The Passage Read Online Free

computer-generated since the original palace was destroyed in the fire of 1698.  All we had were some drawings and paintings to remind us of what the palace looked like, but with today’s technology, recreating the palace was a matter of a few keystrokes.
    Max and I left the house and stepped into the formal gardens situated behind the house.  Of course, at this time of year it was nothing more than brown stumps and evergreen hedges, but come spring, the gardens would be glorious and perfect for shooting several key scenes.
    “So, what do you think?” Max asked as he rubbed his hands in anticipation.  I could see the suppressed excitement in his eyes and was glad not to disappoint him.
    “I think it’s perfect.  I’d just like to take a look at the church.  There’s a scene that takes place in the crypt.  Is there one?”
    “There is, as it happens,” Max replied happily, “and it’s perfectly sinister, as one would expect.  I don’t think anyone’s been down there in ages.  I’d love to escort you, but I have a meeting in the village.  Will you be alright on your own?”
    “Of course.” 
    “Excellent.  I’ll walk as far as the church with you,” Max offered as he waved a greeting to an employee who was just opening up the tea room.  I wondered how much the cost of admission was and made a mental note to come back later and check, and maybe have a cup of tea and browse the gift shop.  I couldn’t help admiring Max’s business acumen.  Life presented him with an opportunity, and he exploited it to its full potential.   
    The walk to the church took a good half hour, but it was downhill, so it was easy going, especially since I had company and good conversation. I was chilled to the bone by the time Max finally left me at the gate of St. Nicolas’s church.  Weak sunshine shone through gaps in the wispy clouds but offered no warmth, and the brisk wind had a bite to it that left my cheeks rosy and my fingers stiff with cold.  I was glad to duck into the church and feel the breath of warmth that instantly enveloped me, physically and emotionally.  I wasn’t much of a believer, but I always liked churches, with their air of serenity and the promise of something bigger than oneself. 
    I sat down in one of the pews and just closed my eyes, inhaling the familiar scent and allowing my limbs to thaw before going about the business at hand.  I wished I could pray, as there was much I needed to discuss with God, but this wasn’t the time.  I had a job to do, so my personal turmoil would have to wait a little longer, although it was hovering at the back of my mind every moment of the day, the pain of my loss still fresh, slicing through my heart every time I thought of the past few months.
    I opened my eyes and gazed around the church.  I’d done some research before I came, so I knew something about the history of the building.  It’d been built in 1170 and by the mid-fourteenth century was much as it appeared today, at least from the outside.  The church had been restored in 1847, and several key elements had been added since, such as the Jubilee Window which had been installed in 2007 to commemorate the Golden Jubilee of Queen Elizabeth II.  The window was magnificent; a seamless combination of old and new, with the traditional effect of stained glass combined with a somewhat modern, almost abstract depiction of the subject.  Something about it reminded me of the works of Mark Chagall, despite the fact that his work centered mostly on Judaic themes.
    There was one particular feature I especially wanted to see -– the twelfth century carving in the North Transept known as the “Cheshire Cat.”  According to local lore, the carving had been the inspiration for Lewis Carroll’s Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland , so I made my way to the North Transept and stood in front of the strange little gargoyle.  I ran my fingers gingerly over the smiling face, remembering all the times