Theo paused, breathing heavily while he bent his head to fumble with the keys.
‘You said a man had fallen,’ said Michaelo. ‘Who? Where?’
‘From the chapter house roof. Or so it would seem. The snow did nothing to cushion his fall. Now hush. Between that bleating and your questions I cannot think.’
It seemed to Michaelo that unlocking a door that Theo locked and unlocked daily should require little thought.
‘Dead?’ he asked.
‘Indeed.’
‘Are you such a dolt you cannot appreciate such a voice? Bleating indeed.’ Michaelo huffed.
‘On such a night, it can only be the voice of the devil,’ Theo growled as at last he managed to turn the key and push wide the door. While he crouched to retrieve his lantern, Michaelo lifted his own and stepped past him into the echoing space. Theo shouted for him to halt, but Michaelo paid no heed, continuing until his light illuminated the singer.
Now he stopped as he beheld a vision. A tall, ethereally pale youth with flaxen hair stood in the middle of the space with arms outstretched, slowly turning round and round as he sang
In his right hand he held a dagger, as if warding off an attacker. Only when he faced the light did he discover his audience, going silent and still, and dropping his arms. Michaelo stepped closer, wrinkling his nose at the state of the youth’s clothing – stained and torn, his face smudged, his hair wild. He stank of sweat and fear. Another step and Michaelo noticed how the hand holding the knife shook, and what might commonly repel him made him wish to protect this soiled angel. It occurred to him that if Theo believed this youth to be in Michaelo’s charge he might release him without fuss. Though what he would then do with the lad, well, no time to think of that now.
‘So that is where you were hiding. You have been missed.’ Michaelo hoped his tone and words expressed just enough affectionate irritation. ‘I pray you, if you would permit me to deal with him …’
Theo regarded him with distrust, then recognition. ‘Brother Michaelo. I am relieved to hear you know the intruder.’
Michaelo nodded. ‘You see why he forbids you to go forth after twilight without escort? And the chapter house – the dean and chapter will not tolerate such an intrusion. Come now. Your uncle awaits us.’
‘But the man fallen from this very building–’ Theo began.
‘I assure you, this lad is no murderer,’ said Michaelo. An assumption, for of course he did not know, but he sensed – perhaps it was the smell of the lad. And how would a man sing so beautifully after committing such a sin?
At first, the youth stared with mute puzzlement, then asked, ‘My uncle?’ Another pause. Michaelo searched for something to save the ruse, but at last the youth gave a wan smile. ‘Did Master Ambrose send you? God be thanked!’ As quickly as the smile appeared, it dissolved into a grimace. ‘I beg your forgiveness. I was locked in. I managed to sleep a while, but I was so cold. And frightened. I remembered that Master Ambrose said a mere whisper can be heard across this space, so I hoped a song might be heard without. I thought a shout might bring armed guards, whereas a song …’ He lifted a slender hand to his heart and bowed to them. ‘I pray you, forgive my trespass.’
Spent the night here? Slept? His clothes suggested a different tale, damp, as if recently outside. On the roof? The lies gave Michaelo pause, but his instinct to protect held. He looked at Theo. ‘Is it not customary to ensure this room is empty before securing it for the night?’
‘I have never before found anyone within. Who is Master Ambrose?’
Michaelo held out his hand to the youth. ‘A dagger offers poor protection against the dark. I will take that.’
The youth hesitated.
Michaelo stepped closer.
With a mumbled, ‘I thought to protect myself,’ the youth surrendered the weapon, but shaking with such violence that Michaelo caught the dagger as it fell from the slender hand.
‘Protect yourself?’ Theo lifted his lantern, looked round. ‘I see no one else. And I don’t understand. You sang for help, then meant to resist?’
‘You might check up above,’ Michaelo suggested to Theo.
Theo took a step back. ‘I am not armed.’
‘I am so cold!’ The youth hugged himself.
No wonder, in wet clothing. ‘Find help,’ said Michaelo. ‘I will see to the lad.’
‘They say you now work with Captain Archer,’ said Theo. ‘Fetch him.’
Michaelo bristled that the man would presume to order him about. ‘It is you who failed to search the chapter house before securing it for the night. See to yourself.’
‘I pray you.’ Beginning to slump, the youth clutched Michaelo’s arm.
As he put his free arm round the youth’s torso to support him, Michaelo’s hand encountered the rounded breast of a young woman. God help him. He bit off an apology. The young woman continued to crumple.
‘Take this.’ He thrust his lantern at Theo, who took it without argument.
‘Is he ill?’
‘God knows,’ Michaelo muttered. Remembering the sledge he had uncovered near the outer door, he thought he might assist her that far. Putting both arms round his charge, he whispered to her, ‘Help me. If I ask this bumbling fool for help he, too, will discover your sex. It would go better for you if you summoned up all your remaining strength and helped me get you to safety.’
He felt her try to recover, but the effort increased her now almost continual tremors and her flailing attempts to gain a footing worked against his efforts.
‘I pray you, do not fight me. If you can help me get you to the outer door, there is a sledge. I can pull you to safety.’
Apparently she understood and eased her struggle, leaning into him. With her feeble assistance he managed to get her across the transept. How was it she’d sung with such strength when now she could barely keep her eyes open? Had he imagined it? Was Theo right, this was the devil’s work? In his heart, Michaelo did not believe it. He must believe God was working through him. Or her.