The Whispering: A Haunted House Mystery(33)

Rifling a second box, he found what appeared to be the basis for an essay – perhaps even a thesis on the Palestrina Choir’s history – which seemed to have been originally drafted in the early 1930s. It looked as if it might be useful, although it was slightly disconcerting to think someone else had trodden the path Michael himself was now treading. Had the unknown writer found and made use of Iskander’s journal? He experienced a pang of the unreasonable, possessive jealousy known to many academics and writers. Iskander’s mine! he thought, then was aware of the absurdity.

The gardens were shrouded in darkness, and Michael drew the curtains, returned to the big table, and continued working. The thesis, which was intelligently and interestingly written, began by describing how in 1899 a community of nuns in Liège had conceived the idea of marking the new century by forming a Choir within their school, and how they had named it for Giovanni Palestrina, the sixteenth-century Italian composer of sacred music.

‘It was to be an integral part of the Convent’s life,’ wrote the unknown essayist. ‘The sisters of Sacré-Coeur had the praiseworthy aim of entering the twentieth century on a strong wave of prayer and goodness, and they saw their long-held tradition of music as a way to do this. This may perhaps be described as idealistic, but it is a good precept in any age.’

Having struck this optimistic note, he – or it might be a she – then turned to the effect the Great War had had on the Choir and its environs.

‘Accounts of 1914 – that troubled, tragic year for Belgium – are fragmentary and not all of them can be relied on. It was an emotional time for the Belgians, but it seems certain that the Convent of Sacré-Coeur, the home of the Palestrina Choir, was badly damaged and some of the nuns were killed in the initial invasion.’

It did not sound as if the writer had read Iskander’s journal, after all. That could mean he or she had found other source material. Michael read on, hoping this would be the case.

‘I was fortunate in finding a letter sent to a Sister Clothilde, the Mother Superior of the Sacré-Coeur Convent,’ the writer explained. ‘It was apparently written a short time after the initial invasion of Liège. By then France had been crushed by the Kaiser’s armies and Belgium was occupied, which makes it remarkable that the letter reached its destination.’

Here he conscientiously added a footnote: ‘This letter, along with other interesting and informative papers, is in a small museum in Liège itself (one of the city’s many museums), and is part of the annals of the city’s tribulations which have been preserved. The text of the letter may have lost a little in my translation, but I hope I have captured the spirit.’ The letter followed:

My very dear Sister in Christ,

Permit me to send you my love and prayers in your time of sorrow and loss – but also to express my heartfelt gratitude to le bon Dieu for your safe deliverance. We, in the Paris House, were shocked and saddened to learn of the violent deaths of two of your novices at the hands of the Kaiser’s armies, and have offered up Masses for them. Father Albert has tentatively suggested we should also offer prayers that the soldiers responsible will feel proper contrition for their actions, but most of us feel this is taking charity a little too far, although we are praying that God will help the Kaiser see the error of his ways. This, however, seems unlikely at the present, for he is a bellicose man, although I dare say many of his weaknesses can be ascribed to his withered arm.

We were horrified, also, to hear of your enforced siege – that you were actually forced to barricade yourselves in the crypt – but we are heartened to know of your courage and resourcefulness. It is certainly a pity you were unable to move the stone sarcophagus containing the Founder’s body to use as a barricade (remembering our redoubtable Founder, she would have repelled all enemies purely with one of her glacial stares), but the blanket chests and oak coffers with Mass vessels seem to have served the purpose well enough and kept the enemy from the gates. It is a pity the young girls of the Choir were forced to listen to the curses and blasphemies of the soldiers as they tried to break through, but no doubt their innocence will protect them from the worst of the profanity, and presumably it would have been in the German language anyway.

God is good in that He had guided you to stock your larders so well – also that you were able to make that frantic journey through the convent to snatch up all the food you could carry from the larders before taking refuge underground. You have my sympathies in the privations you endured during those days. Living off oaten cakes and lentils for so long is not something one would wish to do, even in Lent. But your sojourn in that particular Wilderness will have strengthened you all spiritually (even if it wrought havoc digestively). As to the sanitary arrangements you made, I shall preserve a mannerly reticence, and only say that Sister Jeanne seems to have created a most ingenious solution. I am sure your gardens will eventually profit.

We were all very interested in the unknown young man who managed to thwart the soldiers and give you opportunity to flee the chapel. I hope that when this terrible time ends – as it must do some day – you will be able to have the statue of the Sacred Heart repaired. The stonemasons’ art is a noble one, although it is a pity that the nose and left foot of the Figure were ground into splinters. But I dare say they can be remodelled, and Jesus is still Jesus, even sans nose and several toes.

I regard that unknown young man in the guise of a messenger – a latter-day St George, overthrowing the enemy and preserving the innocence of the maidens. I would be inclined to ascribe the arrival of the small detachment from the Belgian Army at Sacré-Coeur as entirely due to that young man’s endeavours as well. Clearly, he was resourceful as well as brave.