Chapter 113: Ch113 – Cathedral of Light

The carriage rolled out the magnificent gate that led down the hill.

William had already started talking before they’d even cleared the gatehouse—something about the cathedral and how right now was the best time of day to visit it.

The city came up fast. The road levelled out as the outer districts began, the timber here was fresh and darker, signifying they were younger. The streets narrowed as the carriage moved through the gates without trouble. People on the roads stepped aside as the carriage passed, most doing so with a small bow.

William barely noticed them. He was too busy pointing out a building with a green door, it was tilting over, and the timber seemed close to collapsing.

“That building is over three hundred years old,” he said. “My grandfather tried to have it demolished once. The whole street barricaded themselves inside it.”

“Was that a good idea—to keep it around?” James asked, watching the building that seemed close to collapse.

“My grandfather worried the same thing… so did my father, and yet it is still standing…”

The streets widened as they reached the city’s centre, the buildings growing taller and more elaborate.

The carriage stopped at the edge of a wide square.

“Cathedral first,” William said, already opening the door. “We have to get it while the lighting is right!”

Ryan stepped out and looked up.

It rose from the centre of the square in dark stone, the same black timber of the city was also worked into the upper sections alongside the masonry, the spire climbed higher than anything around it.

The entrance was a broad arched doorway with figures carved around the doorway—twelve of them, Ryan counted, arranged in careful hierarchy around the arch. He couldn’t tell which was which, but he guessed they were the ’Twelve’.

“Voices below a whisper inside,” William said, and his tone had already shifted, lower and more deliberate. “Please.”

They filed through the entrance.

The inside stopped Ryan immediately.

The ceiling was vaulted high above, the black timber ribs crossing in patterns that pulled the eye upward and kept it there. But it was not the timber that made him so shocked. It was the light that did it—the light was extraordinary. Stained glass windows ran the length of both walls, each one vast, each one throwing a different colour across the stone floor in long shifting beams as the morning sun moved. The colours moved slowly across the flagstones and the carved walls and the faces of the statues, overlapping at the edges, the whole interior in constant quiet motion.

Twelve statues stood along the nave, six to a side, each beneath its own, massive stained window. The two furthest from the entrance were largest. Each one on either side, positioned where the transepts crossed, and dominating the space around them.

Ryan walked slowly, looking.

The first statue he reached was a woman in armour, composed and severe, an owl perched on her extended arm. In her other arm was a book. The light coming from her window was a soft purple, verging on pink. He crouched to read the plaque at the base.

Minerva. Goddess of wisdom, craft, strategic warfare, and the Psychic Element.

He straightened. He thought he knew that name. He’d known it since school, like with Neptune… Minerva.

He moved on.

Mars was next—another name he recognised—a soldier, he was broad and powerful, a spear in one hand. The window above threw deep red across him, dark and rich, the colour of old, rusted iron. Ryan read the plaque and looked up to William, who had appeared by his shoulder.

“This one’s my favourite,” William said, barely above a whisper.

“Mars?”

“Yes! He’s the strongest.” William said absolute certainty. “Jupiter is the King of the Gods, but Mars is the one you’d want in a fight. Everyone always forgets that.”

Ryan looked at the statue. The deep red light moved across it slowly.

“King of the God’s sounds cooler” Ryan whispered… luckily William didn’t hear.

They moved through the nave—Neptune’s window throwing deep blue across the floor in a wide pool, the statue of him raised a trident into the air. Ceres in warm brown, almost amber. Vulcan in light red and orange, the forge-light quality of it making the shadows around the statue shift like heat. Mercury small and seemingly flexible even in carved stone, the window above him barely tinted, just ordinary light with a grey quality.

Diana’s window was the one that made Ryan pause.

The light it threw was unlike the others. It was a pale black that was somehow still bright. It fell across the statue of her in a way that made her look like she was standing at the edge of the world.

He moved on.

’Juno’s’ window was grey— a middle tone, neither light nor dark, the statue beneath it a tall woman with a composed expression that reminded Ryan, slightly, of Helena.

Jupiter was at the crossing, the largest statue in the cathedral by some margin, the window above him threw deep purple across the transept floor in a broad sweep. The purple was dark enough to be almost black at its edges and bright enough to be almost blue at its centre, the whole spectrum of it moving across the back of the head of the king of gods. Ryan stood under it for a moment and looked up at the face.

He read the plaque, though he didn’t need to.

Then he turned and saw Apollo.

The statue stood directly beside Jupiter, and the window above it gave off a yellow so pure and radiant it looked like the sun had decided to come inside. It fell across the stone floor in a wide beam and climbed the statue from the base up—a young man, a lute in one hand, and a piece of paper in the other.

Ryan walked toward it slowly.

The yellow light reached him before he reached the statue, covering his hands and his coat and warming the air around him.

He stopped at the plaque and read it.

Apollo. God of music, prophecy, and the sun. God of light.

He stood under it for a moment.

“Ryan.” Eleanor, quiet, at his shoulder. “William’s leaving the cathedral, are you going to stay much longer?”

He looked at the statue one more time.

“No, I’m ready to go.”

Then he turned and followed.

Outside, the square was bright, the sound was overwhelming compared to in the cathedral. The guards were where they’d left them, standing easy beside the horses.

“Do you want something to eat, a small treat?” The short teen asked, looking up at each one of them.

The answer was immediate and unanimous enough that William nodded and changed direction to a nearby stall without further discussion.

Ryan noticed the guards exchange a few words before two of the four guards separated from the carriage, and fell in behind their group as they moved to the stall.

The stall William had chosen was run by a small woman with flour on her apron. She brightened considerably when she saw who was coming. The display in front of her held trays of small round balls, deep-fried and coated in a fine green powder. The smell of warm sweet dough reached them before they arrived.

“What are these?” Jared asked.

“Try one first,” William said, as he pointed at the green powdered balls. “Nine of these please.”

The woman immediately began packaging them into a paper bag.

William produced two silver hills and set them on the counter.

The woman looked up at William with a smile and waved her hand. “They are on the house.”

William shook his head.

“Please,” he said. “Take it.”

The woman looked at the coin and then to William. She accepted it with a small bow and handed over the bag.

William distributed them quickly, one each to Ryan, Eleanor, James and Jared. Then he turned and walked back toward the carriage with the remaining five in the bag.

The two guards who stayed with them straightened when they saw him coming.

William reached into the bag and held one of the dough balls to the nearest guard. The man looked at it. Then at William. Then at it again.

“It is for you, a thank you for keeping me safe,” William said with a gracious smile.

The guard took it. The second guard received his with slightly less hesitation. Both of them dipped their heads in thanks.

Then came the awkward business of the visors.

The first guard lifted his with one gauntleted hand, revealing a rose coloured face. He attempted to eat the small round thing with the focused concentration of a man defusing a bomb.

The second managed more smoothly but still required two attempts. Neither of them said anything.

William handed the two of the remaining doughnuts to each of the two guards who had remained back at the carriage, thanking them both for their service.

He turned back to the group eating his own doughball, apparently satisfied.

Ryan bit into his.

The green powder was some kind of herb. It was sweet and sharp. The dough itself was soft and giving. He ate the whole thing in two bites and was immediately aware that one was not enough.

He looked at William, who had finished his in a single bite.

“That was a fantastic snack,” James said.

“They really are!” William said cheerfully.

Behind them, trailing at a distance, the two guards from the stall were talking quietly. Ryan caught their words as he turned to follow William. “He would make a good lord.”

“Yeah, he is just like the eldest son was… may his soul rest in peace.” The other said in turn.

Ryan looked at William, already pointing at something in the distance.

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