Byrd Song

Short story by Andrew Lee-Hart - 13/6/2014

I am not sure if it was the music of William Byrd that drove Saul mad, or whether he was already mad and just looking for a trigger. In the end it doesn't matter, and anyway, last time I saw him he seemed in a state of ecstasy that few can reach. God knows where he is now.

We worked together in the old central library in Angel Row Nottingham, now demolished and replaced by something more modern and high tech. Outside the city centre where it is cheaper to build things. I had just been appointed music librarian there and Saul worked behind the scenes, restoring things. He was in his thirties I think; always smart and what I think was fashionable; bright shirts, what I imagine were expensive suits. I am certainly no expert but he certainly looked well dressed.

I noticed him on my second day; around lunchtime looking at the music scores, he didn't borrow anything, just took a couple to a table and seemed to be reading them like a book or a newspaper. He was there most days and I was impressed. I can read music myself, am an okay pianist but would not spend my lunch hour reading music. He seemed engrossed, hidden in a corner, occasionally copying things down.

The music library was not that popular; just the odd fusty looking man wanting to borrow a piece of piano music or a busy looking lady popping into the library at lunchtime looking for something appropriate for her choir. The library suited its clientele; being hidden under ground where you had to know it was there to find it, unfortunately amongst those who were unaware of its existence were the cleaners.

At first we did not speak; just a smile from Saul appropriate to a fellow colleague. Eventually we diffidently started chatting a bit, usually as he came in. I was inordinately pleased, as I did rather want a friend. I had just split up with Helen; well she split up with me and in my anguish I had left London for a midlands city I had never even visited and knew very little about. I had not made many friends since making the move; my fellow librarians seemed aloof and were mostly older than me. I had started attending local Amnesty International meetings, but the membership was not that friendly and the group moribund.

I decided to take the initiative; I had noticed that there was a concert of concerti by Mozart at the university so I asked Saul if he wanted to go with me. Despite his fashionable appearance, I got the impression that Saul also did not have many friends and might say yes. Provokingly, he seemed to take his time to agree to go with me, seeming to be weighing it up in some detail. I realise now that the fact that he agreed to go at all was quite a compliment to me as he rather left the Classical period behind in his quest for musical perfection.

He explained that he was really only listening to Tudor music at the moment but Mozart was always "fun" and he hadn't been to a concert in ages. I asked him if he played an instrument; "keyboard instruments mostly, I have got a harpsichord. I will show it you sometime. I got it from the early music shop in Bradford. I play the piano sometimes, but I prefer something a bit more old- fashioned. The piano wasn't really in use when the best composers were around."

Apart from muttering something about there being "too many notes", Saul seemed to enjoy the concert. We had met at the university and had a coffee in the cafeteria beforehand. Surprisingly we did not talk about work at all. I always got the impression with Saul that being a librarian was just a way of earning money rather than a calling. Apparently he never attended any meetings outside work and he was not a member of the Library Association which was unusual for professional library staff.

I really enjoyed the concert; I hadn't been to anything since I left London and I realised how much I missed live music. After a formal handshake Saul and I went our separate ways. I assumed that would be the last of it, but in fact the following week he handed me a flyer advertising a concert of Tudor music by Tallis, Byrd, Tye and Mundy at Southwell Minster, which is a few miles north of Nottingham. Flattered to be asked, I agreed to go with him. Saul drove us up in his car, a rather old fashioned looking vehicle with only two seats.

Saul's excellent sound system serenaded us all the way to Nottingham's rather impressive neighbour. "Christopher Tye" Saul had said as I eased myself into his car, "not great, really. Just a precursor... Oh well it will be good to hear some Tallis and William Byrd". He seemed to be listening to the music rather than concentrating on his driving as we swept up the A10, but we got there without crashing into anything so he must have been more careful than he appeared. He did not seem happy listening to the music in the car; rather as if hearing a tedious conversation which he was rapidly losing interest in.

This expression reappeared during parts of the concert. I had never been to Southwell Minster, nor had I been to this kind of concert previously so I was rapt for the first hour. I had borrowed a CD of music by Thomas Tallis so was prepared for the harmonies and lack of melody, but even so it was quite a difference listening to this kind of music in this beautiful Norman church than in my large flat still full of unopened boxes.

I became aware of Saul's pursed lips shortly before the interval; I was getting thirsty and my attention was beginning to wander, wondering if there would be refreshments. I realised that my companion seemed a bit cross. During the interval he explained that he had enjoyed the William Byrd "divine" but the Tye and Mundy he found "uninspired".

"Some of these lesser composers, it is a matter of luck whether their music survives or not. Could just as easily be somebody else we were listening to... The Tallis should be good and there is some more Byrd…"

We drank our orange juice and returned to our pews.

Saul seemed happier in the second half, appearing to be satisfied with the music. In the car on the way back he played Tallis's Spem in Alium which hadn't featured in the concert. He talked of Tallis and Byrd; their Catholicism and how with them music had reached its absolute pinnacle. "I used to love Bach and baroque music, but it is too flamboyant. I like something more austere now. I feel music rather lost its way after the Tudor period."

I didn't know enough about music to really argue with him, but I rather liked what I had heard of Bach, and was starting to listen to the music of Henry Purcell and did not think they sounded like a decline. I felt that Saul's view of music was of the highest importance to him and that if I expressed any disagreement he was likely to ditch me.

Saul's visits to the music library became more frequent, he was now there almost every lunchtime and sometimes in the evenings after his working day had finished. He was either in the Bs or Ts sections of the sheet music, making more notes and even borrowing things, presumably to photocopy surreptitiously. We continued to talk and even occasionally had a cup of coffee after work, at one of the coffee shops that were just starting to appear in the centre of Nottingham.

I noticed that Purcell's Dido and Aeneas was on in Sheffield and thought of inviting Saul to come along with me but the thought of Saul's disapproving face rather put me off and I asked one of the library assistants called Hannah instead and she proved to be a much more congenial companion, even if her knowledge of music was less than Saul's. I couldn't help occasionally wondering what Saul would have thought of the music as we sat and listened to Purcell's divine music but even images of Saul's disapproving face failed to put me off.

Nonetheless Saul and I continued to go to concerts together. We travelled across the Midlands to Coventry's post war cathedral to hear Spem In Alium and other pieces by Tallis interspersed with music by Benjamin Britten. Then we went to an obscure church in Derby to hear some anthems by Byrd. Saul confirmed that Byrd and Tallis were all he listened to now. He admitted that he had given away all his other CDs away to a local charity shop. I was somewhat annoyed as I would have been happy to take some of them off his hands.

Saul's musical tastes soon became even more limited. We went to hear another concert at Southwell Cathedral; just Tallis and Byrd, so right up Saul's street. But at the interval Saul asked if I minded if we left. "They will only be playing Tallis now, and he is really Byrd's inferior… I can wander round the town if you like, it is a pleasant evening but really Tallis is a bit second rate."

I was annoyed with Saul and insisted on staying for the second half whilst Saul did what he liked. His comments rather spoiled it for me but I would be blowed if I would miss any part of a concert I had paid good money for and had been looking forward to. Saul might know far more about music than I did, but it was just that there was very little of it he actually liked.

That was the last concert Saul and I went with together for a while. There aren't all that many Byrd concerts to go to anyway, and I had starting dating another library assistant, Wendy. As our main activities, at least at first, were confined to the bedroom, I did not miss going to concerts and Wendy's musical taste revolved round the Canadian singer Ferron rather than anything classical. I was aware that once Wendy and my mutual lust had eased we might struggle to find much in common, but carpe diem and all that. Sometimes sex can be more meaningful than music, certainly at the start of a relationship.

Saul and I continued to talk, but it was all becoming a bit desultory; I was being used as a sounding board for his ideas which often gave the impression of being formed as he talked. I still enjoyed our chats, perhaps not taking them as seriously as I used to, as my opinion of Saul changed, seeing him more as an eccentric to be slightly pitied rather than as a friend to be wooed.

I noticed that Saul was dressing more and more smartly. As I mentioned, he was always a fashionable dresser, but even I could tell that he was spending a large amount of money on his clothes, I am not sure where he got the money from as librarians as are not paid extravagantly; perhaps he had inherited money from relatives. Wendy referred to "your friend Saul" as "a bit of a clothes horse". Not that he seemed to have any luck or interest in women. If he liked men he managed to keep it well hidden, and he did not make any attempt to get me into bed. The other young attractive members of the library staff seemed to keep respectably clear of him as if they realised that his mind was on higher things.

"Have you heard Byrd's Mass for Four voices?" he almost jumped me as I walked into the library on Friday morning. I confessed that I hadn't. Actually, I hadn't listened to any Byrd since our concert together at Southwell, although I did not tell him that bit. "You can borrow it then" he said, and from his immaculately turned jacket he handed me a CD in a paper bag. "I've got three copies, this isn't the best, but it is still lovely. Listen to it over the weekend."

I had planned to spend a weekend of sex and passion with Wendy but we split up on Saturday morning after I was disparaging about a friend of hers. Therefore I was able to spend quite a chunk of time listening to it and feeling sorry for myself. There were also some Motets on the CD which I enjoyed, one particularly Sideum Rector which - on the few occasions I hear it - reminds me of that time, and of my first parting with Wendy.

On Monday, he asked me what I thought and I managed to sound - to my ears - reasonably intelligent about it. "They are playing it in London at the Purcell Rooms in a fortnight do you fancy coming?" I had nothing else on so said yes.

We spent the day together in London, by that time Wendy and I had reconciled and I rather regretted having agreed to this trip. In fact, once there, I enjoyed the day; Saul proved to be more expansive than usual and made for an entertaining companion. He was a bit inward looking but funny with it. This was my first visit to London since I'd left but we did not venture out to Highgate where I had rented a room for the last two years. Rather we stuck to the more touristy parts; walking by the river, eating sandwiches in Green Park, looking at Buckingham palace. The concert wasn't bad either, I knew the piece well by this time and to my surprise recognised the other pieces they chose to play. Saul looked in ecstasy. We got back at about two in the morning, Saul speeding down the motorway to Nottingham with Byrd's Mass on repeat.

Now it was just the Mass for Four Voices that he talked about; he endlessly studied it, and then he would talk about it in depth. I am knowledgeable about music, and because of my job was learning more about it all the time but he now completely lost me. It was only then that I began to worry for his sanity; not all the time, but just on occasion when he was talking to me I wondered if all was well. He was just so intense and, after all, it was only music, and one piece of music by a composer who died 370 years ago.

And then I did not see Saul for a few days. I thought he might be on leave but he had not mentioned he would be away. I spoke to one of his colleagues who said he was off sick. I went to see him that night; I had never been to his house before but his manager was happy to give his address. He lived in a small cul-de-sac in the Beeston area of the city. He was in jeans and t-shirt when he answered the door, but exceptionally smart and expensive jeans and t-shirt.

The house looked as neat as Saul was. He led me into a back room where what I gathered was a harpsichord dominated; the walls were guarded by shelves full of sheet music. Saul looked more intense than ever and gaunt. Nothing dramatic, but he definitely gave the air of someone at the end of his tether I thought. He sat down at the keyboard.

"Listen to this. " he said and he played something. It sounded familiar and I realised it was from the Mass. "It is the Kyrie" he told me as he drew to a close. And then he played it again. He seemed entranced. "It is Byrd distilled. We don't need anything else. Just think all the best music in one movement." He played it for a third time." I had heard a harpsichord before; it is difficult not to if you listen to music from the Baroque period, however I had never heard one at such close quarters and with no other instruments. It had a peculiar kind of fragility about it. I rather missed the fuller tones of a piano.

"Are you okay?" I asked him "they are concerned for you at work". In fact they had shown little or no concern for Saul, and I had realised that I was by some distance his closest friend at the library, something I found oddly touching.

"No I am fine" he said, "just fancied a few days off, just want to understand this piece of music, almost there... It is not all of it even, just the end and then the silence…"

I did not know what to say, I was meeting Wendy's brother later to go to see Notts County play so I could not have stayed much longer even if I had wanted to. I fled.

I felt guilty for leaving Saul so hurriedly. Apparently I was his closest friend and clearly he was struggling. Unfortunately, I did not know what to do to help him. I began to visit him regularly; most evenings in fact on my way back from the library, it wasn't too far out of my way home to pop into his house.

Whenever I visited him he was either at the harpsichord, or in his front room playing a CD. Always the same piece of music; the Kyrie from William Byrd's Mass for four voices. Often it was just the last few bars, played over and over again. By then I knew he wasn't coming back - it would be impossible - he was just so engrossed in those few bars of music, nothing else was of any interest to him anymore, perhaps real life had never been that engrossing for him.

I visited him on the last day of April. He didn't answer the door, but the front door was unlocked so I went in, he was awfully thin by then, his clothes were baggy on him and by god he looked pale, like a saint just before his final martyrdom. He was just sitting in his chair eyes uplifted in bliss.

"Can you hear it?" he asked me. "That heavenly music…"

"I can't hear anything Saul" I said, "there is nothing".

"It is the silence at the end of the Kyrie." He continued to listen, and perhaps for a few seconds I could hear something too.

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