'And you'll use your gift directly to the greater glory of God. That is to be given a second gift, no less rare if not rarer than the first, and infinitely more precious. Do you believe that God rewards those who glorify Him?'
'Yes, Father,' said Hubert, and meant it.
'And do you then accept to perform His will joyfully and gratefully?'
'Yes, Father.' Hubert meant that too, but would not have cared to affirm that he would still be meaning it the day after.
The Abbot gave Dilke a nod of considerable approval. 'Let us pray,' he said.
The two clerics and the boy knelt down on the scrubbed oak boards: there were no elegances here in the cabinet. All made the Sign of the Cross.
'In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti.'
'Repeat after me, Hubert,' said Dilke. 'Most loving and merciful God, hear Thou the voice of Thy child.'
'Most loving and merciful God, hear Thou the voice of Thy child.'
'Implant Thou in my mind and heart the full meaning of Thy grace...'
After one or two more clauses Hubert's attention had wandered, but not into the void. It was firmly fixed on the thought that he must now after all submit to what was required of him by authority. To have refused to pray would have been terribly difficult, but to have failed to refuse meant that any scheme of defiance would amount to breaking a promise to God, and that was not only dangerous but dishonourable. Well, this way was easier: it meant an end to the search for something he would not recognise if it were put into his hand. And surely God would cherish one who kept faith with Him.
'... sitque tecum benedictio Domini,' said the Abbot.
'Amen,' said Hubert.
'So when is this to be?' asked Decuman.
'A week from this morning.'
'So soon?'
'It must be soon,' said Hubert in a blank tone. 'Father Dilke made that plain. The changes in our bodies begin before we see signs of them, and by then it's too late.'
There was silence in the little dormitory, as there had been more than once after Hubert had made his announcement. It was a still night: the two candle-flames scarcely wavered.
Decuman took his time over stuffing back into his canvas bag the considerable remains of the boys' illicit second supper: the salame and biscottos had been palatable enough, but appetite seemed to have failed. At last Thomas looked over at Hubert.
'Are you content?'
'I change from hour to hour. Sometimes I see myself being acclaimed at Chartres or St Peter's or at our own opera house. And then I think of fifteen or twenty years' time, when all of you will have children and I'll have none. But mostly I can face the prospect.'
'Face it!' Mark sat up straight in his bed. 'You're called to God's service and you're to be a celebrated man besides and you talk of being able to face it. You should be—'
'It's very well for the likes of you,' said Thomas rather fiercely. 'You cackle of God at every turn. If you were the—'
'Quiet, the two of you,' snarled Decuman, shaking his fist. 'Do you want the Prefect in here? This must be conferred on in an orderly fashion, one speaker at a time. So... say, Mark.'
'What more shall I say? Except that even if Hubert were not to be a celebrated man he should still be grateful that God has chosen him.'
Decuman curled up his mouth. 'Wish-wash. The Abbot and Father Dilke have chosen him.'
'The Abbot and Father Dilke are the mortal instruments through whom God has made His will known,' said Mark. 'Do you expect Him to send an angel with a trumpet?'
'If He did, we should at least find out for certain what His will was. As it is, we have to take the word of two men who each stand to gain considerably from bringing forward somebody who'll become a great singer.'
'Gain! How gain?'
'Not in riches, you noodle—in credit, in mark, in fame. They're men like any others.'
'Decuman, I must warn you for the sake of your soul to cease this impious cackle. My lord Abbot and the good and learned Father are not men like any others. They're priests, and one of their powers as such is that they can discover God's will.'
'You mean they've known Him longer than we have.'
'Schismatic!'
'Oh, bugger a badger.'
Thomas broke in. 'Leave God's will and consider Hubert's. I want to ask him—Hubert, can't you stay as you are and continue as singer like one of us?'
'I can, but I should be no more likely to become a great singer than any other clerk in this place.'
'And you mean to become great?'
'Well... good. As good as possible.'
