by Chrys Cymri
‘And you, Katla,’ Arnar said firmly, ‘are not to fight. You take yourself to safety.’
‘You’ll be dead, Uncle,’ she responded equally firmly. ‘I won’t be needing your permission for anything I do.’
Arnar’s jaws opened in a grin. ‘That’s my girl.’
The angle of their ears and horns told me all I needed to know. Their relationship might not be one of blood, but they were family to one another. And so I felt my second pang of the morning, as I realised that I wouldn’t be around to comfort Katla after Arnar’s death. As much as I wanted to go back to living in England, leaving Caer-grawnt was going to be a wrench.
Chapter Six
The heavens opened as I returned to the mansion. I bent my head and grit my teeth, unwilling to risk running on the cobblestoned streets. When I reached the grand house, I thought I might spend a few minutes dripping on the porch. But Tierney flung open the wide doors and ushered me in. Some quick orders from the butler brought forth servants with towels and, even more welcome, a mug of mulled wine.
‘A bath, now, for Father Penny,’ Tierney commanded, his long fingers flicking in the direction of two other elves. ‘Prepare it immediately. Father, once you’ve changed, please hand off your clothes to your valet. We will arrange for them to be cleaned and pressed by this evening.’
I walked up the ramp to the next floor. As I went to my room to retrieve dry clothes, I heard floorboards creak as servants rushed past. I strode out and nearly tripped up one elf, her arms full with a pail of steaming water. With an apologetic nod, I stepped back, allowing her to continue her journey to the bathroom. Part of me felt guilty for all the effort being expended on my behalf. Another part wondered why a house which boasted flushing toilets couldn't have also organised plumbing for hot water.
Arwel, my personal valet, came over and offered me new towels. ‘Your bath is ready, Father. When you have finished, simply leave your clothes on the floor. I shall collect them.’
‘Thank you,’ I said awkwardly, uncertain as to whether one were meant to thank a servant.
The bath was a long silvery tub resting in the middle of a large tiled room. I hopped from foot to foot as I undressed. There was a chair near one white wall, but I didn’t want to dampen the fine needlework of the upholstery. A large window looked out over the back gardens. Although I couldn't see anyone outside, I still used a towel to cover myself as I eased into the bath.
Twenty minutes later, warm, dry, and dressed, I felt much more human. As I made my way back down the hallway, the sound of James’ voice drew me to his bedroom.
‘Hey, Pen,’ he greeted me, scarcely looking up from his laptop. Jago was sitting on his left shoulder, and the gryphon raised his tall crest in welcome. ‘You got caught out in the storm?’
I stopped rubbing the towel over my hair and spread it around my shoulders. ‘Yes. I should’ve taken a coat.’ Then I looked around his room. The best efforts of a team of servants couldn’t keep on top of my brother’s tendency to drop clothes wherever he changed. ‘You need to think of packing. We’re leaving on Monday, remember?’
‘I haven’t forgotten.’ James looked up at me and grinned. ‘It’ll be tough, though. I’ll miss having a valet to do my laundry.’
‘No, you won’t,’ I said drily. ‘You have one in Northampton. Her name is Penny.’
Jago whispered something in James’ ear. My brother shook his head slightly. The gryphon reached out and used his black beak to nip at the lobe. James barked a protest. Jago raced down his arm, and the two glared at each other for a moment. Then James looked up at me. ‘Um, well, thing is, I guess it’s about time I found a place of my own.’
I leaned against the doorway. ‘This is a bit sudden, isn’t it?’
‘It won’t be in the next week or so,’ James said quickly. ‘I mean, I have the wergild from Miranda’s death, but I’ve sunk a good chunk of that into the business. In the meantime, I guess it’s time I paid you some rent.’
‘Or you could do some chores around the house. The back garden needs a good clear out.’
‘How much rent, do you think?’ James continued. Jago gave me a wink. ‘And I’ll give you something towards food, as well.’
‘We’ll find out the going rate when we’re back home.’ Truth be told, I would gladly let James stay for free if he would tackle the garden. I didn’t want to assume that Peter would simply take on that duty. ‘Oh, I need to tell you that we’re going to have a new house mate. Only temporarily, though.’
James was once again paying more attention to his screen than to me. ‘Fine. As long as he gets the box room. You and Morey have already nobbled the two best bedrooms in the house.’
‘It’s a she, and I’ve mentioned that to Bishop Nigel. She’s Skylar Grey, my new curate.’
‘What, like another Rosie?’
‘Something like,’ I said. It wasn’t a total lie. Skylar, as a deacon, could undertake many of the same duties as an associate priest. ‘By the way, the bath is still hot.’
‘Ugh, and no thanks.’ James shuddered, which made Jago squawk a protest and dig in his claws. ‘I’ll go to the bath house. At least there I get my own water.’ A smile I knew all too well spread across his face. ‘And some of the female customers are very easy on the eyes.’
‘Be careful, James,’ I reminded him. ‘You know how some people view cross species relationships.’
‘Don’t you worry, I’ve only looked. And only when they’re fully clothed.’
I allowed myself an internal sigh. The bell rang for lunch, and James put down his laptop lid. ‘By the way,’ I said as we made our way downstairs, ‘it’s my last Sunday at St George’s. There’ll be the usual communion service in the morning, and my leaving service in the afternoon. It’d be good to have you there.’
‘Sis, you know church isn’t my thing.’ Jago’s beak moved towards his ear. ‘Okay, okay, I’ll come in the morning. But I don’t think I can make the leaving service. I need to work on the Powerpoint for a big meeting on Tuesday morning. I might get some funding from the Department for International Development.’
The dining room had been laid out with a light lunch. Cold meats, cheeses, and bread rested on silver platters. The smell of fresh coffee lifted my mood. Rain was hurtling against the window panes, a rapping counterpoint to the crackling of the log fire. ‘Funding from the British government? For a Lloegyr project?’
‘Seems they have a small team working over here.’ James handed me a plate. ‘Sue’s been really helpful.’
I gave him a glare. ‘Do you mean the Right Honourable Sue Harkness, Minister without Portfolio?’
‘Yup, like I said. Sue.’ James looked over at me. ‘But don’t worry, when I see her, I call her Ms Harkness. See? You did raise me up proper, after all.’
I bit into my cheese sandwich and said nothing further. For some reason, the fact that my brother was having meetings with the Minister left me with an uneasy feeling.
<><><><><><>
The rest of the week was taken up with more farewells. Morey and I busied ourselves in the town, occasionally crossing paths during our ministerial rounds. I made pastoral visits to more housebound church members, spent my day off walking around the nearby hills with Peter, and packed up my personal belongings on Saturday. The removal firm would come in on Monday morning to clear out the rest.
James turned up on Sunday morning as promised, Jago clutching his shoulder. Both came up for a blessing as I distributed communion. A large number of regulars were missing, probably because they planned to attend my leaving service and, of course, they couldn't possibly come to church twice in one day.
Peter had tucked himself away in the back, making his presence known only when he appeared at the altar rail. After the service, he came into the clergy vestry as I packed away my robes. ‘Good sermon, Morey,’ he said to my Associate.
The gryphon cocked his head. ‘I'm pleased to hear it. Penny thought the Latin was a step too far.’
‘Laborare est orare?’ Peter gave me a smile. ‘I’m certain the average churchgoer knows it by heart.’
I kept my mouth shut. It had something to do with working, but I couldn’t remember the exact phrase. And prayer? Working was prayer?
‘I can’t come for your leaving service,’ Peter continued, his tone regretful. ‘I have a meeting in Glasgow early Monday morning, so I’m travelling up this afternoon.’
‘You’re forgiven,’ I reassured him, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘Is the meeting about Nessie?’
‘Amongst other things. There’s also the business of the bees.’
‘Hives are still disappearing?’
‘And applying for asylum in Daear, it seems.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘You can’t blame them, really. They’d much rather live in a world without pesticides or wifi signals.’
‘But Earth needs them.’
‘Yes, we do. That’s one of the things we’re going to talk about.’ Peter rubbed his chin, and he suddenly reminded me of the Third Doctor. ‘Strangely enough, they’re mostly going to Les Etats-Unis rather than Lloegyr. I’d love to know why.’
James and I walked down to the mansion, Jago flying overhead and chasing the occasional bird. After a full Sunday roast lunch, I went to my room to polish off my sermon.
Just before 3pm, I headed off to the church hall. After a damp week, the sun had finally decided to make an appearance. I sweated under my coat as I walked up the hill. Would the nice weather give families an excuse not to come? I found myself chewing my lower lip.
The hall had been decked out with ribbons and a large sign saying ‘Goodbye Father Penny and Father Morey.’ I smiled at the use of Morey’s shorter name. Long tables heaved with a collection of fruit, bread and cheese. Several large carcasses of something avian filled a barrel at one end. I made a firm note to self to avoid that side of the room. Several tubs of grass and herbs rested against the opposite wall, and one unicorn colt was already nibbling at the mixture.
‘Father Penny.’ Aislin’s bird legs clicked against the wooden floor as she strode up to me, arm wings extended in welcome. ‘Everything is ready, both here and in the church. Would you like a glass of wine?’
Very much, but not before a service. ‘Just some water. I’ll come and get it.’ A lack of hands, I reflected, must make life challenging for harpies, but Aislin seemed to manage.
Morey arrived a few minutes later. ‘Taryn can’t come,’ he said after landing on my shoulder. ‘But Jago will be here.’
‘Peter and James have also given their apologies.’ I nodded over at a dwarf whose eyes were filling with tears. ‘You might want to go talk to Austin. I think he’s going to miss you.’
Morey dropped his voice low. ‘He’s attached himself to me, ever since I took his mother’s funeral. I was wondering about making a couple of trips back to see him.’
‘You know you mustn’t. Once a minister moves on, we have to let the next person pick up the relationships.’
His sigh whistled in my ear. ‘I know. But it’s never easy.’
‘Ministry never is, especially at endings.’
The room began to fill. I relaxed as the numbers tipped over from potentially embarrassing into fully acceptable. Cadfan came over to discuss last minute arrangements for the upcoming service. The elf was dressed in a dark suit which matched his black hair. His movements were as precise as his words as he once again outlined the running order. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to allow him to plan the occasion, but it was too late to do anything about it now.
A sudden commotion made me glance past the churchwarden. Skylar had entered the hall. I hid my frown behind my glass as she waved at me. Then she moved through the room to the food. She was wearing a pink shirt with a dog collar, and a flowing grey skirt which showed off her weight rather than hiding it.
Morey flew over to me. ‘That’s your new curate, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. Skylar Grey.’
‘What’s she doing here? This is very inappropriate.’
‘Yes, I know.’ I met his gaze. ‘But can you think of a polite way of telling her?’
‘Maybe people will think she’s a visiting minister.’
A unicorn came over to speak to Morey, and they moved off to a nearby table. I watched Skylar for a moment. Her short blonde hair made her easy to spot in a room full of otherwise dark-headed bipeds and a mixture of dragons, gryphons, and unicorns. Then a small were-badger butted my elbow, and I bent low to talk to her.
A moment’s lull allowed me to refill my glass and grab a piece of cheese. A gryphon marched up to me, his white eagle’s head yellowed by the light from the hall’s gas lamps. He lowered his head to bring our eyes level. ‘Father Penny, may I just say I admire your courage.’
My mother’s training held firm. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘On the day the snail sharks invaded our town. I had no idea that you faced down fifty of them on your own. Armed with nothing more than a knife.’
‘Who told you that?’
The gryphon pointed his sharp yellow beak in Skylar’s direction. ‘Your new curate.’
‘Father Penny!’ A unicorn joined us. ‘I hear we have you to thank for the new salary arrangements. I’m so grateful that my filly won’t need to work in the spinning room any more.’
The changes were my brother’s doing. I bit my lip, then asked, ‘And who told you that?’
‘Why, your curate, of course.’
I looked around the room, and found Skylar in the middle of a group of dwarves. She was pointing in my direction, and speaking excitedly. Her audience gave me appreciative smiles, and I wondered what else she was attributing to me.
‘Extraordinary,’ a dragon said as I came alongside him at the fruit table. ‘To raise your young brother after the death of your parents. A dragon would merely have eaten the orphan. Much less bother.’
Although part of me couldn’t help but to agree, I said aloud, ‘That’s against the law in my country.’
‘What strange laws you have. But I respect your decision to grant him half your income to assist with his business venture.’
I choked on my drink. ‘Oh, it was nothing,’ I spluttered.
More people came up to express their admiration. By the time I’d been credited with arranging for dragons to protect the town, setting up a new school syllabus focusing on harpy rights, and finding a new gold mine, I wondered where Skylar would draw the line. Would I be given thanks for the nice weather we were enjoying? Perhaps the joyous fact that the sun had risen this morning?
Cadfan’s reminder that I needed to prepare myself for the service was a welcome excuse to leave the room. Morey grumbled as I walked the short distance to the church. ‘You’d think I’ve done nothing for this town, the way this new curate of yours is carrying on.’
‘Don’t blame me. I didn’t invite her.’ I took us to the clergy vestry. ‘I don’t even know how she found out about the leaving service.’
‘The rats, I suspect.’
‘Why would they be interested?’
‘The rat kings are fascinated by you.’ Morey hopped down to the clothes press, startling the hearing mouse waiting nearby. ‘Think about it. Not many humans come across to Lloegyr. Even fewer tangle with unicorn archdruids and face gryphon challenges. And, of course, there’s the work James was doing on internet technology. That would have ruined their monopoly on message delivery.’
‘He’s moved on to other things now.’ I buttoned up my cassock and pulled the white surplice over my head. After I’d placed the black preaching scarf over my neck, I helped Morey put on his cowl. ‘By the way, I’m sorry you can’t be my curate in St Wulfram’s.’
‘I’m not.’ He shook his head, settling the white fabric over his purple-grey feathers. ‘How could I minister to people who can’t see me? Besides, I never wanted to be ordained again anyway. I’ll go back to being your humble servant.’
‘“Humble servant”? Now that’s something I’d like to
see.’ I held out my hand, and the mouse giggled as she climbed onto my palm. ‘Nothing too controversial this evening,’ I assured her as she ran up to my shoulder. ‘No one should have an excuse to eat their hearing mouse.’
The churchwardens came to the vestry to lead us out. Morey settled on a cushion which Cadfan carried. I left last, focusing on the heels of the elf’s black boots until we’d reached the choir area. As I went up the single step into my stall, I was pleased to see that the church was nearly full. I knew that a priest should never judge her effectiveness by how many bums filled the pews, but it was hard not to feel gratified when there were, indeed, more bums than pews to be seen.
Morey leapt from his cushion to the small sloping desk at the curate’s stall. His own mouse was already there. I glanced at the mouse king on the front pew. The dozen blind mice rested on a blanket, their entwined tails binding them together. There was something charming about using telepathic mice to deliver my words into the ears of the hard of hearing but, on the other hand, microphones didn’t leave small black droppings on pews.
‘Welcome to this afternoon’s service,’ Morey announced. ‘We’ll be following the traditional service of Evensong.’
I lifted a hymn book to hide my frown. The PCC had insisted on the dry words of the Book of Common Prayer. I looked around at the large number of children present, and reflected that Lloegyr was even further behind than the Church of England when it came to family friendly services.
‘“Dearly beloved brethren,’ Morey intoned, ‘the scripture moveth us in sundry places to acknowledge and confess our manifold sins and wickedness…”’
The mention of sin made my attention drift, as was often the case. I looked again around the church. Lord Willis stood on my right, near the mouse king, a golden chain glinting against his grey-white skin. The two churchwardens sat across from him in the other front pew. The rest of the congregation were organised by size, with the smaller weres and dwarves near the front, the taller unicorns mingled with dragons and gryphons standing at the back. Between them were elves and a couple of vampires. It would be strange to once again be facing only humans Sunday by Sunday.