Page 54 of Under a Spanish Sky

‘Hold on tight. We’re going to have to make a run for it.’ Luke had to shout to make his voice heard over the wind. He caught Amy around the waist and they set off.

Their exit from the sanctuary of the cathedral took them from the sublime into the teeth of an Atlantic gale.

The wind collapsed their umbrella, and the horizontal rain set about soaking them in a very short space of time.

His intention of viewing the intricate south facade, the Puerta de las Platerías, was hastily replaced by the search for somewhere dry, and quick.

They ran for the shelter of the maze of narrow streets radiating out from the cathedral and soon found a restaurant that looked welcoming.

They dived inside and were shown to a table near the back of the long, low, stone-vaulted room.

Down there it was peaceful, dry and warm.

The waiter came with the menus and to enquire if they desired an aperitif. Hearing no response from Luke, Amy made a quick decision. ‘Two glasses of Cava, please.’ As the waiter went off to get the sparkling wine, she reached across the table and found his hand.

‘I thought we’d better celebrate our arrival here.’

There was only a grunt in reply.

‘What’s up, Luke?’ There was a long pause before he replied.

‘Yes, celebrate, of course.’ He sounded very hesitant. She gave his hand a squeeze.

‘What is it?’ Even without seeing his face, she could tell there was something wrong. ‘Aren’t you feeling well?’

‘No, no. I’m fine.’ He had to wait while the waiter returned with their drinks. He pushed her glass across the table to her. He watched as she raised it and held it out in his direction.

‘Cheers.’

He clinked his glass against hers and studied her over his drink. There was a smile on her face, tempered with slight concern that he was perhaps not his usual self. While he was trying to find the words to explain what he was feeling, she did it for him.

‘Are you feeling a bit let down, now that it’s finished?

’ In spite of herself, in spite of all that had passed between them and in spite of the long talks they had had over the past few days, she began to feel apprehensive.

‘Are you thinking of doing the pilgrimage again with another girl?’ She did her best to keep her tone light.

His reply, this time, was immediate. She heard him place his glass on the table. There was a movement. Then his hands caught the sides of her face and he pulled her towards him. He kissed her on the lips. ‘No, my darling, that is definitely not what I am thinking.’

A discreet cough indicated the return of the waiter. Luke sat back as the man took their order. They decided on the tourist menu. The waiter gave them a smile and moved away.

Amy reached across the table and found his hand again. ‘So, what is it, then?’

‘I suppose what I’m thinking is that, just like our medieval friends, our arrival here is very different from that of all the other pilgrims. For pilgrims, this was their goal, the lode star, the one fixed point in their firmament for weeks, months. Now, they’ve done it. It’s over.’

‘Apart from the minor detail of having to do the whole thing in reverse to get home.’

‘Of course. But, you see, that’s it. They’ve done what they wanted to do and now they’re going home. It’s the end of their adventure. For you and me, this is only the beginning.’

She was smiling again. ‘You’re not still thinking of going to Graceland, are you?’

His voice was still serious. ‘I don’t care where I go, as long as it’s with you.’ He raised his eyes towards her. ‘As long as you’ll still have me. I’m a complicated character.’

She squeezed his hands harder. ‘We’re both complicated characters, Luke.

We’ve both had a pasting. But the healing’s started for us both.

I know that and you must feel it too. We’re no longer chasing shadows, struggling with memories from our past. We’ve got a future now.

A real future, together.’ She heard him grunt again.

But it was a happy grunt this time. ‘Of course it isn’t always going to be easy.

There’ll be hurdles to overcome, but we’ll manage. ’ She listened anxiously for his reply.

‘I know we will, Amy. I know we will.’

She was relieved to hear him sounding more relaxed now. She gave it a few minutes and then decided to return to their medieval story.

‘So, do we think they made it here in one piece? Did they fulfil their mysterious mission?’

‘No doubt about it. They accomplished their mission all right. Who knows? Maybe it really was the Holy Shroud. Maybe it’s lying safe in the vaults of an abbey or castle to this day.

Probably Portugal, I would think. No, they made it.

At least as far as here.’ He picked up his glass again and clinked it against hers.

‘To them.’

‘To them. And to us.’ He took a sip of wine, his mind now back in the Middle Ages.

‘Of course, I suppose their enemies might have followed them this far. Assuming they knew that they were carrying something as immensely valuable as the Holy Shroud.’ Grudgingly, he felt he had to admit the possibility that things might not have gone perfectly.

The waiter returned with local ham and lovely fresh bread. He placed a bottle of red wine and a jug of water on the table in front of them. Amy hardly listened to Luke’s description of the food on her plate. She was turning over possibilities in her mind.

‘I suppose it would have been easy for the bad guys to catch them by keeping an eye on that very same confessional area in the cathedral that we’ve just seen. Every pilgrim in those days would’ve had to go there in order to fully complete the pilgrimage.’ She was thinking hard.

He was already well into his food. He finished his glass of Cava and poured some red wine.

‘Mind you, they were only really coincidentally pilgrims, weren’t they?

’ He looked across at her to check, but she was managing to deal with the ham very well.

‘I don’t suppose they would have been getting their pilgrim passports stamped along the way.

Surely there would have been too much risk of being recognised. ’

‘Absolutely,’ she agreed. ‘But just think. This is the man who believes he’s carried the true Shroud that wrapped the crucified Christ to safety.

Assuming that he was aware of what he was carrying, he would have had to be on a massive religious high at the end of such a trip.

I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t try to go to confession. ’

‘I’m sure you’re right. But what sort of trap might they find themselves in?’

Not surprisingly, he finished his starter before she did. He was happy to sit and watch her. Her mind was clearly not on the food, much more on their couple of characters. She looked pensive, enthralled and lovely. He took a mouthful of wine and felt his face assume a contented smile.

The waiter came to remove the plates and Luke pushed a glass of red wine towards her.

‘Here, some red wine, and there’s water in the other glass.

’ Then he tried to finish off the story as best he could.

‘Theoretically they would have been safe in the cathedral. That was, after all, holy ground.’ He started off cautiously.

‘Try telling that to Thomas à Becket.’ Amy’s tone was cynical.

‘Point taken.’ While he was thinking, the waiter returned.

The next course was placed before them. After a moment’s hesitation, Luke described it to her as best he could.

‘It looks like we’ve just been served clear soup with bits of chicken skin floating in it.

Not necessarily my first choice, if I had a choice, but I’ll try it anyway. ’

‘Probably a local speciality.’ She picked up her spoon, tried a mouthful, pronounced herself quite happy to eat it and carried on where he had left off.

‘Just supposing the archbishop’s men were prepared to try to take our man in the cathedral, what chance of escape would he have had?

It’s the shape of a Latin cross, a crucifix, right? ’

Luke grunted agreement through a mouthful of the delicious soup, chicken skin or no chicken skin.

‘There would have to be a minimum of four doors, right?’ Amy continued with the soup, frowning as she tried to think of the way out for their two characters. ‘So, supposing they put guards on all the doors, how would they have got out?’

‘Minimum four doors.’ He was thinking hard too.

‘I would imagine there would have been others. After all, the cathedral in Santiago de Compostela is hardly a fortified church like you would find in Albi or Béziers. There must be other doors. In fact, come to think of it, there was a door set in the wall directly opposite the chapel of San Salvador. Maybe…’ He stopped, realising the significance of the door.

‘No, that’s no good. That door probably leads up to the gallery that runs around the inside of the cathedral. And a long way up it looked, too.’

She had finished her soup by this time. ‘That’s it. He sees his enemies moving in, so they dash up the stair.’

‘The spiral stone stair,’ he added for the sake of accuracy.

‘Up the spiral stone stair.’ She accepted the embellishment gracefully. ‘They reach the top and run desperately halfway round the cathedral before he spots another door.’

‘A low doorway leading out onto the roof.’ He was enjoying his artistic input.

She nodded at his intervention and continued.

‘They run out onto the roof…’ She corrected herself before he could chip in.

‘Onto the gently sloping lead-covered roof of the cathedral. After wedging the door shut behind them, he leads her along to the far end of the west facade, directly above the Pórtico de la Gloria. In front of them is a drop of a hundred feet or more onto the cobbles below, while above them on both sides the towers rise up, offering no hope of escape.’