It is night, and despite a faint drizzle, the full moon looks enormous and bright. The weather is mild, typical of rainy summer nights. Ulises stopped for a moment before the very tall double doors of the church. He stands still, thinking, staring at the huge bronze knobs of the doors. Behind him, three rounded and concentric steps, and a long cobblestone path, with one or two lamps lighting the way, surrounded on both sides by groves of trees. From the brim of Ulises' hat fall a few lonely drops, which then slide softly down his brown trench coat.
"Well, I'm here. I have to do it," he murmurs to himself.
When pushing one of the doors, he finds a small antechamber and, in front, three enormous arches allow to see, thanks to the moonlight coming through the skylight, the main nave, its pillars so high that their end cannot be seen, and the presbytery at the back of the great hall. But that is not where Ulises must go, no. He closes the door behind him and walks to the right, entering a hallway before the arches. The sound of his boots' steps echoes inside the vast interior, accompanied by the constant noise of the rain.
Ulises reaches a corner, turns left and keeps walking, head down. To his left he passes a couple of doors, not so large anymore, but with an ancient look, and some paintings of those typical biblical scenes. To his right, enormous stained-glass windows with colorful patterns, against which the raindrops crash; beyond them, a few lamps allow glimpses of more groves.
The hallway ends at a wooden door, very wide and with steel reinforcements. Ulises pushes it open and sees another room, which, though with a much lower ceiling and stone walls that look far more worn, still preserves stained-glass windows on the sides that clumsily allow a view of the outside.
The first image Ulises distinguishes focuses on the presbytery, this time much smaller and humbler than that of the main nave. There, two tall men in red robes, their backs turned, hold by each arm a third man, presumably the parish priest, wearing a brown cassock, his feet dragging behind and his head fallen forward, almost floating, sustained only by his shoulders thanks to his two assistants. In front of them, a low and dark stone table holds some bottles, some candles, tablecloths, coins?, and a small chalice.
The sound of the door alerts the men with a sectarian look, who slowly turn to cross gazes with Ulises. He stops for a moment under the threshold and thinks:
"Shady, as always. I hate those guys."
The tension breaks when the parish priest squirms a little, letting out some cries, as if trying to regain composure urgently. He manages to support his weight on his feet, briskly pulls his arms from those of his assistants, quickly turns around and hastily wipes his cassock with his hands at the chest and stomach area. Then he throws a big smile at Ulises and, with a soft, sweet and very lively voice, says:
"Son! You came! How are you? I'm glad to see you."
The parish priest rushes down the aisle between the pews, smiling with the great relief of a man who, after much suffering, finds the reason for his happiness.
"Come, come! Sit, make yourself comfortable."
The parish priest gently takes Ulises by the arm and leads him to the edge of one of the pews.
"You look well, you look very strong! Really, I'm so very glad you came, son. Wait for me just a second, yes?"
Ulises watches as the parish priest hurries back to the table in front of the altar. Both sectarians remain standing on each side: upright, facing forward, their hoods pulled up to darken their faces. Ulises removes his hat and leaves it aside, for there is much space in each long pew. He prefers not to look at those guys; he doesn't like them, and he knows the feeling is mutual. He prefers to clear his mind, think of something else. He then looks out the window toward the forest. He knows that, a few dozen meters away, lies the district cemetery, but he cannot see it. He strains his sight a little, seeking in the distance a gap between the foliage of the trees.
Suddenly, something catches his attention: on a thick branch jutting from one of the oaks, not too far and about four meters off the ground, someone is sitting, looking straight toward the window. The light of a nearby lamp shows high black boots, ending at the knees of crossed legs. Higher up is harder to see, but a wide hip under a narrow waist can be distinguished. She wears a corset and, higher still, a hat, and… and nothing more can be seen.
"What the hell is a woman doing there?" Ulises thinks.
"This is very strange. Should I warn my dad? Of course, I don't want this rotten sect to have their damned business go well, but dad needs it. Who the hell is she, anyway? Could she just be a mischievous girl sneaking around? Or is there something shadier here? I wouldn't be surprised, coming from these guys..."
"Here it is, son!" —Ulises' thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the voice of his father, who is standing at his side, slightly bent forward, holding with both hands a wooden chalice with a couple of metal ornaments.
"Here! You're going to be one of us, son!" he says, while bringing the chalice closer to Ulises.
Ulises lazily grabs it and looks closely at its contents for a moment. It is a burgundy-colored liquid, quite dark. It smells like wine, so the enigma of the contents of those bottles on the table is solved. But it is strange: too thick to be a normal wine, and too dark. Ulises swirls it for a moment, trying to decipher what it is, or trying to make it look appetizing? He doesn't even know, but it is in vain.
One last glance as he gathers courage to drink that: he sees the sectarians, serious and silent as always, staring at him. Then he sees his dad, hands clasped to his chest, a big fake smile and a bouncing movement that pitifully reveals his anxiety. Poor old man, he fools no one. Finally, he looks out the window again. You already know what he's looking for.
Now the figure leans further forward, and by the outline of the hat it is clear that she is focused, looking right at him. Her posture denotes attention, her legs no longer crossed but bent inward, which allows Ulises to clearly see how her pants stand out from her boots, tight over thick thighs.
"Uff, how pretty," Ulises thinks again.
"Since I'm going to die, I'd at least like it to be with my face trapped between those two beauties."
"Son?" the parish priest interrupts again.
"Here, son. Join us."
Ulises looks one last time at the contents of the chalice in his hands. He frowns, clenches his fists and prepares himself mentally. Nothing will ever be the same again.