Murder at the Castle Read Online Free PDF Page B

laughter at the back. It didn’t take long to get to the place where we were to catch the boat, and as we had been the last to board the bus, we were first off, and therefore first to board the boat.
    It was an interesting craft. Barely wide enough to seat two plus one across, with a narrow aisle, it had windows on both sides and at the front (the prow, I suppose), with a minute sort of refreshment bar at the back, opposite the door. We were put aboard in what seemed like an odd fashion, with empty seats between passengers, until I realized that a small boat had to be balanced, side to side and front to back. But eventually all had boarded and we took off.
    After a brief announcement about the available refreshments, the man at the microphone left the passengers to get acquainted, and we began to look around. Nigel knew several of the other passengers.
    â€˜Well, not to say
know
, but I recognize them. That chap over there is in the chorus for the
Va, pensiero
. Fine baritone; he’ll make a soloist one day. Those two women near the tea bar are in the
Carmen
chorus, and there’s about a row of Haydn sopranos back there by the door.’
    â€˜Hmm. I’ll expect you all to break into the “Skye Boat Song” any minute now.’
    With a mischievous look Nigel stepped into the aisle and stood up. ‘Good afternoon to you all and especially to my fellow musicians. There are quite a number of us, and though we’ve rehearsed various pieces, there are two I’m sure we all know. In English or Welsh, your choice. First our famous hymn.’ He hummed a few bars of the end, paused a beat and then launched into the great Welsh hymn that I know as ‘Guide Me, O Thou Great Jehovah’.
    The Welsh have a great choral tradition. Their men’s choirs are famous throughout the world, and this particular hymn, written by a Welshman, has become sort of an ‘anthem’ at rugby games. I remember it well from William and Kate’s wedding, and hearing it sung in four-part harmony by those beautiful, well-trained voices, some using the English words and some the Welsh, brought a lump to my throat. Many of the other passengers joined in, but I couldn’t get out a single note.
    Then, after a pause, Nigel sang three notes, and the group began the most famous Welsh song of them all, ‘All Through the Night’.
    That time I had to root in my handbag for tissues.
    When they had finished, Nigel turned back to see the passing scene, and I took a few last sniffs and wiped my eyes. ‘Nigel, that was so lovely! All that gorgeous harmony!’
    â€˜Yes, well, I just wish there were a little more harmony in rehearsals.’
    â€˜They’re not going well? I would have thought musicians of this calibre . . .’
    â€˜Oh, it’s not the music, exactly. That’s going well enough, although there was more enthusiasm shown just now than we’ve had in rehearsal. It’s . . . undercurrents. I don’t know what’s going on, but there’s tension—’
    He was interrupted by our guide. ‘We’ve all enjoyed the music, friends, but now I want to draw your attention to some points of interest.’ He went on to talk amusingly about the canal, the rules of the ‘road’, and some of the passing scene.
    â€˜We’ve enough musicians on board that you’ll be interested in this next house, on your right. It’s been turned into a luxury hotel, and was the favourite place for Luciano Pavarotti to stay when he came to these parts. Pavarotti and his bed, that is. He travelled with his own.’
    â€˜Given his size,’ I whispered to Alan, ‘I’ll bet the innkeepers were delighted. Saved them broken springs.’
    â€˜And now, ladies and gentlemen, we come to the highlight of our trip, the passage over the Pontcysyllte Aqueduct. The aqueduct is one thousand and seven feet long and eleven feet wide, counting the towpath. It