Secret Song (Medieval Song 4)

Hoc enim sentite in vobis, quod et in Christo Jesu: Qui cum in forma Dei esset, non rapinam arbitratus est esse se aequalem Deo: sed semetipsum . . .

The words continued to flow from his mouth through her mind: “. . . Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus: who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God: but emptied himself . . .”

Father Corinthian paused, oddly, then resumed, his voice lower, his pace quickened.

Neque auribus neque oculie satis consto . . .

Daria’s head whipped up and she stared at him. His look was limpid, his hands raised, even as he repeated yet again:

Neque auribus neque oculie satis consto . . .

No, it wasn’t possible, yet she hadn’t mistaken his words. Her lips parted and she stared at him, even as he said again, in Latin, “I am losing my eyesight and getting deaf.”

Hostis in cervicibus alicuinus est . . .

She whispered the words in English, “The foe is at our heels.”

Nihil tibi a me postulanti recusabo . . . Optate mihi contingunt . . . Quid de me fiet? . . . Naves ex porta solvunt . . . Nostri circiter centum ceciderunt . . . Dulce lignanum, dulces clavos, dulcia ferens pondera: quae sola fuisti digna sustinere regem caelorum, et Domininum. Alleluia.

“I will refuse you nothing . . . My wishes are being fulfilled . . . What will become of me? . . . The ships sail from the harbor . . . About a hundred of our men fell . . . Sweet wood, sweet nails, bearing a sweet weight: which alone wert worthy to bear the king of heaven and the Lord. Alleluia.”

Daria’s expression was one of astonishment and amazement. She quickly realized that the earl, his head raised in proud arrogance before his God, his eyes closed in exaltation, hadn’t realized that his new priest, his learned and erudite Benedictine, had been having a fine time mixing the Mass with a layman’s Latin. But he hadn’t done it in the manner of the last priest. No, this man was educated, and he had the ability to juggle and to substitute, but . . .

The remainder of the Mass went quickly, and the priest seemed to have gathered his memory together, for he made no more references to foes or cut-off heads.

He blessed the earl and Daria, saying, his arms raised, “Dominus vobiscum,” and the earl replied by rote to the priest’s exhortation of the Lord be with you with “Et cum spiritu tuo.”

Father Corinthian looked at Daria expectantly, and she said softly, “Capilli horrent.”

Roland nearly lost his ale and bread and his bland expression, so taken aback was he. There was no expression on her face as she repeated, not the expected “Et cum spiritu tuo” but again “Capilli horrent.”

His hair stands on end.

The little twit knew Latin. By all the saints, she was mocking him, she could give him away. He looked appalled, as well he might; then he caught himself as he heard her say clearly, “Bene id tibi vertat.”

He bowed his head, her words buzzing with the Latin Mass in his mind. I wish you all success in the matter.

Roland stepped back and raised his hands. “Deo gratias.” He smiled at the earl, who looked as if God himself had just conferred honors upon him.

“Thank you, Father, thank you. My soul rejoices that you are here.” The earl rubbed his large hands together. “Aye, I feared whilst there was no man of God in my castle, feared for my own soul and the souls of my people.”

He turned to Daria and said, his tone disapproving, “You said something I did not recognize as a response. What was it?”

She didn’t pale; she didn’t change expression. She said, “It was nonsense. I couldn’t remember what to repeat, and thus conjured up the sounds. I am sorry, my lord, Father, it was disrespectful of me.”

The earl’s face grew even more stiff with disapproval. “It is blasphemous to do such a thing. I shall have the good Father Corinthian teach you the proper responses, and you will learn them now. It is shameful not to know them, Daria.”

She bowed her head submissively.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Your uncle was remiss in his responsibilities toward you. You will spend the next hour with Father Corinthian.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The earl nodded once again to Roland and took his leave. They were alone in the dank chapel.

“Who are you?”