“Amen,” Felicity responded and crossed herself as Antony did.
He rinsed the box in the flowing water and wiped it dry. Now Felicity felt she could look at it properly. She sat down on the grassy bank. “It’s beautiful. What is it?”
Antony sat beside her. “I would guess it’s a scrynne— a forerunner of a shrine. Used to contain precious writings or sacred relics.”
“Do you think this is what Hwyl was trying to protect?”
“More likely what he was trying to find.”
“But he had the plan.” Felicity wrinkled her brow.
“He might not have had the plan for very long. If he had unrolled it, it would have been cracked.”
“But it’s just a case, isn’t it? I mean, it’s beautiful and very, very old and probably valuable, but the point of a scrynne was what was inside it, right?”
Antony nodded and Felicity continued, “So either Hwyl found the relic or artifact or whatever was in here and put it someplace safe…”
“No. Hwyl wouldn’t have left a hex. Someone else has it and has taken it out to use it,” Antony concluded. He thought for a moment. “At that coven or whatever last night, did you see anything used in their ritual that that would fit in here?”
Felicity closed her eyes, thinking. “I think the priest—Serene Imperator—had something in his hands. It might show in one of Chloe’s pictures.” She thought more. “It might have been a pouch. Leather or a heavy fabric, maybe. About that long.” She held her hands about ten inches apart, then looked from them to the casket. “Yes, it would fit in there.” Her eyes grew wide as she continued, “Potentiae obiectum, I’m certain that’s what they were chanting. Well, I think so, anyway. So you’re thinking this had the article of power in it?”
Antony was silent for a long time. Felicity leaned over and gave his temple a peck of a kiss. “What was that for?”
“I love it when I can see your wheels turning. That’s to grease them.”
“Good. They’re squeaky right now, but here’s what I’m thinking. There seems to be a thread through all the history we’ve seen in the past weeks, starting with Aaron and Julius—devout Christian Romans; Aaron, probably Jewish. If they brought a valuable Christian artifact or document with them, or something was sent to them…”
“Why?”
Antony shrugged. “As valued personal property? A family treasure? For safekeeping?”
Felicity nodded. “That is possible. Britain was the safest part of the empire for Christians.” She was quiet for a moment. “Some document or something that bolstered their faith enough to stand strong as martyrs.”
“Yes, and then, David found it.”
“That’s not too far-fetched, is it? He was at Caerleon, after all.” Felicity leaned forward and grasped his arm. “And Aaron and Julius would have kept their treasure hidden from the Romans, after all. Maybe in one of those tunnels under the monastery.”
“Oops—” Antony held up a hand. “You’re letting your imagination run ahead of you there. The monastery wasn’t built yet.”
“Yes, but wasn’t it built on ground where the fort was? So maybe they found it when building the monastery. Anyway, just say David found it—whatever ‘it’ is—somewhere at Caerleon, and that gave him the assurance to stand so strong against the heretics that the ground rose up when he preached.”
Antony nodded. “Well, if there was such an artifact, it’s certain David would have taken it with him when he moved his bishopric to Menevia.”
Felicity was quiet, as if watching David and his entourage moving westward across ancient Wales. Eventually, she spoke. “So David carried his relic across Wales, just where we walked? All the ancient sites—Roman, some much older—all along there show it was a trodden way. And he could have stopped at Aberdare.”
Antony laughed. “Well, that’s probably stretching it. It’s unlikely there was even so much as a clutch of mud huts there then. Certainly no coal mines. But the rest is just possible. Although the Cistercian Way linking the ring of monasteries around the border of Wales only goes back to the twelfth century.”
“But those monasteries were built on the work of St David, weren’t they?”
“Yes, he and his monks founded twelve monasteries, but we’re getting a bit far afield.”
“Oh, yes. Sorry. Well, never mind about Aberdare. Although I do think—”
Antony cleared his throat.
“Right, I’ll try to stay on track. But it’s hard to know what the track is. So say David brought our artifact thing here.”
“Why would he hide it?”
“Maybe he didn’t. Not at first, at least. But later, when Welsh kings attacked, it was hidden somewhere here at Tyddewi.”
“‘David’s House’—well done.” Antony nodded to encourage her reasoning. She said she loved it when his wheels turned. He loved the quickness of her mind.
This time, though, she was quiet for a longer period. “You’ll say I’m really reaching here, but Giraldus Cambrensis—he was an author and scholar. So he might have learned something about this. Then when he traveled around Wales with the Archbishop of Canterbury and helped the Bishop of St David’s rebuild the cathedral, he would have been looking for it, too.”
“Are you suggesting that his failure to be elected bishop was somehow due to his failure to find the sacred object?”
“Possibly. But whether or not he found it, maybe he heard rumors and wrote about it. You said he was something of a gossip, so if he heard anything he would have recorded it.”
Antony saw where she was going. “So you’re thinking that Gower, who was a scholar, would have read whatever Gerald might have written.”
“And could have found it when rebuilding the cathedral. Then when Gower was desperate to build his palace—you said it was a bit of a mystery how he managed to finance it— he used it somehow.”
Antony considered. In spite of all the guess work, there was a logic to what Felicity said. “How would he have used it, I wonder?”
Felicity shrugged. “Do I have to do all the work? You tell me.”
“Well, it depends on what the object was. Whether it offered a threat or a promise. He could have promised special prayers for donors. Even charged to let wealthy patrons touch it, perhaps. Rich pilgrims brought lavish gifts to shrines in those days.”
“He wouldn’t have sold it, would he?”
“Then why build a cache for the scrynne in his palace? Complete with a floor plan marking its whereabouts.” Antony considered. “The question seems to be whether he hid it to use for personal power or to protect it.”
The flash of a camera made them both jump. “Sorry,” Chloe said. “I hope you don’t mind, but your expressions were a priceless study of deep concentration.”
“How did you find us?” Antony asked, wondering how long she had been there, how much she had heard.
“I was just wandering around, looking for good subjects. I was photographing the Great Chapel in the palace, but then all these people came in—those people that invited us to that tea the other day.”
Antony nodded. “The committee for the restoration of the Bishop’s Palace.”
“Yeah, them. I think they were planning a meeting or a service or something there. They were talking about where to place an altar, candles, censer, that sort of thing. Anyway, I couldn’t really work with them all over the place, so I wandered out back and climbed over that broken place in the wall.”
“I’m glad you did.” Felicity indicated the small, ornate casket. “What do you think—whatever the Serene Imperator was holding up in the center of the pentagram last night. Could it have fit in here?”
Chloe considered. “I would think so, but it’s hard to say for sure. I didn’t get a very clear look. That’s really beautiful, though. What is it?”
Felicity explained what a scrynne was, but not where they found it.
“Is it all right if I photograph it?”
“Yes, please do. Then we’ll
give it to the librarian. It’s cathedral property.”
A short time later, Antony was back in the librarian’s office, feeling a great relief at being able to turn his find over to a cathedral employee.
“It’s magnificent. Where did you acquire it?” George Phipps beamed at the object Antony placed on his desk.
“It’s complicated. I’d rather explain to the bishop, but I want to be certain it’s in safekeeping.”
Phipps drew a ring of keys from his pocket. “The dean and chapter will decide, but for the moment, I’d feel best if this were locked in the Treasury. You can be assured we’ll take good care of it. It seems that once again, St David’s Cathedral is in your debt, Father Antony.”
Antony was about to reply that he was grateful to the cathedral staff for taking such excellent care of these objects, but a loud sneeze followed by a nose-blowing from Felicity reminded him that he had another, more important, responsibility. “I’m worried about that cold, Felicity. Let’s get you to bed.”
It was even more worrying that she didn’t resist.
Chapter 25
Trinity Sunday
St David’s
In spite of red, watery eyes and a streaming nose, Felicity was on time for breakfast the next morning. Two things were at the forefront of her thought: a cup of hot, strong tea with honey in it to soothe her throat, and talking to Antony about what had been on her mind through a long, restless night.
The tea was easily obtained, but Antony didn’t appear in the dining room. With a little wave to the other pilgrims gathered around the tables facing the panoramic view of morning sunshine as it turned the cliffs and bay golden, Felicity refilled her mug, adding a more generous dollop of honey this time, and hurried upstairs to find Antony.
If she was right they might not have any time to lose. She stopped on the third step to let a chill pass over her body. A chill that had nothing to do with her plaguing cold. What if they were already too late? What if she had the day right, but the ceremony was for sunrise? What if—
“Felicity? Are you all right?”
Antony’s voice brought her back to the present with such a jolt she almost spilled her tea. “Antony, I was looking for you.”
“And I for you. I was hoping you’d still be asleep, but when I found your room empty—”
“We’ve got to talk.”
“Yes, I think you should stay in today. I’d have brought your tea to you.”
Felicity shook her head impatiently. “No. I’ll be all right. I’ve remembered something. Today. This is the day. They only said it once. That’s why I didn’t think of it sooner. Finding the scrynne and recalling the ceremony with Chloe must have jogged my memory.”
Antony took her arm and led her up the stairs. “Woman, you’re babbling.” Two chairs were set in a little alcove along the hall. He guided her to one of them. “Now, take a deep breath, blow your nose, and tell me what you’re on about.”
Felicity obeyed. Just being with Antony calmed the thoughts that had been jumbling in her head through so many dark hours. “Dies sanctificatus. It wasn’t repeated over and over like everything else seemed to be. It was a sort of culmination. And their pronunciation was eccentric. Of course we don’t know how the original was pronounced, but—”
“Felicity.”
“Oh, sorry. Babbling again.”
Antony smiled and nodded. “Don’t worry. I love your babbling. But we need to get this clear. At that coven ceremony they chanted something about a convergence or assembly or something—”
“Cum—with or when, and congregatio—assembly. Only like I said, their pronunciation—”
Antony smiled again. “Yes, I got that. And then they ended with a reference to a holy day?”
“Yes, yes! That’s what I’m trying to tell you. And this is Trinity Sunday.”
Antony was quiet for a moment. “Yes, I see what you’re getting at: the only day in the Christian calendar that celebrates the Holy Trinity. A week after we celebrate the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost.” He nodded thoughtfully. “The unity of the Godhead is important. Someone wanting to disturb that unity might want to disrupt this day.”
Felicity was on her feet. “We need to get over to the cathedral. Warn the dean. We need to keep watch—” An explosive sneeze ended her speech.
“Felicity, you need to be in bed.”
“I’ll ask Sister Alma for another sachet of Lemsip. I’ll be all right.”
Antony looked thunderous.
“I’d just fret if I stayed here.”
He surrendered. “I’ll see if anyone else wants to go with us now in the minibus. The others can walk.”
Michael had pushed his bowl of porridge aside and was on his feet even before Antony finished explaining about wanting to get to the cathedral early in case someone wanted to cause a disturbance. “I’ll go with you.”
Lydia, Ryan and Chloe were also ready. Nancy said she would come later with the Sisters. Jared and his Goth friends were out on the terrace, so had to be consulted separately. Kaylyn and Evie said they wanted to visit St Non’s Well first, so they would all walk into town later.
“One advantage of coming early is there’s plenty of parking,” Michael said as he pulled the van into an empty space.
“I’ve been thinking,” Felicity said. “Since we don’t know what anyone might try or where, maybe we should spread out in order to watch for trouble anywhere in the cathedral.”
“What exactly are we looking for?” Lydia asked. “That’s the problem. We don’t know. We’ve come across some information, though, that makes it look like an occult group calling itself the Orbis Astri might want to co-opt the Trinity Sunday Holy Communion for their own purposes.”
Lydia looked horrified. “Surely not. That’s impossible.”
“I hope so,” Antony agreed. “But just in case, I intend to warn the dean, and I want us to keep our eyes open.”
“I agree it sounds far-fetched,” Michael said. “But I’ll be happy to stake out the north transept.”
“I’ll take the Lady Chapel,” Lydia said. “It’s my favorite bit of the cathedral.”
Antony looked at his watch. “Good, you should be in time for the Welsh language service.”
Ryan shrugged. “South transept for me, then.”
“Isn’t the Holy Trinity Chapel the most likely?” Felicity said.
“I’d thought of that.” Antony turned to her. “I was going to suggest I take that, and you and Chloe take the nave, if that’s all right with you.”
Once again the glorious tintinnabulation of the cathedral bells rang out from the gatehouse tower, and crows circled over their heads as they descended the 39 Steps. Sun shone on the green scene before them, and Felicity wondered how anything evil could possibly be at work in such a place. And yet the very history of the stones before her was a chronicle of destruction and rebirth.
Worshipers leaving the early Holy Communion service spilled out onto the lawn, and people entering for the Welsh service hurried forward, each group greeting the other, putting to rest Felicity’s fears that they might already have arrived too late. And yet, could some of these faces around her, faces lifted to the morning sun or smiling at their neighbors, have been the same ones she had glimpsed shadowed under loose white hoods? The very thought seemed incredible. Still, those very same people would probably look entirely normal if met in a sunny, green churchyard on a Sunday morning.
Inside, the cathedral was dressed for the feast day of the One, Holy and Undivided Trinity. White and gold paraments adorned all the altars, baskets of white flowers stood on either side of the rood screen, and all was bathed in the clear morning light streaming through the clerestory windows. Felicity chose to take a seat at the back where she could have a panoramic view of the length of the nave. Chloe moved to the front, in the hope of being able to see into the choir through the pulpitum.
A gentle murmur of the service in the chapel was punctuated by the footsteps of blue-robed
servers walking back and forth across the stone floor, getting all in readiness for the main morning service. Felicity knew she was supposed to be keeping watch, but her eyelids were so heavy…
“Hello. How lovely to see you this morning. Are you alone?”
Felicity jumped at the lilting Welsh voice in her ear. “Oh, good morning. Anne Morgan, isn’t it?” She started to offer to shake hands, then thought better of spreading her cold germs.
“Yes. Do you mind if I sit with you? Rhys is a sidesman, so I’m on my own.”
It took Felicity a moment to translate. Oh, yes, usher. She noted the tall, broad, dark-haired Welshman conferring with a server. “Please, join me.” She patted the space on the pew beside her.
Anne looked like one of the Trinity altar cloths herself, in a perfectly fitting white suit, her golden hair in a gleaming chignon at the nape of her long, white neck. It made Felicity wish she had taken time to redo her braid that morning.
“Are you enjoying your visit to St David’s?” Anne whispered so as not to disturb the early worshipers kneeling or meditating in their seats.
“Oh, yes, it’s absolutely beautiful.”
“How much longer are you here?”
“Just three days. We leave the morning of Corpus Christi.” Felicity thought back to Ascension morn when this had all begun. It seemed a lifetime ago. And yet it had gone so quickly. So much had happened; and yet so little had happened to get them closer to solving the puzzle of Hwyl’s death. For a moment she was back on that dew-sparkled hillside where a broken body had crashed through the exuberance of the morning. She looked at her hand, and for a moment it wasn’t a worship folder she held there, but a piece of paper with a two-headed snake. She shuddered and dropped her folder.
Anne retrieved it and handed it to her. “Are you all right?”
Felicity resisted the impulse to sniff. “Thank you. I’m fine.”
Then the stifled sniff burst out in a sneeze.
“You’re not all right. You have a cold.” Anne dug in her soft, ivory leather handbag and drew out a small card which she handed to Felicity.
An Unholy Communion Page 29