She darted forward. Antony would be here! All the time they had been trekking through the forest, Antony and the others would easily have driven the road that circled the mountain and cut through the forest from the north. Why had she thought them back at the quarry cave all this time just because she hadn’t seen them?
She pushed through the iron gate in the wall and rushed around to the door in the south porch. “Ah, ye’re here, then! Welcome, luv. Welcome all, ye poor lambs.” A tall, broad-shouldered woman swathed in a white apron held her arms out, wielding a wooden spoon. Behind her, two gray-haired ladies, one plump, the other rail-thin, arranged a selection of tarts and puddings on a long table.
“Take yer boots off and sit you down. I’ll take an oath yer that starved. We’ve real Welsh food for you, never fear.”
A wave of sickness washed over Felicity when she realized Antony and the others were not there. Their hostess paused long enough to introduce herself as Gladys, and Felicity wordlessly followed her directions, acknowledging the blessed relief of pulling off her boots before heading to the ladies’ room. She returned to take a seat at one of the tables set up behind the pews. “Father Antony, he hasn’t rung?” she finally brought herself to ask.
“Love you, no. We’ve heard from no one. We were getting a mite concerned when the sun went down. It gets a deep dark here in the middle of the forest. That’s why they chose us for that film, you know.”
Felicity didn’t know, but she was too occupied worrying about Antony to ask.
Gladys went on with her monologue, “And have they served you shepherd’s pie every night of your trek?”
Several of the others admitted the near-truth of the surmise.
“Ah well, it’ll be different tonight. Real Welsh food yer getting: Caerphilly cheese, leekie soup and faggots and pease. The Doctor liked my faggots a treat, he did.”
Felicity was completely lost.
At least Jared came to her rescue with an explanation of part of her confusion. “That’s brilliant! My gran makes faggots. Most people buy them at the butcher’s, but Gran wouldn’t think of it.” He observed Felicity’s blank look. “Traditional Welsh meatballs, they are. Gran chops up all the piggy bits and lots of herbs, wraps little balls in caul and bakes them.”
“That’s right, luv.” Gladys gave an approving nod. “Use all of the pig but the squeak. And yer getting them with peas and mash, never fear.”
“And extra gravy?” When Jared’s plate came out swimming in gravy it was obvious his smile would procure extra of anything he desired.
“There you are. Just like I served the Doctor.”
Doctor who? Felicity was about to ask, then realized that was the answer to her question. “Oh! That’s why this place seemed familiar. What was that episode called?” Her brothers had been great fans of old black and white videos of the original series and she had grown up watching the tapes with them. She was studying in Oxford when the series relaunched and she had hardly missed an episode in the common room with her friends.
“‘The Hungry Earth,’” Jared supplied.
Felicity put her fork down. The first bite of faggot had proved it to be as tasty as promised, but as talk of the excitement of the filming with the great lights set up in the churchyard and that big blue box sitting next to the oldest gravestone swirled around her, Felicity found worry crowding out her appetite.
All too well she remembered the episode they were talking about: holes appearing in the earth and swallowing people up. Too much like the quarries, tunnels, and caves they had encountered in recent days. What had caused Ryan’s disorientation? Had Michael been swallowed? And Antony with him?
Thankfully the conversation shifted when Nancy asked about the church. “Twelfth century, this is,” Gladys replied. “But the site is much older. There’s been Christian worship right here on this spot since at least the sixth century.” Felicity felt herself drawing comfort from that fact. Until she realized that wouldn’t apply to the Darren Ddu caves. Antony and the others were out there in the engulfing dark. The dark of a cave. The dark of night. The dark of evil.
Felicity shook her head. This would never do. With a sharp reminder to herself that she was in charge, she forced herself to thank Gladys and her helpers for their hospitality, and then gave a hand with the clean-up. When the tables were folded and their hostesses departed, leaving well-filled covered plates for the absent, Felicity gathered her tiny flock at the front of the church and asked Nancy to lead in evening prayers.
“Is it all right to say Compline instead, since it’s so late?”
In her nervous state Felicity wanted to snap, Anything. Just do it. But instead she merely nodded.
“‘He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High abides under the shadow of the Almighty… There shall no evil happen to you, neither shall any plague come near your dwelling. For he shall give his angels charge over you…’”
The reassuring words of the reading continued to enfold them, but Felicity wanted to argue, Never mind about us. Protect Antony. And the others, she added hastily.
“Well,” she stood at the end of the brief service. “I’m sure the van will be here soon.” Please, Lord, she added under her breath. “But since our bedrolls aren’t here yet,” she fought to keep any note of despair out of her voice, “why don’t you all, as they say, take a pew.” The benches were long, constructed from a mellow wood with scrolled backs. The pilgrims adjusted themselves with good humor, using their rucksacks for pillows and their jackets for covers.
When everyone was settled, Felicity padded stocking-footed up the stone flags of the wide aisle to the Gothic arch framing the altar and stepped up into the most sacred part of the church. The panels of the stained-glass window stared at her, sightless as blind eyes. But the red lights of the sanctuary lamps hanging on either side flickered hope.
Taking a cushion from a server’s chair, she sat on the floor. By rights, she supposed she should be kneeling on the bare stones, like a medieval knight keeping a vigil, but she knew her limitations. She tried to form a coherent prayer, but words wouldn’t come. Finally, she fell back on the most familiar, Our Father… Deliver us from evil… Then she sat in silence.
Every time her mind filled with a worrying image, she blocked it, only to have it replaced by a more worrying one. What if—? What if Antony didn’t come back? The void was too terrible to contemplate. She put her head between her knees, a ball of misery.
Time refused to pass. Each breath was an act of will for her.
Dark figures whispering strange words penetrated her consciousness. She shook her head, dizzy with confusion. She must have slept. How else could she have been dreaming?
Slowly her sleep-clouded brain cleared and she realized— Antony! And Michael and Lydia. She was giddy with joy as she jumped to her feet, then had to grab hold of the altar to steady her swirling head.
Antony came to her in a few swift strides and she clung to him. “I was so worried. So worried,” she sobbed.
At the back of the church, Lydia and Michael crawled into their sleeping bags. Those pilgrims who had wakened dragged their bedrolls in from the van, then resumed their disturbed sleep. Antony and Felicity stayed in the chancel, leaning against the rough stones of the east wall, hands clasped, fingers entwined. Felicity knew she would never want to let go. At first she didn’t even want to talk, just to savor the comfort of his dear presence, the relief of having him returned to her.
But at last her curiosity won out. “Tell me. Where was he? Is he all right? What took you so long? What happened?”
Antony sighed. “I wish I knew. I don’t have a clear picture at all. It took us ages to find him, in spite of Ryan’s map of the caves. Michael wasn’t in the main one Ryan explored, but in a smaller one around the back of the quarry. We almost didn’t bother looking in there because the entrance was so low. We had to leave our packs and crawl on our stomachs, pulling ourselves forward with our hands.” She felt his convulsive shudder at the memor
y.
For the first time, Felicity noticed the bandages on his knees. She wrapped her arms around him in an effort to stop his trembling.
“I hope I never have to do anything like that again. Ever. We wouldn’t have if I hadn’t spotted the mark carved by the entrance.”
Felicity chilled. She didn’t really have to ask. “Doubleheaded snake on a triangle?”
Antony nodded and was silent for a moment, remembering. “The passage was maybe ten feet long, then opened out into a wide chamber. Michael was sitting there.”
“Just sitting?”
“Sitting and staring. At first he didn’t even respond when we spoke to him. It was like we weren’t there. Or he wasn’t. I thought maybe he was concussed, but he didn’t seem to have any head injuries. Finally Lydia brought him around. I don’t know what she said to him—I was on the other side of the chamber, praying. Couldn’t think of anything else to do.” He paused. “It sounded like a rhyme or a sort of chant. Then she clapped her hands and he blinked. It still took him ages to come around to be alert enough to crawl out.”
“But what did he say?”
“Something about a pool. A pool being empty.”
“Maybe he was thirsty. Caves often have pools, don’t they? Maybe he found a pool but couldn’t get a drink.”
“Maybe. He had left his pack in the minibus and he certainly drank plenty when we eventually got back to it. But I don’t know about the pool. Lydia did explore.”
“Further in the cave, you mean?”
“She thought it might be important to know what he was talking about. There were two passages branching out of the chamber. I’m afraid I didn’t have the stomach for it, so she went. I sat there and tried to talk to Michael. Tried to get through to him. Maybe it helped a little. Hard to tell.”
Alarm seized Felicity. Was this like all the other incidents? How could so many things go wrong in such a short time? Was their pilgrimage being sabotaged? But why? And how could they combat anything so amorphous? She came on this walk to get away from the haunting image she thought she had left behind. Now it seemed it had followed her.
“Antony, we’ve got to find out more about this Orbis Astri thing.”
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I couldn’t agree more. But first we’ve got to sleep. Don’t move. I’ll get our bags.”
He placed them close enough together that Felicity could reach out and touch him. Hear his deep, even breathing as he fell asleep. She wanted to lay there, looking at him in the flickering red light of the sanctuary candle overhead, but eventually her eyes closed.
Trees surrounding the churchyard morphed into grotesque shapes that chased her toward dark, gaping holes in the earth. Cowled monks processed through the trees chanting the twenty-third psalm. Felicity wakened whispering, “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil.” The words should have been comforting. Yet she was afraid. Antony had warned her about the real substance of evil. Still, she refused to blame all this on the diabolical. There had to be a rational, human explanation.
Chapter 16
Saturday
Llanwonno to Penrhys
Antony woke the next morning worrying about what he would do if Michael was unable to drive. He would have to do it himself, he supposed, but he felt the need to be with his pilgrims. Felicity had done a fine job bringing them through yesterday, but he didn’t want to put that on her today, and with all that had been going on…
When he reached the back of the church where the walkers were busying themselves with filling bowls with muesli and topping it with sliced bananas and cream, however, he found his driver apparently fully coherent, poring over a map. “The road out west off this blessed mountain is too steep for the minibus. I’m going to have to go back the way I came all the way to Pontypridd and take the A4233 around to Penrhys. Were you wanting to meet up in Stanleytown, Father?”
Giving thanks for Michael’s clarity, Antony considered. “No, it looks likely we’ll get to Penrhys before you do. Let’s just meet at the shrine.”
Lydia leaned over Michael’s shoulder to look at their route, then turned to Nancy. “Right. You’re going to ride this morning, my girl.”
Nancy looked disappointed. “It really doesn’t hurt.”
“And we want to keep it that way. It’s straight up the hill to that shrine.” Lydia turned to her brother. “Squib?”
“I’m walking,” Adam declared.
Antony was pleased she had given him a choice.
Still musing on the restorative powers of sleep, Antony shepherded his flock out into the fresh June morning. Maybe a bit too fresh. The breeze felt damp, as if it could blow in a rain, but for the moment the piney scent of the forest offered Edenic refreshment. Ryan showed not the least lingering effects of his former bewilderment as he led the way between the church and the inn across the road, and turned south.
Where the track headed off into the forest they were greeted by a plaque inscribed: Bendithiaf yr Arglwydd bob amser. Ei foliant fydd yn fy ngenau yn wastad. Underneath the translation: “‘I will bless the Lord at all times; his praise shall continually be in my mouth.’ Psalm 34.” Antony smiled. A perfect spot for a Station. They were ready for Jesus meets His mother— just the meditation to do before reaching Penrhys.
Felicity, whose attention had been claimed by helping everyone get sorted after their disturbed night, stood next to him close enough for their shoulders to touch, and they exchanged a smile. On his left, however, Chloe stood almost equally close. He shifted slightly under the guise of raising his hands. “The Lord be with you.”
“And also with you.”
They continued on after the brief meditation. In spite of the steep descent, the walk out of the forest was pleasant. Colin had attached himself to Lydia this morning for his nonstop monologue. Felicity, Jared and the Goths formed a group in the middle and Chloe remained beside Antony. Close beside him. “You’ll be going back to the States when your holiday is over?” he asked.
“Yeah, I have a job lined up with a photographer’s studio in Portland. This has been an amazing experience, though. And what about you? What do you do when this is over?”
He hoped he didn’t sound too pointed. “Felicity and I are getting married after Christmas.”
She grinned. “Yeah, I know.”
“Oh, Felicity told you?”
“She didn’t have to. I could tell.”
“How’s that?” Antony was surprised; they had spent little enough time together, walking at opposite ends of the line of march as they usually did.
“Your whole face softens when you say her name. If I could capture that I’d make a fortune selling it to a greeting card company.”
“With a soppy caption under it?”
Chloe replied, but he missed her words because just then Felicity looked back over her shoulder and caught his eye. She winked at him and he missed a breath. Next week, he promised himself. St Non’s Retreat. Peace and quiet at last.
The way continued to drop steeply and the density of the forest thinned. “Wild strawberries!” Evie’s cry caught everyone’s attention.
“And daisies,” Kaylyn added.
Below them was Cefn Llechau farm; from there they would pick up the metaled road down to Stanleytown. A good place to take a break. In spite of the dampness of the grass, the walkers didn’t seem reluctant to sit on it. Too bad Michael couldn’t have met them here; a cup of tea wouldn’t go amiss right now, Antony thought as he took his water bottle from his pack. Felicity strolled over and offered him a granola bar.
As he and Felicity chatted, Antony vaguely noticed Evie and Kaylyn gathering daisies, but it wasn’t until the girls approached them did he realize they had made chains. Circlets to be exact. Evie placed hers on Felicity’s long golden tresses, worn unbraided today. He smiled and applauded with the others. “Titania!” Evie declared.
Too late he realized what was coming next. “And Oberon!” Kaylyn dropped a circlet
on his head. No matter how foolish he felt, there was no graceful refusal. Even when Chloe insisted on snapping numerous poses.
“Now, look at each other,” she directed. “If you sell that I get a cut,” was the strongest protest he could make. Felicity, at least, was radiant.
In spite of darkening clouds they carried on in a lighthearted vein down into the valley where Ryan pointed out the eighty terraced houses lining the hillside ahead of them. “They were built in 1895 by the Stanley Building Society at a cost of £166 each.” He went on to give more information about the history of the bridge they would cross over the Rhondda Fach river. “Pontygwaith, it means ironworks…”
But Antony was too focused on the moment to take it in. Too busy rejoicing. On the other side of the bridge, steps led through the green straight up the hill. With every step Antony repeated to himself, “We made it. We made it. Through it all, we made it. Thank You.” Whether he was more grateful or relieved, he wasn’t certain.
But when they crowned the top and he saw before them across the wide, flat green space, the gleaming white statue of Mary holding the Christ Child high on her plinth, he had nothing but amazement. He had seen pictures, but he was unprepared for the sheer, majestic height of the figure before him.
Chloe snapped pictures while the others gathered around the base, all craning their necks, studying the face they had come so far to see. Mary stood above them, her crowned head bent toward the Child she held out for all to see. The folds of her robe and cape fell to the carved branches of an oak tree curling at her feet.
Antony’s exultation at having achieved their goal faded when he saw the puzzled faces surrounding him. “This is it, then?” Jared asked.
“This is what we walked all this way to see?” Evie’s voice held contempt.
Antony considered. How could he make the story of this stone effigy come alive? Eight hundred years of history and devotion, shrouded in mists of obscure legend… He pictured the simple peasants that would have lived here, farming these verdant slopes in the early 1100s. Records said there was a monastery there about that time, but was it there before the statue appeared or built after to shelter pilgrims? Accounts were unclear. Some said it was an order of Franciscans, but St Francis himself wouldn’t be born for another 100 years. Surely the Cistercians from Llantarnam were the first.
An Unholy Communion Page 17
