Page 53 of Under a Spanish Sky

‘Too many people?’ She had to shout in his ear to make herself heard. ‘Why don’t we just stay here for a moment? Then I would really like to go to confession.’

He shouted agreement. They knelt side by side, backs against the side wall of the aisle, heads bowed, both praying to the saint.

She prayed for Luc, for his safety and happiness, and he prayed for her.

As he prayed, Luc could feel the never-ending stream of pilgrims passing by in front of them.

Somehow, this didn’t disturb him. They were, after all, on holy ground.

He felt sure they would be shielded from their enemies, as long as they stayed inside the cathedral.

He abandoned himself to his prayers. When he finally stood up again he felt purged, restored by his communion with the Almighty.

She reached out to him and stood up in her turn.

‘Can we go to confession now?’

He shouted agreement. They followed the crowd in the direction of the chapel of San Salvador, where another crowd of pilgrims waited.

Inside the chapel, a dozen priests were hearing the confessions of the pilgrims. This had to be done, prior to issuing the all-important Compostela certificate.

This document would be conclusive proof that each had indeed successfully undertaken the pilgrimage.

Obtaining this vital confirmation could have dramatic consequences.

For some, it meant the papal pardon, which would relieve them of time they could expect to spend in Purgatory.

For others, it was the extinguishing of a debt, forgiveness of sins, or the completion of a sentence imposed by a court for some misdoing.

At least there was more order to this part of the cathedral.

Rope lines had been set up, six or seven abreast, attached to heavy wooden posts.

The pilgrims were shepherded into lines by bored-looking novices, in an attempt to streamline this most vital part of the pilgrimage procedure.

Luc and Aimée let themselves be guided into the line nearest the wall and settled down to wait their turn.

He counted about twenty people before them in the queue.

Lowering his head towards Aimée, he spoke softly into her ear, no longer needing to shout, as the chaos around the altar was a good way behind them.

‘Twenty people in front of us so it’s going to take a while. Mind you, though, I’ve never seen confessions as quick as these. Either the pilgrims have led blameless lives, or the priests are in a hurry. Are you all right to wait for a while?’

She gripped his forearm and smiled. ‘As long as is necessary. It’s the one thing every pilgrim has to do, isn’t it? Bound to be a queue here.’

Yes, he agreed mentally, it was indeed the one thing they all had to do.

So, the thought rushed urgently into his head, this chapel would be the perfect place for anybody lying in wait for a particular pilgrim.

All they had to do was be patient, and their prey would come straight to them.

Nervous tension flooded through his body. Aimée sensed it.

‘What is it, Luc?’ Her question went unanswered.

He swung round, eyes searching every face in the crowd.

He looked beyond the sea of cheery, healthy faces, waiting eagerly for this culminating act of their journey.

He scanned the chapels and niches on the opposite side of the aisle.

Then he turned his attention once more to the chapel of San Salvador.

The procession of pilgrims into the lines continued steadily, without a break.

He saw nobody suspicious, no face he recognised, but the warning bells were ringing in his head.

He bent towards her and whispered urgently.

‘We’ll look for somewhere else to have our confessions heard. I’m worried they may have this chapel under observation. Come on, let’s get out of here.’ Her face instantly showed concern.

He took her arm and, murmuring apologies to the people behind him, started to push back through the line.

All the time, his eyes searched anxiously all around them.

A few people looked surprised that they should have chosen to drop out of the line when so close to their goal.

But they all moved good-naturedly out of the way.

Luc and Aimée emerged from the end of the rope lines.

He stopped, unsure whether to turn right and make for the exit, or to try for the anonymity of the crowds around the main altar once more.

As he was weighing up the possibilities, a noisy altercation broke out behind them.

It was caused by a group trying to push into the queues.

Luc suddenly noticed that the handful of novices who had been directing the pilgrims had disappeared.

Casting around over the heads of the passers-by, he caught a glimpse of black robes scampering off along the aisle.

He turned back in the opposite direction, desperately searching for signs of danger.

Then he saw them.