Beth was incredulous. Somehow his method was working. The whispers reached the doorway and the path was cleared, those who had crammed into the entrance and overflowed it were moving away, beckoning to the rest.
As Beth reached the door she heard a creaking sound louder than any before. The keystone nearest the altar suddenly fell free. After that everything seemed to happen at once.
The springers crumbled with the keystone, falling through the air and landing with an enormous crash. “This way,” Andrew shouted, darting back into the chapel and grabbing hold of people as panic broke out, shoving them out the door. His men were doing the same as more of the ceiling began to collapse around them.
Beth couldn’t believe what was happening. One minute she was listening to the bishop praise her work and the next the chapel ceiling was collapsing in front of her eyes. She waved people away further from the chapel, worried the whole thing would crumble.
She caught sight of Andrew in the middle of it all, stones falling around him. One hit his shoulder. He fell and she gasped but then he was up once more, continuing to guide people out.
She lost sight of him again as a mass of screaming bodies ran past her. There was an ear splitting sound as the last of the ceiling fell in an enormous thud. A plume of dust rose up but all Beth could hear was the ringing in her ears.
Were there still people screaming? She walked forward toward the church, seeing white ghosts emerging, coughing, blood falling from head wounds. “Andrew!” she shouted but even if he answered her ears were ringing too loudly for her to hear it.
Further in she spotted the bishop laid on his front, a stone on top of his back.
She shoved it off him, trying and failing to drag his still form across the rubble strewn floor. A hand appeared next to her, taking hold of the bishop by the shoulders.
She looked. It was Andrew. Blood was flowing freely down his cheek as he pulled the bishop from the chapel.
“I’m so sorry,” Beth muttered as they reached the courtyard. “It’s all my fault.”
Andrew didn’t answer. He was already back inside the chapel, helping his men to move stone, reaching down to free the people still trapped. Beth ran to help.
The next few minutes were a blur of shifting stone and helping one person after another. Only when Andrew was certain that no one was left under the rubble did he finally emerge, sitting on the rushes outside and wiping the blood from his eyes.
Duff MacLeish emerged from the crowd to stand in front of him, arms folded. “If that was a plot to kill me, it didnae work, did it?”
Andrew got to his feet, sounding more tired than angry. “If I was plotting to kill you, do you think I’d be in there at the same time?”
“I’m thinking maybe you got the timing wrong. The bishop wanted to speak to me after the service. Is he in your thrall or was the plan to kill us both?”
“Och, dinnae talk daft.”
“You invite me to the blessing and then the roof collapses. I’m supposed to think what? That it’s a coincidence? I was not born yesterday, laddie.”
“It was her fault,” someone shouted, pointing at Beth. “She said it was finished.”
“Aye, she did,” another voice added.
Beth felt all eyes on her. Even Duff turned to glare. “Well, lassie? What do you have to say for yourself?”
