by Chrys Cymri
The bride was five minutes late, which I considered acceptable. She walked up the aisle on her father’s arm, her five bridesmaids giggling behind her. The wedding ceremony went as planned, the family members who had been chosen to read out the Bible passages speaking clearly into the microphone. I managed to raise a couple of laughs in my sermon, and the bride and groom looked suitably nervous and tearful during their vows.
Then the moment for the rings. Morey had arrived during the first hymn, and he was perched on the edge of the pulpit, red-brown eyes glistening as he watched proceedings. Several of the younger children could see him, but he ignored their waves.
Tilly was put down and she set off. Guests were standing for a better view, smart phones and several tablets raised high to take photos. A flash went off a few feet away. The penguin paused, and made as if to turn around.
Martin called her name and rattled something in his hand. Tilly looked around, the ring sliding across her black and white chest. Then she continued down the aisle, and Martin was able to scoop her up onto a small table by his elbow.
One ring successfully retrieved. The groom repeated the set words after me as he placed the gold band onto his bride’s finger.
‘But where’s yours?’ Tanya whispered.
George grinned. ‘Just watch.’
The best man stepped out and held up a gloved fist. From the corner of my eye, I saw that Tilly was still on her table, but before I could say anything Stacey had sent Snowy from her hand. He swooped low and silent over the heads of the guests, making several people jump in sudden alarm.
The owl approached the best man. And then several things happened at once. A child screamed. The owl swerved away. And Tilly squatted down and ejected a noxious smelling fluid from her rear end. The green-brown goo splashed across the bride’s elaborate dress. Immense satisfaction threatened to pull my mouth into a smile. I kept a straight face and promised God that I would repent later.
The owl settled next to Morey. They studied each other for a moment before Snowy struck out at him with her yellow beak. He stepped away and cocked his head as he told her, ‘Please get down there with the ring. Or we’ll be here all day.’
I nodded to the best man, who was trying to offer the bride a tissue. He lifted his hand again, and this time Snowy landed without difficulty. ‘I suggest,’ I said to the congregation, ‘that we continue with the ceremony while the verger finds some water and a towel.’
The bridesmaids, as is often the case, seemed to be unaware that their role was to help the bride, not to stand nearby and flap hands helplessly. So I was the one to assist Tanya in wiping down her dress before she sat down with her husband to sign the registers.
At least the sun had decided to make an appearance. I was able to dismiss the not entirely happy couple into a bright afternoon. They left through the north door, followed by family and then friends.
I needed a breath of fresh air, so I exited from the south door. Only to find a man with a cage of doves waiting outside. ‘Where’s the couple?’ he asked.
‘This way.’ I led him around the back of the church. The bride and groom were posing with Snowy, the photographer arranging the owl’s height to cover the stain on the dress.
The dove man cleared his throat. ‘Hello, everyone! As a special surprise from Wendy and Joe, I’ve been sent on this happy occasion with Myrtle and Simeon. Doves mate for life, you know. As Myrtle and Simeon circle George and Tanya, we’re reminded that this happy couple are also going to be together forever. And then the two doves are going to fly off together, just like George and Tanya are settling off for their new life together.’
Morey had settled onto the branch of a nearby tree. I gave him a glare, warning him not to frighten the doves. He smoothed back his feathers and crouched low, doing his best to blend purple-grey fur to dull brown bark. The owl, I was relieved to see, had also been removed to a discreet distance.
The cage door was opened, and the man reached in. With great ceremony he removed the two doves, and handed one each to bride and groom. At his signal they threw the birds into the air. One flew off, but the other fluttered to the ground.
An exclamation from Stacey was the only warning. A white-brown streak dived down. I had a glimpse of talons and beak, and then the owl was flying off, the dove dangling in her feet. She landed on a branch near Morey, and started to rip at her prey.
Morey looked down at me. ‘She’s magnificent.’
It has to be said, that wasn’t the word I had in mind.
Chapter Eleven
I must admit, I was disappointed when I opened the door. The producer looked so ordinary in his dark winter coat and blue jeans. I had been hoping for some flashy Hollywood type to brighten up a day made dull by a morning spent on rotas. There wasn’t even a pair of sunglasses perched on his black hair.
‘Hi, you must be Penny.’ He thrust out his hand. ‘I'm Lewis. Great to meet you.’
I allowed him into the study and went off to make him a coffee. When I returned, he was crouching by the terrarium and rapping on the side. ‘Well, whatever you got in there, it’s not coming out.’
Clyde was staring at the man. From the flush on his skin, I could see that the snail was not pleased to have been woken from his post lunch nap. ‘Here’s your coffee,’ I said, steering Lewis to a chair. ‘So, how can I help you?’
He reached into his coat and pulled out a notebook. ‘We’ve got a great up and coming writer working on the scripts--love your blog, by the way. And the book.’
‘You’re the one,’ I said drily.
‘Sales will pick up when the series is online,’ Lewis said cheerfully. He balanced the notebook on one knee and checked his notes. ‘I like the way you make things, you know, just on this side of ridiculous. Like snail sharks, for example.’
His right hand had drifted, and the tip of his pen tapped at the glass wall of the tank. Clyde stretched up his body, his eyespots intent on the annoying object. ‘Would you mind not doing that?’ I asked mildly.
‘Sure.’ Lewis flipped over a page. ‘We’d like to use your church for filming, but don't worry, we won’t be using your house. We’ll clear use of the roads and so on with the local council and the police. Do you have an online calendar for the church? Just so we know when we can’t use the building.’
‘Sundays. Christmas. Easter.’
‘Oh, we’ll be filming in January to March.’
‘Let’s hope you get the weather for it.’
He gave me a wink. ‘Can’t you do something about that, Vicar?’
I trotted out my usual answer. ‘Sorry, I’m in sales, not management.’
Lewis had the grace to laugh. ‘Oh, I like that one.’
His pen was once again clicking against glass, and Clyde’s skin was now a mottled red-brown. I quickly glanced at the lid to check that it was firmly locked down. The snail shark was very annoyed. ‘Please stop that.’
‘Oops, forgot.’ Lewis glanced down at his notes again. ‘We’re a bit worried, though, that the Earth bits aren’t as interesting as the stuff in--Lloegyr? Is that how you pronounce it? I mean, church life must be so dull.’
The doorbell rang, and I excused myself. A workman stood in the storm porch, his blue overalls patterned with old paint and new mud. ‘You the vicar of Beckeridge?’
‘That’s me.’
‘I’ve been digging a new drainage trench by your church. And I found these.’ He handed me two plastic carrier bags. ‘Thought you’d better have them.’
I peered inside. For a moment all I saw was a jumble of brown and white. Then I swallowed. ‘These are human bones.’
‘Graveyard,’ the man explained unnecessarily. ‘Tell your churchwarden I’ve finished now.’
I closed the door and carried my unwelcome burden back to the study. Lewis stared at the bags with interest. ‘Human bones,’ I explained. And I placed the bags on the top of the bookshelves. Clyde was watching with worrisome interest.
‘And both ends
of the socio-economic spectrum are covered,’ Lewis said happily, writing away in his notebook. ‘A bag from Tesco’s and a bag from Waitrose. Fantastic. What will you do with them?’
‘Arrange for their reburial.’
‘I’ll get this over to the writer,’ Lewis was continuing. ‘Are there any unsolved murders in the village? Maybe we could work up a mystery angle. You know, just to make your Earth life more interesting.’
I tried and failed to work up a protest. Human bones meant, I was certain, yet more paperwork. Then there were all the Christmas services which I needed to photocopy, the annual report to write for the auditors, an assembly to prepare for my Wednesday visit to the primary school… Every so often, the fact that I wasn’t full time Vicar General left a bad taste in my mouth. I slumped back into my study chair and put on my best fake smile. ‘Ministry is always rewarding. What other questions do you have?’
<><><><><><>
James was pale and tight lipped as he emerged from the car. I reminded myself that his expression must be due to the court case and not my driving. Besides, I’d crossed back onto my side of the road inches before the black BMW would have hit us.
Nenehampton cathedral slouched glum and grey under the wintry skies. I led the way from the parking area by the Dean’s house, James at my right side, Morey on my left shoulder.
We were nearly at the entrance of the cathedral when I heard my name. James carried on up the steps while I halted to greet the Dean. ‘Sorry, held up by a phone call,’ Angelica said, puffing slightly. ‘Good morning, Morey.’
The gryphon’s claws dug into my coat as he gave her a bow. ‘Mrs Dean. Thank you for again for allowing us to use the cathedral’s thin place.’
Angelica brushed back a strand of greying hair. ‘I seem to recall that you were a bit worse for wear last time.’
‘I drank too much whisky and I suffered the consequences,’ Morey admitted.
‘Saving me from myself,’ I added loyally.
Angelica laughed. ‘So you said at the time. It’s good to see such a successful partnership. Let’s go.’
The thin place was at the far end of the cathedral, locked away behind a metal barrier. James was already waiting nearby. I hung back for a moment. ‘He looks so young,’ I said quietly to Morey.
The gryphon turned his head to meet my eyes. ‘Penny, he is young.’‘I’ll be praying hard for all of you,’ the Dean murmured into my ear. Then she raised her voice. ‘James. Good to see you again.’
My brother ducked his head awkwardly so she could kiss him on the cheek. ‘You still got that little dog?’
‘Herbert? Oh, yes, he keeps me sane.’ Angelica unlocked the gate and swung it open. ‘Send me a text when you’re back,’ she reminded me, ‘and I’ll come over to let you out.’
I glanced around at the nearly empty cathedral. ‘What if people see us?’
‘Pretend to be suitably embarrassed and worried what the police will say when the Dean reports you.’ She chuckled. ‘That’s what Bishop Nigel did when he was caught out. Worked like a charm.’
The thin place at Nenehampton cathedral had none of the chill and dread of the other land-based crossings I’d encountered. Warmth and joy wrapped around my soul as I stepped through the space between a black heating cylinder and the wall. Even for a priest, the times when God hovers close can be few and far between. It was with some reluctance that I emerged on the other side.
We were in the choir area of Llanbedr cathedral. Light oak stalls faced me, and to the right was the high altar. On my left stretched the main body of the church. Sunshine pushed through stained glass windows to cast coloured light onto the stone floor.
The policeman waiting for us was familiar. ‘Sergeant Craddoe Finn,’ I greeted him. ‘Good to see you again.’
The elf gave me a curt nod. His blue and black uniform seemed to cling to his thin body. The pointed ears under his short black hair once again reminded me of the Vulcans from Star Trek. ‘We’ll transport you across the city. The main court house is only a short flight away.’
A hint of a smile eased James’ lips. ‘I like riding dragons.’
Craddoe’s partner was waiting on the cathedral green. The purple dragon said something to the elf, a rumble in Welsh and too low for me to hear. Craddoe laughed, which immediately made him seem, well, more human. He slapped the dragon affectionately on the shoulder, then mounted. James climbed up after him, taking a seat behind the police officer. Morey flew off my shoulder to land on the cantle. That left only me. Craddoe started to lean down to offer me a hand, but I took a deep breath and dug fingers and then shoes into the rungs leading up the saddle. I was not going to be shown up by my younger brother.
The elf looked back to check that we were settled. The dragon stretched out his purple wings, and for a moment the bright skin fluttered in the breeze. Then he shifted back, gathering his haunches beneath his body, before thrusting all of us into the air. I found myself grinning as the ground fell away. Despite my regular rides on Raven, dragon flight had not lost its wonder.
The thought of Raven made the smile slip from my face. His refusal to help Clyde was as cold as the wind slapping against my cheeks. Would he appear as usual on Thursday? Did I want him to? What would we say to each other if he did? I decided to concentrate on looking down at the view beneath us.
Whereas Nenehampton was a modern English city, all modern housing estates and a few concrete high rises surrounding an ancient centre, Llanbedr was far more medieval. The houses were a striking blend of pastel shades and wooden beams, the streets were gleaming cobbles, and the biting smell of urine reminded me that most cities on Earth had to wait until our industrial age before sewers become commonplace. I wondered when Llanbedr’s citizens would benefit from that convenience.
The court house was all pointed turrets and fussy stonework. I disliked it on sight. The dragon had to make a careful manoeuvre to land us on the small courtyard in front of the wrought iron gates. Statues of unicorns reared on either side of an ornate shield over the portico entrance. I tried and failed to translate the ornate Welsh carved into the walls.
As soon as I’d slid to the ground, Morey dropped to my shoulder. James was beside me a moment later. I reached up to tug down my jacket, then remembered that I was wearing a winter coat over my suit. My fingers twitched uneasily around my hood.
The gates swung open as we approached. I put a hand onto James’ arm, though whether to comfort him or myself, I wasn’t sure. As we climbed the steps to the entrance, I could see two unicorns standing guard just inside the door. Breastplates of silver and gold rested against their chests, and the chains creaked as they turned sharp-horned heads towards us.
‘Sergeant Craddoe Finn,’ the elf announced to the wary stallions. ‘I’ve brought a witness and his legal guardian for the Bodil trial.’
The unicorn nearest me stamped a forehoof. The sharp sound made my shoulders tense. Morey pressed closer against my neck, and I felt his tail lashing across my back. ‘Father Penny White,’ I said quickly, ‘and this is James White. The gryphon is Elder Morey.’
‘You are expected,’ the unicorn acknowledged. ‘Father Penny, do you swear by your God that you and those with you will respect this place of justice?’
I swallowed. ‘I do so swear. For myself, for James, and for Morey.’
‘Then enter.’
The stallions pulled back. I squared my shoulders and strode inside.
Craddoe took the lead. We followed him across the ornate marble floor. A high ceiling of white and grey was supported by columns of dark stone. There were very few windows. Gas lamps flickered along the wide corridors which stretched off left, right, and ahead of us. The elf turned right, and my shoes squeaked against the floor as I tried to match his long strides.
There was the occasional murmur of conversation, too soft for me to pick out any words in either English or Welsh. I caught the smoky scent of dragon, and I wondered uneasily how many might be in the courtroom.
> A door opened on my left. Peter emerged, dressed in formal police uniform, a dark hat under his arm. ‘Hi, Penny, James, Morey. And good day to you, Sergeant Finn.’
‘Inspectors Jarvis and Taryn,’ Craddoe replied. ‘Good to see you both, sirs.’
‘Yes, good,’ I echoed. Never had Peter seemed so handsome. The combination of black jacket and white shirt suited him. Taryn sat on his shoulder, a bright contrast in her slate-grey and yellow colouring.
‘Miranda died in Llanbedr,’ Peter explained. ‘But she lived in my jurisdiction. So I was invited to attend the final hearing.’
James coughed. ‘Today’s the final hearing?’
‘Yours is the last testimony the judges will hear.’ Peter gave him a reassuring smile. ‘Don’t worry, the outcome won’t be decided based on what you say alone. It’s a pretty firm case.’
‘How does it work?’ I asked as we resumed our walk. ‘Is there a jury?’
Peter shook his head. ‘No jury. There are three judges, and they both call and question the witnesses. Then they decide the verdict.’
‘Unicorns?’
‘Of course,’ Morey, Taryn, and Craddoe said at the same moment. My Associate added, ‘Unicorns can be trusted to ensure that justice takes place.’
The heavy wooden doors at the end of the corridor were decorated with intricate carvings of unicorns. Craddoe took us to a smaller side door, which led to a plain room. ‘Master James,’ he said to my brother, ‘in view of your age, you’ll be permitted to sit with your guardian until the court requires your testimony. But you will have to take the witness box on your own. Do you understand?’
‘I understand,’ James said, his face tight.
We walked up a set of stairs and emerged onto a narrow gallery. Craddoe led the way, followed by Peter, me, and then James. Elf and humans took seats on the hard pew, and both gryphons settled on the wide railing. I leaned forward to study the area below. The floor was white marble, with a few chairs scattered across the otherwise empty space. A dais of dark wood took up the back third of the area. A structure like an open wooden box, but with a small gate, took up the right side of the platform. Facing it on the left was a slightly sunken area filled with what appeared to be sawdust. Across from us was a far wider balcony, currently empty.