musicians of old

Chapter 823 Mass
The crowd erupted into chaos, gathering around Vincent's bedside.

Some of these people quickly ventilated the house, some recklessly tried to help Vincent up, and others suggested pressing on his chest, but the latter two were quickly stopped by Captain Congreve.

The family physician, who was staying at a nearby inn, was the first to be summoned. He took some emergency measures, slightly adjusted Vincent's lying position, and applied some traditional herbal medicine. Finally, several priests arrived, gave Vincent medicine and holy water, performed an anointing ceremony, and conducted an exorcism ritual.
Finally, Vincent was saved.

The poor painter regained consciousness and breathing temporarily, but his face was deathly pale. After the priest and pharmacists left, he still leaned against the edge of the bed, panting.

Congreve felt that it was both a coincidence and a stroke of luck amidst misfortune.

If it weren't for Young Master Fanning's sudden order to deliver the message late at night, who would have noticed that this middle-aged painter had suddenly fallen ill with a heart condition in the middle of the night in the inn? Most likely, they would have only found a corpse lying on the bed the next morning.

However, it was said that this painter, who was employed by the monastery, was usually quite healthy and energetic. How could his health suddenly collapse like this?

No one could understand it.

It's a pity. Perhaps it's better for people to focus on rest and recuperation. Excessive toil day and night, especially at an older age, means that while there may be plenty of energy, it also leads to mental exhaustion. Since he has developed a heart ailment, it's an incurable disease caused by a demon. Even if the priests temporarily exorcise him and give him a breath of fresh air today, he probably won't live much longer.
Vincent leaned back in bed, catching his breath. His dark lips began to move: "I vaguely heard a knocking sound earlier, but I couldn't move or make a sound. Your Excellency, although I don't know why you've come, I still want to thank you for 'breaking in' at such an unexpected time."

“I actually came to deliver a letter.” Congreve suddenly remembered and quickly pulled a letter from the inner pocket of his soft leather armor. “This is from Clerk Fanning, who instructed me to deliver it to you tonight. Uh, speaking of which, I was indeed able to ‘break in’ today because of Clerk Fanning.”

By the dim light of the oil lamp, Vincent saw the short message.

"In 'The Day of Wrath,' could the harp-bearing angel on the west side draw flames on the tip of his bow, turning it into a torch?"

The questions, suggestions, or requests that seemed to come out of nowhere might have puzzled someone else at first glance, but Vincent immediately recalled their discussion a few days ago about "murals, spotlights, and the spirituality of performance."

Tomorrow is Easter Sunday, the day for playing sacred music and public trials. This junior scribe seems to have figured out the key details of the mural and wants to take some action.
Vincent crumpled the letter into a ball, then twisted himself up and sat on the edge of the bed to look for his shoes.

"Mr. Painter? Would you like to rest a bit more?" Congreve was startled by the sight and kindly offered his advice.

"There's not enough time." Vincent gasped for breath, chuckled, and began rummaging on the dirty table. "My life is nearing its end, but some fateful encounters are fleeting. Gathering the tools and mixing the paint will take quite some time."

Thinking that this was probably related to what Fanning had said in his letter, Congreve dared not inquire further and gave the painter a chivalrous salute: "You are the young master's friend. If there is anything we can do to help you, please let us know."

Vincent squatted in the corner, wiped his sweat with his sleeve, put a bundle of paintbrushes in the bucket and stirred them, then waved his hand to indicate that they didn't need them.

The rest of the people had to evacuate the house.

Young Master Fanning's previous task can be considered complete.

But how could this loyal chief guard possibly get a good night's sleep?
It's probably four in the morning now, and another letter to Miss Nessimi is instructing him to deliver it at dawn.

Congreve paced around the courtyard for almost two hours until the first light of dawn appeared in the eastern valley. He then approached the door and handed Fanning's letter and the "research manuscript" to his personal maid.

"It was delivered at night? Why didn't you wake me up immediately?"

Before changing her clothes, Joan took two items from the maid. Her expression was somewhat displeased, and the maid, unaware of the situation, was even more uneasy. Without waiting for the maid's reply, Joan unfolded the letter. "I'm sorry, sister. I apologize for delaying the letter until the middle of the night. It was my intention to ask them to do so."

Upon seeing the first sentence, Joan had a bad feeling. Certain true understandings of Fan Ning's inner thoughts and long-standing premonitions surged up.

"They are all loyal subordinates who always put your will first, but I told them that this arrangement concerns your safety. Don't blame them."

Please do me a favor, sister. Could you take the manuscript of the supplementary research to Guido da Lezzo's posthumous work, *The Discourse on the Obscure*, to the sarcophagus at the Meurtraan Cathedral Theological Seminary? I've calculated the travel time by carriage; it takes about three hours from the monastery, and this time seems to be just right.

Yes, I deliberately wanted to lure you away from here. Because Proverbs 31:8 says, "Speak up for the mute, and vindicate all the lonely," so at the sacred music performance and the trial, I will do some things that I think are necessary. The outcome is unpredictable, and it is not safe for you to stay here.

"Go to the cathedral seminary, sister. I believe my research manuscript has made some unique contribution this time, at least enough to make the Holy Container tremble. That way, the family's reputation will at least be preserved. If I'm lucky, I might even survive here. In that case, I'll apologize to you next time we meet."

The letter ends here.

Following that was a short booklet written in Latin, filled with numerous genealogical examples, star charts, logical and theological symbols, as well as many more discussions and annotations, densely packed and profoundly enigmatic.

Looking at those familiar handwritings, Qiong's lips tightened, and her eyes flashed with rapidly changing light.

She sighed deeply, then suppressed her chaotic emotions, and after considering the pros and cons again, she finally stood up quickly.

"Quickly! Prepare the horses!"

Time passed second by second, the sun continued to rise higher, and the people sleeping in the monastery awoke one after another, preparing to welcome this year's solemn and grand Easter Mass.

More pedestrians and carriages were converging on the monastery from all directions, including Fanning, who was rushing back from his family's residence.

At one point, he lifted the curtain and saw on the opposite hillside, the armor of another group of knights gleaming brightly in the sunlight.

Despite the distance, Fanning could still recognize the emblem on the carriage that resembled a "starry sky pattern".

They were going in the opposite direction, towards a different destination.

Fan Ning seemed lost in thought. He gazed at the carriage for a long time, watching it disappear around the corner before finally pulling the curtain back up.

After an unknown amount of time, the sound of wheels rolling over the gravel road became particularly jarring beneath the high walls of the monastery. The carriage almost broke through the stagnant air of the morning, screeching to a halt beside the tightly closed side door of the church.

Before the carriage had even come to a complete stop, a territorial monk with an anxious expression rushed to the window, his gray linen robe sleeves damp with dew and dust.

"Chief Scribe! Thank God! You've finally arrived!"

This monk was a newcomer to the Sacred Music Review Board this year, and was considered Fan Ning's subordinate. His voice was almost on the verge of tears as he hurriedly and frantically opened the car door.

"Bishop Tuckerville, Bishop Christopher, and the esteemed Lord Mertraun all arrived early; the first morning prayer of the Mass is almost over! The members of the Joint Inquisition asked three times, but Dean Bogrei probably didn't react because he was with the important figures!"