An Unholy Communion

by Donna Fletcher Crow

  Everyone laughed, but later, when Chloe offered to carry the cross after the Station and continued to walk close beside Antony, smiling up at him, Felicity wondered what she might have gotten the group into by taking Chloe under her wing.

  Once off the mountain, their way led along the green hillside following Eglwysilan Road, lined with occasional trees and bushes with white sheep and red cows observing them over the hedges. They had been walking perhaps half an hour when Michael came up the road to meet them. “Thought I’d take the chance to stretch my legs. Lovely evening,” he observed, looking at the shadows beginning to lengthen across the fields.

  Michael went to the back of the group and inserted himself between Antony and Colin. “I settled the others at St Ilan’s— unless they’ve gone across the street to the Rose and Crown already.” He grinned. “Typical Welsh village—church and pub. That’s the lot.” He shrugged. “All you need, really.”

  Felicity was glad to hear they didn’t have far to go, but even a short distance might be too much. She had been feeling distinctly uncomfortable since her second cup of tea on the back of Mynedd Meio. And she had found no conveniently placed bushes. Now the hedgerow offered relief. She stepped off the path and was behind the concealing bushes in a fraction of a second.

  She was just pulling up her trousers when she heard a plaintive voice that could only be Colin: “I told you before, I don’t know. It was a Roman road. Saint Cynedd followed it in the sixth century, but that’s all—”

  The angry growl that cut him off was definitely Michael. “That’s not good enough. I need something more specific.”

  “I could try ringing my tutor after supper. Maybe she’ll—”

  The voices moved on. Felicity adjusted her clothing and rejoined the others as unobtrusively as she could. But what was that all about? Was Michael insisting that Colin help him conduct an archeological dig? Could Michael be trying to steal an ancient artifact? That hardly seemed to make sense, but she couldn’t think of anything that did.

  The ladies of St Ilan’s greeted them with an enormous pot of savory Welsh lamb stew and crusty homemade bread. They ate in the narthex formed by the enormous, windowless tower that gave more the impression of a medieval fortress than a church. The stew with tiny new peas and fresh herbs was gourmet fare, but Felicity could think of little else but climbing into her sleeping bag—in spite of the fact that they would be sleeping on the stone floor of the church tonight. A twinge of leg cramp, however, reminded her that she had woefully neglected her accustomed stretching exercises the past days. One would think all the exercise she’d endured would have been more than enough but, of course, that was the problem. Too much exercise, and not of the proper sort.

  As soon as the meal was over and others had set about folding and stacking the tables, Felicity stepped into the sanctuary and grabbed the back of a pew to serve as a barre and began her plies. “Ballet. I did that in infant school.” Felicity thought Kaylyn meant the remark as a slur, but to her surprise, the girl grabbed the pew with her black-tipped, be-ringed fingers, displaying the butterfly tattoo on her hand, and began the deep knee bends, her feet properly in second position, her back straight. “I loved it, but Ma couldn’t afford to keep up the lessons.”

  Will wonders never cease? Felicity thought as she moved on to a series of frappés with each foot.

  The exercises worked a treat to relax Felicity’s aching muscles. She wasn’t even aware of the stone floor beneath her, or of the activity of the others in the narthex when she crawled into her sleeping bag in the back of the nave, thinking she might not leave it for days.

  She had been asleep for less than an hour, however, when Antony wakened her. Her first thought was joy at seeing his dear face bent over her. She reached out to clasp him around the neck and pull him to her for a very thorough kiss.

  He responded most gratifyingly, but then pulled back. “We have a problem.”

  Felicity sat up and peered into the blackness. In the narthex beyond she made out the forms of sleeping pilgrims. And the empty sleeping bags. “Who’s missing?”

  “Jared, Kaylyn and Evie.”

  Felicity nodded and reached for her shoes. She had been so tired she hadn’t even bothered pulling off her trousers. Just as well.

  Michael, sleeping by the door of the tower, roused when the heavy wood grated on the stone. Antony told him what they were doing. “Want me to come, too?”

  Antony shook his head. “We’ll leave you in charge here.”

  Michael nodded, and they went out into the fresh night. Beyond the churchyard, the white stucco walls of the Rose and Crown glowed in the dark, pools of light from its diamond-patterned windows falling on the road. “No prizes for guessing where they are,” Antony said.

  “What time is it?” Felicity squinted at her watch. “Don’t they have closing times here?”

  “It’s not quite eleven, it will still be open.”

  Evie’s giggle was the first thing Felicity heard when she stepped into the warm, low-ceilinged room. One or two other tables were occupied by late drinkers, sitting in relaxed positions on the dark wooden chairs, or leaning against the high-backed booths along the walls. A small, bald man stood behind the bar to their left, wiping the counter with a cloth. He looked up sharply at the newcomers.

  “We’re closing soon,” he began, but Antony waved a hand.

  “We’re just looking for—ah.”

  At a table in the corner sat their strayed sheep.

  Jared saw them first. “Brilliant. Father, Felicity!” He waved them over with a broad grin. “This is Joe.”

  Felicity looked into piercing blue eyes in a sharp-featured, tanned face sporting a fashionably stubbly beard framed by white-blond hair. “Hiya. Pull up a chair. What’ll ya have? I’m buying.”

  “You followed us!” Felicity snapped her accusation.

  Joe shrugged his slight but well-muscled shoulders. “It was still a free country the last time I checked. They do a good local ale here.” He shifted to make room on the bench. “I’m buying.” Antony ignored the offer, glaring at his charges’ glasses. “They’re underage.”

  “Nah, it’s cola, Father.” Joe spoke quickly.

  “Unusual to serve it in pints.” Antony let it drop. “Let’s get back.” He gestured toward the church. “We’ve got a stiff walk tomorrow. Ten miles.”

  No one moved. “Joe wants to talk to Chloe,” Evie intervened. “He loves her.” Her voice quavered with her determination to bring the star-crossed lovers back together.

  Felicity shook her head. “No way. Chloe’s with us. For sanctuary.” She faced the steely blue eyes. “Chloe doesn’t want to see you.”

  Joe spread out his hands. “It was a misunderstanding. I got my signals wrong.”

  “You certainly did.”

  A flash of anger flared in the paraglider’s eyes. A tightening of his jaw showed the control required to suppress an outburst.

  “We need to be going,” Antony repeated with increased firmness.

  Jared shrugged and rose. “We were just looking around. We didn’t mean any harm, Father.”

  Evie pushed her chair back with a clatter. “I’m so sorry, Joe. I’ll tell Chloe you love her.”

  Kaylyn sat, glaring defiantly at Antony from her kohl-shadowed eyes. She reached languidly for her pint and raised it to her black lips, taking a long swallow. Antony waited. At last she gave an exaggerated yawn. “Oh well, see you later, Joe.”

  Now Antony confronted Joe. “Leave Chloe alone.”

  Felicity could feel the piercing eyes shooting daggers between her shoulder blades as she crossed the room. When she reached the door she couldn’t resist glancing back. Joe’s smirk was more alarming than any spoken threat could have been.

  Chapter 14

  Friday

  Eglwysilan to Llanwonno

  Antony woke early, in spite of the fact that merely the palest slivers of morning sunshine penetrated the air vents that were the only openings in the chur
ch tower. He had been exceedingly thankful for the fortress, feeling it provided protection against Joe’s implied threats last night. Elsewhere, he might not have slept at all. Antony looked into the nave where Chloe had spread her bedroll near Felicity’s. What had they taken on? It had seemed impossible to refuse the girl’s request for protection, and yet he felt he had more than enough responsibility already.

  And if the arcane occurrences that seemed to surround them continued, he wasn’t certain that the girl hadn’t put herself in greater danger by joining the pilgrimage. He had to get to the bottom of this. But what could he do?

  He fumbled in his rucksack for his breviary. His thick socks padded softly over the cold stones up to the altar of St Ilan’s. The east window was a triptych of tall, narrow Gothic arches. On each side of the chancel smaller, likewise narrow, pointed windows let in some light. It was enough to read by, familiar as he was with the words. He lit the candles for the comfort of their warmth and redolent, waxy scent rather than for the light.

  He knelt at the altar. “Almighty and most merciful Father…”

  The collect for peace was a set part of the office. He prayed it every morning of his life. But never more fervently than this morning: ”… Defend thy humble servants in all assaults of our enemies; that we, surely trusting in thy defense, may not fear the power of any adversaries…”

  His mind filled with the picture of one of his favorite paintings—one he always showed his students when he taught deliverance: Expulsion of the Devils from Arezzo, a detail of the life of St Francis from St Francis’s church in Assisi—the brown-robed saint standing in front of his church, blessing the city, while behind him a brother kneels in prayer, and over the city walls and rooftops the demons flee in terror.

  He knew what to do. He rose and went into the sacristy to prepare. It was the best defense he could offer them. The only sure defense he knew.

  By the time Antony was vested and had everything organized the others were awake. “Ask everyone to gather at the front,” he directed Felicity.

  Antony was pleased with the alacrity with which Chloe took a seat on the front pew. He had no idea of her background. He was equally relieved that Kaylyn offered no resistance. And he was delighted that Nancy barely limped as she came up the aisle. Jared approached almost shyly. “Sorry about last night, Father. Er—my report—like, I wasn’t thinking.”

  Antony placed a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t think we need to worry your school authorities about that. But don’t wander off again without letting me know.” Jared nodded and took a seat.

  When all were settled, Antony turned to the pot of water on the credence table. He sprinkled a few grains of salt over the water and marked it with the sign of the cross. Dipping in the apergillum, he turned to his tiny flock. “Asperges me, Domine, hyssopo et mundabor, Lavabis me, et super nivem dealbabor. Miserere mei…” He chanted first in Latin, walking completely around the occupied pews, flinging crystalline drops over all. Then in English, “You will sprinkle me, O Lord, with hyssop and I shall be cleansed. You will wash me, and I shall be washed whiter than snow. Pity me, O God, according to Your great mercy.” He completed the circle three times.

  Next he took the lighted thurible from its stand, swung it several times to increase the air flow, then again circled the entire group three times, letting the clouds of incense surround them and rise as prayers before the throne of God.

  He directed them to turn to the litany in the prayer books he had placed in the pew racks. “… O holy, blessed, and glorious Trinity, one God…”

  “Have mercy upon us.” All responded.

  “… Spare us, good Lord, spare Thy people, whom Thou hast redeemed with Thy most precious blood, and by Thy mercy preserve us for ever.”

  “Spare us, good Lord.”

  “From all evil and wickedness; from sin; from the crafts and assaults of the devil…”

  “Good Lord, deliver us.”

  The Great Litany was long and somber, not to be recited lightly, but Antony soldiered on through all the pages, and his flock followed “We beseech Thee to hear us, good Lord.”

  Until the end, “O Lamb of God, that takest away the sins of the world…”

  “Grant us Thy peace.”

  Then the Eucharist, administering the Body and Blood of Christ, and invoking the protection of Father, Son and Holy Ghost on the body and soul of each partaker.

  There was no more he could do. “Go in peace.”

  And when, after a breakfast of porridge and sausage, they went out into the brightness of the morning to be greeted by birdsong from the churchyard trees and sheep baaing in the field across the way, it seemed that their petition was to be granted. The walking this morning was easy, too, as it followed the road for a mile or so, then cut downhill along a pleasant brook tumbling over stones beneath its green, wildflower-studded banks.

  Everyone but Nancy was walking this morning. She had been keen to attempt it, but Lydia advised caution, although Lydia herself had for once chosen to walk rather than accompany Michael. And Adam seemed nearly as frisky as the lambs in the field above them as he almost skipped along beside Jared.

  Antony noticed Felicity attempting to engage Lydia in conversation, but their nurse seemed more intent in quizzing Ryan about something on the map. Whatever it was, it had Colin’s full attention as well. Since Chloe was again walking with Evie and Kaylyn, Antony was free to enjoy the glories of the June morning. Until they stopped for the first Station of the day, and Ryan and Colin approached him brimming with determination and enthusiasm for their plan. “They aren’t far out of the way, Father; we walk right up the Darren Ddu Road, and the trail over to the quarry is well marked.” Ryan pointed to the spot on the map.

  “The Romans may have worked the quarries. Travertine was their favorite building material. The Coliseum is the world’s largest Travertine building…” Colin returned to his favorite subject, but Ryan intervened.

  “We wouldn’t need to go deep into the caves, Father. The main chamber is just beyond the passage crawl—I’ve read up on it.”

  Antony shook his head. “Sorry to stamp on your enthusiasm, lads, but there’s no way I’m taking this crew into a cave. Besides, we’ve got more than eight miles to cover today.” Valid enough reasons. No need to mention that there was no way Antony would choose to go into a cave under any circumstances. Just thinking of being in a deep, dark tunnel under the earth made him short of breath. “No chance,” he repeated.

  Ryan was silent for a moment, studying the map. “Look, Father, Michael is meeting us here at Penheol Ely for morning tea, right?”

  Antony nodded.

  “And then we have lunch here after we cross the Pontypridd Bridge?” He pointed.

  “Yes, and I don’t want to change the route.”

  “No, no. Not at all,” Ryan hurried on. “Then afternoon tea here by the Clydach River before the path turns west away from the road?”

  Antony nodded. The route was clearly set. What was Ryan getting at?

  “Then another stop at Mynachdy where the Llantarnam monks had their grange farm.” Ryan took a deep breath before launching into his plan. “Now, if Colin and I were to fill our flasks, take some extra cake and make a couple of sandwiches at Penheol Ely while everyone is having morning tea, then leg it right on up the road to the quarry without any other stops, that would give us two, maybe three hours to explore the cave.”

  “We have our torches.” Colin emphasized his words by flicking his on in Antony’s face. Fortunately the sun was so bright it didn’t bother him.

  “The limestone quarries were so important to the development of this whole region. I’m certain to be assigned essays on it. You see, Travertine is a sedimentary rock, formed by the precipitation of carbonate minerals from solution in ground surface waters so you get stalactites and—”

  “And the Romans—”

  Antony held up his hand. “Enough. I’ll think it over. We’ll see how we’re getting on when we get
to the Ely Road.”

  The way started more steeply upward once again as it wound around the gorse, grass and bracken-covered slopes of Cefn Eglwysilan on their right and a patchwork of hedge-bordered fields varying from emerald, jade, pea-green, bottle-green and olive, depending on their crops. Felicity and Chloe joined him, and their chatter about growing up in bordering states, both sharing memories of summer vacations on the Oregon Coast, left him free to enjoy the easy rhythm of the walk.

  They reached the meeting point in good time, and Michael and Nancy had their tea awaiting them. Antony noted Colin and Ryan preparing their stores as they had suggested, apparently taking his forthcoming permission for granted. Antony was just finishing the slice of bran loaf stuffed with sultanas the good ladies of St Ilan’s had sent with them, when his would-be potholers approached. He held up his hand before they could launch into yet another spiel. “Ask Michael and Felicity to join us.”

  When they were together again, Ryan explained the plan.

  “Are you all right with leading this afternoon, Felicity?”

  “Sure. No problem,” she agreed readily.

  Antony looked at Michael for his thoughts on the matter. “Mynachdy is a bit far afield. I’d rather not get that spread out. Here, where the trail leaves the Ynysybwl Road to head north,” he pointed to the map. “That’s the best meeting point.”

  “That’s fine,” Ryan readily agreed. “And it’s nice by the Nant Clydach in case you have to wait.”

  “No!” Antony was firm. “You be waiting for us.” He looked Ryan in the eye. “Be early. I don’t want to be walking through the St Gwynno Forest after dark.”

  “Brilliant!”

  “Thank you, Father!”

  The adventurers set off before Antony could change his mind.

  He watched the tall, broad Ryan in his flat cap and the short-legged Colin, swinging his hiking stick double-time in order to keep pace as the trail dropped steeply downward. Antony hoped he’d made the right decision. The morning had been the best walk of the pilgrimage. He didn’t want anything to go wrong now.