And Will’s feet danced lightly, his words like a rosary: “I have a will to be what I am…If I was what I am willed to be…”

He had reached the middle of the labyrinth, and his face was full west, the Great Rose Window straight above him. Eight bright angels watched him from the larger petals of the inner rose, sitting in pairs between an eagle, a winged man, an ox, and a lion. Will was exhilarated. He hadn’t suddenly undergone a religious conversion, but he marveled at the effect of the steps, the light, the sounds inside the great church, and his own psyche, which felt ecstatic. And, more amazing still, he understood something in the message on the sheet, next to his heart, which he hadn’t seen previously. He was Will; his destiny was to uncover the home of the key, and be initiated to its meaning and its treasure. It would happen, without him forcing it any further, quite passively perhaps.

He took six strong steps out of the center, where a plaque bearing Theseus and his vanquished Minotaur had once been pinned upon rivets that were still visible. He swiveled to the left, and caught the unmistakable perfume of roses—like an exotic attar. His feet paced on, and as he came to the 180-degree turn, he thought to see what or who had wafted the fragrance; but it was nothing, no one. He turned again toward the east, and the scent came again, with a sensation of the liquid movement of fabric, but it was a trick of the light and his giddiness, and he was able to complete the labyrinth without a soul interfering.

Almost breathless, he walked straight from the heart of the labyrinth in the nave to the rear of the altar, to the Lady Chapel; and here he lit a large candle—well worth the two and a half euros, he decided. He felt his mother here with him, watching him, and he quietly mouthed: “I am now what I was not then.”

He strode from the cathedral through the north porch, and his feet felt nothing of their contact with the floor, nor was he aware of a shadow slipping from the murky light behind the pillar.

4

THE RAIN EASED, AND FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE LEAVING THE PHYSIC Garden, Lucy slowed her footfall. Her pager beeped again, but the hospital had been a lonelier place than usual this week, and she was not yet willing to terminate her freedom. Besides, she’d done this before—scurried back to her doctors from one part of Chelsea or another only to find there was a false alarm. Twice in this last fortnight, in fact. Perhaps this time would be different—though a part of her almost hoped she might have to wait. Until he was back.