Liturgical Mysteries 02 The Baritone Wore Chiffon Read Online Free
Author: Mark Schweizer
travel alarm at half past four. I had time for a quick shower, having figured out the plumbing situation on earlier trips. Plumbing is never to be taken for granted in England. Finishing up quickly, I was in the side door of the Minster, past the policemen's post and sitting in the choir, that area directly behind the screen that divides the nave from the rest of the building, with ten minutes to spare. There were other visitors sitting in adjacent stalls, as was the custom when there was room available.
I settled into the rigid seat of an unnamed Bishop and waited for the service to begin. I gave Hugh a nod as he followed the choir in and took his place with the other clergy. York is so far north that, in February, it's almost dark at five o'clock, making Evensong quite a moving experience, the shadows from the choir's candles bouncing off the fading surfaces at odd angles. On this particular evening the songmen were joined by the girls. A full complement in the Minster Choir consisted of twelve songmen, singing alto, tenor and bass, joined by sixteen girls singing the soprano part. Or, as on this evening, ten songmen and fourteen girls, four of those sniffling. The cold and rainy weather was taking its toll.
On alternate days, the boys sang the soprano parts. I must admit that I'd rather hear the boys, but the girls sang very well, and I'd be around long enough to hear both groups.
We were treated to a Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis, the evening canticles, set to music by Orlando Gibbons, a Renaissance composer. It was the short service but nevertheless a wonderful treat for the first Friday in Lent. Maybe Megan was right. Maybe I shouldn't torture myself quite so much. The anthem, Almighty And Everlasting God , was by Gibbons as well. I closed my eyes and let the sound of the voices wash over me, draining the tension of the journey from my road-weary bones, tension I was unaware of until it was gone.
The choir processed out in silence, the Friday service being unaccompanied by the organ, and I followed them, meeting Hugh outside the sacristy.
"How was your trip?"
"Long. And it gets longer every time, although this was certainly better than last time. If you have a choice, business class is the way to go," I said.
"Only if someone else is paying for it."
"Yep."
"How's Noylene?" he asked. He had heard about her from various e-mails I'd sent, keeping him up to date on St. Germaine happenings, and was intrigued by the lifestyle of the mountain folk.
"Well, she's jes' fahn," I said in my best North Carolina backwoods accent. "She's startin' at the Catawba College of Beauty and Small Engine Repair. We all gits a free haircut and a tune-up once she gits her certifyables."
"Lovely. How about some supper then? I set up your appointment with the Minster Police and the detective from the Police Authority for nine in the morning. Janet is visiting her mother so you can sleep late, but try to be on timefor the appointment. They'll probably be civil, but the Police Authority has made it clear that they don't care for Yanks meddling in their cases."
"I'll try to be humble and not mention the American Revolution more than twice."
"Great. Let's eat."
Supper in a pub isn't always a memorable culinary experience. I'm always wary when I see "Spotted Dick" on the menu, but after two days of traveling and a few pints of Guinness, almost anything tastes great. I hit the bed a few hours later and, after musing about Lindsey for a few moments, switched my thoughts over to Megan and slept the sleep of the almost-righteous.
Chapter 3
The next morning found me wide awake at six a.m., which was fine by me. I took a shower, got dressed, and ventured out into the cold February semi-darkness, making my way around the Minster and down Stonegate, before passing the inevitable Starbucks and getting an extra large cup of coffee to go. I could walk the length of the wall – three miles in all – in about an hour and, after wandering through
I settled into the rigid seat of an unnamed Bishop and waited for the service to begin. I gave Hugh a nod as he followed the choir in and took his place with the other clergy. York is so far north that, in February, it's almost dark at five o'clock, making Evensong quite a moving experience, the shadows from the choir's candles bouncing off the fading surfaces at odd angles. On this particular evening the songmen were joined by the girls. A full complement in the Minster Choir consisted of twelve songmen, singing alto, tenor and bass, joined by sixteen girls singing the soprano part. Or, as on this evening, ten songmen and fourteen girls, four of those sniffling. The cold and rainy weather was taking its toll.
On alternate days, the boys sang the soprano parts. I must admit that I'd rather hear the boys, but the girls sang very well, and I'd be around long enough to hear both groups.
We were treated to a Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis, the evening canticles, set to music by Orlando Gibbons, a Renaissance composer. It was the short service but nevertheless a wonderful treat for the first Friday in Lent. Maybe Megan was right. Maybe I shouldn't torture myself quite so much. The anthem, Almighty And Everlasting God , was by Gibbons as well. I closed my eyes and let the sound of the voices wash over me, draining the tension of the journey from my road-weary bones, tension I was unaware of until it was gone.
The choir processed out in silence, the Friday service being unaccompanied by the organ, and I followed them, meeting Hugh outside the sacristy.
"How was your trip?"
"Long. And it gets longer every time, although this was certainly better than last time. If you have a choice, business class is the way to go," I said.
"Only if someone else is paying for it."
"Yep."
"How's Noylene?" he asked. He had heard about her from various e-mails I'd sent, keeping him up to date on St. Germaine happenings, and was intrigued by the lifestyle of the mountain folk.
"Well, she's jes' fahn," I said in my best North Carolina backwoods accent. "She's startin' at the Catawba College of Beauty and Small Engine Repair. We all gits a free haircut and a tune-up once she gits her certifyables."
"Lovely. How about some supper then? I set up your appointment with the Minster Police and the detective from the Police Authority for nine in the morning. Janet is visiting her mother so you can sleep late, but try to be on timefor the appointment. They'll probably be civil, but the Police Authority has made it clear that they don't care for Yanks meddling in their cases."
"I'll try to be humble and not mention the American Revolution more than twice."
"Great. Let's eat."
Supper in a pub isn't always a memorable culinary experience. I'm always wary when I see "Spotted Dick" on the menu, but after two days of traveling and a few pints of Guinness, almost anything tastes great. I hit the bed a few hours later and, after musing about Lindsey for a few moments, switched my thoughts over to Megan and slept the sleep of the almost-righteous.
Chapter 3
The next morning found me wide awake at six a.m., which was fine by me. I took a shower, got dressed, and ventured out into the cold February semi-darkness, making my way around the Minster and down Stonegate, before passing the inevitable Starbucks and getting an extra large cup of coffee to go. I could walk the length of the wall – three miles in all – in about an hour and, after wandering through
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