Secret Song by Catherine Coulter Read Free Book Online

they were seated, he began, his voice fluent and low:
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    Nos autem gloriari oportet in cruce Domini nostri Jesu Christi: in quo est salus, vita, et resurrectio nostra: per quem salvati, et liberati sumus.
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    Daria felt the pure sweet tones of the Latin fill her. He spoke beautifully, his voice low and soothing. It was obvious to her that he was learned, unlike many priests, who were illiterate, for he understood what he was saying and gave feeling to the sentiments. As he spoke, she translated his words in her mind.
    â€œ. . . But it behooves us to glory in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ: in whom is our salvation, life, and resurrection: by whom we are saved and delivered . . .”
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    Alleluia, alleluia. Deus misereatur nostri, et benedicat nobis: illuminet vultum suum super nos, et misereatur nostri. Gloria Patri.
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    It was beautiful, the words and his voice, and she couldn’t take her eyes from his face, his beautiful face that wasn’t a man’s face, not really, but the face of God at this moment, his speech God’s speech, the near-hypnotic movement of his hands binding her and making the earl beside her draw in his breath with the moving beauty of it. “—Alleluia, alleluia. May God have mercy on us and bless us: may he cause the light of his countenance to shine upon us, and may he have mercy on us. Glory to the Father.”
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    Hoc enim sentite in vobis, quod et in Christo Jesu: Qui cum in forma Dei esset, non rapinam arbitratus est esse se aequalem Deo: sed semetipsum . . .
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    The words continued to flow from his mouth through her mind: “. . . Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus: who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God: but emptied himself . . .”
    Father Corinthian paused, oddly, then resumed, his voice lower, his pace quickened.
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    Neque auribus neque oculie satis consto . . .
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    Daria’s head whipped up and she stared at him. His look was limpid, his hands raised, even as he repeated yet again:
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    Neque auribus neque oculie satis consto . . .
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    No, it wasn’t possible, yet she hadn’t mistaken his words. Her lips parted and she stared at him, even as he said again, in Latin, “I am losing my eyesight and getting deaf.”
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    Hostis in cervicibus alicuinus est . . .
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    She whispered the words in English, “The foe is at our heels.”
    Nihil tibi a me postulanti recusabo . . . Optate mihi contingunt . . . Quid de me fiet? . . . Naves ex porta solvunt . . . Nostri circiter centum ceciderunt . . . Dulce lignanum, dulces clavos, dulcia ferens pondera: quae sola fuisti digna sustinere regem caelorum, et Domininum. Alleluia.
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    â€œI will refuse you nothing . . . My wishes are being fulfilled . . . What will become of me? . . . The ships sail from the harbor . . . About a hundred of our men fell . . . Sweet wood, sweet nails, bearing a sweet weight: which alone wert worthy to bear the king of heaven and the Lord. Alleluia.”
    Daria’s expression was one of astonishment and amazement. She quickly realized that the earl, his head raised in proud arrogance before his God, his eyes closed in exaltation, hadn’t realized that his new priest, his learned and erudite Benedictine, had been having a fine time mixing the Mass with a layman’s Latin. But he hadn’t done it in the manner of the last priest. No, this man was educated, and he had the ability to juggle and to substitute, but . . .
    The remainder of the Mass went quickly, and the priest seemed to have gathered his memory together, for he made no more references to foes or cut-off heads.
    He blessed the earl and Daria, saying, his arms raised, “Dominus vobiscum,” and the earl replied by rote to the priest’s exhortation of the Lord be with you with “Et cum spiritu tuo.”
    Father Corinthian looked at Daria expectantly, and she said softly, “Capilli