by Chrys Cymri
I recognised Peter by his gait when he was still a distance away. Skylar took over shepherding duties as I strode over to the church gate to meet him. Peter was dressed in his black police uniform, which made him more handsome than ever. As I approached, he reached up with a white-gloved hand to remove his peaked cap. ‘Reverend Penny White, I presume.’
Conscious of the nearby crowd, I merely gave him a nod. ‘You knew Leonard?’
‘He ran the corner newsagents near my parents’ house for several years. That was the start of his empire.’ Peter tucked the hat under one arm. ‘Haven’t seen him or Rose recently, but I read the obituary notice and gave Rose a ring. She’s asked me to say a few words, if that’s okay?’
‘Certainly,’ I said. ‘I’ll be delivering the eulogy after the first hymn. How about you come up after that?’
‘Great. Is it a full church?’
I glanced behind me. ‘It’s getting that way. Use the choir stalls, Morey’s the only one who’s sitting in those.’
The hearse arrived a few minutes later, stopping at the path which led to the church’s south entrance. I walked up to the elongated car, glancing at the coffin inside, before I turned to pay attention to the two women emerging from the nearby limousine. Rose was wearing an impeccable black dress. Margaret’s hair had been toned down, now more of pink hue than bright red. She wore a dark blue trouser suit.
I said a few comforting words, checked the church clock, and nodded at the funeral director. Then I led the way down the path, Skylar just behind me, timing my steps so that we arrived at the church door a moment before the coffin bearers. The verger spoke to the organist, and the music faded away. I called out, ‘Would the congregation please stand?’
The funeral unfolded just as hundreds I had taken before this one, and no doubt in a similar vein to all those which would follow. But, as I had reminded Skylar, this was the only funeral for this man, his widow, his friends. This was their precious chance to pay their last respects, and then to go home and start the long process of grief. As someone who had buried a husband of her own, I had some idea of what Rose was going through.
Delivery of the main tribute fell to me. Peter came from the choir stalls to add some memories of his own. Skylar read out the portion of Ecclesiastes 3, and then followed this up with a poem the widow had chosen. I kept my face carefully blank as the words ‘Death is nothing at all’ echoed through the church. If death is nothing at all, I wanted to ask, then why is everyone trying so hard not to cry?
I took over to give a short homily. Morey, I knew, might not approve, but I spoke of the hope offered to every person by the Resurrection. ‘One day, God has promised us, we will all be in that place, re-united with loved ones, where every tear is wiped from our eyes.’
Skylar offered prayers. We finished with the Lord’s Prayer. As I watched mourners struggle to remember the words, I wondered if I should start asking funeral directors to print it out on the order of service. The days when people learned the prayer in school were long gone.
I asked everyone to stand for the second hymn. Rose broke down during the second verse of ‘Morning has Broken.’ Margaret put an arm around her sister-in-law’s shoulders and tried to comfort her. Skylar left the curate’s stall to stand on Rose’s other side.
After the commendation and blessing, I led the way outside and to the recently dug grave. The day had remained fine, and I sent God a quick prayer of thanks. Any burial was difficult, but doing so in the rain always felt like adding insult to injury.
The coffin was lowered, the mourners threw in flowers, and Margaret convinced Rose to walk away. Morey perched in a nearby tree, his wings hanging from his sides in what I assumed was a gryphon’s way of showing respect. Skylar blew her nose and asked me, ‘Does it ever get easier? Doing a funeral?’
‘It shouldn’t,’ Morey replied.
‘Some are harder than others,’ I said, heading back to the church. ‘It’s always a good idea to have at least several hours free afterwards. Just in case you need some time to recover.’
We both disrobed in the small clergy vestry and hung our cassocks and surplices away. The churchyard was empty as I walked up the slight rise to the church gate. Morey had swooped down to Skylar’s shoulder, and they started up a conversation about the poem. I picked up my pace. Time to go home and have a cup of tea.
Peter was standing beside my car. His upside-down hat rested on the red roof, white gloves tucked inside. I felt my smile slip as I came to his side. He was running a hand through his hair and his eyes were fixed on the still open grave. ‘Rose. She was on her own.’
‘She had Margaret with her,’ I said. ‘And Skylar.’
‘She was alone,’ Peter insisted. ‘No children to stand beside her. No one to help her remember Leonard as a husband. No one who knew him as a father.’
‘It was a pretty full church. I’d say she has lots of friends.’
‘And that is not the same.’ Peter finally looked at me. ‘I’m older than you. You know the statistics. You see it every Sunday in your church. I’m probably going to die long before you do. And I don’t want you to be standing alone. Don’t you understand? I don't want you to be alone. I want you to have children to support you.’
‘Peter--’
‘I don’t want you to be alone.’ He snatched his hat from my car. ‘I don’t want any wife of mine to be alone.’
I forced myself not to run after him as he marched away to his own car. Forget the cup of tea. As I slid into my car and headed out of the village, I focused on the double of whisky I’d pour for myself when I got back home.
<><><><><><>
Because of the funeral, I’d arranged to have Friday as my day off. And the plan had been to spend it with Peter. But as I emerged from my bed at 8am, I found a text on my iPhone. Penny, can you please phone me? Peter.
My heart thumping hard, I stood in my dark bedroom and dialled his number. ‘Hi, Peter, it’s Penny. Everything okay?’
‘Depends on how you define okay.’ His voice sounded strained. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m going to visit my parents today. Maybe we could meet up for lunch on Saturday? Unless you’re busy?’
‘I can do that. Where and when?’
‘I’ll sort something out and send you a text.’
And then he was gone. I stared at my phone. My stomach rumbled, and not from hunger. I took several deep breaths and pulled on my dressing gown. My mother would have been appalled, but I was going to have breakfast in my pyjamas. I’d get dressed before my daily visit with God.
Only Clyde joined me for Morning Prayer. Morey and Skylar had shifted their days off to match with mine. Morey was off somewhere with Taryn, I assumed, and when I’d glanced out the front door, Skylar’s car was missing. I looked at the clock on my computer. It was only 9am, and an empty day stretched out ahead of me.
Or maybe not. I put on my hiking boots, grabbed a coat, and headed out to the back garden. Clyde had already re-joined the other snail sharks. I glanced at their colours, and was relieved to find these were mostly blues and greens. The next supermarket run could probably wait until Monday.
No sight or sound of my neighbour. I pulled out my penknife and half opened the blade. Watery sunshine glinted along the mottled metal. Clyde slid over to my feet. ‘Raven?’
‘Yes, I’m calling for him.’ I forced my voice to remain neutral. ‘It’s my day off, and I might as well do something useful with it.’
‘Lloegyr?’
‘Where else?’
The snail waved his tentacles at me. ‘Come too?’
‘What about your duties here?’
Streaks of red and orange twisted through his body. ‘Day off.’
‘Oh. Okay. I guess you’re allowed one too.’ I put out my hands, and he slid onto my palms. ‘We need to have a chat about your rabble, at any rate. They’re going to outgrow this garden. We need to decide where they can go.’
‘Where?’ The frustration in his tone was matched by the yell
ow which coloured his tentacles.
‘We’ll work something out.’ I ducked back into the house to pick up his soft sided travel case.
Raven was already waiting when I returned. ‘Summoned, I come. Where are we bound?’
‘The vampire colony I visited last week,’ I replied. ‘I’d like to see how they’re getting on.’
‘You break my heart, Penny,’ Raven said. ‘Had you not needed the abilities of a search dragon, no doubt you would have summoned a tacsi dragon.’
‘Never,’ Clyde declared, rearing his body against the side of his case. ‘Raven best.’
The dragon lowered his head, bringing his nostrils near the snail’s eyespots. ‘You are indeed a very discerning malwen siarc. It’ll be an honour to carry you.’
I climbed up to my usual place on Raven’s neck, and placed Clyde’s carrier between my chest and the front spine. The weather had descended into a slight drizzle, which would help to discourage neighbours from looking into the sky. I tightened my jacket around my front.
The flight was smooth. Raven piloted us through several thin places, his wings pounding steadily and his breathing easy. I relaxed as we skimmed over a lake, his body reflected on the still surface. Perhaps whatever had affected Raven was finally out of his system.
We emerged near a small town. I didn’t recognise it from the air, although the mixture of brick and timber buildings assured me that we were in Lloegyr. Raven pulled up and hovered for a moment. Then he put his head back down and turned us away from the dwellings.
The camp was less organised than at my last visit. Only half of the tents were up, and no smoke rose into the air. Were they leaving or setting up? As Raven brought us closer, I spotted Elthan standing just beyond the furthest tent. A unicorn was speaking to him, her tail flicking agitatedly over her silver-grey hindquarters.
The dragon pumped his wings and carried us past. ‘Can’t you land us there?’ I asked. ‘By the magister?’
Raven’s answering growl jounced my legs. ‘I have an aversion to unicorns.’
‘That’s something we have in common,’ I muttered.
‘I’ll land us nearby. If you want to meet the unicorn, that’s up to you.’
His definition of ‘nearby’ was at least a five-minute walk. I waited until his claws were firmly gripping the ground, and then I slid from his neck. ‘You could go into the camp. I assume you don’t have anything against vampires.’
‘If they leave my blood alone, I won’t singe their wings.’ Raven curled up on the grass. ‘But I have no desire to mingle with them. I’ll wait for you here, persistent Penny. At least in this world there is sun to warm my hide.’
Clyde raised his tentacles from the case as I strode towards magister and unicorn. ‘Don’t make yourself too obvious,’ I warned him. ‘Not until I’ve had a chance to introduce you.’
I couldn’t hear the conversation between unicorn and vampire, but from her stiff stance, and his tight shoulders, it didn’t look to be a friendly one. Courtesy made me slow my pace. I had no intention of inserting myself into their argument.
The unicorn lowered her head, horn pointing at Elthan’s chest. Then she snorted, spoke once more, and reared, hooves flashing silver. The ground churned as she twisted away. As she trotted back towards the town, I lengthened my strides.
‘Good morning, Magister,’ I said as I drew near. ‘How is the colony?’
Elthan turned to face me. ‘Penny White. Good to be seeing you again. The colony has moved, as you be seeing. But our welcome be not so secure as I’d hoped.’
‘I saw the unicorn.’
‘She be sent by the townsfolk.’ He ran a hand through his grey hair. ‘They be worried for the safety of their blood.’
‘Should they be?’
Elthan straightened his shoulders and glared at me. ‘You too, priest? As I told you afore, the adults be on solids, and we earn our keep by selling the work of our hands. Our young feed only on our own beasts, and when that fails, the not-weres offer their own necks. Do you not accept us, then? And I had thought you to be different.’
I studied him for a moment. Then I opened the top of the carry case. Clyde emerged, crawling onto my hands. Elthan hissed and took a step back. ‘This is Clyde, and he’s my friend. Don’t you accept snail sharks, Magister? And here I thought you welcomed everyone to your colony.’
His eyes narrowed. Then he nodded, and the lines on his face eased. ‘Well spoken, Penny White. Welcome, Clyde.’ And he gave us a deep bow.
‘Friend,’ the snail said, bending his tentacles low in response.
‘We arrived only early this morning, so not all tents be yet up.’ Elthan pointed with his arm. ‘But my tent be ready, and you be welcome to share tea with me and mine.’
‘Tea,’ Clyde agreed happily.
‘At least we be making good progress towards Llanbedr,’ Elthan said as we walked into the camp. Hammers rang out against metal as pegs were driven into the ground. Children rushed around with armfuls of wood for fires. Several not-weres strained against harnesses as they pulled against poles, helping to erect some of the larger tents. Clyde’s tentacles swivelled to look at the human-faced horses, and I told him, ‘Don’t stare, they don’t like that.’
Elthan pulled the entrance flap of his tent to one side and waved me in. ‘There be some of yours with us, Penny White.’
I nearly stumbled on the dark rug. ‘Humans?’
He laughed. ‘Nay. Christians. They be saying I should call you Father.’
‘Penny is good enough for me.’ I located two stools, and placed Clyde on one before lowering myself onto the other. ‘Where’s Geffrai?’
‘Busy in the town.’ Elthan added wood to the small fire and swung a black pot back over the flames. ‘He be offering our goods and services in return for money and meat.’
‘Despite the unicorn warning you away?’
‘We need to eat.’ He dipped the ladle into the pot and scooped hot water into a brown teapot. ‘The snail shark must well know about being unwelcome.’
‘England good,’ Clyde said.
I forced myself not to kick his stool. ‘Some snail sharks are currently living in my back garden.’
‘So, Lloegyr citizens can find a place in your country,’ Elthan said, rubbing his hands. ‘As you be a priest, Penny, could you bespeak those at the cathedral? So that they might ease our passage?’
‘What will happen to the not-weres?’ I asked quickly. ‘Are any of them also planning to cross over?’
‘Nay.’ Elthan removed three clay beakers from a small table, and filled each with the fragrant smelling tea. I placed one in front of Clyde and wrapped my hands around the other. ‘They be in need of letherum. The Guild be their destination. And pray to your God to have mercy ‘pon their souls.’
‘Why? From the way Morey talked, I thought the Guild was a good thing.’
‘They find ways to keep a were in one form. Forever.’ Elthan lowered his head, hiding his eyes. ‘Be not good, fixed in one form. Eats away at you.’
Clyde chirped. ‘It’s different for us,’ I told him, giving his shell a quick rub. ‘We were born to it. The adult vampires have sacrificed the ability to change for the sake of their children.’
‘I miss flight,’ Elthan said quietly.
I bit my lip. But Clyde’s colours remained blue and green. ‘There are times we’re called to sacrifice something very important to us,’ I said. ‘If we can see it’s for a greater good, then the sacrifice will feel worth it.’
The vampire sighed. ‘I heard that there be massive herds of livestock in England. That there be plenty for every vampire to drink his fill.’
‘I’m not certain our farmers would welcome that.’
‘But the beasts be grown for slaughter. What matter if they go to the knife with a little less blood in their bodies?’
The tent flap was suddenly yanked aside. Sunlight streamed past Geffrai’s thin figure. ‘Town. People,’ he gasped. ‘Coming. Horns. Claws.’
Stools and tea spilled as Elthan and I leapt to our feet. ‘Who and how many?’ the older vampire demanded.
‘Big. Crowd. All. Sorts.’
I reached down, grabbed Clyde, and stuffed him into his carry case. Elthan caught the tent flap as Geffrai ran off again, and the magister held it back to allow me to exit.
‘Stay where you be,’ Elthan commanded members of his colony as we hurried past alarmed looking vampires. ‘I will deal with this.’
Despite his words, many of the men and women fell in behind us. I glanced back, worried about the pokers, hammers, and swords which I saw in their hands. The grim expressions on their faces made me suspect that this wasn’t the first time they’d taken up arms.
The townspeople were waiting just beyond the furthest tent. The mixture of unicorns and dwarves, gryphons and various weres reminded me of Caer-grawnt. I shoved my hands into my trouser pockets. Couldn't this existing blend of species accept another race on the outskirts of their town?
Elthan slowed to a sedate walk. ‘Friends,’ he called out in Welsh as he came closer to the unicorns at the front. ‘We have no plans on blood or property. There’s no need for this.’
‘Allwn ni ymddiried ynoch chi?’ a dwarf asked, the distrust in his question matched by the scowl on his bearded face.
‘Bloodsuckers,’ a were-lynx hissed.
‘We’re on solids now,’ Geffrai responded, his Welsh gruffer than Elthan’s. ‘And we obtain our food through work and trade.’
A unicorn dug at the grass with his hooves. ‘We don’t want you. Pack up and leave. Now.’
Elthan held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘Iawn. But let us wait until dark. The sun saps our strength.’
‘No,’ the unicorn snapped. ‘Go now.’
‘We are tired.’ The magister’s words made me look again at the vampires clustered behind him. Their slumped shoulders and pinched expressions made me wonder exactly how long they’d been travelling towards Llanbedr. ‘Our tents are large and not easily taken down. Please, let us wait until this evening.’
‘Your tents, that is the problem?’ a large gryphon asked, raising her brown eagle head. ‘That’s easily remedied.’ And she let out a piercing whistle.
