Chapter Six

Therefore my heart is glad, and my glory rejoices; My flesh also will rest in hope.

Psalm 16:9

Silas was sleeping soundly after the doctor had been to change his dressings again when he suddenly woke up. He was used to not sleeping very well. His old companions had been pain, hunger and cold; they did not lend themselves to deep sleep. He could not remember the last time he had slept as deeply as he had in Sennett's flat. Silas was not aware it was a side effect of the pain killers.

He wasn't sure immediately why he had woken up so suddenly and so thoroughly until he saw the light coming in under the door. It wasn't very bright.

He glanced at the small clock on the bedside table. It said 2.30am. What on Earth was Sennett doing awake at this time? Was she sick or could this be a clue to the mystery that she couldn't explain to him?

Silas got out of bed as silent and stealthy as a panther. He was used to stalking others. He was used to sneaking into places he was not supposed to be without being heard or noticed by anybody - except the person he had been sent to murder, of course.

Carefully he turned the door handle without allowing it to make a grating sound. Slowly he eased the door open without making it to creak. He pressed one pale eye to the small crack he had made and looked out.

Sure enough, Sennett was in the lounge with a small lamp on. She had her back to him and was alone. He observed that she was in a long nightgown, her hair hanging on her shoulders. Obviously she had been to bed at some point but had gotten up again. She wasn't going out because she wasn't dressed for it. All this information flashed through Silas' mind in half a second. He was used to assessing situations quickly.

She was walking slowly up and down, almost pacing but without the agitation. Her arms were clasped around her torso and her head was bent. She was speaking but in a soft voice, Silas couldn't quite catch what it was. It didn't sound like a conversation, it actually sounded like a prayer or perhaps a chant.

If Silas had been in a House of Opus Dei or a monastery, he would have assumed that she was praying. It was not unknown for monks and numeraries to pray during the night. This was not a House of Opus Dei or a monastery, however. He couldn't decide what she was doing.

As he opened the door a little more, she turned slightly so that he could see her almost in profile. Her dark brows were furrowed. Her lips moved as her soft voice rose and fell.

"You can come in if you want to Silas," Sennett said suddenly in a clear voice. Immediately she went back to whatever she was saying in her low tones.

Silas jumped. How did she know he was there when she wasn't even facing him? Reluctantly, he gathered his nightgown and went out to join her.

"Are you alright?" he asked hesitantly in his grating tones, "Has someone died?"

"I don't know yet," she said frankly and without missing a beat, went back to her muttering.

Silas was confounded by her reply. He listened carefully. She was definitely praying and she was praying in Latin. He was able to understand it. The prayers were very old ones. He was sure part of it was the Mozarabic Rite. He hadn't even suspected that Sennett knew Latin too. It was a rare language to know amongst the laity.

"What time is it?" she said suddenly in English.

"About 2.30am," he replied, slightly startled by the question.

"Make a note of that," she said with that same authority that he recognized from before, "We need to turn on a news channel."

"Why?" he asked with confusion but she was back to her Latin prayers. Obediently he went to the TV and flicked through channels until he found some news. He left it on with the volume turned down low.

The minutes ticked by as Sennett prayed and Silas translated the Latin to himself until it was around 3am. Suddenly Sennett turned towards the TV and frowned at the screen. She went over and turned up the volume.

"Only half an hour ago, more than 60 people were killed in Israel by a bombing near the West Bank. Initial reports suggest that the group responsible for the bombing were a small terrorist cell based in Karbala," the news reader was saying.

Sennett went slowly over and knelt by the TV and put her hand on the screen as images of the West Bank flickered across it.

"It's always Israel," Sennett said to herself, "Anything that hurts Israel hurts God."

"It happened just around the time you started praying," Silas said glancing at the clock, feeling deeply shocked. He was frightened now. "How did you know something was going to happen?" he asked hoarsely.

"I didn't," Sennett said, "Not the details at any rate. I knew something was happening but I wasn't even sure it would be reported on the news."

"But how? How did you know anything was going to happen?" he demanded, his pale eyes staring at her wildly and looking oddly translucent in the half light.

"How did anyone in the Bible know things were going to happen before they did? How did Jeremiah know Israel's fate? How did Daniel interpret the King's dreams? How did Nathan advise King David? How did Isaiah paint such an accurate picture of Jesus' life so many centuaries before He was born?" Sennett said with the shrug, thereby confusing the issue further for Silas.

Silas examined her silently for a long time as she watched the TV reports. He didn't know what to make of any of it. It was all too strange and too far outside his experience. The idea that God could operate today the way he had in the times of the Early Church deeply excited him. It filled him with hope and expectation – something he couldn't remember ever feeling before in his whole life. On the other hand, it frightened him too. God moving in this way was something beyond his ability to understand, so much bigger than himself, so irrepressible and capricious. Was it true? Could it be true?

"What are you?" he finally asked in his deep voice, his pale brows drawn together.

"You'll have to decide that for yourself," Sennett said, getting up. "I don't have those answers myself. I'm going back to bed."

Silas watched her leave but then stayed awake for a long time, watching the flickering images on the TV screen. He felt pulled apart between the exhilaration of wild hope and the fear of a God who could be too close for comfort.

The next morning he found Sennett dressed for work at the breakfast table again.

"By the way, I forgot to give you these last night," Sennett said and pulled a shopping bag from one of the spare chairs.

She passed him a Good News Bible, a small crucifix on a stand for his bedside table and then a beautiful ebony rosary.

"To help you pray," she said simply. "I figured you might be a bit lost without these."

"Thank you," Silas said quietly, carefully turning them over in his pale hands. He was very touched and deeply grateful. He had been missing these things without even realizing it yet. Reading the Bible and praying the rosary had been a part of his daily routine for a long time. He had missed his old crucifix too, "I don't know how to say thank you for everything you've done," he said honestly in a low voice.

"Just get well. God put you across my path for a purpose, I believe. We're yet to figure out what that is," she said musingly.

Silas frowned. "Do you think so?" he asked, as the thought occurred to him for the first time.

"Don't you think it's all been a little bit too neat for just coincidence?" Sennett asked him seriously.

Silas thought back over the parts of the last three days he could remember. It was not likely that he would have had his needs so well provided for by chance – his medical aid, the hiding place of Sennett's flat, the privacy he had been afforded to recover from the shock. In every way, his needs had been met. He had put it down to Sennett's kindness but what were the chances of him finding such a kind person in the cobbled back streets of Kensington?

"I think God has plans for you, my friend," Sennett said gravely, her dark eyes narrowed slightly as they rested on her unusual looking guest.

Silas looked at her wonderingly. Could she be right? Could God still be looking after him after all that he had done? Was this God's way of showing Silas that He still loved him? Expectation once again ignited in Silas' chest like a burst of warmth. It melted the frozen feeling around his heart. When was the last time he had really felt anticipation about life? He honestly couldn't remember.

"Have a good day. Help yourself to whatever you need. Don't forget your medicine," Sennett called as she headed for the door for work.