Pilgrim's Road by Selby Bettina

Author:Selby, Bettina [Selby, Bettina]
Language: deu
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

‘...There’s no discouragement shall make him once relent his first avowed intent to be a pilgrim’?

In between the two crises de coeur is the record of a visit to the monastery of Santa María la Real at Najera. I think it was the only time in the day when the icy rain running down inside my collar ceased to matter. The church contains the ancient royal pantheon of the Kings of Navarre, for Nájera was once their capital before it was annexed by Castile. The sense of the Camino is very strong in the small area around the centre of the old town where the river flows in a great bow close to the overhanging cliff that shelters the church. The present structure is sixteenth century, extensively restored in recent times, but the ancient battered tombs of the kings, illuminated by a suitable greenish light, rest in a grotto beneath the choir carved out of the rock of the cliffs. In a side chapel is the later twelfth-century tomb of Queen Doña Blanca of Pamplona who died giving birth to a future King of Castile. It is one of the most beautifully carved tombs I have seen outside of Greece. Most of it is biblical scenes, but one panel shows Doña Blanca’s soul slipping from her body in the form of a little child. The tombs were only a part of the charm of the place, however. The whole building had an unusual quality of space and harmony that I hadn’t encountered so far on the journey. Possibly this was because it was in the care of the Franciscans and reflected something of their founder’s simplicity.

Between Nájera and Santo Domingo de la Calzada is one of the stretches that will draw me back to repeat the pilgrimage one day. For I saw none of its attractions, nor did I make any of the traditional diversions to interesting tombs, villages and monasteries off the route. It was possible only to battle on head down and concentrate on turning the pedals.

My reward for perseverance was to finish the day at the most comfortable refugio of the route, where the sybaritic delight of a hot shower did much to restore my flagging spirits. Santo Domingo de la Calzada is the sainted bridge-builder’s own town; the place where he had his hermit’s cell and where in 1109 he finally died. The bridge he built is still in place across the river and his tomb is in the cathedral that stands at the head of the pilgrim’s way, with its lofty tower visible from afar. All of which makes him seem very much a real person, something I don’t necessarily feel about all saints, especially some of the more obscure ones.

Of course, had Santo Domingo been merely an inspired builder of roads, bridges, pilgrim hospices and churches, the matter would have ended with his death. Sainthood requires miracles and on that score Santo Domingo acquits himself satisfactorily. But the most famous miracle connected with the town is sometimes ascribed to the intervention of St James himself.

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