“What did you do?” asked Wilhelmina, chin on hand, fascinated.
“Well, it was obvious, no? Brother Beccaria could not go on. One spring, I received permission from my abbot to go on a pilgrimage to Montserrat, and on arrival to stay and use the observatory. Of course, I had been here before, but none of the brothers at Sant’ Antimo knew that. Once here, I contrived to become ill, and reported this to my brothers. Eventually, I sent back a message that poor Fra Giambattista had succumbed to his maladies and gone to his heavenly reward.”
“Fra Giambattista died,” Mina concluded, “and Brother Lazarus was born.”
“A deception, I admit. But all this has been confessed and God will forgive, for my heart is pure and the work I do, I do in the service of the Almighty.” He nodded, satisfied with this arrangement. “After that I travelled many years in Germany, learning the language and reading physics, talking to my colleagues and studying, studying, all the while studying.” He brushed a bit of fluff from the lap of his fine black robe. “When I had learned enough, I came back here.”
“As astronomer?”
“Oh no. All my contemporaries here had passed away by then- that was part of the plan, you see. Fra Giambattista was remembered, of course. But no one then at the abbey knew “Brother Lazarus.” I worked in the gardens at first and helped at the observatory. In time, I became assistant to the chief astronomer and climbed my way up the ladder once more.” He put a rough gardener’s palm on Wilhelmina’s hand and confided, “Patience was ever a virtue.”
Wilhelmina’s first visit extended to more than two weeks. Every other day or so, she met Brother Lazarus in the cloister garden to discuss some particular aspect of ley travel, its uses and attendant problems and implications. The astronomer monk proved himself a thoughtful and erudite instructor; his study of astronomy and physics embraced cosmology, philosophy, and, being a priest, theology as well. As a patient and capable teacher he was second to none, and Wilhelmina, the eager and willing student, was soon firmly under his spell. His enthusiasm, she suspected, derived from the fact that he had previously had no one with whom he might share his greatest discoveries and insights. In Wilhelmina he had at last found someone who not only understood but could partake in the wonder of the enterprise at the deepest level. And inasmuch as her experience of ley travel, although undisciplined, was no less extensive in its way than his own, Wilhelmina was someone who could help further his inquiries. Nor did it hurt that he genuinely liked her and enjoyed her company.
That first fortnight passed in a blink. Wilhelmina could have stayed much longer, but to do so would draw unwanted suspicion. Instead the two conspirators agreed that she should leave soon, but return in the spring when they could continue Mina’s education to the point where she could eventually collaborate on Brother Lazarus’ work of mapping the intersecting dimensions of the cosmos.
“Many people make annual pilgrimage to the abbey,” he said. “Your presence need not draw suspicion-and if anyone should ask, you can always say it is in fulfilment of a vow for answered prayer.”
“That is nothing more than the truth, after all,” Wilhelmina decided.
The day of departure came and she took her leave-but not before learning the whereabouts of the nearest ley and how it connected with Sant’Antimo. “What about the circle in the sanctuary atrium?” she remembered asking. “Is that a ley threshold?”
“There is a force there, very powerful. I have measured it, but never attempted to use it. I believe it to be unstable, unpredictable. It must be studied further. Besides, it is too public,” the monk told her. “Nevertheless, these mountains are seamed through and through with lines of power-these leys, as you call them. The one nearest the observatory-the one I showed you? — that one joins Sant’Antimo.”
“That is how you got here the first time.”
“Exactly.” He raised a finger in warning. “Use it, but use it carefully. We never know who may be watching.”
Wilhelmina thanked him for his care and departed, returning the next spring and then again the following autumn-a pattern that was to repeat until she became a familiar sight around the monastery grounds. Her friends there were happy to see her, and she slowly became attached to the place.
“Do you know Thomas Young?” Brother Lazarus asked Mina on that first visit. “A physician in London? Have you ever crossed paths with him at all?”
“I feel certain I would know if I had,” she replied. “But no. Is he a fellow traveller?”
“I have never heard that he was, but it would not surprise me. His experiments in 1807 established the foundation on which the edifice of quantum physics is constructed.” Brother Lazarus went on to explain, in almost reverential tones, about the man who had discovered the dual nature of light as both particles and waves. “If that was not enough, he also helped establish archaeology as a science and in 1814 succeeded in cracking the code of Egyptian hieroglyphic writing.”
“He sounds fascinating,” she concluded. “He lives in London, you say?”
“He did.” The monk nodded. “A most fascinating man is Thomas Young.”
That was the first time Wilhelmina heard of Dr. Young. It would not be the last.
CHAPTER 11
I agree it is something of a coincidence,” allowed Lady Fayth judiciously. “Then again, why should this bakery woman not go wherever she likes?”
“I find it highly suspicious,” declared Burleigh. “On the eve of receiving our dinner invitation, she picks up and flees the city. Coincidence? I think not.”
“She can hardly be said to have fled the city,” Haven countered smoothly. “The baker said she had business in Vienna. There is nothing odd about a woman of commerce travelling on business. Some would say that such an eventuality was an inevitable consequence of trade.”
Burleigh’s expression hardened. “Why are you always taking her part?” His tone was dark and insinuating.
“The way you talk.” Haven sighed lightly and rolled her lovely brown eyes. “I take no one’s part, my leery lord. I merely point out the folly of your insistence on viewing even the most perfectly innocent event as part of some vast conspiracy to overthrow your plans.”
“Watch your mouth, girl,” growled Burleigh. He glared at her. “I grow sick of bickering with you over every step I take.”
Haven knew she had pressed the matter far enough. It was time to make amends. “Oh dear, I have angered you,” she said, suddenly contrite. “I am sorry.” She lowered her head in a submissive gesture. “Offending you was the last thing I intended.”
“Get out!” he shouted. “I cannot think with you simpering on like that. Go to your room until I call for you. I will decide what to do.”
Without another word she turned and moved to the door, glad to escape the Black Earl’s foul mood.
“Do not imagine that I will forget your insolence,” he called after her.
“No, my lord,” she answered, shutting the door behind her. To herself she added, “I imagine you will soon have cause to long remember it.”
She stalked off down the corridor, seething with rage: against Burleigh, against wicked circumstance that forced her to behave like a debauched wanton, against the guilt she felt for abandoning her uncle and the others to die in the tomb-rage against the powerlessness and humiliation she felt every moment of her waking day. It was bad enough that she had been made into a plotter of plots and a schemer of schemes-it was the price paid for joining the quest, so be it-but that she must travel with the brute, be seen by one and all as his confidante, nay, his paramour. The sound of his voice, his supercilious manner, his handsome features-which might have been admired in a better man-turned her stomach.