Angels in the Architecture

by Sue Fitzmaurice

  May Allah bless you all your days, beloved Queen.

  Your Sister,

  Asimat

  The letter arrived with the news of the death of its author, and the fall of the Kingdom of Jerusalem to Saladin. Eleanor was surprised that it was the former who consumed her heart and mind the more.

  In her life, battle was battle, very occasionally for its own sake, often by way of projecting one’s lordship, but mostly in either the defense of one’s land or the pursuit of another’s. One’s right of rule was mostly determined by one’s birth and inheritance, but simultaneously by might. Little, if anything, affected any obligation not to rule, excepting as it may be in one’s strategic interests. The idea that one might consider any values or faith of the ordinary people under one’s rule was not only absurd, it was virtually without meaning. And yet Eleanor did consider it. Peace was, without doubt, of value; certainly the cost of war had depleted more than one king’s reserves before now. And the deaths of too many left the countryside without sufficient labour, which only depleted resources further and could give way to unnecessary civil unrest.

  Eleanor grieved the loss of an extraordinary counterpart, this sister queen, and felt it appropriate to her memory that she, her only equal, give a respectful regard to the views she had written from her deathbed. She determined she would discuss them further with her son when he returned from his defeat, since he would surely want to reclaim what was now lost.

  19

  We have inscribed a new memory …

  a memory of love that lays down its life for a friend,

  even a friend whose name it never knew.

  President George W. Bush, 11 December 2001

  Tim knelt in front of Little St Hugh’s shrine, his head resting atop it, staring along the horizontal line of the small black box. It felt soft and warm despite its stoniness. The stone was smooth and glowed a little from its hundreds of years of wear.

  Behind him, his parents, hand in hand, looked at the mason’s practise wall. Alicia touched a fleur-de-lis square with her other hand.

  ‘Some are more worn than others, aren’t they? See this one’s quite defined, quite sharp. Do you think it’s newer maybe?’

  ‘I think it’s different stone. I guess some wear better than others. Or maybe it’s different styles, different tools they used.’

  ‘I can see now why you like being here. It is amazing.’ Alicia smiled at Pete.

  ‘And now you want to leave it all behind.’

  ‘Was that a question?’

  ‘Not sure. It’s quite a change of plans – a major change.’

  A woman’s voice was heard via a sound system in the background. A warm welcome to our visitors to the Cathedral today …

  ‘It’s just an idea. But it’s one that’s seriously stuck in my head right now.’

  ‘Explain it to me again.’

  ‘I’m not sure I can. I just need to change. I want us to change, our life to change. It’s not working for me here. And you know there’s no challenge for me professionally.’

  … we ask for God’s blessings today for those who are sick, for those who may be alone …

  ‘Don’t get me wrong. I’m not against it. In fact I really like the idea. I just think we need to be clear why.’

  ‘It’s a feeling, a strong feeling.’

  ‘I’m good with that.’

  … and if you would like to speak with someone today, then please feel free to approach me …

  They turned back to see their son still snuggled into the black stone box against the other wall.

  ‘C’mon, Timmy.’

  Let us pray, as our Lord has taught us …

  From a long time away, Tim heard metal on metal, and a light dimmed, but not in vain.

  … thy kingdom come, they will be done …

  The couple and their child crossed the Transept to the Nave and paused.

  Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil. For thine is the Kingdom, the Power and the Glory, for ever and ever, Amen.

  The woman at the large pulpit turned and stepped carefully down the spiralling staircase to the floor, holding the wooden rail with one head and lifting her white cassock with the other, enough not to trip on its length. Looking up and around her she saw the couple, smiled and waved.

  ‘Is that one of them?’ Alicia asked.

  ‘That’s Loraine. Let me introduce you.’

  The red-headed chaplain walked over. ‘Pete. Hello! How lovely!’

  ‘Loraine.’ Pete hugged the chaplain briefly and gave her a kiss on the cheek. ‘This is my wife, Alicia.’

  Alicia stepped forward, arm extended. ‘It’s so nice to meet you, Loraine. I’ve heard a lot about you.’

  ‘And I you, my dear. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,’ Loraine beamed. ‘And this must be wee Tim,’ she added looking down at the blond boy clinging lightly to his mother’s leg. ‘I can see you are just as lovely as your father’s described.’

  Alicia and Pete smiled at each other.

  ‘Well, you two look gorgeous, I must say, quite the perfect eighties couple.’

  Alicia smiled with surprise and felt slightly embarrassed.

  ‘Best you both be up to the cottage this week, I think. If I tell Rose I’ve met you, Alicia, and you’re not there, she’ll blame me. Tell me I’m a bolshie cow and must’ve scared you off.’ Loraine laughed. ‘Well, that’s bolshie in itself, isn’t it?’ She laughed some more.

  Pete and Alicia joined in. Tim put his head back and looked up to the ceiling high above, smiling broadly, on the verge of laughter.

  ‘I guess I’d better then,’ replied Alicia, warming to Pete’s friend. ‘Should we be laughing in the Church, though?’ She lowered her voice to a mock whisper.

  ‘God loves laughter, my dear. That’s what I always say.’

  ‘Oh,’ replied Alicia delightedly. ‘Well then …’ She was aware of her own sense of warmth and goodwill to this woman and wondered how relaxed and skilled Loraine must be, to be able to put people at ease so rapidly.

  ‘Pete mentioned you may join the priesthood soon.’

  ‘Oh my, I think that’s a way off yet. I think there’s to be some more talk yet, but it’s possible, it’s possible.’

  ‘It would be a shame not to exercise the option to crash through another glass ceiling, don’t you think?’ Alicia asked.

  ‘I hadn’t thought of it in that way, actually.’ Loraine considered Alicia’s remark.

  ‘Oh, well, I’m sure there are many good reasons other than that one, but I do think when an opportunity comes along to advance society along some critical trajectory like the equality of men and women, then we should grab it with both hands,’ said Alicia, enthusiastically.

  ‘Oh my goodness, how right you are! We’ve tended to think this is about us, which for two people who do rather like to rock the boat just a little, is odd really. Thank you for that, Alicia. You’ve made me consider this from another perspective, one I ought to have given much more thought to.’

  ‘You’re quite welcome. And it is very nice to meet you, Loraine. And I will come along with Pete.’

  ‘Wonderful! I must away. See you soon.’ Loraine gave the couple a broad smile and headed towards the western front of the Cathedral.

  ‘My goodness, so that’s one of your new girlfriends then! How delicious!’ Alicia teased her husband.

  Pete smiled, enjoying once more what he’d come to expect from Loraine and Rose and their unique approach to people.

  Sitting at lunch at the Wig &

  Mitre pub, Tim sat quietly, observing people about him, much to his parents’ great pleasure.

  ‘I’ve been so angry, Pete.’

  Pete sat quietly, looking at Alicia. He put his hand on hers, resting on the table in front of them.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I don’t even know what I’m angry at. You, work, myself, the children, everything.’r />
  ‘It’s okay, hun.’

  ‘It’s not.’

  ‘It is.’

  Their lunch arrived, and all three quietly ate. Tim lifted fries from a bowl and put a few down on the table in front of him, blowing on them gently. When they had cooled, he munched on them calmly and then put a few more chips in front of him, repeating the process.

  ‘We’ll get through this,’ Pete affirmed.

  ‘You’re a good man, Pete.’ Alicia looked him in the eye.

  Pete smiled.

  ‘Tim’s doing well, isn’t he?’ Alicia asked.

  ‘Yep. He’s been smashing.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Alicia continued to look at Pete, who placed his hand on hers again. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you.’

  Pete smiled a bigger smile. ‘Any time, babe.’

  ‘I’ve been a bitch, haven’t I?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Quick answer.’

  ‘Ha ha.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a cow.’

  ‘No need to apologise.’

  ‘Yes, there is. I owe you more than that.’

  ‘You owe Tim and Jillie more than that.’

  ‘Ouch.’

  Pete said nothing.

  ‘Okay, you’re right. Being angry isn’t useful. I know that. I’ve just not had anywhere for it to go.’

  ‘You can’t quarrel with a rose tree just ’cos it can’t sing.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘I dunno. Sounds good though, eh?’

  ‘Yeah, I guess. Are you on something?’ Alicia laughed, more so as not to cry.

  ‘I’m on whatever works.’

  ‘Then that sounds … workable.’

  Pete picked up Alicia’s hand and kissed it.

  ‘Wow, didn’t know you had that in you still.’

  ‘Me neither actually – just seemed the thing to do.’

  They held hands and looked at each other.

  ‘I can’t guarantee I’m going to stop being a bitch any time soon.’

  ‘Whatever. Shut up and eat.’

  ‘Shut up yourself.’

  Tim picked up a chip, blew on it and put it on his mother’s plate, and then repeated the act for his father.

  ‘Chip,’ he said, looking at them in turn. ‘Yum.’

  Alicia’s affair with Gerry Bernstein was short-lived. She knew before it even began that she only needed some respite from her duelling with Pete, as well as from her own self-doubt. It was all mixed together in her head and just needed a brief explosion, to let the pressure off, to go back to normal. She allowed herself a few brief fantasies about some life of endless sunsets and margaritas – all sex and no responsibility. It was all part of what she indulged herself with, but she knew that all of it would end and she would find some new momentum for the full life she had truly chosen, the one she’d chosen with her soul and not the one she imagined with a burnt-out heart and a twitch in her arse..

  She knew before she began that it was a meaningless exertion for the sake of a personal rebellion, to say to herself that she had some freedom, that she was not trapped within the confines of musty colleagues, a science that showed little usefulness, a husband and children who needed her but with whom she could not, presently, feel a sense of herself..

  It ended politely. A strange way to end an affair, but it was significantly courteous. University life proceeded as before, and no one was any the wiser; Alicia and Gerry were barely any the wiser, at least not yet. Alicia had decided not to do much thinking about it. She found some germ of understanding and commitment somewhere in her that she brought into her home and nurtured and was surprised to see how it became a steady force in her. She guarded it carefully, as possibly the only thing that could hold her to her own values, which although abused by her own actions, could remain clearly articulated still on her tongue and a newly resurrected heart. She created her life herself.

  ‘The psychologist discussed the results from Tim’s tests today, y’know, this research project he was enrolled in.’

  ‘Vaguely. What was it again?’

  ‘Partly to do with differentiating the nature of different kids’ talents.’

  ‘Tim’s got talent?’

  ‘Seems so.’

  Pete and Alicia sat beside each other on their porch, each with newspaper and coffee in hand.

  ‘So?’

  ‘He appears to have mathematical ability.’

  Alicia dropped her paper into her lap and looked sideways at Pete.

  ‘Truly. Apparently, he connects numerical concepts in a way that kids his age can’t, at least normally.’

  ‘So what does that mean?’

  ‘Possibly that he has a capability for savantism.’

  ‘You’re kidding.’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘So … what then? Is there some way of developing this?’

  ‘His therapy should focus more on numerical exercises, and language. They’ve done some experiments getting autistic kids to use a keyboard to write about themselves. There are some kids who have managed to communicate in this way. Although they’re kids older than Timmy, but the team wants to give all this stuff a go with him.

  ‘Right. Well, I guess that’s good.’

  ‘Yeah. And I’m going to pray for him too. I think that’s one of the best things we could do.’ Pete raised his paper and scanned the page in front of him.

  ‘Right.’ Alicia looked sideways at Pete again, and then she too raised her paper.

  A moment later, she put it down again.

  ‘You’re serious.’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Right.’

  They went back to sipping their coffee and reading.

  ‘See those two over there with the chessboard? Don’t you think they look like they’ve got an interesting story? I’ve seen them in before.’ Rose sat at a table outside the Magna Carta with Maitland, with her second large coffee.

  Maitland nursed a pot of tea. ‘I’m far more interesting. Listen to this.’

  Rose grinned. ‘Yeeeuus … ?’

  Maitland glared at her momentarily over his glasses and returned to the papers in front of him. ‘I’ve been in the archives, and I’ve found this. It’s a letter from Hugh to the King …’

  ‘Saint Hugh? To Henry?’

  ‘Yes, my dear. Now listen.’

  ‘I’m all ears.’

  ‘“What hath befallen our Church art of graveth fear to Us.” This was apparently after he’d got wind of Jews being hung after the incident surrounding Little St Hugh.’

  ‘He wasn’t Little St Hugh then. That happened later.’

  ‘Yes, I know. But it was never the Jews that did it.’

  ‘No, everyone knows that now.’

  ‘Well, I think that’s deserving of some recognition.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘An interfaith project between the Cathedral and the Jewish community of Lincoln, recognising the prejudice that occurred and the actions taken against the Jews at the time.’

  ‘You’re quite brilliant, Maitland, y’know that?’

  ‘Of course, I am dear.’

  ‘I still reckon those codgers over there are more interesting than you though.’ Rose sipped her coffee and grinned smugly over her cup.

  ‘We’ll ask them then, shall we? See what they know about Bishops and Kings. Not a lot I expect.’

  ‘Betcha …’

  ‘I’m not a betting man.’

  ‘Yeah, you are. Pint a’ Guinness?’

  ‘You’re on.’

  Pete finished restoring his mustang. He had a brief moment of anxiety during the spray painting when he found Tim with both hands well into a pot of paint, large dollops of it through his hair, and clearly in his mouth; how much he’d ingested was anyone’s guess. Pete had come to his rescue at the point where the taste of the paint had gone beyond the curious and obviously was attaining some level of dissatisfaction that provoked a loud bellowing from the small boy. He had all but thrown him in the back
seat of their station wagon and sped into the hospital in Lincoln; despite Tim’s obvious discomfort at the taste of the paint, Pete didn’t think he was going to be in any particular danger. They got to the Emergency Room in time for Tim to volunteer a racing green, projectile vomit. He didn’t like to vomit, and the experience brought on another hour of bellowing; Pete having to reassure the nurses that this was not a response to pain or illness but just that he was disturbed by the loss of control over his body.

  It was a horrendous clean-up job, and Tim had shades of racing green in his hair for weeks after, not to mention that they were all over the interior of the car as well. His teeth and mouth were green for three or four days, and Pete thought better of taking him out anywhere.

  I mean, let’s face it, he’s bloody odd our Tim; don’t need any more bloody stares than we already get, eh?

  For his maiden run in the mustang, Pete waited till Jillie was at school and he strapped Tim’s car seat into the front passenger seat, plopped the roof back, and the two of them spun out of the driveway into the verdant Lincolnshire countryside: Tim laughing away and Pete praying for a cop-free blast.

  20

  The two monks stood side by side within the southern choir aisle of the Cathedral. The older dropped to his knees before the throne-like structure that had been erected over the small tomb.

  It was hardly a whisper we blew his way, and it so swelled my heart that day he understood.

  The younger monk stood still and wept.

  We could not have foreseen …

  How is it that he failed, the older one?

  Did he? I hoped perhaps the presence of the Bishop would come earlier into his life. This might have seemed to have created some order to his purpose, should that have occurred.

  How would this have helped him, when his mother was so strong? Surely she had this influence.

  Yes, but she was lost in her time and her context and could not rise above that.

  But the Bishop …

  He was a powerful figure and knew his responsibility to us. Certainly the boy heard the call, but circumstances were against him. His task was far more difficult.

  But the world was dire for the younger boy and far more complex. We cannot deny the challenge set him, in that time. And yet ultimately, he could prevent a disaster of far greater proportions.