The Marriage of Gryphons (Penny White Book 3)

by Chrys Cymri

  ‘Good.’ The Bishop rubbed his hands. ‘So, we’ll ask the Archdeacon to set up that meeting with the churchwardens. I’ll also arrange for a message to be sent back to the matriarch about your availability for Morey’s group.’

  There was a gentle swish from the unicorn’s tail. ‘It is kind of you to offer, Bishop Nigel. However, in these circumstances it would be better for you to respond to Bishop Aeron. She will then respond to the Matriarch of Cornovi on your behalf.’

  Bishop Nigel chuckled. ‘Politics. That’s fine. Do I have to ask my secretary to find a scroll, or can you just take back a verbal message?’

  ‘A handwritten letter will suffice. You can send it by rat. I assume you have one available?’

  ‘We keep several on standby.’

  ‘There is one further stipulation from my bishop.’ The unicorn’s voice hardened. ‘Trahaearneifion, it is time you resumed your Holy Orders. Should Father Penny come to serve the parish of Caer-grawnt, you will be once again ordained as deacon and priest, and act as her curate.’

  ‘Curate?’ Morey and I said simultaneously. I could see that the idea was as unwelcome to him as it was to me.

  The unicorn’s brown eyes met mine. ‘We consider Father Penny to be a stabilising influence on Trahaearneifion.’

  Of course, that was the moment I started to hiccup. Bishop Nigel left his seat and returned with a glass of water, which I sipped with a mixture of thanks and embarrassment. In the meantime, Morey was protesting at the Archdeacon’s pronouncement. ‘I’m very happy to be layperson, thank you very much. I have told our bishop all this before.’

  ‘Elders owe canonical obedience to their bishop,’ the unicorn reminded him, ‘as much as those who are ordained. Will you break your vow, Elder Trahaearneifion?’

  Morey ground his beak. The sound was loud and sharp in the otherwise quiet room. ‘I serve at the Bishop’s pleasure. But I will only do so as a deacon.’

  The Archdeacon studied him for a long moment. Then she dipped her head in a nod. ‘The ordination will be arranged for the same as the licensing. Many thanks for your hospitality, Bishop Nigel. I must take my leave of you. May I take advantage of the thin place in your cathedral?’

  ‘Of course. I’ll put a call in to the Dean.’

  Man and unicorn left the room. I leaned back into the sofa. ‘It’s a lot to take in.’

  ‘You’ll decline the gold, of course,’ Morey said fiercely. ‘That was an insult from my matriarch. She was implying that you wouldn’t join my grŵp rhyfelwyr unless you were paid to do so.’

  ‘And you still haven’t quite told me what this grŵp rhyfelwyr will do,’ I reminded him.

  ‘Later. I’ll tell all of you at once.’ Suddenly he sounded very tired. ‘I need to talk to Taryn. She was expecting to marry an Elder, not a deacon.’

  I frowned. ‘Is that a problem?’

  ‘Yes, it is.’ He shook his head, smoothing feathers back into place. ‘Neither matriarch will be happy at this development.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘None for me,’ Peter said as I brought a bottle of Gigondas to the kitchen table. ‘I’m on duty. There might be another snail shark infestation in Earls Barton. We’ll know for certain in the morning.’

  I smiled sympathetically. And wondered if this were too much punishment for a town refusing to use the possessive apostrophe. Possibly not. ‘Let me know if I can help.’

  ‘Will do, although we think this time it’s only a small group.’ Peter’s eyes flicked towards Clyde, who was sitting on the table next to Morey. ‘But we’ll speak later, right?’

  Fortunately, Clyde seemed far more interested in the glass of wine I pushed over to Morey than in discussions regarding his own kind. ‘So,’ I continued, ‘you’ve had a scroll too?’

  Peter nodded. ‘The largest rat I’d ever seen brought it to my Chief Inspector. Seems a gryphon matriarch has asked for me to be released from duty, when necessary, to serve in Morey’s grŵp rhyfelwyr. So, what’s this all about?’

  ‘As I face the challenges set by the Matriarch of Cornovi, I’m permitted to have four supporters with me.’ Morey pointed his beak at each of us in turn. ‘Penny’s bishop has agreed for her release. What did the Chief Inspector say?’

  ‘She’ll give me a mixture of special and annual leave.’

  James grinned. ‘Hey, is this like some big bachelor party or something? But we go to Lloegyr instead of Prague?’

  ‘Or something,’ Morey muttered. ‘Penny does have to give permission for you and for Clyde. You’re both still minors.’

  ‘Of course I give permission,’ I said quickly as man and snail began to bristle. ‘There are several challenges, and we’ll have breaks between them. So, I might be assigned to a parish in Esgobaeth Llanbedr. Would you be happy to live in Lloegyr for awhile?’

  Blue and green pulsed through Clyde’s body. His calm acceptance was not mirrored by my brother. ‘Where, exactly? I mean, we won’t be stuck out in the sticks somewhere, will we? I need night life.’

  ‘Caer-grawnt is a town outside Llanbedr,’ Morey said. ‘But be careful about what “night life” you seek. Do you want to lose another pint of blood for flirting with a vampire?’

  ‘Or you can stay here, James,’ I said quickly. ‘It’s up to you.’

  ‘The search dragons are paid by the day.’ Morey took a sip of his wine. ‘It doesn’t matter if they collect you from here or from the rectory in Caer-grawnt.’

  ‘I do have concerns about one of your choices,’ Peter said carefully.

  ‘Don’t you dare,’ I warned him, my feminist hackles rising. ‘“It pleases me that you care for what I have become. But never forget who I was, what I am, and what I can do.”’

  Peter blinked. ‘What’s that from?’

  ‘Delenn to John Sheridan.’ I paused, waiting for comprehension which failed to dawn. ‘Babylon 5.’

  He coughed. ‘Never got around to watching Babylon 5.’

  My hand tightened on my wine glass. I felt as if the air had been sucked from the room. ‘You’ve never watched Babylon 5?’

  ‘And I'm concerned about two of the choices,’ Morey cut in. ‘Peter and James.’

  ‘Us?’ James rocked back in his chair. ‘But we’re blokes.’

  ‘Precisely,’ Morey said. ‘Females are the stronger sex. The matriarch might expect less of you as a result, but you can’t count on that. I’ll just have to keep an eye on you two.’

  I hid my smile behind my wine glass. ‘Good luck with that.’

  ‘There’ll be time before the first challenge.’ Morey took a sip of his wine and then stretched his wings. ‘I need to speak to Taryn. Don’t wait up.’

  I opened the back door, and Morey flew out into the darkness. ‘Do gryphons have drink-fly limits?’ I wondered aloud as I moved the half full glass nearer to mine.

  ‘A long bachelor party in Lloegyr,’ James said. ‘I’m looking forward to this!’

  ‘I’d better look forward to my bed,’ Peter said, checking his watch.

  I walked him to the hallway. As he shrugged on his coat, I asked, ‘Do you think Morey’s being a bit secretive?’

  ‘He does seem to be playing his cards close to his chest,’ Peter agreed. ‘But maybe this will just be a long bachelor party, like James thinks.’

  ‘I don’t know.’ I bit my lip. ‘I’m just thinking of that Deep Space Nine episode. The one where Worf and his friends have to go through Kal’Hyah before Worf marries Dax?’

  Peter nodded thoughtfully. ‘Sisko and the others thought it would be four days of partying, and it turned out to be four days of hell.’ My breathing eased. I shuddered to think what it would have meant for our relationship if Peter had missed two science fiction references in one evening. ‘Penny, I don’t think Morey would do anything to put any of us at risk.’

  We kissed and he left. I returned to the kitchen just in time to hear James finishing a rather off-colour story to Clyde. The snail shark turned to me and asked, ‘Knocking
shop?’

  I glared at my brother. He made a quick exit, leaving me to wonder how to explain the concept of a brothel to a snail.

  <><><><><><>

  Bishop Aeron wasted no time. Somehow I endured the Sunday service in Saint Wulfram’s, ignoring Holly’s absence and random mutterings from the congregation. Monday morning found me shrugging my coat over a carefully selected grey jumper and black trousers. Casual, I’d decided, but smart. I was even wearing a black clerical shirt. Just the right level, I felt, to visit a new parish and meet churchwardens. But first I had to cross over to Lloegyr.

  Ashtrew church was only a short drive from my vicarage, but the small village in which it was set felt like centuries away. I left modern houses behind, drove around fields, and then down a narrow road past thatch roofed cottages. A little white lie, in which I’d pretended that I was doing some research regarding the church’s wall paintings, had meant that the churchwarden had entrusted a set of keys to me. Just as well, since I didn’t know how long I’d be in Caer-grawnt.

  A gravel path led past the listing bell tower and to the long porch. I fumbled in the grey early light to fit the relevant keys into the relevant locks. But, after a few minutes, I was able to push open the heavy wooden door.

  Entering the church always made me shudder. Some of the men behind the Gunpowder Plot had lived nearby, and I always wondered if that were why gloom and dread seemed to fill the musty air. I would much rather have crossed over to Lloegyr from Nenehampton Cathedral. But although apologetic, the Dean had also been firm. There were too many events scheduled in the cathedral today for me to use its thin place.

  A gallery had been built into the back of the church, near the baptismal font. I walked up the wooden stairs and onto the platform. The planks creaked underfoot. I pulled a chair over and climbed onto the seat. This placed my knees level with the railing around the balcony. I lifted up my left foot and felt for the solid ground on the other side.

  The chair fell back as I thrust myself up and forwards. In front of me was darkness and gloom, but behind me was the drop back down into the church. I forced myself through. The agony of the conspirators, hung, drawn, and quartered after their capture, howled in my ears and spread a bitter taste through my mouth.

  Then I was stumbling across grass. The sun was still weak, but very welcome. I took in deep breaths of the clean air.

  A yellow dragon stood waiting for me. I smiled as I walked over to him. ‘Hello, Aldred. I’m honoured.’

  ‘Carrying humans is part of my role as bishop’s chaplain,’ he said as he lowered himself to the ground. But from the curl in his ears I could tell he was pleased.

  A saddle rested above the small knobs of his spines. I used the handholds to pull myself up. ‘Have any interesting humans ridden you recently?’

  The narrow head turned to look back at me. ‘Other than yourself?’

  I found myself laughing with delight. ‘Other than me.’

  ‘A number of humans, but none of them quite as interesting as you.’ Aldred rose to his feet. ‘Ready?’

  I gripped the saddle with my legs and wrapped my hands around the front handles. ‘Ready.’

  Aldred ran down the hill. The lift off was smooth, reminding me that not all dragons seemed to enjoy making their passenger’s lives difficult. The fresh grass and the greening trees showed that spring was coming to Lloegyr. There was still a chill in the air, and I pulled on my gloves.

  The city of Llanbedr gleamed in the distance. I’d visited it often enough to know that the crystalline towers were surrounded by smaller buildings made of much humbler materials, often but not always rough stone. I could just pick out Llanbedr Cathedral.

  Aldred angled his wings. We were heading to the west side of the city. The various settlements slipped past beneath us. The fields and wooden buildings of the unicorns. Houses hewn out of rock, with dragons striding down the cobbled streets. The open sewer stench which marked the slums where the harpies lived.

  We turned north. The roads improved, as did the houses. There was a mixture of brick, stone, and black and white timbered buildings. Between stretches of neighbourhoods I saw larger buildings. I coughed as the wind billowed black smoke from one chimney across our flight path. What sort of industry did Llanbedr have?

  We passed over a set of fields, then came towards a town. Set slightly apart, and built on a small hill, was a church. Aldred began to slow, his wings spreading out and back as he prepared to land. I took note of the roof, which was slate and looked to be in good repair. The sandy stone, the bell tower at the opposite end to the chancel, the two porched entrances-- but for the large size, this could have been a church anywhere in Northamptonshire. A thread of disappointment wormed through me.

  Aldred’s landing was as gentle as his take off. I wondered if I could send Raven to him for lessons. Then I gritted my teeth. If I ever saw Raven again. He’d kept himself scarce since I’d sent him home from the Arctic.

  The dragon lowered his belly to the ground, and I slid off. ‘I’ll wait for you here,’ he told me. ‘The churchwardens are inside the church. Both of them speak English, by the way. I pray it goes well.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  There was a paved path leading from the nearby road to the north doors. I made my way over the damp grass to the firmer footing, checked that my shoes weren’t too muddy, and strode down to the entrance.

  The massive door was propped open. There were wide steps down into the building, and I took my time. The only light was that which came from the clear windows. Oil lamps hung from the stone walls, and unlit candles rested on the shelves at the choir stalls. Electricity, I reminded myself, was a luxury available to only a few in the city centre.

  ‘Greetings. You must be Father Penelope White.’ The speaker glided up to me. The proud bearing and short black hair gave his species away even before I saw the pointed ears. I was speaking to an elf. ‘I’m the People’s Warden, Cadfan Jones.’

  ‘And I'm the Vicar’s Warden, Aislin of Caer-grawnt.’

  I realised that I was staring, and I quickly glanced away. Aislin was wearing a smock over her broad chest, and her dark hair hung cleanly around her long face, but there was no hiding the fact that she had wings instead of arms, and that bird legs carried her towards me. The other churchwarden of Caer-grawnt was a harpy.

  ‘Good to meet you both.’ I shook hands with Cadfan, then hesitated as I turned to Aislin. But she extended her right wing and allowed me to grasp a feathered joint. Much to my relief, she smelled of nothing more than a flowery perfume.

  ‘Do you know anything about our parish, Father Penelope?’ Cadfan asked.

  ‘Penny, please.’ I followed him up the wide aisle, Aislin striding behind us. ‘A little. Bishop Aeron sent me a rat with the recent history.’

  ‘In free verse or as a sonnet?’

  ‘Sonnet,’ I admitted. ‘The rhymes did sometimes feel a bit forced.’

  We had reached the chancel. Large wooden seats for a choir pressed against the walls on either side. Beyond was the altar, dressed in purple as befit the season of Lent. Large windows on both walls cast light onto the brown tiled floor. ‘Don’t be deceived by appearances,’ the elf said. ‘This church is only twenty years old. Lord Willis built this at the same time as a dozen factories in our town, as well as houses and facilities for the workers. He also pays the salaries for the teachers in the town’s primary school.’

  ‘Lord Willis?’ I asked. ‘Does Lloegyr have titles?’

  ‘That’s the title we’ve given him,’ Aislin said, ‘out of our great respect for all that he’s done for this community. And for our church. He said he wanted a place of worship which welcomed all species.’

  I longed to ask what species Lord Willis was, but that felt as rude as asking about a human’s skin colour. ‘That explains why it’s so large.’

  ‘The church is dedicated to Saint George.’ Aislin pointed at the only stained glass window in the building, set into the wall to the left
of the altar. Sun glanced through the red body of the dying dragon, his head flung back as he looked into the face of his human killer. Underneath was written, ‘O Dad, maddau iddynt: canys ni wyddant pa beth y maent yn ei wneuthur.’ The words of Jesus as he was crucified. ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.’

  ‘Saint George was a martyr to his faith,’ I said strongly. ‘He was a great dragon, an example to us all, and I am ashamed that a human was the cause of his death. And so I carry his relic.’ I pulled the golden medal from underneath my shirt. A small dragon scale was preserved on the reverse, held in a bubble of resin.

  Aislin leaned in close. Now I could catch a whiff of urine, but I kept my face still. ‘You wear this always?’

  ‘Always.’ I slipped it away again. There had been a time when I’d also worn the Celtic cross which Raven had carved for me, but not since he had failed me in a dark wood.

  ‘There are around six thousand people living in the town,’ Cadfan said. ‘On any given Sunday, we have a congregation of around eighty adults and fifteen children.’

  ‘Lord Willis is an English speaker,’ Aislin added, ‘so he’s insisted that his factories and the schools are bi-lingual. Our services are a mixture of Welsh and English, so you could preach in either language.’

  ‘What happened to your last rector?’

  ‘Father Apted’s become an archdeacon in Llundain,’ Aislin said proudly.

  I rubbed my face to hide a smile. Congregations were always reassured when their priest left them for what they believed to be a promotion. ‘And what are you looking for in your next rector?’

  ‘We’re not certain. That’s why we want a temporary priest.’ Cadfan buttoned up his dark coat. ‘But come, let’s go to the rectory. There we can discuss matters further.’

  We turned, and I glanced to my right. And froze. A large crucifix hung over the vicar’s stall, but there was nothing to preserve Jesus’ dignity. The man hanging on the cross was absolutely naked.