musicians of old

Chapter 824 Public Trial Meeting
"Alright, I've arrived."

Even after disembarking from his carriage, Fan Ning's voice remained gentle as he addressed his subordinates.

The cool morning breeze filled his monk's robe. He looked up and saw that the door was closed. A cold, bluish light seeped out from the cracks, making the several low-level monks who were also waiting anxiously at the door look like faded figures in a mural.

“O God, you are my God; I earnestly seek you. In the parched and weary land, I thirst for you; my soul longs for you.” The faint, continuous sound of a pipe organ and the monks chanting the psalms David composed in the wilderness of Judah.

The monks at the door looked very troubled. Morning prayers were in progress, and they were unsure whether to open the door or not.

"Just go around from the Sacred Relics Chamber." Fan Ning gestured for his men to follow, and they quickly circled around from west to south, pushing open an inconspicuous side door.

The heavy wooden doors closed, blocking out the cool morning light, and the air was filled with the mixed scents of candle wax, aged parchment, and spices.

"I have gazed upon you in the sanctuary, that I may see your power and your glory."

"For your love is better than life, so I will praise you and lift up my hands in your name as long as I live. But those who seek to destroy me will go down to the earth; they will be killed by the sword and eaten by wild dogs."

Amidst the deep, solemn chanting, several assistants held their breath and followed Fan Ning's footsteps, slipping along the cold, shadowy marble pillars into the rear of the central hall.

Turn to the left and slowly ascend the stairs at the bend.

During this time, Fan Ning suddenly saw through the gaps in the stone pillars a figure on the opposite passage in the distance, which was symmetrical to his current position.

His robes were stained with paint, and he was carrying a bucket of water and paintbrushes in one hand and pulling a large tool bag on his back with the other, walking down the steps.

It was Vincent who had rushed back from work.

I don't know what happened, but he suddenly seemed to have aged a lot, and his back was much more hunched.

Vincent seemed to sense Fanning's gaze and turned to look at him.

Fan Ning raised his hand from afar, and suddenly felt his arm was so heavy, as if something was blocking his throat.

From that moment on, the middle-aged painter disappeared from Fan Ning's sight.

He climbed up to the choir floor, which was relatively high up.

They stepped forward and stood still.

First, looking down into the cold, blue morning light, there was a huge diamond-shaped windowpane across the stained glass window, like a cold, giant eye staring back at me.

Dust swirled in the beam of light, dividing the solemn crowd below into blocks of light and shadow. In the front row, bishops and lords sat solemnly on several mahogany chairs, while in the back rows were members of the monastic jury and priests from other monasteries who had come to observe the ceremony.

The rest of the nobles and citizens huddled behind the massive stone pillars, their faces blurred, like a silent, writhing shadow.

Fanning then spotted Bogre, who was positioned relatively far from the crowd, carrying a red tray containing a holy silver dagger, and walking around the arena at an extremely slow pace.

When Pogrey turned to face the pillar where Fanning stood, his steps seemed to pause almost imperceptibly, and his gaze carried a strange, cold warning.

Fan Ning, however, had already looked up a moment earlier, gazing at the mural "The Last Judgment" at a higher elevation.

The little cherub holding the harp on the west side, with the upper part of the raised bow, has been reworked by Vincent overnight, and now it is tinged with a faint golden halo.

It doesn't seem to clearly signify the image of a "torch".

But Fanning sensed that the spiritual meaning contained within had been rewritten, becoming a symbol like a mysterious hub.

"Thank you."

Fan Ning's throat became hoarse, and he spoke softly into the air.

He then forcibly suppressed his distracting thoughts and began to observe the spatial connections above the entire site.

Actually, this church is not an isolated church, nor is the pyre that will be shown later. Hundreds of years ago, the executions were indeed carried out in the open square next to it, but with several renovations and expansions of the monastery, they have been merged together, becoming a unified "giant cloister courtyard".

Alternatively, the square where the pyre was located should now be understood as a "semi-open ancillary space" adjacent to the main building—surrounded by the church building on three sides, with a low platform on the other side, making it convenient for people to gather and watch.

As for the top of the pyre, it is still open to the public, but it is partially covered by the arched ceilings of the surrounding arcades. These coverings are adjustable and are currently closed. The glass panels mounted on them, together with the frescoes on the church dome, form a complex array of spotlights for "ignition".

Fan Ning memorized these details frame by frame, and began to plan her rescue operation route as the sacred music performance entered its second half.

The second part is the performance of the sacred rituals.

"On the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from it."

Mary stood outside the tomb and wept. The angel said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She replied, “Because someone has taken my Lord away, and I do not know where they have put him.”

Before the altar stood a boy, about ten years old, dressed in an oversized white ceremonial robe. His small face was as pale as paper in the bluish-gray light, and his hands, holding the heavy scriptures, trembled incessantly, the parchment pages making a soft rustling sound.

The verses from the Gospel of John were read in a broken, mournful, and suffocating manner. Some of the nobles shifted their positions, and a few suppressed, heavy breaths rose from the crowd in the back rows.

The third part is the Eucharist.

"While they were eating, the Lord took bread, gave thanks, broke it, and gave it to his disciples, saying, 'Take and eat; this is my body.'"

This is the heart of the Mass, the pinnacle of the Lord's presence. Bishop Tucville, who was invited to attend, raised the unleavened bread. The cold blue light shone on the white disc symbolizing the Eucharist, reflecting a somewhat bleak meaning.

“Then he took the cup, gave thanks, and offered it to them, saying, ‘Drink from this, all of you, for this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.’”

The compassionate tone of Bishop Tucville echoed.

The deep red wine was poured into the cups, and the congregation filed forward to receive Holy Communion.

Fan Ning suddenly felt a sense of déjà vu about the scene before him, a déjà vu that went beyond the surface appearance of the scenery and people, and was more fundamentally familiar.

He was imagining a courtyard that housed the finite lives of mortal beings—the myriad secrets above the mist were braided like hair, and the things that drifted in the long river had accumulated to an almost infinite number, so the shadowy shadows cast always intertwined and overlapped in parts, and what he was seeing now was intertwined and overlapped with some of the things that his former "self" had experienced.

why?

What kind of past events does it resemble?

Fanning couldn't help but repeat the prayer after the bishop, as if it were a decree he had issued on some "final" occasion:
“But from now on I will not drink this grape juice again, for it is written: ‘Strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered; and you will all stumble because of me until that day when I drink it new with you in his kingdom.’”

The church light seemed to dim slightly, and the flickering candlelight cast the shadows of the bishop and his attendants on the towering walls.

"Boom!!!"

Suddenly, Fan Ning's thoughts were interrupted by a heavy thud.

The massive doors of the church facing the courtroom were slowly pushed open by two burly monks amidst the grating groans of their hinges!
The opening slowly and steadily widened, and a cold wind carrying damp earth and a faint smell of sulfur began to pour into the church, causing the candlelight to flicker!
The Mass has ended, and the public trial is about to begin!

"Please play Easter music."

"March and Hymn in A minor, composed and directed by Fan Ning, chief transcriber of the Sacred Music Review Board."

Bogle's tone was calm and low, as if he were announcing a program.

As a result, all eyes in the church were focused on the choir floor and on the young people standing there!

The door leading to the pyre was wide open, the gap was widening, and Fan Ning suddenly revealed a mysterious smile, strolling towards the center of the choir.

His hand slowly lifted the closed sheet music from the music stand.