Rhydderch guided his king through a door into a darkened hallway where stairs rose before them. The bishop knelt and crossed himself. Had he misheard the words of the prelate?
“I shall mount the Scala Santa on my knees.”
Other visitors also began to climb the steps in this ungainly and wearying way, so he supposed he ought to do the same.
“What’s the point? Three, four, five …”
Arriving at the twenty-eighth marble step, his joints and sides pained him. Rhydderch’s spare frame, ever surprising, gained the top first, and he offered a hand to haul Hywel to his feet.
“Excellency, why did we do that?” he whispered, not wanting to reveal his ignorance to a wider audience.
Rhydderch caught his words and replied, “Sire, this staircase is from Jerusalem. It is the one Jesus of Nazareth ascend
