Page 51 of Under a Spanish Sky
Their last day’s drive was a short one. On the way into Santiago they paused to search for the spot at Labacolla where the medieval pilgrims would have stopped and bathed.
This was a ritual, before embarking upon the final leg of the journey.
Unfortunately, the proximity of the airport and a lot of new development made it impossible to get the feel of the place.
The ever-increasing downpour hadn’t encouraged them to do much tramping about either.
Slightly disappointed, Luke turned off the new highway onto the Monte del Gozo.
This famous hill was the first vantage point from which pilgrims arriving along the Pilgrims’ Way would see their destination.
The hill, when they finally located it among a mass of new development, also turned out to be something of a disappointment.
Half of the hillside was a huge sprawling twentieth-century pilgrims’ hostel.
He described it to her as looking more like a theme park without the big dipper.
Then they came out onto the hilltop, and he saw the big dipper itself.
‘I’m sorry. I know I should be impressed, but it’s awful.
Since I was last here they’ve built a monument.
It’s to commemorate the Pope’s visit, during the celebrations to mark one thousand years of the Santiago pilgrimages, but, oh dear, oh dear.
It’s sort of a concrete bunker with a huge steel horseshoe and a plastic cross on top of it. Oh dear, oh dear.’
She insisted on going over to the monstrosity in question and running her hands along it. She pondered for a moment and then turned to him.
‘First, it’s not concrete, it’s stone, and second, you forgot to mention the mosaic on the side. Are you sure it is really so awful?’
He hesitated and then decided to be brutally frank. ‘I was sparing you that. The mosaic looks as if the Pope is throwing scallop shells at another horseshoe. Believe me, you wouldn’t want it on your T-shirt.’
‘Do I hear your “outraged academic” tone, by any chance? Anyway, come on, it’s the principle of the thing that counts. For them it was a major event, which had to be marked somehow or other.’
‘You’re right.’ He smiled and gave her a hug, the umbrella spilling a stream of raindrops neatly down his neck as he did so.
He shook himself mentally and physically.
‘Sorry. I’m just a bit disappointed that the first impression of the city we’ve been so looking forward to seeing is less than perfect.
That’s all. Anyway, I promise I won’t moan any more. All right?’
In reply she kissed him. Then he walked her across to the edge of the hilltop square and described the view, their hands entwined on the handle of the umbrella.
‘Forgetting for the moment the holiday camp below us and the monstr… the statue behind us, the first thing that hits you is the cathedral. Nowadays it’s surrounded by a mass of buildings, but they wouldn’t have been there in the Middle Ages.
It would’ve looked all the more impressive when it stood more or less alone.
Two, three, four spires I can count. A mass of pillars, arches, statues and very fancy stonework. ’
He looked down at her, sorry that she wasn’t able to enjoy the sight for herself, but her expression was happy and interested, no frustration visible.
‘Did the pilgrims come right past here?’ She was trying to get the feel of the place.
‘Absolutely right past us. Follow this road down the hill and you enter the city through the Puerta del Camino, the main gateway. Pilgrims would have been set upon by people selling everything from new boots to miracle cures, all the way from here to the cathedral itself. Mind you,’ he acknowledged with a grin, ‘things have changed a lot since then. Just you wait until we get into the centre.’
They returned to the car and he threaded his way into town through the traffic.
A helpful policeman indicated the way to the Parador through a Pedestrians Only zone.
Feeling embarrassingly conspicuous in the big vehicle, they bumped across the wet cobbles of the narrow streets until they emerged into the magnificence of the Plaza del Obradoiro and pulled up outside the Hostal de los Reyes Católicos, now a five-star hotel.
Half an hour later, the car safely parked in the garage below the hotel, they emerged, suitably kitted out with boots and waterproofs, to see what millions before them had undergone hardship and suffering to be able to see.
Luke led Amy diagonally across the square to the sweeping stone staircases that led up to the jewel in Santiago’s crown, the Pórtico de la Gloria, like all the centre of the town, a UNESCO world heritage site.
Climbing the steps, Luke navigated his way through the beggars and into the splendour of the cathedral entrance.
When they reached the central pillar of the Pórtico, he spoke quietly to a robed cleric standing by the precious carved stonework, indicating that Amy was blind and asking for special dispensation for her to touch the sculpture.
Receiving a positive response, he turned to her.
‘Here we are. We’ve done it.’ Amy could hear the animation in his voice. ‘We’re here at the Pórtico de la Gloria. This is the Tree of Jesse. Do you know what you’ve got to do?
She reached out confidently. Her hands landed on the sculpted marble depicting Christ’s family tree and felt gently up from Jesse at the base, across David and Solomon and up towards Christ himself.
The Apostle James smiled down benignly at every pilgrim who entered.
Back down again and she found the famous spot.
She pressed her right hand against the column, each finger slipping into a depression made by the millions of hands that had pressed upon this selfsame spot in gratitude for having been allowed to complete their pilgrimage.
‘Just like they did. They made it here. I know they did.’
The same thought had been going through Luke’s head and he grunted agreement.
Amy spent a long time running her hands up all the pillars, full of admiration for the brilliantly alive and human carvings of Master Mateo, eight hundred years previously, He described the scenes further up the arches, too high for her to reach.
These ranged from Adam and Eve, to the Deadly Sins and the Final Judgement, all carved in the stone with a lightness and a realism that still shone through after so many centuries.
Although he had seen it before, the experience of seeing it again was a joy.
‘Can we go into the cathedral now?’
He led her through the doors and they walked slowly down the main aisle.
He gave her a running commentary, his mouth pressed right up against her ear as the hubbub of hundreds of pilgrim voices filled the air.
There were columns rising up on both sides to a gallery of smaller arches.
Above these, the perfect symmetry of the vaulted roof gave an air of lightness and grace to the building.
He walked her along to the main altar and they squeezed down the narrow stone steps into the crypt.
Before them was the highly ornate silver coffer, said to hold the remains of Saint James.
From there they walked around to the Chapel of San Salvador, where queues of pilgrims were waiting for confession. Luke stood quietly for a moment, watching the crowd. It was then that he began to feel it, just like the last time he had visited the cathedral.
It was a feeling of companionship. It wasn’t just from being with Amy, although they were really very close now.
As he tried to explain to her later, it came from all the millions who had made this same journey, in order to come to this very spot.
It was a feeling that he was a part of a huge, timeless, inexorable wave over the centuries.
People of all walks of life, brought together by the completion of this act of devotion.
What was it they had talked about high up on the Somport pass?
The accumulated joy of millions of people? Would she feel it too?
He looked down at her. There was a light smile on her lips.
She looked happy, fulfilled and self-assured.
In spite of being dealt such cruel blows, she had managed to come to terms with her handicap and make a new, happy life for herself.
Her joy shone forth on her face, just the same as the joy of all pilgrims would shine forth when they finally reached this, their hard-won destination.
At first he had pitied her for all that she had lost, then he had envied her for the strength of her resolve.
Now, finally, he thanked her for helping him in his struggle to regain his peace of mind and his happiness.