A Finer End

Winnie explained for Fiona’s benefit. “Traditionally, the Divine Office was made up of the services celebrated throughout the day in a monastery. Matins, Lauds, Prime, Terce, Sext, None, Vespers, and Compline. The chant repertory might have included recited Psalms.…” Looking back at the manuscript, she struggled with deciphering the ornate text, murmuring the words as she translated—then the pattern clicked. “It is a Psalm. Number 148! Praise ye the Lord. Praise ye the Lord from the heavens; praise him in the heights. Praise ye him, all his angels: praise ye him, all his hosts. Praise ye him, sun and moon: praise him, all ye stars of light. Praise him, ye heavens of heavens, and ye waters that be above the heavens. It goes on, all the birds and beasts and creeping things are here too.”

“And look at the illuminations.” Fiona pointed with a fingertip, but didn’t touch. “There’s the sun and the moon, and the stars, and here on the next page the birds.… But look at the background in this one. It’s Glastonbury. That’s the Abbey, and that’s the Tor behind it.”

“This is Edmund’s work,” Jack told them. “I’m sure of it. Look. That’s Glastonbury again. And here. And this one, with the water flowing from the hillside, that’s Chalice Well as it was then, where he met Alys.”

“But in the last days it shall come to pass,” read Winnie, “that the mountain of the House of the Lord shall be established in the top of the mountains, and it shall be exalted above the hills, and people shall flow unto it. That’s Micah.” Turning several pages, she said, “And after that, Revelation. It’s Jesus’ commandment to the Philadelphians. Him that overcometh I will make a pillar in the temple of my God, and he shall go no more out; and I will write upon him the name of my God, and the name of the city of my God, which is new Jerusalem.… Glastonbury … the new Jerusalem …”

“Can you sing any of it?” asked Fiona. “Do you know how to read the notation?”

“Yes, but … it needs a choir. I suppose I could try.…” Winnie studied the new Jerusalem passage for a moment, then, hesitantly, sang a few syllables.

“Go on,” Jack and Fiona begged when she stopped.

Winnie sang another line of the verse, and as her confidence grew, she felt the power of the music welling up within her, reverberating throughout her body. When she glanced up, the expressions of her audience told her its effect on them was as profound.

Fiona’s eyes sparkled with tears. “Just for a moment, I thought …”

“Was that the music you heard?” Jack asked Fiona.

“An echo of it, perhaps …”

“This”—Winnie’s hands cupped the air round the folio—“oh, Jack—how could this have been allowed to disappear?”

Jack went to the bookcase, returning with a worn Bible. “This was my great-grandfather’s, but he recorded as much as he knew of the generations before him. I think I remember seeing Matthew’s name when I was copying the genealogical information for Simon. Here it is. Matthew John Montfort, died 1762—just three years after he wrote the letter. I suspect he never had the chance to pass the knowledge of the chant on to his son.”

“And by placing the manuscript in the painting, Matthew meant to take extra precautions. It’s ironic, isn’t it, that his actions caused it to be lost? Unless … You don’t suppose … where he says, ‘… as I have been instructed.’ ”

“Edmund? Well, why not? There’s no reason I should have been the only—” Jack stiffened.

They heard a murmur of voices, and a moment later Duncan and Gemma came into the room.

Winnie knew immediately that something was dreadfully wrong. “Faith? Is she—”

“She’s on her way to hospital,” soothed Gemma. “With her baby, a little girl.”

“How—what happened?” asked Jack, but Winnie saw that Duncan and Gemma were looking at her. She braced herself for a blow. If not Faith, then …

Duncan sat down beside her. “Winnie, I’m sorry, but it’s Andrew. He’s been quite badly hurt. They’ve taken him to hospital in Taunton.”