“Shall I go back and get the others to help search, now that the mist has lifted?” Ryan asked.
“Yes. Good idea.” Still Antony was reluctant to split up. “Let’s all go, though. We can get dry clothes and a cuppa before we start again.”
Antony spent most of the walk back organizing the search in his mind—how he would divide the walkers into teams; responsible ones with… well, with others; how he would divide the areas to be searched. This time they would do a proper job with each team carrying food and drink and bandages. He pulled his mobile out of his pocket, hoping there might be reception so teams could communicate. A forlorn hope, however.
They were still some distance from the van when Antony saw a red-clad figure with a flying blonde braid hurtling up the path toward him. “Oh, Antony! I was so worried.” Felicity flung herself into his arms. She continued to cling to him for several moments. “Oh, I’m so thankful!”
“Did Adam show up?”
She pulled away. “No. Isn’t he with you? I thought…” She look round, then hurled herself back into his arms. “Oh, but I was worried for you, too. The storm was awful. And after yesterday, I thought… Well, I don’t know what I thought. And then when Jared didn’t come back, either…”
“Jared? Where did he go? I told you to keep everyone in the minibus.” He hadn’t meant it to come out as such an accusation.
“I know. But after we had tea, he had to—well, he needed to find a bush.”
Antony nodded. “He wouldn’t have needed to go far in that fog.”
“I know. I thought he’d be right back. But then there was all that thunder. And the hail! You should have heard it beating the roof of the van. I was afraid it would break the windshield.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Oh, I expect you do, don’t you? Up close and personal.” She gave him another hug and, her arm still around him, pulled him toward the van. “So, of course, I thought Jared was just sheltering under his bush. But then the storm passed and the mist lifted and—” She swept the area with her arm. “No one. No Jared. No Adam. No you.” Her voice caught on the last word.
Antony turned his head to give her a peck on the cheek. “I’m fine. We all are. But now—” he turned back. “Michael, I think we’d better drive into Risca and get proper help. They must have a mountain rescue team. Or maybe we’ll be able to ring them when we get down off the mountain.” He looked at his watch, trying to calculate how long they had before dark.
They had barely reached the vehicle when a jaunty “Cooee!” caught Antony’s ear. He turned to see Jared’s tall, loose-limbed figure striding toward them from around the west wide of Twmbarlum, with a small Adam bouncing beside him like a puppy.
In moments they were engulfed in a rejoicing cluster. Lydia, who had actually outstripped everyone and reached her brother first, held Adam aloft like a trophy. It was several moments before the babble of excited voices and questions died down enough for Adam to explain, in a voice that showed his bewilderment at the hubbub, “I was fine. The lady asked me to help her pick those funny spotted flowers. Fly catcher, she called them. Did you know they actually eat flies?” Adam rambled on.
One look at Jared, however, told Antony that he had seen nothing of any such lady.
Chapter 11
Wednesday
Pontyminster to Bedwas
The next morning, crossing the Old Bridge into Pontyminster, where the medieval monks kept a grange, Felicity reflected on how much they had to be thankful for in spite of the desultory drizzle falling on them from a leaden sky. She smiled and supposed the first thing to give thanks for was that it was merely a light sprinkle and not the tearing sheets of rain she had been warned of in this area. Nor was it a hailstorm like they had experienced yesterday. And there was almost no wind like the day before that. She pulled her hood up and concluded that, considering the alternatives, it was positively balmy.
They walked down Mill Road, named, Ryan informed her, for the mill the monks built on the river in the early 1200s, then crossed the Afon Ebwy by the Old Bridge into Pontyminster— “Pont meaning bridge, and minster for the grange the Llantarnam monks had here,” her informant told her.
She smiled and nodded but, in spite of her “could be worse” determination, she was missing the comforts of the accommodations provided by St Mary’s Church last night. In spite of their delayed arrival, the weary pilgrims had been met by two gray-haired ladies and a bald, jolly priest bearing shepherd’s pie, salad and treacle tart for their supper in the church hall. After supper they had gone into the church where Nancy led the group in evening prayers. Felicity wasn’t surprised that Nancy would do a graceful job of leading the service, but she was surprised Antony had asked a pilgrim to lead rather than doing it himself. When Antony explained, however, that Nancy was in the discernment process to sort out her calling, Felicity understood.
Felicity paused to massage the aching calf of her left leg. Looking back on yesterday, it was impossible to believe they had walked only about six miles. But then, most of those miles had been straight up and down.
And sure enough, she no sooner had the thought than the path started up again. Felicity was thankful for the clear plastic covering over the map which she was carrying this morning. She wiped a few drops of water away as she paused to consider the alternative routes offered. Ryan looked over her shoulder. “Far more interesting to go over the top of Mynydd Machen. Bronze Age, Roman and medieval sites up there.”
“Amazing, the amount of ancient activity in what seems like such a remote area.”
Ryan looked up at the gray mizzle. “Don’t know what Father A would think about it in this weather, but it would be a shame to miss those sites.”
Felicity looked through the mist at yet another green mountain before them, and felt again the panic rising in her throat at the remembered fear of thinking they had lost Adam on the Tump. She had noticed that he was staying closer to his sister today—or she to him—and that was good. But the disquiet remained: Who had Adam met? And where had she gone?
At that moment, Antony joined them. “Take the path to the right. Just past Heol Las Farm. We’ll stop at the old chapel for Eucharist.” He pointed to the spot on the map, then smiled at Ryan. “We can go on up the mountain after that if the weather clears.”
Felicity would settle for it just not getting worse, but Antony’s optimism was comforting.
The old chapel, as Felicity had expected, was little more than a foundation marked by broken walls and scattered stones; still, it had once been a place of worship. And today, it was again as Antony prepared in his careful way, using a section of broken wall for his altar. The pilgrims stepped over the rough footings and turned to the east, facing Antony.
He cleared his throat and smiled at them. “The Lord be with you.” He held out his hands to encompass them all.
“And also with you,” Felicity’s reply surprised even herself with its enthusiasm. The events of the recent days made her more thankful than ever for this sacramental moment.
And Antony was obviously thinking in a similar vein as he began his homily. “Viaticum—food for the journey. That’s what our Lord offers us in His Body and Blood. These past days have been challenging. No doubt more challenges await us. So it has always been for those on pilgrimage. And that is as it should be, because a pilgrimage is meant to be a symbol of life. Always in life, as on pilgrimage, hazards lurk. But always we have what we need if we will avail ourselves of it. Strength for the journey. Viaticum.”
He proceeded to the consecration, then held the elements out to all of them, “The gifts of God for the people of God.”
The last of the pilgrims was partaking when lances of intermittent sunshine broke through the final wisps of grey cloud, making the damp stones of the old chapel glisten. The warming rays awoke the scent in a froth of white wildflowers growing around the foundations, giving the impression of spicy incense. Evie apparently noticed it too, because she bent to pluck a blossom
, sniffed it, then picked several more of the clusters before handing the nosegay to Kaylyn, who nodded almost formally as if accepting her due.
What enigmas those girls are, Felicity thought, then recalled Antony’s admonition that they should walk with different pilgrims and get to know each other. Right, off-putting as Kaylyn’s silence was, she would try.
Felicity pulled the strap of the map case over her head and offered it to Ryan. “You don’t mind, do you? Especially now that the weather has cleared so we can explore the interesting sites.”
Ryan took the map and his place at the head of the line with alacrity, Colin beside him. Felicity held back, waiting for Evie and Kaylyn. Kaylyn, still holding her posy, moved forward. In spite of her impassivity, or perhaps because of it, the girl had an admirable dignity. The path was wide enough here to allow walking three abreast, so Felicity joined them. “Lovely lacy flowers, aren’t they?” She nodded toward the bouquet. “Such an unusual scent. Almost like licorice. I wonder what they’re called.”
Predictably, Evie giggled, but Kaylyn’s terse answer was startling. “Mother-die.”
“What?” Felicity couldn’t have heard right.
Kaylyn shrugged, apparently gratified to have shocked Felicity. “More commonly called cow parsley, but mother-die is a common name. It’s from the hemlock family.”
Felicity shivered. “Oh, how interesting.” She would need to think of another topic of conversation. “Are you doing biology in school?” Kaylyn certainly didn’t strike her as someone who would be interested in gardening.
The kohl-lined eyes peered from beneath the shaggy black bangs to give Felicity a Don’t be ridiculous look. “Creeping Hemlock is a publisher.”
“They do some of our favorite books,” Evie explained.
Felicity understood. Zombies again. “Oh.” She paused. “Well, what are you studying? Do you go to the same school?”
“You could say that. We’re both home-schooled,” Evie explained. “Kaylyn’s mother’s really—er—involved, busy, like, so my mum oversees both of us. That’s why she sent us here.”
Felicity looked blank.
“It’s an RE thing. Have to get our hours in, visiting churches, learning church history—stuff like that. Seemed a good way to get it done.”
Felicity was still lost. “RE?”
“Religious Education. It’s required.” Kaylyn looked at her as if she wondered what planet this American woman was from, but Evie smiled. “It’s cool, really. We learn all kinds of religious stuff. Did you know Michael is thinking of becoming an RE teacher? I told him he should. It’s brilliant.” She paused. “I think I might do it, too.”
It was fortunate that the walking demanded her attention as the trail started uphill again to slope around the side of the mountain, because Felicity really couldn’t think of anything to reply to such information. Evie teaching religion?
On up a bit they came to a wide, fairly level spot, and Antony called for them to stop for a Station. To Felicity’s astonishment, Kaylyn handed the cow parsley to her before turning to Jared and offering to carry the cross. The fact that she was doing this for school credit was the only explanation Felicity could imagine.
“Jesus meets the women of Jerusalem,” Antony read the meditation for the eighth Station, bringing to mind Jesus’ love for his mother and the mourning women. Felicity looked at the flowers in her hand. Was it just because she knew the nickname that they now smelled acrid?
As they moved on, Ryan pointed out some old mine workings. “The path we’re on was probably a tramway to the quarry over there.” He pointed to their right. “The stone here is dolomitic limestone, which was used in the iron industry. It has veins of argentiferous lead in it, and quarrying has exposed old lead workings—”
Evie burst into giggles and Jared punched him on the arm. “Speak English, man.”
But Colin jumped in, “Most likely Roman. There was a Roman mining station down in the valley. They found its bath house a few years ago.”
Jared shook his head. “Get your head out of the encyclopedia.” He and Evie moved ahead to catch up with Kaylyn.
But Colin was undaunted. “The abundance of mineral resources in Britannia was likely one of the reasons for the Roman conquest. They were able to use advanced technology to find and extract valuable minerals on a scale unequaled again until the late Middle Ages. That’s very important because lead was essential to the smooth running of the Roman Empire, you see. It was used for pipes for aqueducts and plumbing, pewter, gutters for villas, even for coffins. Just six years after the conquest of Britain, the Romans had Welsh lead mines up and running at full shift.”
Felicity wasn’t sure which was more amazing, that Colin could remember all that or that he could spurt it out without catching his breath while ascending a mountain. No telling what more she might have learned if their beaten earth trail hadn’t abruptly turned steep enough to subdue even the loquacious Colin. As was most of the terrain they had walked through, the ground was hummocky, covered with coarse grass with piles of scattered stones peeking through, and occasional scrubby bushes. The summit of Mynydd Machen above them was apparent for miles around, as it was topped with a television transmission mast; excellent as a landmark, but of little interest to the antiquarians among them.
Felicity walked toward a square, whitewashed cement pillar standing more than waist-high, assuming it must be a monument of some sort. Perhaps to another Celtic saint?
“That’s a trig point,” Ryan explained before she could ask.
“A what?”
“Triangulation point. A fixed station, used for surveying. They’re usually set up on hilltops by the government for plotting road construction and the like. But over there,” his voice took on a ring of greater interest as he pointed to a large rounded pile of stones near the crest of the hill looking out over the wide green valley, “that’s a Bronze Age burial mound. It’s one of a line stretching for several miles along the hilltop.” He pointed westward. “That means the route along the ridge is probably prehistoric. There are more cairns and a burial mound with an enclosure where burial ceremonies for the dead were probably performed.”
“A line of burial mounds!” Felicity had never heard Kaylyn speak with such excitement.
“You mean this was a ritual path?” Evie’s voice matched Kaylyn’s fervor.
“Sick!”
From Kaylyn’s tone, Felicity took the last word to mean “good.” The two Goths turned and walked to the cairn with a measured step that suggested they were in a procession themselves.
“And over here,” Ryan turned to the northwest, “under that heather are the foundations of a number of medieval platform houses, built by peasant farmers in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries when the weather was better than it is now, and crops could be grown on these mountains.”
He had addressed the whole group of walkers who stood clustered around the trig point, and as he turned toward the medieval site the group followed. “Apparently rabbit husbandry was an important part of their economy because we have pillow mounds all over this area. See those bumps? There are interconnected stone-lined tunnels under them—a housing estate for the coneys medieval farmers raised for their skin and meat.”
The group moved on for closer examination of the site, but Felicity looked over her shoulder and saw that Kaylyn and Evie were still at the cairn, standing as one might at a family graveside. Kaylyn, who had handed the cross to Jared when the trail became steep, laid the rather wilted cow parsley bouquet she had reclaimed from Felicity at the base of the pile of stones.
“You go on. I’ll stay with Kaylyn and Evie,” Felicity told Antony.
The girls were so deep in their focus on the cairn that Evie seemed startled when Felicity stood beside her. “Want to go see the medieval site?” Felicity suggested.
The numerous silver rings and studs in Kaylyn’s piercings glinted in the midday sun as she glared at Felicity before dismissing her suggestion with disdain. “We�
�re meditating.” Kaylyn took a seat on a flat stone as if it were a pew in church.
The surprise would have been enough to make Felicity sit down, even if it hadn’t seemed the best course. She didn’t want to leave the girls alone, and they obviously wouldn’t choose to come with her peaceably. She backed off a little way and sat on a clump of grass under a bush covered with small unripe berries. A closer examination revealed the flat, ridged bottoms on the tiny berries and Felicity realized they were huckleberries, so ubiquitous in her Idaho mountains. The hours she had spent filling her sand pail with the little purple beads when her father took her and her brothers to a mountain lake in those long-ago summers.
She had heard little from her mother since Cynthia had returned home after Easter, hoping to rebuild her shattered marriage. Felicity assumed that her mother was still working on it.
“They’re sobbing!” Evie’s cry burst into Felicity’s reverie.
“Ohhh, horrible!” Kaylyn covered her ears with her black-tipped, be-ringed hands.
“Somebody help them!” Evie began sobbing herself.
Felicity’s surprise turned to irritation. What were those girls playing at? She stood up.
“Voices of the dead!” wailed Evie.
“That’s enough. Time to go.” Felicity had only spent one year teaching, but she could still summon a school teacher voice when she needed to.
Her words bounced back at her as if they hit an impenetrable shield. Felicity was chilled. They weren’t acting. Whatever it was, Evie and Kaylyn believed they were hearing something. Something that to them was far more real than her presence only a few feet away.
An Unholy Communion Page 11