A Finer End

must understand that this substitution was no minor thing to the monks — the chant was part of the very fabric of their daily lives.’
    ‘And Edmund witnessed this...’ Jack mused. ‘Maybe it was even more than that... Do you remember when Winnie said that as she listened to Edmund’s description of the monks’ service she felt an immense sense of joy and harmony? She told me later that she had seen a vision, that she’d been in the church and heard them singing...’
    Would wonders never cease? thought Simon. The pragmatic Winifred Catesby was the last person he’d have expected to have a vision. Aloud, he said, ‘She heard them singing... Do you suppose... Could it be the chant that Edmund wants us to restore?’
    ‘It sounds a bit far-fetched. The chants must be well documented—’
    ‘No, wait.’ Something nipped at Simon’s memory. He went to the bookcase and ran his finger along the spines until he found the volume he wanted, but the mere act of touching it triggered his memory and he held the book, unopened. ‘There’s a Celtic tradition that Joseph of Arimathea brought with him to Britain a twelve-part chant that had been secretly passed down through the centuries from pre-Christian temple priests in Egypt. Although no one is certain what they sang at Glastonbury, some sources say it was the one place where this chant was maintained in its purest form by a perpetual choir... What if it was this chant that Thurstan forbade?’
    ‘And the monks would have risked their lives for this?’ Jack’s doubt was evident.
    ‘Perhaps if they thought that the survival of their society depended on it. The word enchantment is derived from ”chant”. The ancients believed that music was the strongest magic, that it kept man in tune with the cosmos and in harmony with one another. Music was almost always the province of the priesthood, and in some cultures, it was considered so powerful that music that deviated from the prescribed rituals was strictly forbidden.
    ‘A twelve-part chant was part of Celtic magic as well,’ Simon continued, ‘and the two traditions may have blended together over time, increasing in significance and importance.’
    Standing, Jack went to warm his hands at the fire. ‘If you’re right, how could we possibly restore something like that? I wouldn’t have the foggiest idea where to begin.’
    ‘There might have been a written record,’ Simon said thoughtfully. ‘That could be where your family comes into it.’
    They had been able to trace Montforts as far back as the thirteenth century, but had not been able to find a link between that Montfort — a Glastonbury wool merchant — and Edmund, twelfth-century monk of the Abbey. When they’d questioned Edmund directly, he’d merely said, ‘Blood helps the link, sometimes... oftentimes it obscures... ’ Over the months, Simon had become aware of distinct personality traits apparent in their otherworldly correspondent, and this was Edmund at his cagiest.
    Jack rocked on his heels, a mannerism that should have been clumsy on so large a man, but was not. ‘Do you seriously think something like that could have survived intact all these years?’
    ‘Abbey deeds were found in a parish church fairly recently.’ Simon made an effort to keep his voice calm. To discover an untouched fragment of the past, hold it in his hands—
    ‘But say we did find this chant, then what would we do? We couldn’t sing it ourselves—’
    ‘Let’s not put the cart before the horse here,’ Simon soothed. ‘We may not even be on the right track. It is interesting, though, that most of us — including your Anglican friend — have a strong interest in church music.’
    ‘Winnie! Bloody hell! I’m supposed to be at the Vicarage for dinner in a quarter of an hour. I completely forgot. And Winnie’s invited the Archdeacon and her husband, and her brother — a peacemaking attempt of sorts — so there’ll be hell to pay if I’m late. I’d better fly.’ With that, he grabbed his coat from the peg by the door, and was gone.
    Simon followed him to the porch and stood for a time, ignoring the cold, gazing up at the patch of starlit sky visible through a gap in the foliage above his garden. Did Jack Montfort have any idea of the significance of what they’d just learned? Or of its inherent possibilities?
    Perhaps, decided Simon, it was just as well he did not. They had gone beyond parlour games now, and it was time to test allegiances. He