Sarum - Edward Rutherfurd [318]
He stared at her. Once more, as strongly as ever before, his lust rose like a wave. He was seized with an overpowering urge to take the girl’s face in his hands and kiss her.
“Temptress,” he muttered angrily, “disguised as an angel.” And he rushed out of the cathedral and made his way back to Avonsford, vowing he would never look up from his work again.
In the new year, Osmund began the story of Noah. He was pleased with the little ark he carved, bobbing on the waves, and with the next scene of the drunkenness of Noah. By the month of March he had completed fine scenes of the Tower of Babel, which he made to look like the old castle on the hill at Sarum, two scenes from the life of Abraham, and the splendid carving of the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. He showed them to Robert and the canons and received their delighted approval. Daily he was growing more confident of his techniques.
“Soon,” he hoped, “I shall be able to do those scenes from the Garden of Eden.”
On March 25,1266, a wonderful event took place in Sarum.
For on that day, after twenty-six years of labour and a total expenditure of the stupendous sum of forty-two thousand marks, the main body of the new cathedral was finally completed. It was, without doubt, one of the most perfect examples of early gothic architecture in Europe.
Some eight years before, at a splendid ceremony, the king himself had ridden over from his hunting lodge at Clarendon to see the consecration of the great building. But still there were years of work to do before the interior was finally completed. Now however, every last piece of decorative masonry was finished and painted, the huge leaded windows were all installed, and there was nothing to be added to the long, gracious vista within.
In the late afternoon, a solemn high mass was held at which all the masons with their families and half the town attended. Afterwards, in the market place, there was to be a huge feast.
The sun was already sinking over the river when Osmund led his family to their place in the crowded nave. The church was full. Some two thousand people were gathered in the nave alone. His son was at his side, and the boy’s eyes were wide, for he had never seen such a great concourse of people before.
As the hour approached, the congregation fell silent; the setting sun was now flashing through the great window at the west end, sending huge shafts of light, dappled with the colours of the glass, up the long aisle to the choir screen and the inner sanctum of the choir beyond.
Slowly the light faded. In the half shadow, the huge arches of grey stone loomed silently over the people, and the boy reached up for his father’s hand as he gazed, awestruck, into the cavernous spaces that led towards the distant high altar.
Now junior priests rustled about, lighting candles with their long tapers. There were huge banks of candles, by the pillars in the nave, in the transepts, in the arcaded galleries and clerestory high above, along the line of the choir screen and in the choir beyond. For fully ten minutes they went about their work, and as they did so, and the light outside faded, the interior of the great cathedral was gradually transformed. The thousands of candles first glimmered, then glowed, and now set the whole fabric shining with light. And when Osmund looked up and saw the full effect of what the masons’ work had accomplished his face broke into a smile of joy. For the soaring pillars and the tiers of arches gleamed with light. Red, gold, green and blue – the dazzling colours rose from the floor to the decorated vaults above and the windows shone with the reflection of the candlelight. High in the air, the faces he had carved and others had painted peeped down cheerfully at the folk below.
Little Edward tugged at his hand.
“Is this the feast?” he whispered.
And indeed, the mason thought, the church was, when fully lit, like a vast banqueting