The population was probably only around a hundred people. It was a village that could disappear at any time, yet had spent decades in slumber. Most of the buildings were built with stone bricks and looked like they were at least a hundred years old. Though all the people who came by were dressed in modern clothes, it wouldn’t seem weird if they donned the clothes of the last century.
Either way, this sort of place was not uncommon in the Welsh countryside. Since it was on such a steep hill, delivery trucks probably wouldn’t be able to enter easily, so it was inevitable that it would be so undeveloped.
When we opened the large door of the church, it was surprisingly spacious inside. The ceiling was quite high, and the interior was well-cleaned, giving it a quiet atmosphere. Though it wasn’t grand, both the golden candelabras and the wooden pews were swept devoid of dust. The devoutness of the village was plain to see. There would probably be quite a few people gathered here every Sunday, sitting in a place where all was silent except for the fat priest’s preachings.
But the most eye-catching thing was deep inside the church.
“…A Black Madonna (in Western Christendom, used to refer to a painting or statue of the Virgin Mary and infant Jesus that are depicted in black).”
Indeed, it was a statue of the Virgin Mary that was dyed in inky black. Though she still held the infant Jesus in her hands, her stature seemed different, and full of majesty. She stood straight, and her gleaming eyes stared downwards. She seemed more like a female general than a kind mother.
“Besides that, if you wish to stay in this village, there are a few rules that you must follow.” Bersac said.
He raised four fingers.
“First, you must pray to the statue of the Holy Mother when you enter. You have already done this.” He lowered his index finger.
“Second, do not go out late at night.”
“Third, do not go to the graveyard alone. Fourth, though multiple people can enter the graveyard, do not ever enter the swamp. I hope you can follow these rules.”
Well, well.
We toured around the village with the girl as our guide, and learnt quite a bit from conversing with the villagers. For example, even though this was in Wales, English was spoken here.
For some historical reasons, the number of speakers of the Welsh language had been decreasing. At one time, less than half the population could speak it. It was only in recent years that the language was revived, and the cultural aspect of education has also been strengthened. As a result, there were more young people who could speak the language than old people. However, there was no such tendency in this village, which was probably due to the lack of communication with the rest of the world.
The hooded girl was also surprisingly respected by the villagers.
Though not all of them were like this, about half of them would first give an extremely formal salute to the girl before they spoke to us, as if they had seen a member of the nobility. Or perhaps I should call it awe? Either way, they did not treat her lightly.
Or perhaps I should call it the sort of worship you would expect to see towards an idol.
That’s what it reminded me of. Idol worship.
Rather than treating her as a person, it was like they were treating a holy object. Even though the attitudes were similar to the priest and the nun, they were more earnest, and seemed to be filled with joy. It was very weird.
…If that was the case, why was the girl so shy?
Being revered in a small village seemed more likely to make someone arrogant than shy. Okay, maybe I would be the only person who would become arrogant, but at least she shouldn’t be timid.
The subtle paradox of the situation disturbed my mind with a flood of questions.
But at least we now had a clear picture of the terrain.
The village was roughly the shape of an ellipse that had been squashed to the north and the south. It was shaped like the gourd that my brother had received when he was traveling in the Far East. The church was in the middle, and the swamp was on the south. The lodge we stayed at last night was in the west of the village.
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village description
Either way, this sort of place was not uncommon in the Welsh countryside. Since it was on such a steep hill, delivery trucks probably wouldn’t be able to enter easily, so it was inevitable that it would be so undeveloped.
When we opened the large door of the church, it was surprisingly spacious inside. The ceiling was quite high, and the interior was well-cleaned, giving it a quiet atmosphere. Though it wasn’t grand, both the golden candelabras and the wooden pews were swept devoid of dust. The devoutness of the village was plain to see. There would probably be quite a few people gathered here every Sunday, sitting in a place where all was silent except for the fat priest’s preachings.
But the most eye-catching thing was deep inside the church.
“…A Black Madonna (in Western Christendom, used to refer to a painting or statue of the Virgin Mary and infant Jesus that are depicted in black).”
Indeed, it was a statue of the Virgin Mary that was dyed in inky black. Though she still held the infant Jesus in her hands, her stature seemed different, and full of majesty. She stood straight, and her gleaming eyes stared downwards. She seemed more like a female general than a kind mother.
“Besides that, if you wish to stay in this village, there are a few rules that you must follow.” Bersac said.
He raised four fingers.
“First, you must pray to the statue of the Holy Mother when you enter. You have already done this.” He lowered his index finger.
“Second, do not go out late at night.”
“Third, do not go to the graveyard alone. Fourth, though multiple people can enter the graveyard, do not ever enter the swamp. I hope you can follow these rules.”
Well, well.
We toured around the village with the girl as our guide, and learnt quite a bit from conversing with the villagers. For example, even though this was in Wales, English was spoken here.
For some historical reasons, the number of speakers of the Welsh language had been decreasing. At one time, less than half the population could speak it. It was only in recent years that the language was revived, and the cultural aspect of education has also been strengthened. As a result, there were more young people who could speak the language than old people. However, there was no such tendency in this village, which was probably due to the lack of communication with the rest of the world.
The hooded girl was also surprisingly respected by the villagers.
Though not all of them were like this, about half of them would first give an extremely formal salute to the girl before they spoke to us, as if they had seen a member of the nobility. Or perhaps I should call it awe? Either way, they did not treat her lightly.
Or perhaps I should call it the sort of worship you would expect to see towards an idol.
That’s what it reminded me of. Idol worship.
Rather than treating her as a person, it was like they were treating a holy object. Even though the attitudes were similar to the priest and the nun, they were more earnest, and seemed to be filled with joy. It was very weird.
…If that was the case, why was the girl so shy?
Being revered in a small village seemed more likely to make someone arrogant than shy. Okay, maybe I would be the only person who would become arrogant, but at least she shouldn’t be timid.
The subtle paradox of the situation disturbed my mind with a flood of questions.
But at least we now had a clear picture of the terrain.
The village was roughly the shape of an ellipse that had been squashed to the north and the south. It was shaped like the gourd that my brother had received when he was traveling in the Far East. The church was in the middle, and the swamp was on the south. The lodge we stayed at last night was in the west of the village.
We also went to visit the church again.