by Chrys Cymri
There were a number of churches in Northampton, so I wondered which one they could mean. I pushed my curiosity to one side. ‘Do you go to that church?’ Which would explain why I’d never seen them in mine.
‘We’ve been in there for a wedding,’ the young man said. ‘We like it. It’s really grand.’
‘But if you have no connection with a particular church,’ I explained, ‘then you are meant to have the baptism in your parish church. And that’s Saint Wulfram’s.’
‘But it’s not where we wanted,’ she said. ‘Why can’t we book the church we want?’
‘And then there’s my brother,’ her partner added. ‘We wanted him to be one of the godparents.’
‘He’s not baptised.’ We’d been through this at an earlier meeting. ‘He’s going to be listed as a sponsor.’
‘Godparent,’ he said. ‘That’s what we wanted. Why can’t we have what we wanted?’
I felt the centuries of Church of England tradition pressing down my shoulders. Part of me doubted the insistence that godparents had to have been baptised, as this usually meant that they had been christened as infants and not darkened the doors of any church since. And I would have been quite glad to let them have the service elsewhere. But I took a deep breath and stuck to the party line. ‘I’m sorry, but if you’re seeking the services of the church, those are the rules you have to follow.’
‘That’s why I’m glad we’re getting Alfie christened,’ said the father. ‘So he can be a godparent if he’s asked, later on in life. And maybe by then the church might have changed. You’re forgetting that we’re the customers here.’
‘Yeah, no wonder no one wants to come to your church on a Sunday,’ the woman added. ‘When you put up all these rules. All we wanted was to get Alfie christened in town and to have Rob as a godfather.’
‘And on a Saturday.’ The father picked up the DVD and glanced at the cover. ‘Sunday isn’t really the best day for us. A lot of our friends are driving a long way.’
Something inside of me snapped. ‘A baptism isn’t just an event you book like a hotel or entertainer,’ I told them. ‘This is a sacred moment in the life of your child. He is becoming part of the body of Christ, a child of God. You and the godparents will be making promises to raise him as a Christian.’
The father glowered at me. ‘We’ve already said we’ll bring him every Christmas.’
‘I love Christmas,’ the mother said dreamily. ‘Presents, family, Prosecco, the Doctor Who Christmas special.’
‘Jesus is the reason for the season,’ I found myself saying primly. Then I stood up before I could do any more damage. ‘I’ll see you on Sunday.’
I managed to get into my car before ripping off my dog collar and cursing. Whether I were more annoyed with the couple or myself, I couldn’t say. Then, hands tight on the steering wheel, I pointed my car towards home and whisky.
Chapter Twenty-Five
‘I wish I could go with you,’ Morey said. He was perched on my unmade bed, watching me thread my dog collar into my black clerical shirt. ‘But Taryn insisted.’
‘It’s only a courtesy visit to the Archdruid,’ I reminded him. ‘And I might not even find her today.’
His tail caught against the twisted sheets. ‘Taryn made it clear that we must make this visit to her family.’
‘It’s all right,’ I assured him. ‘Unicorns are totally trustworthy, right?’
‘Of course they are.’ He sighed. ‘Always worth seeing a unicorn.’
‘And avoiding your girlfriend’s family.’ I waved a hand at him, and he flew over to the windowsill so I could make the bed. ‘Big moment for you.’
‘Don’t I know it.’
‘What’s the worst they can do to you, pull out your feathers?’
Feathers and fur rose at the thought. ‘Nothing so simple. Penny, be careful.’
There was an uncertain note in his voice. In any other circumstance, I would have been pleased at this new doubt. ‘I’ll take Clyde again.’
‘Good.’
‘Because he can find thin places.’
Morey’s eyes glittered. ‘No, because he has teeth.’
‘What’s turned you against unicorns?’
‘Nothing has turned me against unicorns,’ Morey said stoutly. ‘But I must admit, I didn’t like the mare’s interpretation of the Ten Commandments.’
The occasion called for my best jacket. But the thin snowfall outside indicated that a thick fleece would be a more sensible option. Lloegyr might be warmer and sunnier than England, but it was also winter over there. I’d probably end up keeping my winter coat on for the entire visit, so what I wore underneath didn't matter much anyway.
Fleece would be warmer. But I found myself pulling on my jacket. I caught Morey watching me as I pulled down on the lapels. ‘Battledress?’ he asked.
‘Battledress,’ I agreed. The Archdruid might not see it, but I’d know that I was properly attired.
Clyde was moving restlessly in his tank as I entered the study. ‘Do you want to come with me?’ I asked him as I removed the lid. ‘I’m going to visit the unicorns.’
‘Unicorns,’ he repeated brightly. Colours pulsed through his body as I lifted him out and held open the top of his new carry case.
‘Look,’ I told him. ‘See this hole here? You can look out now.’
Clyde slid into the case with a happy hum. I closed the top, and his tentacles emerged from the new opening. I felt better knowing that he’d be able see where I was taking him, rather than leaving him stuck in darkness. I’d also lined the sides with fleece, hoping that would keep him warm once we were outside the house.
I couldn’t find any music I wanted to play, so the drive to the thin spot outside Earls Barton was in silence. There was a rattle somewhere at the front of the car, and once again I wondered how much longer I could expect my old Ford to keep going. James might be able to afford a sports car, but my finances were far more limited. And there was no way I was going to ask my brother to help me out.
My breath misted in the morning air as I left the car and trudged across the field. My hiking boots cracked frost-ridden grass, and I shivered despite my warm coat. ‘You okay, Clyde?’ I asked the snail shark, who had pulled his tentacles down into the case. ‘Not too cold?’ I received a trill in response, which I decided sounded cheerful rather than mournful.
I gritted my teeth and pushed through bushes and thin place. To my great disappointment, the land on the other side was not much warmer. Even Lloegyr, it seemed, could be cold in winter. The clouds hanging overhead were darker than those I’d left behind.
No unicorns dotted the grim landscape. I hesitated, wondering whether I should march over to their dwellings. Then I saw a flicker of white near the sacred woods. The Archdruid? I took a deep breath and headed towards the forest.
A squeal from Clyde made me halt just beyond the first tree. I hurriedly pulled back the top. ‘You okay?’
The snail was curled into his shell, only the eyespots showing. ‘Cold.’
‘Yes, it’s cold.’ I touched the fleece lining. ‘Sorry, I thought this would help you.’
‘Cold,’ he insisted, a dark blue colour swirling along what little I could see of his tentacles. ‘Bad cold. Stop.’
‘It should be warmer under the trees,’ I reassured him.
More snail emerged from shell. His jaws opened, and he sang, ‘“Don’t you tread the verge of Jordan, your anxious fears will not subside.”’
I found myself wondering, yet again, who was responsible for his musical education. Was it Morey? ‘We won’t be long, I promise.’
As I had hoped, the frost halted at the forest edge. The ground was firm underfoot. But the wellbeing I’d felt when I’d visited before was missing. I found myself frowning as I trudged deeper into the woods. Although many of the trees were missing their leaves, very little light seemed to reach through the bare branches.
A strangled sound from the carry bag made me halt. ‘Open,’
Clyde demanded. I hesitated, then decided to obey.
The snail shark crawled out, his body nearly black. ‘Are you still cold?’ I asked. Strangely enough, I was suddenly warm, my forehead prickling with sweat. Clyde slithered down my trousers, and up into a nearby tree, taking a perch on a low branch.
‘Father White.’ The Archdruid stood between two trees, her eyes dark in the gloom. ‘Yet again you have come without requesting entry.’
‘My apologies,’ I said quickly. ‘I came to tell you some sad news. The mother of the returned filly--I’m sorry to tell you that she’s dead. My sorrow for your sorrow.’
‘She chose her own fate.’
How did the Archdruid know that? ‘It looks likely that she poisoned herself, yes.’
‘She was no longer unicorn.’
The stark pronouncement made me shiver. I took a deep breath to calm myself. ‘I’ve come to ask, I’m sorry but I have to ask, what would you like us to do with her body? Should we bring her back to you?’
‘Feed her to the dragons.’ Her tail slapped across her hindquarters. ‘No, even they won’t touch her. Leave her for the malwen siarc. Those vermin have no such scruples.’ Her head lowered, the sharp horn pointing at me. ‘And we have other business, you and I. You gave me your guarantee that the woman would not speak of us. Yet she did, and that betrayal could have brought destruction to our lands.’
‘I took care of it,’ I said. ‘Well, not just me. Lloegyr is protected.’
‘You gave your guarantee,’ the Archdruid repeated. ‘You broke your word.’
‘Susie was the one who let us both down.’
‘You stand in her place as guarantor.’
‘I can see that you’re very angry,’ I said calmly, although I could feel a throb in my forehead. ‘I offer my sincerest apologies, Neciaunim.’
The syllables of the unicorn’s name whispered through the trees. The forest seemed to tighten around me. I felt trunk, root, the promise of buds buried within bark. And then I sensed the unicorn standing poised on her hooves, her neck tense with the weight of her duties.
‘Leave.’ Clyde was leaning towards me, his body vibrating as he fought to keep his hold on the branch. ‘Must leave.’
I forced myself to take slow, deep breaths. ‘It won’t happen again. I promise.’
‘But that’s what you always say.’ My head jerked around to find the source of the voice. James was standing in front of a nearby tree, his arms crossed over his t-shirt. ‘You lie and lie, Penny. You’ll say anything to make yourself look better.’
‘But that’s not true,’ I protested. ‘Maybe I shade the truth, but only to help other people.’
‘Were you like this with Alan?’ Now Peter was speaking to me from his place near another trunk. ‘How often did you choose to do something in the parish instead of being with him?’
‘He supported my vocation!’
‘And that’s definitely a lie,’ James declared. His hair was longer now, and a suit jacket covered a crisp white shirt. ‘You two argued lots over you becoming a vicar.’
‘And she isn’t even a very good one.’ Holly was nestled in the roots of an oak, her white dress bright in the gloom. ‘Doesn’t visit anyone. Not since she found out about Lloegyr. We mere humans aren’t that important.’
‘The parish is important to me!’ Then I stared at her. ‘You don’t know about the other part of my role. You’re not really here.’ I lifted my head and glanced at the images of James and Peter. ‘None of them are really here.’
‘Of course they are,’ the Archdruid said. ‘Something always prevented you from seeing them, but that protection has left you.’
‘You’ve never tried to talk to me about Miranda.’ James sounded tearful. ‘I watched her die, Pen. You’ll spend all that time talking to complete strangers who’ve lost people, but not to me about someone I loved.’
‘Sermons off the internet,’ Holly grumbled. ‘Changing the Midnight Mass time without letting the PCC have a word. Upsetting poor Mrs Jones by turning down the gravestone she wanted for her daughter. We’d all be better off if Rosie just took over.’
‘They’re not real.’ My voice sounded weak in my ears. ‘None of this is real.’
‘Not real,’ Clyde asserted. ‘Not real.’
The unicorn lifted her head to look at the snail. ‘How can you see them, falwen? How have you been granted the insight of a unicorn’s horn?’ Then she dropped her gaze back to me. ‘Does it matter that the voices are not real? Surely their words are true?’
‘Not even a full set of the Summa Theologica,’ Morey said mournfully from a nearby branch. ‘Surely any well-read priest should have the Summa on her bookshelves. It’s so difficult working with someone who’s your intellectual inferior.’
‘I wonder if it’s wise to allow her to continue as Vicar General,’ Bishop Nigel said. His grey hair waved in the slight breeze. ‘I need someone who can bring a better balance to the role. I’ll ask my chaplain to sound out a replacement.’
The thought of losing Lloegyr brought tears to my eyes. ‘I can do both. Both the parish and protecting this land.’
‘But you did not protect us,’ the Archdruid reminded me. ‘You broke faith with us. How can we be certain that you will not fail again?’
‘She’ll just lie about it,’ James said. ‘You can’t trust anything she says.’
Was James right? I felt my fingers curl into despairing fists. Certainly I’d never tried to comfort him over the death of the girlfriend I’d never liked in the first place.
And Peter. Would we end up arguing, as I had done with Alan, when I went to visit a church member on my day off? Was a common interest in Doctor Who really enough on which to build a long term relationship?
Maybe I did need to concentrate more on the parish. But the thought of never again crossing through a thin place, to never again converse with a flying rat or ride a dragon, made me feel as if someone had carved out my heart.
‘Another Vicar General,’ Bishop Nigel said ruefully. ‘It’s always sad when a priest fails in a role and has to be replaced.’
‘I can’t live without Lloegyr,’ I found myself whispering. ‘Don’t take it away from me.’
Morey sighed. ‘I would so enjoy conversing someone on my intellectual level.’
‘I’ll miss you,’ Peter said sadly. ‘But there’d be no point seeing each other, would there? We wouldn’t be able to talk about my work anymore.’
‘It’s blood money, but it’s made me rich.’ James shrugged. ‘About time I got a place of my own. I’ll pack when I get home.’
‘Rosie,’ Holly declared. ‘I’ll ask the Bishop to appoint her as priest in charge.’
The cold touch of metal made me glance down. The blade was touching the skin of my left forearm, and I glanced at my right hand, wondering why I was holding the knife so near the blue veins. Then my mouth dried. Was I really on the verge of slitting my wrists? I threw the knife to one side.
‘You resist,’ the unicorn mused. ‘You have always done so. What helps you to resist our glamour?’
I straightened. ‘I’m a Christian.’
‘Will your faith preserve you?’ She twisted her neck, the sharp horn swirling through the air. ‘Is that what your God will do? Save you from yourself?’
Brute force crunched against bark. Branches snapped and parted, and Raven broke past the close-set trees to stand near the Archdruid. He was panting, and I wondered how fast he had flown to answer the call of the exposed blade. But he still found time to lift a foot and nibble a clot of mud from a golden claw. ‘Have I missed anything exciting?’
‘Nothing,’ I said, warmth flooding back into my chest. The images of my accusers were beginning to fade. ‘Just get me out of here.’
‘We shall see whether the dragon can free you,’ the Archdruid snapped.
Raven opened his jaws, exposing his sharp teeth. ‘This should be an interesting fight.’
‘Yes, but not the kind you were expecting.
’
Like some poorly made B-movie, the branches and roots of the nearby trees reached out to Raven. The jerky movements reminded me of the lame special effects of The Mark of the Rani, but this time laughter was far from my mind. The trees wrapped themselves around the dragon’s body, twisting around the triangular spines and down the long legs. Then the branches tightened around his neck, and he froze.
‘Now we wait to see whether you can free her,’ said the Archdruid.
‘How?’ Raven asked. ‘This forest of yours has stopped me.’
‘Only your body is trapped. We have left you the use of your voice.’
‘My voice? Why?’
And those whom I had thought to be my friends were back again. Morey fluffed his feathers. ‘You can’t rely on a dragon. They only look after themselves.’
‘Another lie,’ James told Peter. ‘She’s been two-timing you. Sneaks off with that dragon whenever she gets the chance.’
‘That’s not true!’ I protested, and turned to Raven. ‘Tell him that’s not true.’
‘Tell whom?’
‘Peter.’ I pointed a trembling finger. ‘And James. And tell my bishop that I can do both jobs, I can be a good parish priest and be Vicar General. And I’ll buy a full set of the Summa Theologica as soon as I get home.’
Morey sniffed. ‘You’d only be able to read it in translation. Never learned any Latin, did you?’
Slowly, carefully, Raven lowered his head to meet my eyes. ‘You’re the only human here.’
‘Voices,’ Clyde said from his perch. ‘Voices!’
‘You can’t see them.’ I closed my eyes. ‘But that doesn’t mean they’re not here. They say I’m a failure. As a sister, a girlfriend, and a priest.’
‘There is a way to relieve your pain.’ The unicorn’s soft voice made me open my eyes again. ‘The human male asked for our help, and we gave it to him.’
Another unicorn emerged from the forest to stand next to her. ‘Just ask,’ he said quietly, ‘and my horn will find your heart.’
Raven said harshly, ‘Unicorns aren’t supposed to kill.’
‘It’s not murder if I ask to be killed.’ I swallowed. ‘Is that what happened to Anne? She didn’t ask, and she was killed anyway?’ I looked at the male unicorn. ‘The land turned against her, so won’t it turn against you?’
