Chapter 23 I could have told you long ago no good would come of this.
Father Christopher pursed his lips and maintained an air of righteousness as he conscientiously set everything required upon the altar in readiness for Evensong,
Feeling a slight resentment towards Friar Richard's consternation at the disappearance of the maidens,
Events which now appeared to have taken on an importance far beyond their true worth.
Yes,
Three maidens had vanished without trace,
And the remainder were living their lives in fear.
He allowed himself a small smirk at this.
But such unfortunate incidents happened from time to time,
And life continued onwards.
Perhaps now the villagers would understand the importance of regular church attendance rather than following the yearly cycle of festivals they still insisted upon.
And perhaps.
.
.
His thoughts were interrupted by a discreet cough from Friar Richard,
And Father Christopher realised that in his furious internal tirade at Rosenwin and the maidens,
He had completely forgotten his superior's presence.
It is a worrying state of affairs,
Continued Friar Richard thoughtfully,
Holding his hands as if in prayer,
And allowing the fingertips to gently rest together.
And I am sure you will agree the young maidens should be given our protection.
But.
.
.
He dropped his voice to a whisper,
Inclining his dark head towards Father Christopher's fair one.
There is a further cause for concern I wish to discuss with you.
Father Christopher turned in surprise,
Almost knocking over the brass candlesticks he was arranging.
But of course,
He spluttered,
Privately acknowledging the great honour bestowed upon him by being included in Friar Richard's innermost thoughts.
Anything I can do to help?
Friar Richard glanced around to ensure no one was listening,
But the church appeared empty,
Save for a swift shadow,
Which passed unnoticed by the priests,
Leaving all as before.
It concerns the relics of our patron,
St.
Clodorus.
He raised his eyebrows.
Do you consider,
He whispered so quietly,
Father Christopher could barely hear him,
Them to be quite safe in the keeping of the chapel and sacred wealth?
After all,
Considering the disappearance of the maidens and the fact Our Lady Rosinwen could be next.
Father Christopher nodded slowly,
Understanding Dawning,
His heart pounding in excitement.
I appreciate your concerns,
He replied steadily,
Careful to keep his voice on an even tone,
And certainly share them.
Come,
Let us take a goblet of wine together and discuss how they might best be safeguarded.
Friar Richard and Father Christopher made their way importantly along the path from the church to the little chapel.
As they walked,
Signs of high summer were evident all around.
The willows hung heavy and cool over the river,
And oak leaves rustled in the breeze.
Buttercups shone,
Waxy in the bright sunlight,
And the scent of meadow-sweet hung heavy in the air.
The sun riding high overhead caused a thin bead of perspiration to appear on Friar Richard's brow as he strode along,
His portly frame unused to such exercise,
Whilst Father Christopher scurried behind in a desperate attempt to keep up.
Across the valley the grass had been cut,
And men,
Women and children could be seen turning the hay before forming it into stacks.
At the top of the hill the Midsummer Fire was being built,
Which would be lit in honour of the strength of the sun and the growth of the crops.
Father Christopher sniffed and crossed himself briefly at the sight of such heathen activities.
As they approached the chapel,
They could see Rosinwen sitting outside on her little wooden bench,
A man in knight's clothing at her side,
His tunic bearing the emblem of a golden lion upon a red background.
A large sword hung in its scabbard at his side,
And his horse grazed quietly in the shade outside the enclosure.
Rosinwen and the knight looked up as Friar Richard and Father Christopher opened the little gate,
And a slight frown of annoyance appeared on Rosinwen's face.
Father Christopher smirked.
This was the moment for which he had waited a very long time.
You
