The Splendour Falls by Susanna Kearsley

Author:Susanna Kearsley
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Sourcebooks, Inc.
Published: 2013-10-24T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Two plummets dropt for one to sound the abyss…

Paul pulled the jangling ring of keys from the iron lock and swung the great door reverently, as though he hated to disturb the peaceful atmosphere laced with the songs of unseen birds and the whispering of wind in shadowed alcoves. Above the old baptismal font the bay tree rustled gently, while the wild flowers nodded drowsily along the edges of the empty grass-filled graves. Soft weathered faces watched us from each corner of the architecture, from every ledge and pediment and every vaulted niche, and in the shadowed aisle behind the tall black iron gates the pensive saints gazed through the bars as one stares at a lion in its cage.

It should have been unnerving, having all those eyes upon me, but it wasn’t. Oddly enough, it was reassuring. I felt again that rush of pure contentment, of childlike wonder, and the sense of beauty stabbed so deeply that I had to blink back tears.

“Wow,” said Paul. “It doesn’t lose its impact, does it, second time around?”

I shook my head. “You’ve been here before?”

“Yeah. It was one of the first places we discovered after the château. Simon read about it in a book, I think, and when he found out Christian had a key…” He shrugged, and left it at that, moving past me to the soaring grille of iron.

“And what’s the word for this place, then? Secluded?” I guessed. “Sacred?”

He grinned. “Sanctuary.”

I recalled my own first reaction to the place, and felt an even closer kinship with this quiet young man I’d only met three days ago.

The iron gates swung open, and we stepped into the cloistered aisle with its peeling frescoes and fragile-looking pillars. “Sacred,” Paul informed me, as he shuffled the ring of keys, “is just through here.”

“Just through here” lay beyond the altar, beyond the second iron gate—the gate that Christian hadn’t had the key to yesterday. The tunneled passage in behind looked every bit as uninviting as I remembered, and even when Paul had successfully sprung the lock I hung back, hesitating, peering with a coward’s eyes into the darkness. “I haven’t brought a torch.”

“A flashlight, you mean? That’s OK, I’ve got one.” It was a pocket torch, a small one, hardly any help at all, but he snapped it on and stepped into the passageway ahead of me. “I think the main switch is around here somewhere. Yeah, here we go.” A flood of brilliant yellow light dissolved the lurking shadows.

I blinked, surprised. “Electric light?”

“Sure. This place is kind of a museum, you know. They do take tourists through, during the summer, and I guess they don’t want people stumbling around. Here, watch your step.” He guided me over the uneven threshold. The passageway was filled on either side with artifacts and curious equipment, neatly laid out on display. Ancient tools for farming and for wine-making shared equal space with emblems of religion and broken statuary, the whole effect being one of wondrous variety. “This is where the hermit lived, originally,” said Paul.

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