“It’s me,” said a voice.
Sophie was sure of three things: it was not her father. But it was a man’s voice, and a voice she knew she had heard before.
“Who is this?”
“It’s Alberto.”
“Ohhh!”
Sophie was at a loss for words. It was the voice from the Acropolis video that she had recognized.
“Are you all right?”
“Sure.”
“From now on there will be no more letters.”
“But I didn’t send you a frog!”
“We must meet in person. It’s beginning to be urgent, you see.”
“Why?”
“Hilde’s father is closing in on us.”
“Closing in how?”
“On all sides, Sophie. We have to work together now.”
“How...?”
“But you can’t help much before I have told you about the Middle Ages. We ought to cover the Renaissance and the seventeenth century as well. Berkeley is a key figure...”
“Wasn’t he the man in the picture at the major’s cabin?”
“That very same. Maybe the actual struggle will be waged over his philosophy.”
“You make it sound like a war.”
“I would rather call it a battle of wills. We have to attract Hilde’s attention and get her over on our side before her father comes home to Lillesand.”
“I don’t get it at all.”
“Perhaps the philosophers can open your eyes. Meet me at St. Mary’s Church at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. But come alone, my child.”
“So early in the morning?”
The telephone clicked.
“Hello?”
He had hung up! Sophie rushed back to the stove just before the fish soup boiled over.
St. Mary’s Church? That was an old stone church from the Middle Ages. It was only used for concerts and very special ceremonies. And in the summer it was sometimes open to tourists. But surely it wasn’t open in the middle of the night?
When her mother got home, Sophie had put the card from Lebanon with everything else from Alberto and Hilde. After dinner she went over to Joanna’s place.
“We have to make a very special arrangement,” she said as soon as her friend opened the door.
She said no more until Joanna had closed her bedroom door.
“It’s rather problematic,” Sophie went on.
“Spit it out!”
“I’m going to have to tell Mom that I’m staying the night here.”
“Great!”
“But it’s only something I’m saying, you see. I’ve got to go somewhere else.”
“That’s bad. Is it a guy?”
“No, it’s to do with Hilde.”
Joanna whistled softly, and Sophie looked her severely in the eye.
“I’m coming over this evening,” she said, “but at seven o’clock I’ve got to sneak out again. You’ve got to cover for me until I get back.”
“But where are you going? What is it you have to do?”
“Sorry. My lips are sealed.”
Sleepovers were never a problem. On the contrary, almost. Sometimes Sophie got the impression that her mother enjoyed having the house to herself.
“You’ll be home for breakfast, I suppose?” was her mother’s only remark as Sophie left the house.
“If I’m not, you know where I am.”
What on earth made her say that? It was the one weak spot.
Sophie’s visit began like any other sleepover, with talk until late into the night. The only difference was that when they finally settled down to sleep at about two o’clock, Sophie set the alarm clock to a quarter to seven.
Five hours later, Joanna woke briefly as Sophie switched off the buzzer.
“Take care,” she mumbled.
Then Sophie was on her way. St. Mary’s Church lay on the outskirts of the old part of town. It was several miles walk away, but even though she had only slept for a few hours she felt wide awake.
It was almost eight o’clock when she stood at the entrance to the old stone church. Sophie tried the massive door. It was unlocked!
Inside the church it was as deserted and silent as the church was old. A bluish light filtered in through the stained-glass windows revealing a myriad of tiny particles of dust hovering in the air. The dust seemed to gather in thick beams this way and that inside the church. Sophie sat on one of the benches in the center of the nave, staring toward the altar at an old crucifix painted with muted colors.
Some minutes passed. Suddenly the organ began to play. Sophie dared not look around. It sounded like an ancient hymn, probably from the Middle Ages.
There was silence again. Then she heard footsteps approaching from behind her. Should she look around? She chose instead to fix her eyes on the Cross.
The footsteps passed her on their way up the aisle and she saw a figure dressed in a brown monk’s habit. Sophie could have sworn it was a monk right out of the Middle Ages.
She was nervous, but not scared out of her wits. In front of the altar the monk turned in a half-circle and then climbed up into the pulpit. He leaned over the edge, looked down at Sophie, and addressed her in Latin:
“Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto. Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper et in saecula saeculorum. Amen.”
“Talk sense, silly!” Sophie burst out.
Her voice resounded all around the old stone church.
Although she realized that the monk had to be Alberto Knox, she regretted her outburst in this venerable place of worship. But she had been nervous, and when you’re nervous its comforting to break all taboos.
“Shhh!” Alberto held up one hand as priests do when they want the congregation to be seated.
“Middle Ages began at four,” he said.
“Middle Ages began at four?” asked Sophie, feeling stupid but no longer nervous.
“About four o’clock, yes. And then it was five and six and seven. But it was as if time stood still. And it got to be eight and nine and ten. But it was still the Middle Ages, you see. Time to get up to a new day, you may think. Yes, I see what you mean. But it is still Sunday, one long endless row of Sundays. And it got to be eleven and twelve and thirteen. This was the period we call the High Gothic, when the great cathedrals of Europe were built. And then, some time around fourteen hours, at two in the afternoon, a cock crowed—and the Middle Ages began to ebb away.”
“So the Middle Ages lasted for ten hours then,” said Sophie. Alberto thrust his head forward out of the brown monk’s cowl and surveyed his congregation, which consisted of a fourteen-year-old girl.
“If each hour was a hundred years, yes. We can pretend that Jesus was born at midnight. Paul began his missionary journeys just before half past one in the morning and died in Rome a quarter of an hour later. Around three in the morning the Christian church was more or less banned, but by A.D. 313 it was an accepted religion in the Roman Empire. That was in the reign of the Emperor Constantine. The holy emperor himself was first baptized on his deathbed many years later. From the year 380 Christianity was the official religion throughout the entire Roman Empire.”
“Didn’t the Roman Empire fall?”
