From his hiding place behind the curtain of the confessional he had a good view over most of the cathedral. The place was empty, as was normal on an early afternoon. It was harvest time and the town’s people were out in the fields gathering in the corn. The deep silence of the church was filled with a smell of incense and the faint crackle of burning bees wax candles. Most of the side chapel in which he was concealed was in shadow. Just a small patch of the shining wooden floor boards in front of the altar was lit by the light coming from one of the many stained glass windows above, casting brightly coloured patterns that continually moved and transformed. The display was fascinating. He’d never noticed it before despite the fact that he was a regular visitor to the cathedral. The silence was brutally broken by the crash of the main door of the cathedral being opened violently and the sound of hob-nailed boots on the stone floor as a band of armed men entered.