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I pushed aside the world and thought on the question. Where did I want to go? Where did my path lead, the one I was to follow? I spun my thoughts into a fine thread of music, then wove it into a glittering net that I cast over all the brothers and sister, binding us together. We became golden sunlight that poured down upon a wide, smooth path, one lined with bright flowers. The dark woods stood behind us, and before us was a rounded hill. On its peak stood a great Bardhall, fashioned of white marble and yellow gold, shining brighter than the summer sun. Its doors stood open to welcome me.
Harp in hand, I ran up the hill and through the door – and found myself in the shadow of Songless Castle. On my right I saw the Cathedral, all draped in balck, and on my left I saw the grave of the Bardhall. A single shaft of sunlight fell on my harp, then it widened and spread to the weed-filled lot. Brambles and brush faded away, to be replaced by a Bardhall that shone with its own light. That light spread over the faces of the people, who started to sing. Their songs were taken up by the monks and nuns behind me, and joined by the bells swinging in the church’s tower. The doors to the Cathedral swung open as the black cloth faded.
Everywhere was light and joy.
I blinked, suddenly back on the steps of Saint William’s Monastery. Full night had come, and with it a nasty chill, but no one had moved. I set down the harp for my master.
He stirred, slightly.
"Praise be to God and the Heavens above!" shouted a monk as he threw himself to the ground. "Praise be to Jesus Christ, his only son! I have seen the glory of God eternal; I have drunk from his cup! He has called to me and I respond: I give my life to him forever! Take me, poor sinner that I am, into your glorious embrace – here and now I swear myself eternally to your service!"
I must have played well.
Beside me, Master Iving shook his head. "Pierre, Pierre – have you still not learned moderation?"
Since when did Bards worry about the fate of Monks?
On my other side, Father Alfred smiled. "It is good for a man to give himself so enthusiastically to God."
Provided that he is of the proper birth.
Now the Abbot turned to Master Iving. "You will take Gerard with you in the morning? Before he causes even more of a disturbance?"
"Or furthers the will of the gods?" Master Iving replied. "Of course, I must. The child has unfinished business in the Bardhall."
Peter helped me stand. His face was troubled, and he spoke with a tremor in his voice. "Come. You should not be out so long in this cold."
The abbot gave Peter a sharp look. "Remember what I said."
Peter nodded, and said nothing as he guided me back to the infirmary. Once there, he stayed silent, but after putting me to bed he took off his crucifix and looped it over the chair back. Then he knelt on the hard wooden floor, clasped his hands beneath his chin, and was silent. Twice that night I woke, and he had not moved. But in the morning he was gone.
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