he next day Kai told Tom about Edward’s flight from Dublin. When he heard what had happened he was as furious as she was. ‘I know Paul. He’s mean and he’s jealous and I’m sure he is the one who put the statue in Edward’s bundle. Let’s go down to see Joan, and try to make her get a confession out of him.’
They made their way slowly down to Master Giles’s house. Tom, still weak, was very pale by the time they reached the door in the wall.
Joan refused to let them in, but she did creep out to talk to them.
‘I’m sorry, Kai,’ she said. ‘My father has told me to have nothing to do with you.
Kai thought hard. It was going to be difficult to get Joan to help. She didn’t seem to have the kind of courage or energy it would take to get a confession out of anyone.
She said, ‘Joan, you are going to have to find some way of proving that Paul put the statue in Edward’s bundle so he would be blamed for the theft. Talk to him, pretend you think he’s clever or something, and try to get him to admit what he has done. You don’t believe that my brother stole the statue, do you?’
‘No,’ said Joan, ‘Of course not. But what can I do? I can’t force Paul to confess!’
‘You are just going to have to be really nice to him for a while. Trap him into saying too much.’
A look of disgust passed over Joan’s face. ‘But I hate him. He’s so hairy and rough and – and stupid.’
Kai sighed, but Tom said, ‘Stupid is good, Joan, stupid means that he will be easier to fool.’
After they left Joan, Kai looked at Tom and shrugged. They did not have a great deal of confidence in Joan. Neither was sure she would be able to help them.
Tom said, ‘I’m certain that Edward will find your father and all will work out well, Kai. But we must do what we can to help prove he is innocent. Let’s keep an eye on Paul and see if he does anything suspicious.’
So, for the next few days, whenever they got a chance, the children made their way down to the stone yard and the house nearby, where Paul had his lodgings. They found that his life was very boring. When he left the stone yard he went straight to the inn, The Black Fox, where he spent most of the evening drinking. On the third day, they were just preparing to go out for their usual surveillance session when Joan appeared at the priory gate, breathless and red-faced.
‘He told me,’ she said, almost squeaking with excitement. ‘He told me he did it!’
‘What? When?’ Tom and Kai spoke at the same time.
‘When we were alone together in the kitchen. He came in and I think he must have had too much ale – he was lucky my father didn’t see him. And he seemed to want to talk, so then I gave him cider and sat down with him. He was complaining that no one had any respect for him, so I flattered him like you said, Kai. And then he told me that he was cleverer than my father thought, and how he had hidden the statue in Edward’s things. I ran straight out and told my father, but when I came back …’ Joan burst into tears. ‘When I came back Paul denied everything. And the worst part is that my father believed him. He said I was just trying to help Edward. But Paul did it, Kai, he even said he did it.’
Kai looked grim. She thought for a while.
‘So what we need to do is make him confess in front of everyone. Joan, is Paul religious?’
Joan looked puzzled but shook her head. ‘He’s not, not at all, but he is very superstitious. He listens to stories in the ale-house about creatures like the Dolocher and about the dead rising. He hates working anywhere there are tombs. He is afraid of the idea of dead people being near.’
‘Hmm … and is he due to come to work at Christ Church at all?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Joan, ‘but I can find out. What are you going to do? Have you a plan?’
Kai had thought of the voices in Christ Church. If only Paul could hear them! They might frighten him into making a confession. But then something struck her. Perhaps she and Tom and Joan could provide their own ghostly chorus.
‘Let me think for a bit. I think we might be able to make Paul confess if he is as superstitious as you say. It’s worth a try anyway. We could all hide in the cathedral and pretend to be ghosts. It might frighten him into telling the truth.’
Joan looked doubtful. ‘I can’t sneak off any more and disappear. I can hardly believe I was able to get away today without someone stopping me. I’m a girl, remember. I can’t do things that you boys can do. I’m watched all the time and my mother is always looking for me to help her around the house. Anyway, I’d be too frightened to spend ages in the cathedral. It’s so big and dark in there.’
She shivered and then blushed. Kai and Tom were staring at her and neither of them looked impressed by her excuses. Kai was thinking how easy it was for Joan. There she was, with her shiny long hair, wearing a beautiful red dress and a pretty necklace and knowing she could just sit back and let Kai and Tom do all the work. All she had to do was say she was a girl. But then she felt bad. Joan had tried her best. And now Joan added, ‘But if I can’t come to the cathedral at least I’ll find out if Paul is due to work there in the next few days, and let you know what’s happening.’
The children were in luck. The new prior had been concerned for some time that one of the pillars in the crypt – the oldest part of the cathedral – was damaged. There were loose stones in the pillar, and Prior Stephen asked Giles to send a man up to do a repair job. Paul was chosen. He appeared with a large candle and a nervous expression, not at all pleased at having to go down into the dark depths of the crypt. The children followed him. Kai had already set things up by bumping into him on his way into the priory and giving an exaggerated shiver.
‘Oooh, are you going down into the crypt?’ she asked. ‘I’d never go down there, it’s haunted!’
Brother Reynulph, who was with Paul to show him the way, told her sharply not to speak such nonsense, but Kai was happy to see that Paul’s ruddy face had turned slightly green.
Paul had left the door at the top of the stairs open, but the children, creeping in behind, closed it with a bang. They had the pleasure of seeing the candlelight flicker and Paul jump. Then they took their positions behind the pillars and waited. They let him take his tools out of his bag, along with a naggin of whisky which he swallowed quickly before he began to chip at some crumbling stone.
Startled, Paul dropped his chisel.
Kai moaned again. Tom joined in, whispering very softly, ‘Paul, Paul!’
‘Who is there?’ asked Paul, his voice shaking. ‘Who is it? I can’t see you!’
‘Paul, Paul,’ repeated Tom, just about managing to keep the laughter out of his voice. Really, thought Kai, her friend would never make a career out of acting. As Paul strained his eyes to see where the noise was coming from, Kai silently moved up behind him and blew out the candle. Now it was completely dark in the crypt. Paul began to make his way blindly towards the door, his breath ragged with fear. The two children followed him, whispering. ‘Paul, Paul,’ and then Kai began: ‘Confess! Confess! You know you are guilty! Confess or we will cooome for yoooo …’ She let her words end in a moan like the wind’s.
Paul scrambled up the stairway, slipping in his panic and hitting his knee hard on the stone. He cursed. Then he screamed. The children screamed too and clutched each other in the darkness. Out of the shadows something pale came hurtling at the stonemason, shrieking like a banshee. Paul lost his mind with fear and screamed again and again. He made it to the doorway and fumbled frantically with the bolt. It finally opened and he fell out onto the ground, almost crying with relief. In the light coming from the open door, the children could see the shape of something white and fluffy sitting calmly on one of the steps that led down to the crypt. It seemed to be positively grinning at them.
‘Well, at least we know now where Quincunx got to,’ said Tom.
After the trick they had played on Paul, Kai and Tom became closer. But although some part of Kai really wanted to tell him about what had happened to her in the cathedral, she could not force herself to do so. She was afraid he would think she was mad. She remembered how after Roland’s mother’s visit they had all agreed how peculiar she was, listening to voices telling her what to do.
As time went on, Tom guessed she was keeping something from him, and kept teasing her, trying to find out what it was. They sometimes came near to quarrelling. They both missed Jack very badly, and things were not helped by the fact that Roland was at his most obnoxious, for his father was due to come home soon. He was convinced that he was going to be made justiciar, the highest office in the land.
‘Roland is driving me mad,’ Tom complained to Kai. ‘And you, Kai, you are different, you have been different since … since Jack died. What’s going on? Why won’t you tell me? Am I not your friend?’
Kai looked at his hurt face and felt guilty, but if he was not going to be able to hear the voices of the children, how could he believe her? Should she bring him to the cathedral anyway and let him think she was mad? He might even think she was involved in some kind of evil magic. Even though Tom was a friend, settled people almost always believed the worst of those who lived on the roads and survived by their wits.
She said nothing.
‘All right then,’ Tom said. ‘Keep your stupid old secrets.’ Really, he thought, his friend was so stubborn. Kai obviously didn’t trust him and that hurt Tom very much. He walked angrily away.
Kai felt really bad. Maybe she should have told Tom. Maybe, even if he couldn’t hear what she heard, he would have believed her. The problem was, with her, it was always easier to keep a secret than to tell someone what was going on. She had been doing that all her life.
She went back to the cathedral. There was no one else there, so once again she started the song about the Virgin. And again the other voices joined with her and sang with her. And once again when she finished, Jack’s voice spoke to her, ‘I’m really glad you came back.’
‘I’m really glad you did too!’
They laughed, and other voices joined in, laughing.
‘Jack, why can’t I see you?’
‘I don’t know. I can see you, and all the others around me. But I don’t know if seeing is the right word – I just know they are here.’
‘Oh, lots of children. I’ve made good friends with some of them. There’s a boy here you would really like. His name is Finn and he was one of the orphans Laurence O’Toole adopted and gave a home to in the cathedral school. He has great stories about the times he lived in – they had raids and battles and all sorts of things going on then. His best friend is a Danish boy, who was in the cathedral when it was founded, right at the beginning! He was a slave once, and he was brought here by pirates, but he had a wonderful voice so he ended up in the cathedral like us, singing. And there is another boy; he was here the time that Dublin was attacked by Robert Bruce, not so very long ago. The lads have told me everything – about the time there was a fire in Skinner Row that spread to the priory, and everyone had to rush to save the treasures from the cathedral before it burnt down. And how the steeple blew down once, in a storm! That was really frightening.’
‘And they all sang in the cathedral, through all those times, didn’t they?’
‘They kept singing all through the dark times. The cathedral was their shelter. It always protected the people of Dublin, especially children, and the sick and poor and all those who really needed help. There has been a church here for so long, and people have prayed here and sang for so long, it’s as if the feelings they left behind have somehow got into the walls, into the stone. The walls have soaked in all the hope and faith and love and goodness. Does that sound stupid?’
Kai thought for a moment.
‘No, I think I kind of understand. It’s as if the cathedral is like the boat Brother Albert talked about, holding things safe.’
‘Yes, like the boat, but like the sea too, or a part of it. Did you ever hold a shell to your ear? You know that way that you can hear the waves? You can hear it singing, as if it was holding the sound of the whole wide ocean. That’s what the cathedral is like. It holds a little part of the big sea.’