by Chrys Cymri
‘I have no idea how long we’ll be,’ I said to Ed. ‘Sorry, I should have brought my own car. I didn’t think.’
Ed handed me a card. ‘There’s my mobile number. I’ll go into Earls Barton and get a cup of tea. And lunch, if necessary. Give me a call when you’re back.’
‘You don't mind waiting?’
He grinned. ‘A day away from the office? Of course I don’t mind.’
The rat extended his bare wings and swooped past my ear. The unicorn leapt and I climbed over the wooden fence into the field. Mud quickly dulled my gleaming black shoes and splattered up my brown trousers. And the wind cut through the nice jacket I’d chosen. So much for dressing to impress. I should have brought wellies and my thick coat.
The back right corner of the field was a tangle of bushes. As I drew near I could feel the usual chill of a thin place. No wonder the farmer who owned the field had left this portion uncultivated. I tried not to speculate what terrible disaster had formed this particular crossing.
I glanced to my right. The honey coloured buildings of Earls Barton rested in the distance. I was reminded of the last time I had been in the town, and a thought suddenly struck me. After Clyde’s parent had died, I’d assumed that he was an orphan and had brought him home with me. But what if he had a family, someone waiting for him, just like the unicorn filly?
The rat was resting on a bush, his feet clinging to a thin branch. I cleared my throat. ‘The snail shark who lives with me. Could the rat kings please ask if anyone is looking for him?’
The rat’s whiskers trembled. ‘Oh mon dieu, you must be making a joke. No one would go to a snail shark domain. I am even surprised that you have one of these creatures living in your house. They are so very dangerous.’
‘And they have family, too,’ I said. ‘Could they please ask? His mother had a red line painted around her shell. That might mean something.’
The rat looked past me at the unicorn. ‘My lady, you are asked to cross through. On the other side, she is waiting for you.’
‘And me too,’ I said glumly. ‘Whoop-de-doo.’
The rat lifted himself back into the air, and disappeared through a gap in the bushes. I stared at the darkness, and felt sweat prickle along my forehead. Then I took a deep breath and looked down at the unicorn. ‘Do you want to go first, or follow me?’
‘Together,’ she said firmly, and pressed her body against mine. So I draped an arm over her neck and we eased through the opening.
The darkness pressed in, squeezing all the breath from my lungs. Screams echoed through my head, and sharp cold pierced my arms and legs. A rope seemed to be tightening around my throat, and my head was pounding.
Then I was staggering into light so intense that I threw up a hand to shield my eyes. I blinked away tears. The glare was coming not from the sun, although the day here in Lloegyr was clear of clouds. Two rows of unicorns stretched away from me, facing each other like an honour guard across the green field. As my eyes adjusted, I was able to look at their glowing hides, but I still wished I had brought a pair of sunglasses.
We had emerged just ten feet away from the first unicorn pair. There were at least a hundred of them, continuing up a hill, and I wondered uneasily if there were even more on the other side. The Archdruid stood at the top of the rise. She said a single word, and the two ranks of unicorns reared, pawing silver hooves at the blue sky.
The Archdruid spoke again, and the ground shuddered as the herd dropped back to the ground. Another unicorn appeared beside her, smaller and with, to my surprise, a coat of dark grey. She raised her head and whinnied.
The filly stamped a forehoof and whinnied back. She nudged me. Then she charged through the corridor of unicorns, her tail flicking in excitement. I smiled as she all but ploughed into her mother. The dam rubbed her head along her daughter’s neck. For some reason, I suddenly thought of my own parents, wishing once again that they hadn’t died when I had been only eighteen.
Mother and daughter disappeared over the hill. The Archdruid, however, pranced down and across the field to me. For some reason, I found my hand clutching the folding knife which I carried in my pocket. The dragons seemed to fear me when I carried steel. Would unicorns? Although I had every hope that the return of a filly might endear me to unicorns, there was something in the Archdruid’s stance which made me clench my jaws. I forced myself to let go of the knife, and grasped at my jacket to pull it down. The gesture was my version of a knight checking his armour before going into battle.
The Archdruid halted at the end of the unicorn line. ‘Ewch,’ she told them, her dark eyes never leaving me. And they turned and charged up the hill, the many hooves gouging out the wet turf.
When we were alone, the unicorn dipped her head. ‘Father Penny. We are grateful that you have returned one of our own to us.’
Tact and diplomacy, I reminded myself. But my heart was pounding and my head was aching, so what came out of my mouth was, ‘And why was she in England in the first place?’ I could easily imagine Peter shaking his head.
She sighed. ‘Walk with me, Father.’
We headed towards the nearby forest. Her strides were slow and measured, allowing my much shorter legs to keep up with her. The movement and the warmth of the sun helped me to relax. Lloegyr was definitely warmer than England. Maybe I needed to plan a few more visits to gain some winter sun. It would be far cheaper than flying to Spain.
As we neared the trees, I saw that this was no ordinary wood. I could see oak, rowan, and elm, and many more species which I couldn’t identify. The spacing was far too regular, easily allowing a unicorn and a human to walk between the trunks without leaving behind part of hide or jacket.
Sunlight eased past the bare branches. The ground was moist but solid underfoot. I suddenly realised that my headache was gone. In fact, I was almost giddy with wellbeing. I came to a sudden halt, and put a hand against the nearest tree to steady myself.
‘The trees like you.’
I looked up at the Archdruid. As my mother had drummed into me, I asked, ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘It is unusual,’ she continued. ‘The trees usually only welcome members of the herd.’
Now I could identify the feeling which lightened my chest. ‘It’s like standing in a cathedral. The same sense of holiness. Is this where unicorns come to pray?’
‘Yes, and far more than that.’ She turned her head, and pointed her sharp horn at a beech tree. ‘When a mare is pregnant, a druid comes to her and speaks to the foal in her womb. The druid determines which type of tree will best bond with the foal, and a sapling is chosen and brought to these woods. After the foal has been born, the afterbirth is brought here, and buried in the roots of the sapling. Tree and unicorn grow up together. It is through the mingling of tree and unicorn that we are tied to the land. And we come here to seek the wisdom of that self, the one which protected us in the womb and which sacrificed its life so that we might be born.’
I bit my lower lip, forcing back my protestations that the placenta was nothing more than the tissue which had nourished the foal. But my interfaith work had taught me to respect the beliefs of others. ‘So this is a sacred place.’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I feel honoured that you brought me here.’
‘You need to understand.’ She stepped forward and touched the beech tree with her nose. ‘Our land is sacred to us. And we will protect it.’
‘How far would you go to protect it?’
Her dark eyes slid away from mine. ‘I have lived for nearly a century,’ she mused. ‘When I was still in my first youth, the races of Lloegyr kept themselves separate. The air and the water were always clean. We rarely saw anyone from your world. Now so many rush to the cities, and when the wind shifts, our noses are clogged with the ash of burning wood. The humans we meet now are not wandering lost, but walk the land with purpose in their steps. Understand that this is our land, and we will protect it.’
‘I understand, Archdruid.’
‘Good.’ She turned to face me again. ‘I give you my name, Penelope White. I am Neciaunim.’
I bent my head. ‘And again I thank you for honouring me.’
‘You must say my name,’ the Archdruid said patiently. ‘You must taste it on your tongue. Neciaunim.’
I took a deep breath. ‘Neciaunim.’
Tree bark dug into my skin as I tightened my grip on the trunk. Suddenly I could hear words in the breeze whispering through the bare branches. The trees were talking to each other, connected by root and soil and air. I knew that an underground stream flowed a few feet away. In a cave deep beneath the soil, creatures which had never seen light composed poems about the sun. Above my head, a long tailed mouse-bird was preening her fur and preparing for an evening dance. A hare was singing his funeral song as a were-fox approached, even though hunting was forbidden in this sacred grove. And I could sense, like a slow growing cancer, the distant city of Llanbedr.
‘Now,’ said the unicorn, ‘now you understand.’
I closed my eyes for a moment. The world had returned to normal, and seemed flat and grey after what I had just experienced. ‘A were-fox has just broken the law.’
‘I know. I am aware of any being which comes into these woods.’
‘What will do you do to him?’
‘He will be made aware of his crime. Then he will be given a choice.’
‘What sort of choice?’
Neciaunim turned and walked away. ‘Time for you to return to England, Father Penny.’
I paused before following her. A long hair from her mane had dropped to the ground and glowed against the dark earth. I found a Kleenex which was only partially used, and scooped up the hair before sliding it into my pocket.
The Archdruid escorted me back to the site of the thin place. I waited for a moment, enjoying the feel of the sun on my face. Then I forced myself to step through. The darkness stripped away the glow left from speaking Neciaunim’s name. In fact, when I emerged on the other side, even my hangover had returned. I said words which were unbecoming to a vicar as I rubbed my forehead. Well, I guess I couldn’t expect a unicorn to come to my aid every time I had an overly intense encounter with alcohol.
I texted Ed, and made my way back across the field to wait for him to collect me. The grey skies of a December day in Northamptonshire were even more depressing than before, and I had to force myself not to bolt back through the thin space to Lloegyr. But parish duties pulled me away. As they always did.
Chapter Six
Clyde gave me a welcoming trill as I walked into the study. My answering machine was flashing, which meant I had a message, but I decided that lunch would come first. I put a hand into the snail shark’s tank, and he slid onto my palm. I carried him to the kitchen, where he zoomed off onto the table to stare at the back garden. ‘Unicorn?’
‘No, Clyde, no unicorn.’
‘See unicorn?’
‘I don’t think that’s going to happen.’ He looked so morose that I gave him a slice of cheese. It’s debatable whether food is the way to a man’s stomach, but it certainly works for snail sharks.
Mug of tea in hand, I took us both back into the study. Clyde smeared his unique brand of slime across my Mac screen as I turned the computer on. He perched on the top, muttering to himself about the garden birds, as I pressed the message button on the telephone handset.
‘Penny? Hi, it’s Ian. Can you give me a ring?’
What would the Archdeacon of Northampton want from me? I rang him back, and his warm tones sounded in my ear. ‘Ian Masterson’s office.’
‘Hi, Ian, Penny. You called?’
‘Ah, yes, Penny.’ He sighed. ‘I’ve had a four, no, a five page email from your churchwarden today. It’s a long list of complaints and some have been underlined three times.’
‘I can explain--’
‘It sounds to me like you could use a new churchwarden,’ he continued. ‘Can you work with this woman?’
I sank into my study chair. ‘A new churchwarden? Not a new vicar?’
Ian chuckled. ‘Listen, Penny, I get so many letters of complaint from churchwardens that I could build a bonfire. In fact, I might do that next Guy Fawkes Day. She’s even accused you of not showing enough interest in the coffee rota, for goodness sake. I’d be looking for a new vicar if you wasted your time on coffee rotas! So I’m asking you, can you actually work with this woman? It’s difficult to remove a churchwarden, but we do have people in the diocese who offer mediation. Maybe a meeting with the two of you and a neutral third party could help clear the air?’
I tried to imagine what Holly’s reaction might be to such a suggestion. ‘She’s just upset because I didn’t go to a meeting this morning.’
‘Oh, yes, the one about possible death watch beetle in the pews. It’s on page two. Only underlined the once.’
‘Thanks for the offer,’ I said, ‘but I’ll try to mend things at this end.’
‘Let me know if I can help. And what were you doing this morning? Something exciting, I hope.’
‘I was returning a unicorn filly to Lloegyr.’
‘That I would have liked to see.’ Ian sounded as besotted with unicorns as the males in my household. ‘I have a photo of a unicorn on my wall. Well, sometimes it just looks like a landscape, when I don't have the Sight. Unicorns are my favourites. But it’s dragons for you, isn’t it?’
‘And how’s your grandson?’ I asked quickly.
We exchanged a few more pleasantries. I heard James coming in through the front door, and then Morey’s voice as the gryphon came down from his room. So I ended the call and went into the kitchen to check whether my brother needed any lunch.
‘Father Ian was right,’ Morey said after landing on the kitchen counter. Some special gryphon sense enabled him to hear telephone conversations. ‘You need a new churchwarden.’
James took a seat while I prepared a sandwich for him. ‘What’s she done now?’
‘Emailed a five page letter of complaint to the Archdeacon,’ Morey explained. ‘She should be sacked.’
‘You can’t just sack a churchwarden.’ I handed James his plate and put the kettle on again.
‘Then you should tell her off,’ James said. ‘I mean, isn’t she supposed to be loyal to you? As her priest? At least give her a right telling off.’
I shook my head. ‘I’ll stop off on the way to Beckeridge to get her some flowers.’
‘What?’
‘Pardon,’ I corrected him. ‘Not “what”.’
‘I beg your pardon,’ James said, drawling out the words. ‘She tries to get you into trouble, and then you take her flowers?’
‘She’s upset that I didn’t make this morning’s meeting.’ I shrugged my shoulders. ‘I need to work with Holly.’
James studied me. ‘But you’d rather tell her off, wouldn’t you?’
‘What I’d like to do, and what I need to do, are two different things.’ Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Clyde sneaking up to the cheese sandwich lying forgotten on James’ plate. I scooped up the snail shark and took him to the study. ‘I’m going out to do some visiting in the village,’ I called back to the kitchen as I put Clyde into his tank. ‘Morey, did you want to come with me?’
‘I’ll stay here. I have some work to do.’
‘In other words,’ James commented, ‘Neighbours ended on a cliff hanger yesterday and he needs to see what happens next.’
‘It all helps me to understand human culture,’ Morey retorted.
I checked for my iPhone and keys, and then left the house. Those two could carry on their argument about soap operas perfectly well without me.
The corner shop had some flowers which were perfectly adequate and not too expensive. I removed the price label and slid it into a pocket as I waited outside Holly’s door.
The door creaked open, and Holly glared at me. ‘Yes, Vicar?’
‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there this morning,’ I said, trying to lie with sincerity.
‘I’ll try to do better.’
She accepted the bouquet with a sniff. ‘See that you do.’ Then the door was closed in my face.
She’s a beloved child of God, I told myself.
Stella’s house was only a few hundred yards up the road from Holly. I left my car parked on the road, tightened my coat around my body, and walked to her small mid terraced house. The red brick looked out of place in the row of pebble-dashed and white painted homes, and I wondered if the neighbours ever complained. Beckeridge villagers still believed strongly in keeping up appearances.
‘Vicar!’ Stella exclaimed as she opened her door. Her wide smile increased the number of wrinkles on her face. ‘How wonderful. Have you come to see me?’
‘Of course.’ She shuffled to one side to allow me to enter the dark hall. The stairs rose straight ahead of us. The living room was on the right, but she first led me into the kitchen, through the door on the left.
I halted as a large cage met my gaze. The grey parrot inside looked as startled to see me as I did him. ‘When did you get this, Stella?’
‘He’s my son’s.’ She moved slowly, and I winced as she nearly dropped a cup. But she recovered it well, and I didn’t want to insult her by offering to make the drinks myself. ‘Come here to live with me. Supposed to keep me company.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Jack.’
As the kettle began to boil, I walked over to the cage. The parrot moved away from me, his black feet gripping the wooden perch in grim determination. ‘Hello, Jack. Do you like living with Stella?’
The parrot opened his beak. And out came a slew of language coarse enough to impress any teenager. I felt my eyebrows creep up to my hairline.
‘Jack, stop that this instant!’ Stella told him. ‘I’m so sorry, Vicar. My Charlie, he says he doesn’t know where the bird picked up all that.’
I had met the son in question, and in my opinion the parrot’s voice matched Charlie’s to an uncanny extent. But I kept the thought to myself. ‘Maybe he’ll lose it, living here.’
Jack suggested that I do something which, for a woman, was anatomically impossible. I nearly told him so, then shut my mouth out of fear that Stella might ask me to explain why. Fortunately, the tea now made, she was keen to move us through to the living room.