We then made for the high border hills, and prayed the Office of None on the chancel of Craswall Priory, open to the sky, the fierce rains of that day, and the living water music of the nearby Afon Mynwy, here a small stream near its source, accompanying our voices.
Previously, on this spot, we had the powerful sense of the Grandmontine brothers invisibly joining us, of being deeply connected to those struggling witnesses who tried to live and pray in this high-hill, lonely place. Yet they were not here today – the space above us perhaps far wider and crammed with witnesses we couldn’t see. As we left, the smile of the farmer and the large dogs he led running behind his buggy danced around us like the otherwise absent sunlight.
We then made our way down from the hillsides. The fierce questioning in the every day was about to begin