An Unholy Communion

by Donna Fletcher Crow

  On the modern White Bridge at Pontypridd, they stopped and looked downstream at the old gray stone bridge arching high over the River Taff. “According to Michael’s notes, that’s the bridge that gave Pontypridd its name—longest single-span bridge in the world when it was built,” Felicity said, after consulting her route information.

  Chloe whipped out her camera, adjusted the impressive zoom lens and snapped several shots. “Can we go down there, Father Antony?” She pointed to a path leading down through the bushes on their left to the riverbank. “I could get some great shots from that angle.”

  The sun was warm, the river murmured beneath them, and traffic noise from the dual carriageway on the other side of the river was muffled. Antony hadn’t felt so relaxed since they started this venture. He nodded his assent.

  They scrambled down the overgrown path and walked under the modern bridge they had just crossed. Walking along the riverbank on a bed of flat rocks took them under the railway bridge. Chloe was delighted, her shutter clicking a staccato as she photographed bridges, pilgrims and the Taff river rapids from every angle.

  Jared challenged Evie and Kaylyn to a rock-throwing contest to see who could lob theirs furthest into the water. Jared was clearly the winner, until a surprise entrant pitched a smooth round stone beyond the second span of the footings with effortless grace. “Wow! How did you do that?” Evie asked the smiling Adam.

  Even Kaylyn managed a compliment. “Impressive.”

  Adam grinned. “Cricket. I bowl.”

  “That’s brilliant,” Jared conceded. “Let’s see if you can make it two out of three.”

  The result of the second round was disputed. The third throw would determine the champion. Jared made his best fling. Adam moved closer to the edge.

  “Careful, Squib!”

  It was uncertain whether it was Lydia’s sharp command or a slimy rock that caused Adam to lose his footing, but the ominous splash and Evie’s cry brought everyone to the riverbank at once. The cold water ran over Antony’s boot tops, soaking his socks as he plunged forward to catch the flailing youth.

  The water wasn’t above Adam’s knees, but he had fallen flat so that he was thoroughly drenched, and likewise soaked his rescuer when Antony pulled him from the water. At least all the stone-throwing contestants had left their rucksacks on the rocks, and Antony had dropped his before swooping to the rescue. They changed their dripping shirts for jackets from their packs, removed their sodden hiking boots, and wrung out their thick walking socks. Now the extra cushioned padding in the trail socks Antony had so carefully selected in an unaccustomed online shopping spree proved to be counterproductive. No matter how hard he wrung them, his socks felt thoroughly sodden when he wriggled his feet back into them. Nothing else for it, though; any other dry clothing was in the van.

  Felicity offered her jacket to serve as a towel for his hair as Lydia rubbed at her brother’s scalp, chastizing him all the while.

  Still, Antony considered, it was a warm day, they would meet Michael for lunch soon, and no one had been hurt—praises be. He refused to let go of his chipper mood over a little wetting.

  Although, by the time he had returned to the road, squished his way along a large expanse of grass between several houses and climbed a steep uphill road under a railway overpass to meet the Darren Ddu Road, his optimism was flagging. The day didn’t feel quite so warm in walking shorts still dripping little trails of water down the backs of his legs.

  His cheerfulness returned quickly, however, when they found Michael at a grassy spot along a stream, and were greeted by the sound and scent of sizzling sausages. Nancy waved at them through the smoke from her position squatting by a charcoal-filled aluminum tray where she was turning the sausages over the grill.

  “That’s amazing!” Felicity cried. “How did you manage that?”

  “Michael bought it at the Tesco at Pontypridd. Brilliant, isn’t it?”

  “It is. I’ve never seen a disposable grill. Here, let me help you.” Felicity took a fork and began turning the sausages. “How’s your ankle?”

  “Much better. I might try walking a bit later if the trail isn’t too rough.”

  “If your nurse approves, you mean.” Lydia joined them.

  After a few minutes in the van, Antony and Adam joined them. “You two just wash your hair?” Nancy asked when they approached with dry clothing, but still-wet hair.

  Antony explained around bites of hot, spicy sausage in a soft bread roll.

  “We didn’t pray, Father,” Adam reminded him.

  “We’ll give thanks afterwards. Eat them while they’re hot.”

  Bolstered by dry clothing, a hot lunch and an extended rest time, Antony’s euphoria not only held but increased through the afternoon. Walking along the graveled country road with grass growing between the tire tracks, bushes crowding the side, and trees branching overhead gave him a sense of being protected from the encroachment of industrialization, the rush of modern transport and the intrusion of technology. Now they truly could be medieval monks or pilgrims following St David.

  The sense of harmony with his surroundings lasted until their road met the metaled secondary road. They approached the minibus parked alongside a field dotted with beech and mountain ash trees. Michael and Nancy sat on the grass. But no Colin and Ryan. “Where are they?” Antony demanded far more harshly than he intended.

  Michael shook his head. “I was hoping they were with you. Thought maybe they came down from the quarry and caught you up on the Darren Ddu Road.”

  Antony looked back the way they had come. “They’ve had more than enough time. What with the kerfuffle at the river and taking extra time at lunch, I thought we’d find them napping under a bush.”

  “You don’t suppose we’re so late they thought they’d missed us and continued on to St Gwynno’s?” Felicity joined them.

  “I hope they know me better than that.” Concern made Antony’s voice acerbic. He took a breath and spoke more softly to Felicity. “We aren’t that late. And I was very specific about meeting here.”

  “Could they have gotten on the wrong path? They didn’t have a map, did they?”

  “Ryan had a map marking the cave entrance. He had done his research. That’s one of the reasons I permitted this escapade.”

  Felicity studied the map she carried. “As to missing the trail, all they would have to do is head downhill. Every path off the mountain ends at the Darren Ddu Road.”

  Antony took his mobile out of its protective pouch in his rucksack and rang Ryan’s number. “Of course, if they’re still in a cave there wouldn’t be any reception.” Wherever they were, there was no answer.

  Antony sighed. “Nothing for it but to go look for them.”

  “No, Father. Let me,” Michael offered. “I know the area better.” He paused. “And your boots are still wet.”

  Antony smiled. “Points for tact. You didn’t point out that you’re in better condition.’

  “Well, that, too.”

  “I’ll go with you. In case they need first aid.” Lydia started to step forward, but was impeded by Adam clinging to her. “What’s the matter, Squib? You’re perfectly safe. Just stay out of the river.” She shook her arm free. “Anyone would think you’re two years old.”

  Antony saw that Felicity was about to intervene on the part of the boy, but Michael turned to Lydia. “No. You stay here.” A long look passed between them as if Lydia and Michael were communicating in an unspoken language.

  At last Lydia dropped her eyes. “Right. Off you go, then.”

  “I’ve had first aid training. St John Ambulance.” Jared stepped forward.

  “Get in, then.” Michael opened the door of the van. “Enjoy your tea, everybody. Ryan undoubtedly got so busy looking at calcite formations he lost all track of time.”

  “Or Colin found a Roman site and refuses to leave it. I can imagine him sitting there like Rory guarding the Pandorica.” Jared grinned.

  Antony looked blank.
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  “Dr Who,” Felicity supplied. “Rory becomes a Roman Centurion and—oh, never mind. I’ll tell you later.”

  Bemused, Antony returned to what he did know. “All right, everybody, we’ll say a Station, with special prayers for a safe and speedy return for all of them, and then have our tea.”

  “Prayer and tea, how traditional.” Kaylyn’s voice was mocking, but she didn’t refuse to participate in either.

  The tea was long cold in Antony’s cup and an ant was crawling over his discarded cake when Felicity sat down beside him. “I know how worried you are.” She took his hand resting in the long grass. “Me, too.”

  “I don’t know what to do. I suppose I should ring for help.” He was reaching for his mobile when a jaunty “Heigh-ho, heighho. It’s off to work we go…” rang out from the wooded walk beyond.

  “It’s them!” Felicity was first to her feet, but Kaylyn and Evie were close behind.

  Felicity embraced Colin and Ryan, pummeling them with questions, “Are you all right? Why were you so long? Sorry the cake’s all gone. Are you starved? Where have you been?”

  The Goth girls pulled Ryan and Colin toward the others. Jared followed behind.

  “Where’s Michael?” Lydia cut through the rejoicing.

  Antony looked around. No Michael. No sign of the minibus coming up the road.

  Jared began the explanation: “Our world-famous geographer here got confused in the cave.”

  Ryan looked embarrassed. “True. When we came out I started downhill all right, but it was the north side of the hill. I would have worked it out, though.”

  “And the cave was brilliant,” Colin broke in. “Past the first chamber there’s this amazing scalloped passage—”

  “But where’s Michael?” Lydia was more insistent this time.

  “I dunno.” Jared shook his head. “He went into the cave. I walked around the hill and found these two.”

  “So you left Michael?”

  “We went back into the cave and called and called. But I didn’t want to go in too far. I thought we should get back. I left a note on the minibus.”

  “Did you ring him?” Lydia’s voice was becoming increasingly accusatory.

  Jared shrugged. “In a cave?”

  Antony had no better luck. “Felicity, you take the others on to St Gwynno’s. I’ll go back. We’ll catch you up. Are you all right to walk, Nancy?”

  “I am. I wanted to, anyway.”

  “I’m going with you.” Lydia gave her little brother a fierce look. “No arguments, Squib.”

  Antony started to refuse, then thought better of it. “Right.” He couldn’t bear to think of more trouble, but in case Michael did need medical help…

  Once his mind started down that road he couldn’t stop himself: broken limbs from a fall, bleeding gash from falling against rocks, concussion from hitting his head…

  And now Antony was going to have to go into that gaping cavern.

  Chapter 15

  Friday, continued

  Felicity had no idea she would feel so alone. Abandoned. Standing on a Welsh hillside with eight pairs of eyes staring at her, awaiting her direction. She ducked her head apparently to consult her map but really to breathe a swift prayer for guidance.

  When she looked up, the group had righted itself. Chloe was showing Adam her camera, Jared was adjusting his trekking pole to the length of Nancy’s hiking stick to give her a pair for support, the Goth girls had resumed their usual detachment. Felicity considered. She could, of course, hand the map over to Ryan. He would lead as he had for so much of the time. But, in spite of the jaunty air of their return, their geographer was still looking dazed from his recent experience. Even Colin was silent. Odd, really, for Ryan who knew how to read terrain so well, to have gotten so confused.

  No, Antony had asked her to lead. She was the adult in charge. This time she turned to the map to study the route. Other choices offered themselves. The one noted as “original” led up the valley through Ynysybwl. What would once have been a pleasant walk along the river was now two miles of metaled road through a built-up area.

  The alternative lay just to the west. Felicity traced it: up a lane, through a garden, along the bank of a stream, across a field, over a footbridge, around another garden. Much the pleasanter way, but longer, trickier to follow, and harder walking for Nancy.

  “Right, everyone. Let’s be off, then. We’re going straight up the Ynysybwl Road, so please stay close together. Ryan, are you all right to bring up the rear?” He nodded, looking relieved. “Nancy, just call out if we walk too fast for you.” Felicity hoisted the cross aloft in an energetic show of far more bravado than she was feeling.

  They had gone only a few yards, however, when Nancy’s clear soprano rang out, leading them in the rhythmic South African Siyahamba: “We are marching in the light of God.” Felicity joined in, not having to fake her warmth.

  At the top of the town she paused at the T-junction. They were doing well, but surely Nancy, at least, could do with a rest.

  “Oo, cool cemetery.” Evie and Kaylyn darted across the street before Felicity could stop them.

  Felicity shrugged. “OK. Five minutes’ rest before we start up the hill.” She raised the cross and smiled as Nancy responded with another song, “Lift High the Cross.”

  Monuments, sheltered by the branches of enormous beech trees, lay scattered over the Buarth Y Capel churchyard, which was inclosed by a lichen-covered stone wall. Beyond, after a row of modern houses, a green hill rose, topped with the darker green of a conifer plantation.

  Felicity caught up with Evie and Kaylyn standing before a gravestone topped with a kneeling angel. “It’s like Nightwish,” Evie explained. “They have this song about an injured angel and these two guys try to rescue her.”

  Felicity guessed she was talking about a Goth band. “Mmm.” She wished she had asked Antony to leave his Stations booklet with her. They had done two earlier that morning, but she felt a real need for a moment of prayer.

  “I’ve got mine.” Nancy held out a small book.

  Felicity gasped. “You must have read my mind.”

  “It just seemed appropriate.”

  “Will you lead us?” Felicity asked.

  Nancy nodded. “Jesus falls for the first time.” The meditation was through the eyes of a Roman soldier, forced to goad and kick the Man who only looked at him in love.

  At the end of the prayer, Felicity led them out of the cemetery to rejoin the main road. Nancy and the Goths were close behind her. “Sweet. The reading.” Kaylyn voiced one of her rare observations.

  “Yeah, it’s like that song I was talking about, ‘Amaranth,’ where the villagers burn the angel. She’s so beautiful and she’s not hurting them,” Evie added.

  Felicity smiled at the connection, then turned to her map. She was reluctant to take the path that headed out across the field. As long as they followed the road she could hope that every vehicle that passed them would be a silver van with Antony driving. She seemed to miss him more with every step.

  Still, she had no choice, so she led across the River Ffrwd where, obeying her notes, she directed the pilgrims to look for the millstone built into the bridge. Jared spotted the large, round stone. “The monks’ mill was just below the bridge,” Felicity pointed down river. “Where that house is now.”

  Then, onward. Felicity was beginning to understand about a pilgrimage being like life. A lot of days were like this—just putting one foot in front of the other, no matter how you felt about it. She dug her pole in deeper with every step as the way rose more steeply. Red, beige and brown cattle lowed in the hedge-bordered field to their left. Soon they were trekking through waist-high bushes. The way opened out to a modern farm, and Felicity pointed out the crumbling stone walls of what was once the monks’ grange standing beside a green metal implement shed with a red roof.

  But she wouldn’t let them linger any longer than it took Chloe to snap a few pictures of the ancient stones. The s
un was sinking dangerously low in the west, and from here their way was increasingly wooded as they entered the St Gwynno Forest.

  Felicity took a long pull on her water bottle, then broke out a box of granola bars from her pack, took one and handed them to Jared to pass around as she studied the map once again. The way followed a road for about an inch— less than half a mile— and then headed into the forest. This was the last stretch for the van to catch them up. She had to resist the desire to walk more slowly to give Antony more time to get there.

  A new blister on her little toe made Felicity shift her foot inside her boot. She wanted Lydia with her cushioned plasters, she wanted Michael with his flasks of tea, she wanted Antony’s comforting arms to enfold her.

  Leaving the vehicle track with reluctance, Felicity plunged into the sheltered silence of the deep wood. Here even the sporadic bird calls sounded muffled. She wasn’t certain whether the foliage had likewise muted the intermittent conversations of the walkers behind her, or whether they had fallen silent in a hushed awe.

  Felicity was thankful for the long hours of evening light in early June as the westering sun, hanging low in the sky, shot shafts of gold through the deeper shadows of the deciduous and evergreen trees covering the extensive forest. The path was lined by sparse bushes growing in the limited sunlight that reached them beneath tall conifers, their trunks bare halfway to the sky, then sprouting needle-covered boughs.

  Huge tree roots reached out to them, requiring care not to trip, and fallen branches tangled the path, demanding valuable time to clear the way before they plunged onward into the deeper shadows.

  Felicity was leading more by a sense of where her feet thought the path should be than by any clear sight, when the way before them opened and she stepped out onto a narrow but well-maintained road. And across the way, sitting on its cleared hillside surrounded by leaning gravestones casting their final long, evening shadows, was St Gwynno’s Church. So welcome was the sight, Felicity had the strange sense of it looking familiar. Lights from inside the stained-glass windows sent colored lances out to guide them in.