by Chrys Cymri
‘I would’ve taken a deep breath, smiled, and tried to decide what was really bothering them.’ I shrugged. ‘Usually, they’re actually angry at someone else, or God, but they take it out on me.’
‘It’s always harder to be objective with family.’ Gregory tapped a finger against his chin. ‘Has James always been supportive up until that incident?’
I found myself answering with a snort. ‘He’s never been happy about me becoming a priest. He and Alan were both in agreement about that.’
‘So this wasn’t the first time he’s reacted to what you feel you must do as part of your vocation.’
‘Certainly not.’
Gregory reached to the desk behind him and retrieved a Bible. ‘I'm reminded of a story with Jesus and his own family. “Then his mother and his brothers came to him, but they could not reach him because of the crowd. And he was told, ‘Your mother and your brothers are standing outside, wanting to see you.’ But he said to them, ‘My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and do it.’” Our Lord’s own family didn’t always understand him.’
‘They weren’t dependent on him.’
‘Actually, they probably were,’ Gregory said. ‘It’s thought that Joseph died before Jesus began his ministry, so he would have been responsible, as the oldest son, for his mother and siblings. What I suggest, Penny, is that you undertake an Ignatian exercise with this passage. Read it at home, and imagine yourself as one of the characters in the story. Then talk to Jesus afterwards. See what he has to say about his family, and about your own.’
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. ‘I guess.’
‘Any reason why you’d rather not? How are things with you and God at the moment?’
‘How is it with my soul?’ I asked, forcing my voice to sound light and carefree.
‘Yes. How is it with your soul?’ After a long moment of silence, he leaned forward, his blue eyes fixed on mine. ‘God has been somewhat of a disappointment recently?’
‘Funeral of a baby,’ I admitted glumly. ‘A depressed unicorn in my back garden. An argument with Raven.’
‘It’s also winter, and it’s been some time since you’ve had a break.’ The gentleness in his voice made my eyes prickle. ‘Sometimes, I like to remember what Scrooge said to Jacob Marley’s ghost. “You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato. There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!” That reminds me that my spiritual life can be affected by many things, including how much I drink or the weather.’
I took a sip of my coffee. ‘So, you’re going to recommend that I have a holiday?’
‘Yes,’ Gregory said firmly. ‘If you can bear to tear yourself away from Lloegyr.’
Or, I wondered suddenly, could I have a break somewhere in Daear? I felt my spirits lift at the thought. A couple of weeks away from wintry England, maybe on a hot sandy island near singing merpeople. As long as there was a nice hotel. And a bar. It would need to have a good bar.
‘Luke 8: 19-21,’ Gregory reminded me as I left his rectory. ‘I look forward to hearing what the Lord has said to you.’
I nodded dutifully, but I was wondering whether Lloegyr had travel agents. Morey might know, or the next passing rat.
As I headed back home, I switched on the car radio. ‘And here’s an oldie but goodie,’ announced the presenter. And I nearly crashed the car as the tune started, and John Lennon’s voice came through the speakers. ‘“Picture yourself in a boat on a river, with tangerine trees and marmalade skies. Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly, a girl with kaleidoscope eyes.”’
This, I told God balefully, isn’t making me think any better of you. I switched the radio off, and drove home in an angry silence.
<><><><><><>
It was as I poured Communion wine into the chalice that I saw what I was up against. No matter how many times I had spoken to Holly, my churchwarden still insisted on buying a thin red wine for church services. The congregation could cope, they only had a sip each as they knelt at the altar. I was the one who had to finish off the dregs. Bad enough that I had to banish from my mind the knowledge that at least twenty people had added their germs into the cup. The sharp tang of the wine would make emptying the chalice even more difficult.
But all this slid away as I started on the great Prayer of Thanksgiving. As I recounted to the congregation, and to myself, the story of the Last Supper, I found myself reminded that I was pointing to someone greater than me. Someone who had allowed himself to be tortured to death to show humanity that God’s love was more powerful than any evil, even an evil which would condemn an innocent man to death. The humble elements of bread and wine were transformed into something which promised love and life to all of creation.
This thought carried me through the rest of the service, and I even managed to consume the unused wine without a grimace. I changed into my regular clothes in the vestry, and joined the congregation for a welcome cup of coffee. The heating in our ancient church had failed to combat the cold day, and I wrapped my hands around the mug and tried to restore feeling to my fingers.
‘Vicar.’ Janet was at my elbow, her grey hair streaked with purple. ‘That Communion wine. What on earth were we drinking?’
Holly was standing nearby, and I felt that I needed to show loyalty to my churchwarden. ‘That was the blood of our Lord.’
‘Hmph,’ Janet snorted. ‘It’s no wonder he died then, is it?’
I nearly spilled my coffee. Holly spluttered, her face as sour as the wine. Then she said something about Fair Trade and investigating alternative suppliers. I hid a smile and sent a prayer of thanks to heaven.
A warm glow of satisfaction carried me out of the church and to my car. To my surprise, Morey was waiting on the roof. I opened my door, and let him hop from my seat to his own before I slid inside. ‘Didn’t you go to your church this morning?’
‘I went to the early Mass.’
There was a note in his voice which I found hard to interpret. ‘You didn’t like it?’
‘Taryn wants us to go to tonight’s Praise service.’
And for the second time in ten minutes I was fighting to hide a smile. I turned my head to the right, pretending that I was checking my wing mirror as I pointed the car towards home. ‘I thought you’d made certain she was a good Anglo-Catholic.’
‘So did I,’ Morey said glumly. ‘But she seems to have gone off incense and bells.’
‘What happened?’
‘The Holy Spirit happened.’
I pulled the car over and glanced at Morey. ‘She hasn’t, has she?’
‘Yes.’ He sighed heavily. ‘She’s been given the gift of speaking in tongues.’
For a moment I pondered what this could mean for their relationship. ‘There are Charismatic Catholics, you know.’
‘There are?’ He brightened. ‘Do you know any?’
‘I’m certain I could find out for you.’ A small part of me wanted to laugh, but I also knew that spiritual differences could tear a couple apart. And I didn’t want that for Morey. ‘I’ll do some Google searches after lunch.’
‘Just make sure they have decent hymns,’ he grumbled. ‘You should hear the one she’s been singing. “Jesus, oh I will love you forever, love you forever. Through all darkness and storm, I will love you forever, I will love you forever. Wherever you lead me, through joy and through sorrow, I will love you forever.”’
I winced in sympathy. Even in Morey’s fine singing voice, the hymn sounded more like a pop song than worship. ‘I’ll dig you out a copy of Hymns Ancient and Modern.’
The light on my answering machine was blinking as I came in through the door. I wondered if it would be yet another person wondering why I wasn’t available on a Sunday morning. Lunch before or after pressing the button to play the message? I decided to listen first, then go to the kitchen.
‘Penny, Bishop Nigel. Bishop Aeron and I will be coming to your house at
three today. We will expect to see you and Morey. Perhaps the garage can be ready, preferably with some heating.’
Morey was perched on the bookshelf, his back arched in alarm. Suddenly I had lost my appetite. ‘This isn’t good, is it?’ I asked him.
‘Not very.’
‘Battle dress?’
‘Battle dress,’ he agreed.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I found it hard to focus on anything as the clock slowly ticked away. Clyde reacted to the tension in the house by pressing his shell against my hand as I did some online research for Morey. For once I was glad that James was not at home. His low opinion of church hierarchy would not have been a help. At two o’clock I changed into my best jacket, and then took a couple of stomach tablets.
Morey came down with his blue Elder’s harness, and I helped him put it on. At one point I trapped part of his skin under a buckle, and he snapped at me. I rapped his beak with my thumb, and we glared at each other for a moment. Then I took a deep breath. ‘We need to be in this together, Morey.’
His feathers smoothed. ‘Agreed.’
I glanced at the kitchen clock. ‘“This is it. The darkest day. The blackest hour. Chin up, shoulders back. Let’s see what we’re made of, you and I.’”
‘She can’t remember the Ten Commandments,’ Morey grumbled, ‘but she can quote the Twelfth Doctor without a stutter.’
‘Morey…’
‘Chin up, shoulders back.’ And he rubbed his head against my hand.
Bishop Aeron arrived first. The dragon touched down onto the front drive ten minutes early. I opened the garage door and ushered her inside. She declined my offer of a bucket of tea and took a seat, rearranging her purple cowl around her neck. Morey and I had a hurried whispered conversation in the kitchen, as we argued over who should keep her company until Bishop Nigel arrived. He insisted that I was the host, as it was my vicarage, but I was adamant that she was his bishop, not mine.
Fortunately, Bishop Nigel arrived before we could descend into name calling. I put on my best smile as I brought him into the house. He too declined the offer of a drink, and I showed him through the connecting door to the garage. ‘Could you give us a moment alone?’ he asked me. And then he closed the door.
‘It’s a meeting without coffee,’ I fretted to Morey.
‘But you offered them tea?’
‘It’s British military slang,’ I explained. ‘We’re going to have a dressing down.’
‘Of course we are,’ Morey said crossly. ‘But we knew that already.’
The door creaked open. ‘Come in,’ Bishop Aeron called.
I tugged my jacket into place. Morey gave his wings a quick preen. He jumped up onto my shoulder, and together we stepped into a chilly atmosphere.
Bishop Nigel stood on Bishop Aeron’s left. His purple shirt and her orange-red scales were bright contrasts to the grim set of his lips and the wrinkles around her snout. Morey’s claws tightened, pressing sharp points through fabric to my skin.
There were folding chairs nearby, but I decided not to suggest that we use them. I took my place in front of the two bishops. Despite my determination to be strong, I found the habits of a lifetime cutting in. ‘Are you sure I can’t offer you anything?’
‘We’re not here for social reasons,’ Bishop Aeron said sharply. ‘Father Penny, Elder Trahaearneifion, we understand that you two addressed the board of Wiseman Agricultural?’
Morey said nothing. So I ventured an answer. ‘Last week, yes.’
‘Why, pray tell?’
‘Mr Wiseman knew about Lloegyr,’ I said quickly. ‘One of his employees had been there, and she had photos on her phone. We decided we needed to make sure that no one would believe them. To keep the unicorns’ lands safe.’
The overhead light didn't seem to reach Bishop Nigel’s brown eyes. ‘You decided? You two, on your own?’
‘I was the one who said Susie would keep quiet,’ I said. ‘It was up to me to sort things out when she talked anyway.’
‘Was it?’ Bishop Aeron asked.
Claws were pressing into my skin. ‘It was all my own idea,’ I continued. ‘Morey simply agreed to go along with my plan.’
‘No.’ The gryphon was a solid warmth against my ear. ‘I supported Penny. And I still support her. You don’t understand--’
‘We might have understood,’ Bishop Aeron cut him off. ‘But neither of you thought to consult us, did you?’
‘But Penny promised the Archdruid--’
The dragon’s eyes narrowed, and thin plumes of smoke rose from her nostrils. ‘Did you ever stop to think that your superiors might already have plans in place to protect Lloegyr? Do you think that this was the first time a human group has thought to exploit our world? There have been many threats to our lands over the centuries. What made you believe that you could handle this better than your own government?’
I could feel Morey trembling, and I wasn’t feeling that courageous myself. A bishop in full rage is bad enough. Adding in jagged teeth and the strong scent of burnt wood made my empty stomach squelch. ‘The government?’ I managed to get out.
‘You met their agent. Jenny Thompson.’
‘She did say that Morey has a good singing voice,’ Bishop Nigel said mildly. His calm tone eased the pressure in my lungs. ‘We knew that Wiseman Agricultural had sent employees to Lloegyr.’
‘You were relying on just Jenny Thompson to stop them?’
The look on my bishop’s face made me thoroughly regret my remark. ‘No. Not just her. As Aeron said, this isn’t the first time our two governments have worked together to counter a threat.’
‘I trust,’ Bishop Aeron said, ‘that in the future you will turn to your Fathers in God about these situations?’
‘I shall consider it part of the canonical obedience which I owe to my bishop,’ Morey promised. I had never heard him sounding so cowed. I wondered how much of his tone was an act.
Bishop Nigel glanced at his draconic counterpart. She dipped her head. ‘Penny, let’s go into the kitchen,’ he said to me. ‘Morey, stay here and talk to Bishop Aeron.’
I could sense that Morey welcomed the split as little as I did. But we obeyed. He flew onto a shelf and turned to face his bishop. I followed mine from the garage and thought longingly of the whisky in the barrel resting on the tiled floor.
Bishop Nigel turned to give me a smile. I braced myself. Now he was going to be nice to me. ‘Have a seat, Penny. How about I get you a cup of tea?’
The seat was welcome. I folded my arms across my chest. The garage had been cold, but my armpits were sticky with sweat. ‘I'm all right, thank you.’
‘Dragons are quite something when fired up,’ he mused. ‘And, of course, there’s history between Aeron and Morey.’
‘Him resigning his priestly orders to marry Seren.’
‘There’s more to it than that.’ The Bishop leaned across the table. ‘But, Penny, Aeron was right. There are ways to deal with such threats to Lloegyr. You didn’t have to take matters into your own hands.’
‘I think a unicorn killed those two people,’ I blurted out.
Bishop Nigel’s face sagged. Suddenly he looked very tired, his skin as grey as his hair. ‘Of course she did.’
I stared at him. ‘Then what’re we doing putting her in a zoo? She needs to stand trial.’
He shook his head. ‘We can’t do that.’
‘But Lloegyr has a justice system--’
‘The nation of Lloegyr is a fragile one.’ This was news to me, and I found myself leaning back in my chair. ‘We’re talking about a country which is making a great leap forward in terms of industry and technology. Their races used to live far apart. Now they’re coming into regular contact with each other, and they’re also finding how hard it is to build functioning cities. The unicorns stand for integrity, honour, trust. They’re seen as peace lovers and peace makers. Take that away, let the country know that unicorns can and will kill another being, and I dread to think what mi
ght happen.’
‘So we lie,’ I said bitterly. James’ accusations were echoing in my head. You tell people what you think they want to hear. Doesn’t matter if it’s the truth or not. You lie!
He sighed. ‘When I was in my first parish, I became pastorally involved with a struggling family. Their eight year old son had advanced cancer, and doctors predicted that he only had weeks to live. But they didn’t want him to know. They wanted him to enjoy what life he had left, rather than worry about dying. So I followed their wishes, of course. They lied to their son, as did I.’
‘This is different,’ I insisted.
‘If only everything were black and white, right and wrong,’ Bishop Nigel mused. ‘I think even the Doctor hesitated to destroy the Daleks on Skaro? Didn’t he ask whether he had the right?
‘Genesis of the Daleks,’ I confirmed.
‘The Doctor knows that the universe consists of many greys. As a wise man, he accepts that.’
‘I thought you didn’t like Doctor Who.’
‘I’ve watched a few episodes lately. I’m trying to better understand you, Penny.’ I had to glance away from his kind eyes. ‘I have to ask myself, is it healthy for you to be involved with Lloegyr?’
That brought my gaze back to him. ‘I know I’ve been in physical danger... But that’s not what you mean.’
The Bishop sighed. ‘This has always been my worry, Penny. I’ve had the Sight all my life. I’ve learned to live with it. People from Lloegyr are just that to me, people. It doesn’t matter to me whether they come with horns or scales or can shift shape. But my fear is that you could lose yourself in their world. Am I right to worry?’
‘I’ll be all right,’ I assured him. ‘I have a life here, you know. Even a boyfriend.’ Raven flashed through my thoughts, and I firmly pushed him to one side. ‘A police officer, Peter Jarvis.’
‘I’m very pleased to hear it.’ Bishop Nigel nodded, obviously coming to a decision. ‘But if you’re going to be our diocese’s representative to Lloegyr, Penny, you really must come to grips with their native language. I want you to knuckle down to your Welsh. I know a local tutor, and I’m going to arrange for him to come to you three times a week.’
