The Temptation of Dragons (Penny White Book 1)

by Chrys Cymri

‘Oh, really?’ James sneered. ‘At least I’m not slaughtering all of her garden birds.’

  ‘Stop it now, both of you!’ That came out louder than I had intended.

  Morey cocked his head. ‘Only speaking the truth in love.’

  ‘James is my brother, only I get to tell him off.’ That hadn’t quite come out as I’d planned.

  ‘And this is why I can’t stand you God-botherers,’ James said. ‘Always making excuses about what you do because “God told me so.’”

  ‘And on what do you base your behaviour?’ Morey retorted. ‘On whatever gives you an easy life?’

  ‘That’s it.’ I rose from my chair. ‘I don’t care that you’re twenty-two and--Morey, how old are you?’

  ‘Forty-seven.’

  I paused to absorb the information. ‘Well, I don't care that you’re twenty-two and forty-seven. I’m sending both of you to your rooms. Now.’

  ‘But Sis--’

  ‘Black, this is your house,’ Morey said gravely, ‘and so it is only right that I obey you.’ And he flew from the kitchen.

  I looked at James. ‘Are you going to be shown up by a gryphon?’

  ‘All right, I’m going,’ he muttered. But he took his glass with him.

  The kitchen held the breathless silence which follows a row. I found that my hands were gripping the back of the chair as I stared grimly out at the overgrown garden. Then I yanked off my dog collar before swearing loudly. It broke the silence, but did nothing to improve my mood.

  Chapter Seven

  ‘Hi, Penny.’ Sally’s voice was calm and reassuring. But then, I think ‘calm and reassuring’ is something bishops look for when appointing their chaplains. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Fine,’ I replied, as required by the British code of conduct. ‘And you?’

  ‘Fine, thanks.’ Then, the niceties out of the way, she continued, ‘Have you had a chance to look at the licensing service?’

  I opened the Word document on my Mac. ‘Looks okay. I’m a bit worried about repeating the promises in Welsh. Some of the words look really complicated.’

  ‘Can’t your Associate help you?’

  I raised my head to look over my computer screen. Morey was lurking in the bushes at the end of the vicarage garden, his eyes intent on the birds fighting around the feeders. Although I was certain he wouldn't be able to hear me, I still lowered my voice. ‘About him. I’m not sure it’s going to work out.’

  ‘Why? What’s the problem?’

  ‘You’ve sent me a blue tit murdering creationist with sarcasm management issues.’ A blur of purple-grey swooped across the garden and landed triumphantly on the bench. ‘Correction. Today he’s killing a starling.’

  ‘Couldn’t he hunt in another garden?’

  ‘He says that gryphons only hunt in their own territory.’ Morey had driven his beak into the bird’s neck and was now ripping into the belly. I tried--and failed--not to watch. ‘And he keeps picking fights with James.’

  ‘Penny, you’ve complained to me about James yourself.’

  ‘But I’m his sister.’ I sighed. ‘And then there’s the theological differences. He’s very prejudiced.’

  ‘About?’

  ‘Mixed relationships. Between different species.’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s quite common in Lloegyr. It’s not limited to Christians alone.’

  ‘Really?’ I found myself slumping in disappointment. ‘I thought they might be more enlightened than that.’

  ‘It’s not that long ago that inter-racial marriage was frowned upon in this country,’ Sally reminded me. ‘Some people still don't accept it. And as for gay people…’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ I’d officiated at the funeral of a teenager who had committed suicide because she’d been bullied on-line for being a lesbian. ‘And he’s a fundamentalist.’

  ‘Penny.’ I stiffened at the tone. Bad news was coming. ‘It’s not up to you. Or us, really. Esgobaeth Llanbedr decides who to send as an Associate. You’re going to have to find a way to make this work.’

  Morey had finished his meal and was in the bird bath. I watched red blood trickle through the water as he washed his beak. ‘So. An arranged marriage.’

  ‘Don’t call it that in Llanbedr,’ Sally warned me, although there was an underlying note of amusement. ‘I don’t know if this helps, but gryphons are known to be combative.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. Particularly the small ones. They seem to feel they have something to prove.’

  I frowned. ‘Morey? Something to prove? He’s already too confident by half.’

  There was a long pause. Then Sally said, ‘Don’t be fooled by that.’

  ‘Really?’

  Another pause. ‘We have his records here, of course. Just like we had to send your files to Esgobaeth Llanbedr.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Penny. You know better than to ask. But do you think we would have approved a partnership if we didn’t think it would work out? Bishop Nigel believes you’re a good match. Give it time.’

  I sighed. ‘You realise we’ve totally flunked the Bechdel test.’

  ‘Really? We were talking about a tiercel, not a man.’

  ‘Since when do you know falconry terms?’

  ‘It’s amazing what you learn as a bishop’s chaplain.’ Her voice firmed. ‘All right, tell me how your parish is doing. Found a second churchwarden yet?’

  <><><><><><>

  All three of us practiced a policy of strategic avoidance for the next three days. This did enable me to catch up on essential parish work, like the calculation of the annual attendance figures, writing an article for the monthly parish magazine, and ordering more candles for the altar. An email had arrived from someone in Australia who wanted me to check all the graves in the churchyard to see if a relative from 1760 were buried there. I replied that the churchyard was open for visiting 24/7 and she was welcome to have a look for herself next time she was in England.

  But on Friday we had to share a car to Nenehampton Cathedral for my licensing. Morey had already claimed the passenger seat when James opened the door. The two of them glared at each other. ‘Morey can have the front on the way there,’ I said firmly. ‘And James on the way back.’

  To fill the silence, I pulled out one of my favourite Big Finish Doctor Who audio stories. The adventure kept me suitably distracted on the hour long journey. Ace had just finished shouting at the Seventh Doctor as I pulled into the small car park near the cathedral.

  Morey settled onto my shoulder and James followed me to the entrance. A large sign had been propped outside stating ‘The cathedral is closed TODAY due to unusual circumstances.’ The Dean was standing at the top of the steps, patiently explaining to several tourists that, no, they could not enter even for a few minutes.

  Angelica gave James a friendly nod. He had once spent several days living in her house while job hunting in Nenehampton. James slipped past her and disappeared inside cathedral. The Dean gripped my arms and smiled. ‘Penny. Good to see you. And your Associate.’

  ‘Moriarty,’ the gryphon replied gruffly. ‘Are lay people robing elsewhere, Mrs Dean, or may I go into the clergy vestry?’

  ‘Robes?’ I asked him. ‘What robes?’

  ‘I put my bag into your case.’

  I drew my head back to look him in the eye. ‘And you accuse me of carrying James.’

  ‘This is different. I’m not asking you to subsidise my lifestyle.’

  ‘Early days for you two, isn’t it?’ the Dean said, sounding amused. ‘At this rate you’ll be best friends by October.’

  Morey said something in Welsh which I didn’t understand, but from the tone it wasn’t complimentary.

  Angelica merely laughed. She led the way into the cool interior of the cathedral. As often as I had been inside, I still found myself awed by the soaring roof and the majestic pillars. Colour from the stained glass windows splashed warmth against the grey stone walls, and I took a deep breath of the faint trace of
incense. Dear Lord, I’m sorry, I found myself praying. I’m sorry for my petty concerns. Help me to focus on the promises I’m making today, to the diocese and to you.

  A line from the Lord’s Prayer, painted on one wall, jumped out at me as I walked past. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us. I’ve been a Christian long enough to recognise when God is poking me. I swallowed, hard, because pride can often stick in the throat. I knew what I had to do.

  Morey was the only non human in the clergy vestry. Which was helpful, as I didn’t need to be distracted by dragons at this point. Both of the Nenehampton bishops were at one end, talking in low tones about something obviously serious. The Dean and the two archdeacons were at the other end, and they laughed as Ian finished a joke. This left me and Morey in the middle. He flew down onto a table nearby. I gave him the small bag resting on the top of my own robes, and then I busied myself with slipping into cassock and dropping my surplice over my shoulders. I kissed the cross on the top of my white stole, and placed it against the back of my neck.

  When I looked back down at Morey, I saw that he had put on a blue harness. It circled around his neck and under his wings. He reached out with his foreclaws and attached a small cross to the material resting against his chest. ‘I’m an Elder,’ he reminded me. ‘I robe for these occasions. You didn’t expect me to wear this all the way here, did you?’

  I swallowed again. ‘Morey, I’m sorry. I had no right to order you around like a child--like an eyas. I lost my temper, but that’s no excuse. We have to keep focussed on the bigger picture. Like why we’re here today.’

  He studied me for a moment. ‘And I apologise for arguing with your brother. He is annoying, but I’ll try to let you deal with him.’

  I decided that that would have to do. Perhaps gryphons found swallowing harder than humans. But Morey’s body seemed to have lost some of his stiffness when he climbed back up my arm and settled near my stole.

  The representatives from Esgobaeth Llanbedr were waiting in the south transept. A white cowl lined with purple rested against Bishop Aeron’s orange-red scales, and a crucifix hung from her neck. A complex weave of white ribbons ran between the horns which rose from her head. I decided it must be the draconic equivalent of a mitre. Another dragon, similarly attired, sat at her right. Probably her assistant bishop. Her two archdeacons stood nearby, Rhis in robes which were similar to those worn by the humans. A banner of red and gold was draped over the Archdeacon of Ocheham, the colours bright against her grey-white coat.

  I stared at the emblem on the banner. ‘But that’s Saint George,’ I said to Morey.

  ‘Of course. He’s the patron saint of Esgobaeth Llanbedr.’

  ‘But why would a diocese in Lloegyr celebrate a saint who killed a dragon?’

  ‘You don’t understand. Saint George is the dragon. Martyred by a human knight.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘When he refused to renounce Christ and return to paganism. The knight ran him through with his lance.’

  There wasn’t time to discuss further. The procession was lining up. The Dean at the front, then the archdeacons of both dioceses. A verger joined me behind the archdeacons, and Morey stepped off my arm onto the red cushion in the man’s hands. The bishops were to follow me.

  The cathedral sounded eerily quiet as we walked around to the entrance and then through the nave. There was no choir or organist, and James was one of the very few visitors sitting in or near the chairs. He was staring open mouthed at the dragons and unicorn as we walked by. I wondered if he had not entirely believed me until that moment.

  A dais had been built into the centre of the cathedral. Humans lined up on the south side, and all others except Morey on the north side. Bishop Nigel invited us all to sit. The verger took a seat beside me, so that Morey was on my left.

  ‘It’s my great pleasure to be here today,’ Bishop Nigel said, ‘to license a new Vicar General of Incursions to Nenehampton Diocese. We are honoured that both bishops and archdeacons from Esgobaeth Llanbedr could join us. And I also give our thanks to the Dean, who has had to fend off tourists all morning.’ That raised a small chuckle.

  We then turned to our orders of service. The representatives of Esgobaeth Llanbedr had their paper copies propped up on music stands. We sang a passable rendition of ‘Be Thou my Vision’ without an organ to guide us. I found the sight of a unicorn turning pages with her horn rather distracting during the Bible readings, but forced myself to focus on Bishop Nigel’s sermon. He emphasised the importance of vocation, and relying on God for the strength to fulfil our call. ‘God doesn’t call the equipped, he equips the called.’

  Bishop Aeron led the prayers. Then it was time. I rose and came to the edge of the platform. Both diocesan bishops stood before me, human and dragon, equally serious.

  ‘Bishop Nigel, Bishop Aeron,’ said Archdeacon Ian, ‘I present to you the Reverend Penelope White, to be licensed as Vicar General of Incursions to this diocese.’

  The two bishops asked me the questions alternatively. ‘Do you believe that God is calling you to this ministry?’ ‘Will you be faithful in seeking out and assisting the citizens of Lloegyr who become lost in this diocese?’ ‘Will you promote unity, peace and love in the churches of Christ represented by our two dioceses?’ ‘Will you work closely with your Associate and encourage his own gifts and development?’

  ‘By the grace of God, I will,’ I responded steadily to each question in turn.

  Then I knelt on the strategically placed cushion on the bottom step of the dais. I felt very small as a human hand and the forefoot of a dragon were placed on my head. ‘Penelope White,’ said Bishop Nigel, ‘I license you as Vicar General of Incursions. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.’

  ‘May the Lord give you wisdom, courage, strength and love to do his will,’ Bishop Aeron continued. ‘And the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, rest upon you, and on your work done in his name, now and always. Amen.’

  I stood, and was presented with a new stole. White, like the one I was wearing, but with the crossed keys badge of Nenehampton Diocese on one end and the St George emblem on the other. Bishop Aeron presented me with a Bible, in Welsh, and I had to suppress a smile. I sometimes wondered if there were some rule that a Bible had to be presented at any major church occasion. I had a shelf full at home, carefully organised in date order.

  Then Archdeacon Rhis presented me with a red jewellery box. I opened it to find a golden St George medal inside. On the other side, preserved in a bubble of resin, was something small and red.

  ‘A scale from Saint George,’ the Archdeacon told me. ‘Wear it always.’

  A first class relic. I immediately fastened the chain of the necklace around my neck and slid the medal past my dog collar. Considering the human equivalent would have been a piece of skin from a saint, what I had been given was probably beyond price.

  We sang ‘God is working his purpose out’ and Bishop Nigel give the final blessing and dismissal. Then we processed back down the nave, along the south aisle, and to the transept. Tea and coffee were waiting for us, and I tucked into some chocolate biscuits. I had earned them.

  The polite conversation at which priests excel had broken out around me. I downed my drink and left the side door to find the toilets. Fortunately it was after I’d done the necessary and come back out again that I found Raven leaning nonchalantly against a stone wall.

  In a darkened meeting room he’d been striking. In daylight he was dazzling. Sunlight looped and swirled around his green-black scales, and glinted rainbows across his thick muscled legs. The blue-green eyes sparkled as he cocked his head at me, ears perked forwards. ‘The magnificent Penelope White. Now Vicar General, I understand. From what I’ve heard, a popular appointment in Llanbedr.’

  The wall seemed to be bearing the weight of his attention more easily than I was. My face was flushed, and not from the warmth
of my clergy robes. ‘Really?’

  ‘You negotiated a compromise between two factions of dragons. Not an easy feat. If you ever come to Lloegyr, I should think a number of papers would like to interview you.’

  ‘If I ever go to Lloegyr,’ I muttered. Then a thought struck me. ‘How did you get here?’

  ‘I have my ways.’

  ‘Like some personal vortex manipulator?’

  ‘Are you speaking in English or some other language?’

  Why would a dragon know about Torchwood? I made another attempt to gain some control over the conversation. And myself. ‘And why are you here?’

  ‘To see you. To pose the question no one has thought to ask.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Why was Endre flying naked across the English countryside?’

  ‘Well, I assume he was naked, because, well…’ Raven waited, lips curling back from sharp white teeth in what I hoped was a grin. My face flushed further as I realised he was waiting for me to complete the sentence. ‘Because he’d been with Miranda.’

  ‘Oh, yes, that’s why he wasn’t wearing his cowl. But why was he flying across that road? And how did he manage to be hit by a car?’

  ‘He flew too low?’

  ‘Endre was an excellent flyer. Won bronze in the Coast to Coast marathon three years ago.’ Raven turned his head to look up at the cathedral. ‘Many questions. Which no one is asking.’

  ‘You are.’

  ‘I can’t.’ He brought his eyes level with mine. ‘But you can.’

  His mingled scent of leather and fresh grass was making my head spin. I took a deep breath. ‘It’s not really my job.’

  ‘It isn’t? Vicar General, one of your flock needs your care. How is that not your job?’

  ‘But Dominic’s dead,’ I reminded him, confused.

  ‘He’s dead, yes. But his lover is not.’ He clucked his tongue. ‘Grieving, alone--who can she talk to about her loss? Who can find answers for her?’

  ‘You seem very interested in her.’

  ‘I have no interest whatsoever in her.’ The nostrils flared as he drew in a deep breath. ‘You, however--that’s a different story.’