10
Blackfriars. Oxford, England. May 19, 11.17am
Father Ben Costanza knelt in the dim light of Blackfriars chapel, his white head bent in prayer as his fingers counted the wooden rosary beads tied at his waist, although his fingers moved more slowly now that arthritis had sapped his dexterity.
The church was simple for a Catholic place of worship with white stone walls lit in the day by wide windows. There was no stained glass, only clear panels with decorative stonework. Ben watched as motes of dust floated in the light from the windows, streaming down to the altar of russet speckled marble. At night, candles in large silver candlesticks lit the corners of the church. There were wooden choir stalls and hard, straight backed chairs for the congregation, a modest place for a pure faith.
